by Dylan Allen
She sighs, “Reece, forget it. You don’t have to sit here and try of think of something to say. I don’t know why I stepped back when it was obvious you were holding me away.”
“No, Lucía.” I put my arm on her elbow to stop her from leaving again. “I’m trying to think of what to say. Yes, I was holding you away.” She slips her arm out of my grasp and this time I grab her hand. It’s so small, and yet there’s nothing fragile about it, or her. I can feel the callouses in her palm and I remember that this woman has worked hard and fought for every single inch of paved road she’s traveled. I shouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. But her hand, it feels so right in mine.
“No. Shit. I’m fucking this up. Lucía . . .”
“Reece, it’s okay. Really.”
“Stop interrupting me, dammit,” I growl at her.
She clamps her mouth shut and her eyes grow wide. She looks as shocked as I feel, she actually did what I said without arguing. That’s a first.
“I was holding you away because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t be getting hard while I’m teaching you how to swim. I shouldn’t be getting boners with you at all. You’re—”
“I know, I’m not your type.” She tries to tug her hand out of my grasp and in frustration, I pull her flush against me. She melts into me, connecting us from hip to thigh.
“Does that feel like you’re not my type, Luc?” I mumble when I feel her hips rotate and against my erection.
“But you said . . .” she whispers and looks up at me. The look of wonder on her face makes me want to take her mouth in a wild kiss.
I let go of her hand and move both of my hands up her body. One stops at her waist, the other goes to brush away the loose hair that is sticking to her neck. As soon as my hand touches her, her eyes close and I feel a shudder pass through her.
I lean in and down and put my nose on the side of her neck and inhale, she smells like sweat and vanilla and chlorine. I press a kiss to the base of her throat and move my hand to cup her neck.
“I lied,” I say against the spot I just kissed.
Her head falls onto my chest and she says my name, and in her tone I hear so much of what I’m feeling: confusion, frustration, need. I tilt her head up to look at me. Her eyes remain closed.
“Luc, look at me.”
She shakes her head no.
“Luc—”
And then, the air and the moment is cleaved in half by a loud, all too familiar voice shouting my name
“Reeeeece!”
Lucía and I both jump, breaking contact. Without another word she turns and starts up the stairs just as fucking Fabienne comes around the corner.
She comes to a halt as she sees Lucía. Her eyes dart back and forth between us and I see them narrow in a way that I dislike.
“Fabienne, what are you doing here?” I ask her as I start to follow Lucía out of the pool. She’s already at her mat and hurriedly pulling her T-shirt on by the time I’m out of the pool.
“I could ask you the same thing Reece’s Pieces,” she taunts, using the nickname she knows I hate. She holds out a towel to me.
I roll my eyes as I snatch the towel from her. Fabienne is my ex-wife. Our marriage was years of tantrums, breaking up, making up, accusations and drama. Our divorce was even worse. Unfortunately, she’s been cast in a film the studio is producing, but she has no reason to be here, in Malibu, looking for me.
“Can you just answer a question without being cryptic. Why are you here? How did you know I was at the guesthouse?”
She glances at Lucía who is drying her hair with a towel and not facing us. God, could this be anymore awkward?
“I went to your house and Alma said you were here. So, I took the golf cart. Sorry to interrupt.” Her gleeful tone says the exact opposite.
“Cut the shit. Why were you at my house?” I ask her, ignoring her evasion.
“I just thought we could have breakfast, you know . . . I want to talk.” She looks at Lucía again and this time Lucía looks up at her, too.
Her expression is shuttered, but I can see the tension in her jaw and I know she is anything but calm. And then she turns to face me.
“I’m going to get ready for work. I’ll see you at the office. Thanks for the lesson.” And then she walks towards the sliding door without acknowledging Fabienne.
“Lucía, can you wait?” I start after her.
She stops and turns to face me, her expression no longer shuttered. Her eyes are cold but her chin is quivering, and I can see that she is struggling to hold on her to her composure.
“No.” She gives her head a gentle shake. “I can’t.” And then she turns to go, closing the sliding glass door behind her.
“So, that’s the famous authoress?” Fabienne drawls as she drops into one of the lounge chairs on the deck. “I read her book, you know,” she quips.
“Good for you. And I don’t have time for breakfast,” I say as I start to walk past her into the house. I can’t imagine what Lucía’s thinking.
“What? You always have time for breakfast,” she calls after me, and I can hear that she is not perturbed in the slightest. She knows she’s done some damage and that makes her happy. She used to be one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Her fame changed her and I went from being her boyfriend to being a tool she used whenever she wanted to make headlines.
“Not anymore. At least not with you. If you need something, talk to your production team. You can show yourself out,” I say, not bothering to look back at her.
“Reece, I read chapter fifteen of the book. I know why you’re desperate to get it made,” she singsongs, but her voice has the edge to it, the one it normally gets when she’s about to say something she knows is going to sting. I stop and turn to face her.
“You don’t know anything, Fabienne,” I say slowly. I don’t want her even thinking about Lucía. She looks at me, her expression puzzled at first and then delighted.
