by Emily Bishop
“Was it you or me who wrote that?” I asked and ignored Felicity’s continued dagger stares from across the table.
“You,” Luke replied.
“Let me take a look.” I slid the clipboard across the table and propped my elbow up next to it, rested my cheek on my fist. Anything to avoid the current stream of thoughts that mangled my senses.
Aurora here. Felicity being a total prick. And me, sitting in the middle, not caught but placed here of my own making.
“What do you think?”
I scanned the lines of text. “The dialogue is stiff. Unnatural. I don’t like any of it.”
“We could rewrite. It’s not a long scene, but god damn if it’s not important enough to warrant it.” Luke clicked his ballpoint. “I don’t like the idea of—”
Felicity launched across the table and grabbed my hand. She squeezed it tight and stroked her thumb over my knuckles, almost like I was her pet cat. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize,” she said.
It’s happened. She’s finally lost her senses.
“I know you’re still struggling with all the emotion from what happened between us. And I know we can try again and make it work if you want to. You do, don’t you?”
Aurora had arrived again—that explained the sudden outburst from my devious ex—and placed a tray of drinks on the table.
Felicity knew how much I despised negative attention. How I hated the thought of a bad reputation ruining everything I’d built. “Felicity, I have absolutely no inclination of getting back together with you. Now or ever.” And I drew my hand from hers and accepted my beer. “Thanks,” I said.
Aurora didn’t reply, simply passed Luke his beer then carefully placed the glass of wine in front of Felicity. “Would you like to order food?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look yet,” Felicity simpered. Her demeanor had transformed yet again. The woman changed moods like clothes and tossed them over her shoulder onto the floor when she was done. “Isn’t life funny, Aurora Bell?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t be,” Felicity said. “I meant that it’s amazing how lives can change.”
I massaged my temples. Christ, where was she going with this?
“I don’t understand.” Aurora tucked the tray under her arm and held it there, guarded, of course.
“Well, we both went to high school in this town at around about the same time,” Felicity said, “and look how far we’ve come. I’m a famous actress and you’re well, a witch.” She laughed. “Oh, you know what I mean. The tarot thing. Not an actual witch.”
“Felicity,” I said. My tone brooked no arguments.
“I’m not just a witch,” Aurora said, and a slow smile spread her lips. “I’m a waitress, too. And I’d love to take your order.”
Felicity’s lips trembled, her face fell. Clearly, she’d expected more than a polite reply. The woman fed off drama.
“I’ll have the rump steak,” Luke said and put down his menu.
I hadn’t picked up mine yet. “I’ll have the same as him. With fries.”
“Fries. Fattening,” Felicity said. “Do you eat a lot of them, Aurora Bell?”
“What would you like, Miss Swan?” she asked, ignoring the obvious jab.
“Salad,” she said. “No feta cheese, before you ask.”
“Coming right up,” Aurora replied and stepped back. She rammed right into a portly woman and rebounded, almost hit the table.
I caught her arm just in time and saved her from the fall.
“Oh, my gosh,” Aurora said and turned to the lady she’d practically bowled over. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
But the lady hadn’t noticed. She dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief then pointed it at me. “You’re him. You’re Jarryd Tombs.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Oh, my god, I don’t believe it.” She smooshed the handkerchief to her skin again. “The actual Jarryd Tombs. Right here, in Moondance. I knew coming here was a good idea.”
Aurora sidled backward, and I watched her go, torn by a deep need to go after her, a literal tug behind my naval.
“We’re trying to have a meal here,” Felicity said, coldly.
“That’s all right.” I waved away her complaint. “What can I do for you—uh?”
“Roger!” the overweight lady shrieked.
“Not the name I expected,” I muttered.
“No, I’m Millicent. Roger’s my man. He’s coming. Roger, you get your butt in here! It’s Jarryd Tombs. You know, from Mission Overload 2?” She shrieked all of that at full volume.
Felicity pressed her index fingers into her ear holes.
