Movie Lovers

by Joachim Jean

  “I don’t hate you…I…just…you were pretty harsh, nasty…”

  “Oh. When I first met you. Yeah. I was kinda dumb, wasn’t I? I’m sorry. No hard feelings.”

  Bobby put the car in gear and pulled out of the driveway.

  “Let’s kiss and make up.” Jake pulled her to him roughly and planted his lips on hers. Grace froze, letting Jake explore her mouth. Even drunk, he can kiss. In a minute, she regained her senses and pushed away, hugging the other side of the car.

  “See. There you go. Not liking me again.” He slapped his leg.

  “I let you kiss me. What more do you want?”

  He laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You…in that dress? And you ask me what more do I want? I want it all, baby. I want you.”

  Grace noticed Bobby glancing at them in the rearview mirror. She was comforted by his presence. Thank God he sees what’s going on.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to attack you. Hell, I’ve wanted plenty of women I couldn’t have. No biggie.”

  She let out a breath and relaxed back against the seat. “Best news I’ve had all night.”

  “Ouch! You sure know how to hurt a guy.”

  “And you’re still attracted to me?”

  “Baby, you’ve no idea.” They sat in silence, both staring out their own windows for fifteen minutes, until Grace sensed the heat of his stare and turned to face him.

  “You’re lovely, really…lovely.” His eyes looked like pools of melted caramel. His gaze traveled over her body, lingering on her chest. “Who wouldn’t want to make love to you?” He whispered.

  He inched closer to her on the seat. She was drawn to the warm look in his eyes. He reached out to cup her cheek with his hand. “You were upset. Something bad happened to you tonight. But you won’t tell me. Why won’t you tell me?”

  The softness of his tone wreaked havoc with the thick wall she had built around herself. Gracie wanted nothing more than to get lost in the arms of a caring man and cry about what happened. She longed to confess her mistake and humiliation, to mourn the rejection of her script. But Jake had had too much to drink. And he had put her down before he saw her dressed up. Wounded her, perhaps unintentionally, but even an error in judgment still hurt.

  She remembered how it stung when he treated her like the ugly duckling. Always second to her amazing sister, his put down was magnified by years of being only second best. And the attentions of a drunken man, to be forgotten the next day…or worse, rued the next day, only made her wary. She didn’t believe he wanted her. He wanted a woman, and she was there.

  Jake was right up against her, nibbling her neck. Grace took a deep breath, bracing her hands against his strong chest. “You’re so beautiful.” He raised his palm to her breast and closed his fingers around the soft flesh. “I bet these taste as good as they look.” He lowered his head.

  “Keep your hands to yourself.” Grace pushed him away so hard he fell back against the door on the other side. Stunned, he could only stare at her.

  “Grace? Are you all right?” Bobby asked, his concerned frown reflected in the rearview mirror.

  “Fine. Thanks, Bobby. I’m fine.”

  The questioning look in Jake’s eyes made her want to laugh. “Don’t get turned down much, do you?”

  Bobby eased the vehicle off the Westside Highway and onto 79th Street. When he pulled up in front of her building, Jake insisted on getting out and holding the door for her. By now, the ride home had worked on Jake’s belly, filled only with alcohol. She saw his face pale.

  “Excuse me,” he said, rushing over to the hedges on the side of The Stanford and bending over. The sound of him retching made her stomach turn. Jake stood up and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.

  “I’m sorry, Grace.”

  “I’ll bet. The perfect ending to a perfect date.” She gave a little laugh then a courtesy. Spike, the night doorman, scowling at Jake, held the door open.

  “Can I call you?”

  “Why don’t you save yourself the trouble?” Gracie hurried into the elevator as the tears she’d been holding back broke through her defenses. When she arrived at the apartment, she went in quietly and headed straight to her room.

  “Just a minute, Pookie,” Cara appeared from the darkness. “How was the premiere, and your date with Jake?”

  “Total bust,” she said, shortly. “I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Was it that bad?” Cara’s brow furrowed.