“Oh, you haven’t read it.” She claps excitedly as she stands up. “This is perfect,” she says with a giggle. Her glee making me all kinds of nervous. She’s never happier than when someone else’s day is about to be ruined.
“Fabienne, please leave.”
I hear her laugh as I shut the door behind me. I walk to the front of the house and watch as she hops into her convertible Jaguar coupe and drives off.
“Lucía,” I call as I enter the house. The shower in her bathroom is running. I want to walk in there and make her listen. When she was pressed against me, I could feel every single curve of her body melt into mine. I could feel the pulse in her neck when I kissed it.
I owe her a conversation and I want to make sure Fabienne’s really gone. So, I grab a piece of paper and pen from her counter and write her a note.
I’m just about to walk out of the kitchen when a picture catches my eye. It’s a silver framed picture of her and a boy, I assume he’s her brother . . . he looks vaguely familiar, but I don’t know why. She looks like she’s about five years old. She’s sitting on his shoulders with a wand of bright pink cotton candy in one fist. He’s smiling up at her and she’s staring up at the sky, her mouth open in a laugh, her eyes full of wonder.
I’m going to put that smile back on her face. I let my fingers skim her face in the picture before I let myself out.
15
Lucía
I’m getting ready to leave the house when I see the slip of paper with my name on it. It stops me in my tracks. I pick it up and run my fingers over it before I read it. Reece wrote this. With the hands that had been on my body. Holding me, while he told me that he wanted me.
His handwriting is unexpectedly neat and restrained. I scan the short note.
* * *
Come to his office? As if. So much happened this morning. My shower didn’t help me process any of that. Reece wants me. The same way I want him. But . . . his ex-wife. She wasn’t acting like an ex. Not that I have much experience with relationships, but she looked
at me like some dirty side-piece.
I walk out back and hop in my golf cart to head toward the offices. I let my eyes scan the beach as I drive. I can’t imagine ever taking this view or these sounds for granted. The waves are lapping at the beach gently this morning. The gulls call to each other as they frolic above the surf. It’s cool here this morning, but the breeze feels amazing as I zip along the path.
I pass the main house where Reece lives and see that all the lights are on and his golf cart is still there. I wonder if she’s there, too?
I can’t really afford to let myself get distracted or involved in their drama. I feel a pull toward Reece. We’ve become friends and now I know that we’re also both fighting an attraction. He’s become one of my favorite people. He’s smart, he’s compassionate, he’s funny and he’s got a great laugh. You know how the say there are some people you just have chemistry with? I thought that was just a saying. But now, I know it’s real. We feel good together. Not just romantically. But in every way.
I know I was holding back—I didn’t think he was interested. But I’m not sure what his reason could be. It could be my status, but he hasn’t seemed fazed by that. Maybe it’s my age. Or, because I’m a nobody in Hollywood and he only dates A-Listers. Maybe it’s because I work for him. Or maybe it’s because he’s still not over Fabienne. I want to know, but I don’t want to push it. Maybe it’s for the best that nothing happened between us. We’re at a crucial point in the screenwriting process. Next week, we are headed to LA to share our script progress with some of the other studio executives. I’m nervous and excited. I think we’ve done good work and I hope I’ve proven myself a little. But this meeting is important, if it goes really well, we could get the green light right away. That would mean we’d be moving on to casting and then production. It’s totally surreal to think that my book, my little book that was written as fiction, but is inspired by my life, is going to be a fucking movie.
I squeal as I drive. It’s been hard work. But then again, I’ve worked hard my whole life and always will. But all of this is so much more than even my wildest dreams could have conjured.
I’m on cloud nine as I park my golf cart, thinking about the book and screenplay has totally lifted my spirits. I almost skip into the office and head straight for the elevator. Just as I hit the call button, I hear familiar voices coming from around the corner. It’s Reece and Fabienne. My pulse spikes and like a bird struck by an arrow in mid-flight, my good mood comes crashing down. I brace myself for impact as they come around the corner, toward the elevator. They look so . . . right. I didn’t let myself really look at her this morning. She’s even more beautiful in person than in print or on screen. Her hair is incredible; her skin is flawless. She looks like she belongs next to Reece. I don’t feel bad about the way I look, but I know I don’t look like that. When he finally sees me, Reece stops short.
“Hey, did you get my note?” he asks. He’s looking at me intently, and I can see the worry in his eyes. It verges on desperation.
“Yes. I did.” I nod and start to move toward him. But Fabienne reaches him before I do. Her emerald green eyes livid as she watches me, daring me to step closer. Reece doesn’t seem to notice her as he searches my face. But I do. And suddenly, I’m Ana Maria again. I’m back on that playground and the thing I want most is being taken from me.
I feel hot tears prick the back of my eyes. Shame wells in my chest and forces me to look away. “Luc,” Reece starts to say. Two men join us in front of the elevator and he stops. They both greet him and Fabienne. I stand there, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
And then the elevator dings and the doors open. We all step on, I press the button for my floor and quickly move to stand across from them. I keep my eyes on the door as the elevator begins its short climb to my floor. You could cut the awkward tension in the air with a knife. I can feel Reece’s eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. Not with her there.