“Would you like an autograph?” I asked.
“One second, one second,” Millicent said and swiped sweat from her upper lip. “Here he comes.”
Roger was an equally obese middle-aged guy wearing a fanny pack and a sheen of sweat to rival his wife’s. “Yes, that’s him. Holy crap and balls, you’re one handsome sucker. Aren’t you?”
I wasn’t one hundred percent on how to respond to that. “A picture, perhaps?”
“That would be divine!” Millicent whipped out her cell phone.
I rose from my seat, and she smashed herself against my left side. Roger conjoined himself to me on the right. They were both a head shorter than me, and Millicent’s arms stretched to get us all into the picture. She snapped about twenty photos before she finally detached from my side.
Roger gripped my hand and pumped it up and down. “Love your movies, man. Love them. Just the best entertainment. Oh, wow, and here’s your fiancée.”
Felicity sat up straighter, and brought out her starlet smile. “At last, I’m noticed,” she said and laughed. “I don’t blame you. He’s handsome, isn’t he?”
I cringed.
And once again, Aurora had returned at exactly the wrong moment to refill Felicity’s empty wine glass. She took the glass, avoided my eyes, and made to walk off.
“We’re not a couple,” I said, and the two tourists froze, exchanging a glance. Aurora faltered a step then hurried back to the bar.
Silence drifted between the tables. A few people at a booth in the corner looked over at me—the center of chaos.
Felicity sighed.
I knew better than to break whatever illusion fans had worked up in their heads. It’d only make the moment awkward. The couple took a few steps back. “We’d, uh, better get back to our table,” Roger said.
“Steaks are waiting!” Millicent put in.
And they waddled off with a few backward glances thrown in.
Felicity clapped her hands, one, two, three times. “Fantastic,” she said. “Great show, darling. Thanks to you, they’ll probably never approach another celebrity again.”
“As opposed to your Liza Minelli act? You think that’s going to sit well with the press?”
“It’s all about social media nowadays, babe,” she said and flashed me an image of her, taken with a pout and the backdrop of the Moondance Bar and Grill, happy folks eating in the background. “And my followers are eating it up.”
“Drop it,” Luke replied. “Let’s try to enjoy the rest of our meal.”
As if that were possible now. Aurora hadn’t looked at me since she’d first come up to the table, and Felicity had put an end to any plans I might’ve had to speak to her, to apologize if I’d offended her this afternoon.
“Fuggit,” I said and took my seat again. I grabbed my beer glass and downed it.
“That’s the spirit.” Luke clapped me on the back.
Chapter 12
Aurora
Table after table of customers got up and shuffled to Jarryd and Felicity. They begged for photos and autographs, and Jarryd obliged every time. It was sweet of him, sure, but it didn’t do anything to make me feel better.
He hadn’t glanced up at me once this entire time.
The smells of cooking, the usual chatter, and the chef’s low hum in the kitchen,
all of the things that’d always made me feel so at home now did the exact opposite, now. God, I had to take a break. Get outside and get some fresh air.
“You OK, Aurora?” Jerry nudged me.
I flinched. “I’m fine. Just a lot of commotion in here.”
“What I tell you about these lookie loos? Only interested in one thing, and it’s that guy over there. Look at them. They’re clogging up the entrance.”
How had I ever thought I could handle anything with Jarryd? What, had I expected to see him again? To be in a relationship with a man who couldn’t have dinner without being swamped by people who looked at me like I was… a slug? Not all of them, sure, but enough that it made me uncomfortable.
Then again, I hadn’t thought a damn thing when I’d fallen into bed with him the first time. It’d been all emotion and raw animal lust.
“I need a beer,” I muttered.
“Have one,” Jerr said. “Pour me one, too, while you’re at it. You know the policy.”
Two drinks a night. One at the start of shift, and one right at the end. Enough to ease the transition into serving and out of it.
I got two beer glasses down, slotted the first beneath the spout then tugged on the lever. I poured, and the golden liquid rose against the tilted glass. Just enough foam on top to satisfy. I handed it over. “There you go.”