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Grace went into her room, and turned the lock. She’s not responsible.

  “Goodnight to you, too,” Cara called in through the closed door.

  Grace toed off her shoes, unzipped her dress, and threw herself down on the bed, sobbing. In a few minutes, she dragged herself up to finish undressing. Turning out the light, she slipped between the sheets and pulled up the down quilt against the chilly air. She couldn’t get Gunther, Elsa, and Jake out of her mind.

  Don’t get mad, get even. As she waited for drowsiness to knock her out, a plan hatched. With a smile on her lips, Gracie drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Before the sun was up, her dry mouth begged for water, waking Grace early with a huge thirst. The slight headache pounding at her temples told her she’d had a touch too much to drink at the party. At least I wasn’t wasted, like Jake. She padded into the kitchen for a tall glass of water then put up a pot of coffee. Guess I’m awake.

  Opening her laptop on the kitchen table, she created a new blog under the name Movie Maven. After filling a mug and taking a few healthy sips, she sat back to think. A grim smile crossed her lips as she started typing. Payback time, Mr. Quill.

  Just in Time should be retitled Don’t Waste Your Time. The new Gunther Quill romantic comedy is neither romantic nor a comedy. More like a comedy of errors—errors in writing, acting, and storyline.

  Jake Matthews plays Donnie, a goofy guy in love with the large-chested model next door…where have we heard that before? Only everywhere! I nominate, Mr. Matthews for the most-wooden-performance-of-the-year award. I wanted to take his pulse to see if he was still alive. As a romantic lead he has the sex appeal of a slug. His performance put me to sleep.

  Rhonda Dowling’s I.Q. must be smaller than her bra size. But she’s not to blame. The script lacks humor, decent dialogue, and an original, believable plot…but who am I to be so picky?

  Shame on you, Mr. Quill. After producing the fabulous Joe Martin series with that wonderful actor and gorgeous hunk, Quinn Roberts, what possessed you to produce this cliché-ridden clunker? Just In Time stinks more than a rotten egg in a henhouse in August. Hey, Mr. Quill, I hear they’re looking for baristas at the Starbucks on Hollywood and Vine.

  Save your money, moviegoers, watching paint dry is more interesting than viewing Just In Time.

  The Movie Maven

  Gracie clicked publish. Then she went to Facebook and Twitter.

  I just read the funniest movie review!

  She posted those words plus a link to her Movie Maven blog everywhere she could think of. I may be small potatoes, Gunther Quill, but I will keep a few people away from your movie. After refilling her cup, she closed her computer and opened her Nook. She selected a new romance book and settled down on the couch.

  A nagging discomfort about her trashing Jake preyed upon her mind until she remembered his line, “bet those taste as good as they look” and the way he pawed her. Surprisingly, taking aim at Gunther and Jake didn’t make her feel better.

  Gunther still had succeeded in humiliating her and Jake had made her feel ugly then cheap. She did have to acknowledge that Jake had tried to make up for it before he barfed in the bushes. She snickered at the memory of how embarrassed he was. Unexpected sympathy for his pathetic drunkenness entered her heart. So what? No one will see that blog. It’s new. No followers. So I’ve dissed him to about a dozen people. Big whoop.

  After reading for a bit, Grace fell asleep. S
arah woke her up at eleven o’clock, chattering away while Grace prepared a bowl of cereal for her niece. She joined her with Cheerios and opened her laptop. Might as well see how few people came to read my hatchet job. She opened up the blog and checked the stats. Five thousand hits in four hours. Wow! Then she scrolled down to see the comments. Oh my God, two hundred and fifty!

  Thanks for the heads up. You saved me ten bucks.

  Funniest review ever!

  Love your review.

  Comment after comment applauded her scathing words. Occasionally, there would be a couple of people chastising her for such harshness, but mostly the comments were positive. She read them all. Huh. Imagine that!

  She sat back a little dazed and surprised. When she clicked on the stats again, half an hour later, five thousand had become fifteen thousand. Hot damn! It’s going viral.

