Kiss Me

by Joseph James Hunt

  Chris took a similar approach, he hauled himself in his office, not one to be outdone as he watched the traffic increase to Blake’s posts. Chris had fewer social media followers than Blake, and part of him thought Blake was right, anyone could spout comments and add a clickbait title and receive traffic, while Blake was a brand in himself, and he knew if he wanted to win, he’d have to take that brand away.

  Ava knocked on Blake’s office door, waiting only a second before pushing her way inside. She carried in two red lanyards with ‘VIP’ written on the fabric and small black placards with ‘PRESS’ stamped on them.

  “What’s that?” Blake asked, pulling at his headphones.

  “These are some VIP tickets to a new horror film. Six Feet Under.” She waved a hand at him and smiled, placing them on the table. “God knows.”

  Blake grinned. “Sweet. Who sent them?”

  Ava wagged a finger. “I took them.”

  “From Chris?”

  “He lost you your article, let’s take away his.”

  Blake sucked through his teeth. “You know that’s stealing.”

  “Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “Take them.” She pushed them across the desk.

  “If you come with me.”

  “Tonight?” She smiled.

  “It’s a premiere, isn’t it? Wear something nice.”

  She squealed door. “Serious?”

  “Sure! We’re a team.” He smirked. “They’ve got clothes in the costume department, but try not to let Donna see.”

  Ava jumped around on the spot. “I’m have a red dress already picked out for the occasion.” She combed her fingers through her wavy hair. “I hope there’s champagne.” She clapped her hands together before pressing them to her lips. “Mm.”

  Chris had an entire closet in his apartment full of suits in garment bags. He kept on trend, as any self-respecting person would if they were being photographed walking the red carpet, even if they would spend only a moment before the press realised they weren’t anyone worthy of photographing. He’d picked a blue velvet suit for the upcoming premiere, a suit he’d hung on a peg in his office. He stared at it, noticing the wrinkles and creases catch the light on occasion, pulling him away from his article.

  Chris chewed on the inside of his cheek, continuing to stare impatiently. “Danny.” He pressed the sides of his hands around his mouth, and like a microphone, he boomed.

  Danny skidded into Chris’ office, tripping over his feet. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  He gestured to his suit. “Thought you said it’s been dry cleaned.”

  “It was! I got it delivered this morning.”

  “Look at all the wrinkles.” He stood, approached the suit. “Just look.” He pulled at the jacket sleeve. “I can’t wear it like this.”

  “I can get it—”

  Chris pinched at the fabric. “Has this been ironed? I said steamed. You can’t iron velvet. Didn’t you parents teach you this?”

  Danny gulped, shaking his head. He touched the fabric. “Hmm. I can get it steamed. I didn’t know.”

  Chris pulled the hanger from the hook. “Please,” he sighed. “And where are the tickets?”

  “You don’t have them?”

  He shook his head. “If I did, I wouldn’t ask.”

  “They’re not in your mail to collect.”

  “So? What does that mean?”

  Danny glanced around to make sure he wasn’t on a hidden camera show being set up. “They haven’t been delivered yet.”

  “Get on it. I have an interview with one of the actors before the screening. And I can’t walk the red carpet wearing wrinkles.”

  “Which film was it again? I’ll call their marketing department and see if they’ve been sent.”

  Chris scrunched his face and rolled his eyes. “Six Feet Under. It’s a hack-job horror.”

  A single call revealed the tickets had already been sent, and with that information, Danny armed himself with a fresh coffee and a tray of baked pastries. “For you,” he said, placing them on Chris’ desk.

  Chris looked them over, removing his fingers from the keyboard before glancing at Danny. “You know too much sugar will slow my metabolism, right?”

  “Right.” Danny nodded and screwed his eyes. “I have news.”

  “Did the wrinkles come out?”

  “About that?”

  Chris massaged the bridge of his nose. “Tell me, what happened? They got a stain on it? Something tore?”

  “The tickets were sent, but we don’t have them.”

  “Sorry?”