The elevator stops on my floor and the doors pop open right away. I step off without another glance in their direction. My heart is racing and my palms are sweating. Those thirty seconds in the elevator with them felt like torture. I take a big gulp of air as my constricted lungs ease open.
“Lucía, I’ll be in my office,” Reece calls after me. I don’t turn around. I can’t. I don’t need to see them standing together again. That image is burned into my brain.
I head to my office and turn my computer on. Dan and Todd are late, as usual, so I pull out my notes from yesterday and start responding to emails from Sol, and various blogs and news outlets asking me for interviews.
I’m about to close my inbox, when I see a new email pop up. It’s from Reece. My mouse hovers over the message as I decide whether or not to open it. I don’t want to have this conversation now. I have a lot of work to get ready for our meeting in LA.
“Hey, early bird,” Dan calls as he and Todd come bounding in, coffees in hand. That decides it for me. I’ll read it later.
Three hours later and we’ve gotten through the toughest scene in the book—the sequence of Julio’s arrest, death and their father’s deportation. I’ve been dreading today. Writing those scenes in the book had been cathartic. But today, it was like reliving a nightmare. Todd and Dan were also moved by it, but they have no clue that this is my life story. And after spending hours having to be clinical in my approach to how we constructed this part of the screenplay, I’m emotionally spent. I tell them that we should take an extra hour for lunch.
I grab my phone and walk outside. My fingers tremble as I finally let myself open the email I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Every time I let my mind relax while we were writing, Reece’s name would pop into my head.
To:[email protected]
From [email protected]
Subject: Today
Fifty-five,
I need to talk to you . . . but something’s come up. I’m headed back to LA right now. I’ll email or call when I have the chance.
R.
* * *
My heart sinks. He’s gone back to LA. With Fabienne probably. My heart twists in my chest at the thought. I don’t know what this means. Did I misunderstand what happened in the pool? Should I call him and just ask?
I walk back to my desk and sit down. Dan is nowhere to be seen and Todd is busy typing away at his computer. He gives me a very fleeting, but assessing glance before his eyes go back to his screen. “What’s wrong, sweets? You look like you lost your puppy.”
I’m in over my head here, and I’m tempted to ask them for advice but I don’t want to gossip or talk about Reece. I bite my lip and look up at him. “Well, can I give you a scenario and see what you think?”
“Scenario for the screenplay or real life?” he asks as he types on his computer.
“Real life,” I respond.
His fingers come to an immediate halt and his head snaps to me, his hazel eyes twinkling. “Oooh, yes. Real life! Hit me with it.”
I pause and try to think of how to phrase my scenario without giving away who I’m talking about.
“I know this girl. And there’s a man she likes. A lot.”
“Like, in what way? The way I like you or the way I like Jason Momoa?” he asks.
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m being serious, Todd.”
“Me too, girl. I never kid about Jason Momoa.”
“The latter,” I say impatiently. “As I was saying . . . she likes him, thinks he might like her back, but he’s got an ex who’s still hanging around and as soon as she shows up, he disappears. Should she call or just take a hint and leave him well enough alone?”
Todd considers me like he’s weighing his words very carefully. I look down, feeling foolish.
“You know what, forget it. It’s silly.”
“Oh, no, no . . . It’s not silly, Lucía,” he says reassuringly. “I’m just trying to think.”
Just then, Dan walks around the corner. “You’re thinking. God help us,�
�� he says dryly as he drapes his long, lanky frame onto his chair. He looks at us and says, “What are you guys talking about?”
“Oh, Lucía’s just asking me for advice about her and Reece,” comes Todd’s nonchalant response.
“Ooh, what about her and Reece?” Dan says, with real excitement.
I sit up in my chair and gape at them, my heart beating triple time. “I never mentioned his name or said it was about me!” I shout at him.
“Calm your tits, kid. We’re not blind. We see you two making heart eyes at each other. Smiling as you walk by. When you first got here, I thought you must have fucked him for the job. He’s not really the casting couch type, but I figured that maybe you were too much of a temptation for him to resist.” He looks at me and bursts out laughing. “You should see your face. Your mouth is hanging open,” he says laughing.
I shut my mouth. “We don’t make heart eyes, nothing has ever even happened between us,” I protest.
“Hey, you’ve got real writing chops, kid, you don’t need to feel bad about anything,” says Todd, looking at me sympathetically.
“I don’t have anything to feel bad about. Nothing has ever happened between Reece and me. We’re friends,” I repeat emphatically.
Dan rolls his eyes and goes back to his computer. “Okay. Sure. Listen, you don’t need to tell us your business. But anyone with eyes can see how you get all calf-eyed when he’s around, and every time he looks at you, you’d think he’d never seen you before. He always does a double take.” They both laugh out loud as Dan does an impression of Reece. Whipping his head around and making his eyes bug out.