  Scrolling through the comments, she noticed one from Tiffany Cowles, giving her an email address with an offer.

  Wish to publish this review in Celebs R Us. Will pay fifteen hundred dollars. Call this number to talk about writing a regular review column for us.

  Grace wrote down the phone number and the email. She dashed off a response accepting Tiffany’s offer and sending her a copy. Yes, Ms. Cowles, I’d love to do a weekly column. What’s the pay?

  Grace hit “send” and sat back, feeling proud of herself. Viral? Thousands? In Celeb ‘R Us I’ll reach millions. Hah! Take that Gunther Quill!

  * * * *

  Down the street from The Stanford on a high floor in the Wellington Arms, Jake Matthews dragged himself out of bed. His mouth was as dry as cotton. He was as thirsty as if he’d been in the desert for months. His head ached and his stomach was growling, but the idea of food made him retch.

  How much did I drink last night? He groaned and slipped on his bathrobe. Jake had crashed at Quinn and Susanna Roberts’ apartment. He had been much too drunk to go home so Bobby had called Quinn, who gave the go-ahead to drop Jake there.

  Jake cracked the door open then shuddered as the sound reverberated through his body. The brilliant winter sun pouring through the living room windows stabbed Jake in the eyes. He padded to the private guest bathroom to wash up.

  When he finally emerged, Quinn and Susanna were sitting on the sofa, coffee mugs on the table in front of them. Susanna was reading the paper while Quinn surfed the Net on his laptop. When Quinn’s gaze met Jake’s, he knew something was up. Quinn looked as if someone had died.

  “It’s just a hangover, Quinn. I’ll be all right by performance time.”

  “What happened last night?”

  Jake went to the kitchen for coffee. Need about a gallon of this. He popped two Ibuprofens into his mouth then washed them down. “I don’t remember everything.”

  “Bobby said you were bombed out of your skull.”

  He sat down slowly. “Maybe I had one too many.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Okay, okay…I was a little…drunk.”

  “How’d it go with Grace?”

  All of a sudden, memories of the fiasco date came flooding back. Jake put his head in his hands. “Oh my God.”

  “Doesn’t sound good,” Quinn said. Susanna put down the newspaper.

  “Terrible. Horrible. I was a Neanderthal. What did I do?”

  “I dunno, Jake, what did you do?” Quinn chuckled.

  “This is no laughing matter. I screwed up big time. Do you have the number of a florist?

  “Why?”

  “I gotta send flowers, a dozen roses… no, maybe two dozen.”

  Susanna smiled. “Quinn has a florist on speed dial.”

  “Hey, I don’t mess up that often,” Quinn protested.

  “Often enough,” she said, glancing at the vase of fresh pink roses on the sideboard in the dining room before picking up the paper again.

  Quinn wrote down the number for Jake, who called immediately. “That’s right, The Stanford. Message? Hmm. How about ‘I’m so sorry about last night. You deserved better.’?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “That’s it, then. When’ll they be delivered? Can’t you get them over there today? I really need them there today. What? Okay, charge me the rush fee. Yeah.”

  “So what exactly did you do, Jake? If you don’t mind me asking,” Susanna said.

  “Yeah. Spill it.”

  Jake outlined most of the evening, but stopped at the car ride home.

  “Come on, Jake. That isn’t a dozen roses evening. What else? Give!”

  Jake took a deep breath and rubbed his stubbly face. “Yeah, well, there was one other thing…”

  “Come on, Jake. I’m on pins and needles here.” Susanna turned her attention away from the news to look directly at him.

  “I kinda…sorta…attacked her?”

  “You attacked her?” Quinn’s eyes grew wide and Susanna gasped.

  “Not really attacked. I got a little carried away and went right to…ah…second base.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She shoved me against the car door.”

  “Good for her. What were you thinking?” Susanna straightened up.

  “He was thinking what he’d like to do to her, right?” Quinn snickered.

  “Guess so. I don’t remember much. I said something, too. Something that really pissed her off.”

  “What?” They both asked together.