  “The tickets?” he said, waiting for Chris’ nod. “They were sent, but nobody has seen them. So—”

  “So, you misplaced them?”

  Danny shook his head, knitting his eyebrows together. “No.”

  “Then, explain, what happened.”

  Danny shrugged. “They’re just not here.”

  “You better be shitting me right now, Dan.” Chris grabbed a sugar-glazed ring doughnut. “Get out. Now!” Danny ran as Chris threw the doughnut in his direction, hitting the framed poster of Jaws. “Ugh.” He took another doughnut and tore it in two.

  Ava met Blake in his office, both dressed in red. Ava wore a ruby red strapless dress with a lace bodice, paired perfectly with a pair of black peep-toe platform heels. Blake wore a deep red slim-cut suit.

  Ava flitted around the office in circles. “Look.” She pushed her hand to her chin. “I went to the girls in Donna’s photography studio. They had thirty minutes, and I let them work their magic.” Her lips were the colour Russian red, a staple for any bold lip lover, and her hair had been curled and teased into larger waves.

  He held his hands in the air. “Ten out of ten.”

  “Thank you!” She shimmied, squeezing her arms around herself.

  “I almost wore the same dress.” Blake gasped, swivelling in his office chair.

  “Really? I liked that black number.”

  He pressed his hands to his face and shook his head. “We don’t speak about that. It was a dare.” He shivered, purging the memory from crawling to the front of his brain. “But this pairs perfectly with you.” He stood and twirled for her.

  The film premiere and red carpet event took place at the one of the largest cinemas in Manchester, the Odeon. The red carpet was set to the backdrop of film posters and crammed with photographers and reporters at the side.

  Blake and Ava clung to each other as they walked down the red carpet, stopping and smiling for the photographers.

  “Dear Blake!” one of them shouted.

  Ava’ grasp around his arm tightened. “We should be moving,” she said behind her teeth.

  Blake approached the reporter who’d hollered. “Yeah?” A tall pasty man stood out from the group. He held his phone out in front of him as a recording device.

  “Why is an advice columnist at a film premiere?” he asked.

  He chuckled to himself. “The real question is, why aren’t there more advice columnists here?” He gave the man a nod and joined Ava before she ran off in a meltdown.

  She resumed clinging to his arm. “You said we’d be quick, I don’t want to get fired.”

  They were hurried inside the cinema by ushers, and thankfully so otherwise Ava’s grasp on Blake in the open would’ve left a bruise. People stood around inside the entrance area, offering popcorn and large drinks. Ava tugged on Blake’s arm while he tried to survey the room for hot men. It was a habit he’d grown accustomed to when in a room full of new people.

  “See anyone you like?” Ava asked as they queued for concessions.

  Blake grabbed at his phone from the interior jacket pocket. “Let’s see.” He opened one of the hook-up applications and scrolled through to find many faceless men; all torso. “There’s a few cuties out there, but not here, guess Hollywood is still keeping its men in the closet.”

  “Actually.” Ava nodded to a man. “Old and young, seems to be a theme.”

  “My next arti
cle, young men in Hollywood, attractive to power and success, or just getting ahead.”

  “Giving head more like.”

  “Next!” the boy at the concessions counter called and they moved forward.

  Six Feet Under was a film with little plot. It ran for one hour and forty-three minutes, and it all focused on a man imprisoned in a box and buried. The film followed the events until he’d been buried, a man who tried to fake his own death, and in the end, he died anyway.

  As the film let out, another wave of reviewers and photographers stood outside. Clung to Blake’s arm, Ava swung around, showing off her beautiful red dress as it pulled to her body in all the ways a dress should.

  Nearing the exit to leave, they were pulled out by a large hand, like being plucked from the sky and placed into darkness through the emergency exit doors.

  “What are you doing?” the voice, familiar in the tone of anger. Christian stood front and centre, dressed in the blue velvet suit he had steamed and cleaned.

  It was October and Ava shivered in the cool breeze as it nipped her ankles. “We have tickets,” she said, and yanked at her lanyard.