“Appreciate it,” Jerr said. “I’ll go part the crowds out there. It’s one thing for the actor to give autographs, but this is killing the mood in here. People come here to eat, not to watch a show.” He knocked the beer back—total beer pro after years at the restaurant—then skedaddled.
I agreed with him, but my nerves jangled at the prospect of quiet in the restaurant. It would give Jarryd a chance to talk to me, or worse, Felicity a chance to comment on my profession of choice again.
I’d played it cool in front of her, but yeah, some of the rhetoric had eaten at me—she gave off the same vibe many others had in the past. It was the same attitude my mother had tired of in the end.
Jerry sauntered to the group of tourists. “All right, all right. That’s enough. This isn’t a damn sideshow, folks. Either sit down and eat something or get the heck out. You leave these people in peace, now.”
A murmur from the crowd. Jarryd snapped one last picture with a teenager—both of them threw up peace signs—then sat down at the table again. Felicity lavished him with a smile, all teeth, and patted his arm.
How possessive can one woman get? They’re over. Why would she keep touching him? But it had only been two weeks, and they’d been together for years. Those feelings didn’t dissipate that quickly.
Jarryd looked up at last, a quick flick of those crystal blue eyes, deep as oceans. His lips twitched up at one corner.
I broke eye contact. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get involved in anything complicated and gone right ahead and done it anyway. So much for my usual sense of self-control, damn.
“Hey, there.” The honeyed tone of his voice, glib as always, followed by the scratch of keys on the bar top, sent a shiver down my spine.
“James,” I said and faced my jock ex.
He stood at the bar, one tan forearm resting on the wood, worn by years of use. He’d chosen a Polo shirt for the night’s festivities, blue, collar popped—classic douche look, jeez—and styled his dirty blond hair with a center part and a side-wave. James had always been naturally handsome, but those weasel-eyes betrayed his character.
“You’re working here again. This brings back old times.” He touched his hair—didn’t scrape his fingers through it, a light touch on the side. “Remember when we hung out here?”
“I remember,” I said. Not that I wanted to. The “happy” memories didn’t exactly fill me with joy.
“You were such a nerd,” he replied then cuffed me on the shoulder in what he likely thought was a sweet gesture. “Remember how I used to beg you to slip us some booze from behind the bar?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“And you never did. Two years you worked in this dive, and you never gave us a single taste.” The “us” was him and the boys. His clan of jock buddies who made crude jokes and bonfires at their parents’ summer homes. “I admire you for that, Aurora. You never caved to peer pressure.”
“OK,” I said. What the fuck was I supposed to say? Thanks? Thanks a lot, dude who mocked me in front of his jock friends. Thanks a bajillion. Your approval is all I need in life?
“So, you’re staying then. In Moondance, I mean?”
“Looks like it.” I checked my tables, but they were either eating, drinking, or attended to by Jerr—he acted as manager and waiter whenever I needed a break, and intuitive as he was, had picked up on my reluctance when it came to “that actor table,” as he called it.
He looked up from taking an order, gave me a thumbs up, and raised his eyebrow, too.
I nodded. I’m all good. For now.
“If you’re going to stick around, you should come out and see my new place,” he said. “I’ve started renovating the kitchen. It looks fuckin’ rad.”
Rad. This guy’s an oversized teenager.
“I don’t live with my parents anymore,” he said. “Moved out a couple years ago when the lumber biz took off.”
“You’re still working for your father at the mill?” I picked up a glass and polished it.
“Not the menial labor, no. I’m a manager now.” James straightened his Polo shirt and checked his collar was still poppin’. “I make sure that everyone’s doing what they’re meant to. That they wear their safety gear. Important stuff, y’know?”
“Totally,” I said, in a monotone.
“Well, it’s great to see you again. And listen, I’m sorry if I was a little pushy the other day. It’s just that seeing you brings back a lot of memories for me,” he said. “I want to make up for the way I treated you back then. I was a kid and immature. I shouldn’t have made you feel less than what you were.”