  Jake could feel heat travel up to his face. He shook his head.

  “You tell us, or I’m throwing you out on your ass, buddy,” Quinn said, pushing to his feet.

  Jake hid his face in his hands. “Bet they taste as good as they look,” he muttered.

  Quinn gave a low whistle while Susanna burst out laughing. “If you had said that to me, you’d be limping right now.”

  “You’ve got balls, Jake. Maybe you should’ve sent two dozen roses.”

  “I can’t believe I said it either. It’s like anything in my head just came right out of my mouth. Hey, I mighta thought that, but I’ve never said anything like it to a woman…not on the first date! Geez.” He shuddered. “Oh, one other thing…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I barfed in her bushes.”

  Quinn and Susanna cracked up. Then Susanna stood up. “Come on, time for food. You need to put something in your stomach.”

  “I don’t feel hungry.”

  “Force yourself. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “I couldn’t feel worse…”

  “Yeah? You could be facing her instead of us.”

  Jake cringed. “Oh, God. I can’t face her until those flowers arrive.”

  Susanna left them for the kitchen.

  “So she was hot, eh?” Quinn glanced at Jake.

  “Hot? Beyond smokin’. That dress…if it had been any lower, she would’ve been arrested. After what I said to her…thought she was the maid. Oh boy. I’m amazed she went out with me.” Jake was greeted by silence. He looked up at Quinn, who was frowning. His eyes were darting along a page on his computer screen, his frown deepening. “Quinn?”

  “Oh, buddy. Your day has just gone from bad to worse. A whole lot worse.”

  “What?” Jake leaned forward.

  “Just In Time should be retitled, Waste of Time…” Quinn read.

  * * * *

  Grace played Monopoly with Sarah on the dining room table. Her laptop was open, and every half hour or so, she’d check it to see how the traffic on her Movie Maven blog was doing. The numbers leapt up by the thousands then the tens of thousands. After five hundred comments, she didn’t even bother to read them. Once the hits topped one hundred thousand, she was giddy, almost lightheaded. I never thought anyone would pay attention. Never expected anything like this.

  Cara joined them for a few moments before she left for the theater. “I hope your date last night wasn’t too bad because I’ve invited Jake to come for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with us. He’ll be bunking on the sofa.”

  “What?” Gracie straightened up.

/>   “We’re doing a matinée on Christmas Eve and a performance on Christmas Day, so Jake can’t make it home to his family.”

  “Do we have to have him here?” Grace chewed her lip. Damn. Hoping I didn’t have to face him.

  “He’s my friend and colleague…” Before Cara could finish, the doorman buzzed. “Let him up, Rex.” A minute later the doorbell rang. Cara brought in a dozen perfect red roses in a vase. She put them on the dining room table and tipped the delivery man.

  “Roses!” Sarah squealed. “From a fan, Mommy?”

  “They’re for Aunt Gracie.” Cara handed the card to Grace.

  After reading the message, she muttered to herself, “Damn right.”

  “Uh oh. Aunt Gracie said a bad word,” Sarah commented.

  “I’m afraid Aunt Gracie does use bad words from time to time…” Cara said.

  “Who’s using bad words?” Grant piped up. Wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, he joined them in the dining room.

  “Me. Bad training. Blame Carol Anne,” Gracie said.

  “That was mom’s job to teach you not to use bad words.” Cara moved over to give Grant a hug. He leaned down and kissed her.

  “Guess she failed then,” Gracie laughed. Cara reached over and snatched the card away from Grace and took off.

  “Hey! Give that back.” Grace chased Cara, who was one step ahead, reading the message while running around the house with her sister in hot pursuit. “It’s personal!”

  Cara stopped. Her expression became serious as she handed the note back to Gracie. “What happened last night?”

  “Nothing.”

  “This isn’t the place…but I want to know. Are you all right?”

  “Perfectly.” Grace picked up the vase and placed it on the coffee table.

  “But it says—”

  “I know.” She cut her sister off. “And that’s private. No explanations.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him…”