  Chris shook his head.

  “They were in my mail,” Blake said.

  Chris yanked Blake’s from around his neck, pulling it free. “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low.”

  Blake scoffed. “Me?” He glanced around in disbelief. “You cut my internet. I lost a feature because of you.”

  He shrugged. “I never did anything.”

  Blake tipped his head and raised his eyebrows. “And neither did I.”

  “But if you want to play dirty, I’ll play dirty!” He pulled away Ava’s lanyard from her hands and stormed off, approaching an attendant.

  Blake and Ava rushed into the street. A fine trickle of rain fell, tiptoeing over them for a moment before giving a light dusting. They continued to walk quickly until reaching a cobbled alley.

  “Do you think he’s telling them?” Ava asked, catching her breath.

  “What are they going to do?” he laughed. “Erase the film from our brain.”

  “You know, when he’s like that, all masculine and angry.” She fanned herself with a hand. “He really gets to me.”

  Blake laughed. “He’s just a man with anger issues. I bet he’s got a small dick.”

  Ava punched Blake in the arm. “You think so?”

  “You should know. You’re an office gossip.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nobody knows anything about him. Except he’s been at that magazine forever.” She continued walking the cobbled pathway with her arms wrapped around herself. “Where are we going?”

  “To meet Dannika in Manhattan.” Blake pulled away his suit jacket and placed it over Ava’s shoulders. “That’s the straightest thing I’ve ever done, so don’t tell anyone.”

  “You’re a gentleman really.” She pressed her nose into the lapel and inhaled. “What’s that you’re wearing?”

  Blake sniffed himself. “Tom Ford. Selfridges sent over samples, the ones that went missing, they’re all my office drawer.”

  Manhattan was the cocktail bar every twenty-something with a graduate job and extra spending money wanted to be spotted at. They had the greatest cocktail menu. Usually, they’d have specials on offer, a new concoction, they were short of being a science lab. Blake tried everything, from their rhubarb and custard sour to every flavour daiquiri. But Manhattan was selective of who they let in, only the best dressed, or if you were on the list. Everything inside was illuminated in a neon green hue, while outside there were people queuing.

  Blake and Ava walked the street, seeing all the people shivering as they stood in line. They continued to a man standing at a podium.

  “Name?” he asked, glancing at them once before back at his list.

  Blake coughed into his fist. “We’re with Vague, the magazine.”

  “I’ll need to see some ID.” He nodded at them both.

  “ID? But we’re here every week.”

  He grumbled. “I’ve seen you before, but I need to see your company ID.”

  Blake frisked himself, unable to find the white card with his name and face on it from work. He pulled Ava close and reached inside the jacket pocket she had hooked over her shoulder. He pulled his and hers out. “There. Blake Harris—”

  “And Ava Jones.”

  He nodded. “Perfect, go right ahead and enjoy your evening.” He moved out of the way, leading them to another man who stood with a hand on a rope.

  “Enjoy,” the second man said, unhooking the green rope and opening the door.

  In Manhattan, there were three floors. The first floor, where you entered, it was complete with standing tables, no chairs. The basement on the lower level was a large grungy area of splattered neon paint on the walls and science beaker ornaments. And the second floor, equipped with tables and chairs, and corner booths, often accompanied by soft pop music or a live musician.

  Blake noticed Dannika immediately, she stood at the bar with her friends from the TV company. They stood around drinking large colour changing drinks. Dannika noticed him at the same time, she’d been keeping one eye on the door for over half an hour, waiting for her best friend’s imminent arrival. She rushed over, her hair bouncing around. She pulled Blake and Ava in her arms and squeezed them.

  “How long have you been here?” Blake asked as they walked back to Dannika’s friends.

  Dannika shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Try this.” She took her drink from the bar and pushed the straw to Blake’s lips.

  He sipped. “What is—oh, whoa.”

  “Coconut to lemon.” Dannika offered Ava the straws. “Like it?”

  “Mmhmm. Is it new?”