Curiosity tugged at me. “Then why did you?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to maintain my image, I guess. That was the type of guy I was. But hey, I’ve changed, look at me now,” he said and flicked a hand over his buff chest. Good Jesus, his nipples were pricking holes in the damn shirt. “I’m a whole new man.”
“In what sense?”
“In the sense that I’m remorseful for my actions. I’ve come a long way, Aurora. I’d kill for a second chance with you.”
I sighed and put down the beer glass. It almost tipped over, and I caught it, set it upright. “I’m sorry, James, but I’m not interested in pursuing anything with you. I forgive you for what you said, but some things aren’t forgotten. Can you understand that?”
His lips writhed in place, a strange pale dance of contempt. They curled back, pushed forward. “You’re giving up an opportunity here, Aurora. You should reconsider.” The smooth-as-peanut-butter tone had vanished. His voice was flat, forced.
“This isn’t a business transaction, James.”
My ex’s jaw clenched, and he strained forward, knuckles white and fingers pressed against the bar top. “You realize I can have any woman in this town. Any woman I want. And I’m here with you. You realize that, right?”
“I’m not interested. And if you can have any woman, why don’t you go out and find someone else. Why me?”
“Because you’re mine,” he grunted. “You were always mine. From the minute you came to town. No one else wanted you, but I took you, and that means you’re mine. You lost your virginity to me.”
My mouth dropped open. “Dude, I’m at work right now. Have you lost it?”
Footsteps clunked on the wooden boards behind James. I leaned to check who it was, but my ex slapped his hand onto the bar top. “Look at me!” he demanded, gaze cold.
I switched my focus back to him. “Stop that. This is a restaurant. You can’t act that way in here. You should leave.”
“I should leave?” James’ss laughter came out in a moist rumble. “You’re
the one who should leave. No one in Moondance wants you here.”
“Apart from you, apparently,” I snapped back. “James, you always were a detestable prick. I only wish I’d seen it about you sooner and saved myself the embarrassment.”
He bubbled with anger, shifted, and fidgeted with the Rolex on his wrist. “Little bitch,” he hissed. “You’re nothing. You’re just like your mother.”
My mother had been everything, but it still stung. All those eyes on me, the judgment I’d thought I’d overcome, shriveled my nerves to wisps. “Get out of here, James. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, and that includes you.”
“My father is—”
“A founder, I know. Nobody cares.” God, I hoped I was right. Jerry would surely have kicked him out if he’d heard what James had said, but I didn’t want to make trouble for him or his restaurant.
It was only a pity trouble seemed to follow me around like a dog off its leash.
“Whore,” he grunted, and this time, loudly.
Even Jerry turned from his table and frowned at the disturbance. He clicked his tongue then started for the office door in back.
“Get out,” I said, firmly.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A massive hand landed on James’ shoulder, and I followed it from wrist, up a suited arm, and to Jarryd’s face. His cheeks were red, lips curled back in a rictus over perfectly whitened teeth. “She told you to leave,” he growled. “So leave.”
James shrugged off the grip and circled, a predator seeking its prey, and finding only another predator. The two of them squared off, James only a little shorter than the actor. Every eye in the establishment widened, phones came out and were raised.
All on the record. Oh shit. Hadn’t Jarryd wanted to keep his visit as quiet as possible?
“What are you, her savior?” James chuckled again.
Jarryd puffed his chest out and took a step forward, practically busting from his suit. “Listen here, you little shit. You were told to leave, and if you don’t, I’ll drag you out myself.”
“Typical.” That came from Felicity in the corner. “Honey, come sit down!”
Jarryd placed his hand on James’ shoulder again and dug his fingers into the shirt, thumb biting into the flesh up near the collar bone. “I’ll fucking break you if you speak to her like that again,” he whispered. “Do you understand me? I’ll snap you like the twig you are.”