  Dannika nodded. “Think so.” She hugged Blake again, with her mouth close to Blake’s ear. “I need to leave these girls. I don’t want to talk about Steph’s hen party anymore.”

  Blake chuckled. “Say no more.”

  Whenever he could, Blake liked to switch it up. He went for the blood orange and lime mojito, while Ava stayed true to her classic strawberry daiquiri. Watching the cocktails being made in front of them, it was an artform, especially trying to get a glimpse at the bartenders’ orgasm face; rumoured to be the face they make while shaking your drink.

  After taking their drinks, they took seats on the second floor at an empty table. Deflated and defeated by Friday.

  “Ava stole tickets for a premiere.”

  Dannika snorted back a laugh. “And where was my invite?”

  “There were only two, and they should’ve been Chris’.” Blake shrugged. “Oops.”

  Ava sipped through her straw. “He deserved it.”

  “Then he was there when we left, I mean, the film was terrible.”

  She hummed in agreement. “Think it might’ve been punishment.”

  Dannika smacked Blake’s arm playfully. “And Chris is the one you’re fighting with over the job, right?”

  Blake removed his straw and gulped at the mojito from the glass. “He’s a dick.”

  Dannika nudged at Blake and wiggled her eyebrows. “I haven’t even seen a picture. Is he attractive?”

  Ava’s eye widened as she nodded. “The hottest.”

  “What?” Blake puffed out his lips. “I mean, he’s got that muscular thing going for him.”

  “So, he’s straight?” Dannika asked.

  “And angry.” Ava hummed, licking the ice from her straw.

  Dannika chewed on her bottom lip. “I bet he’s aggressive in bed, you know, the kind of guy who throws you around, but then cuddles after getting it out of his system.” She let out a deep moan. “I need to get laid.”

  “I hit on him once.” Ava raised a hand. “Maybe he’s not into brunettes.”

  “Ooh, invite him out. Maybe he’s into blonde’s.” Dannika slipped from her seat and landed on her bum. She pulled herself back into her seat and sipped from her cocktail glass. She looked around at their concerned glares. “I’ve been drinking for h
ours, leave me alone.”

  Ava winked. “Invite him out. Maybe all you need is some male bonding and you’ll be able to put this office war behind you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Dannika raised a hand. “What she said.”

  Blake adjusted his bowtie. “Not a chance, and let you two hungry females try and get at him. He’ll hate me even more then.”

  “Or, or, or.” Dannika pressed a finger to her lip. “We kidnap him, he loses his job. You win.”

  “Wow. Who knew you had so many bad ideas?”

  “Not the point.” She wagged her finger at him.

  Blake grabbed Dannika’s finger. “We stole those film tickets, he’s not going to give in easily.”

  “I’ll get the next round,” Dannika said, standing again on her jittery heels.

  SIX

  Monday blues

  A weekend of being hungover was not what the doctor ordered, or anyone else for that matter. A glass of wine with dinner, a bottle of vodka for dessert, for highly stressful jobs, the only means of escape sometimes was the bottom of a bottle.

  The dull drab grey skies fell over Manchester, bringing with them the wind and rain, spraying everyone in their faces with its salty mist. It was enough to put a damper on anyone’s mood, including the always energised Chris.

  Blake stood in the staffroom, mixing a coffee. He clocked eyes with Chris and spun on his foot, moving toward the window.

  “Stay out of my way.” Chris mumbled.

  Blake sucked the bitter burnt coffee, waving back at Chris before flipping his middle finger. “I’m going.” He stood looking out of the window watching people on the ground, people who ran with umbrellas and newspapers over their heads.

  “Enjoy the film?” Ruby chuckled as she stood beside Blake.

  The last thing he needed was Ruby chiming in his ear. “What?” He frowned.

  Ruby stroked her stomach, pushing it out. “Ava told me, you two—” She pointed to Chris. “—have a little war going on.” She pursed her lips and tipped her head up. “I also saw the pics of you and Ava, she’s so pretty.”