He sunk his lips into hers. They kissed slowly, passionately, with just a hint of tongue.
“Better?”
“Oh, yes.” Producing a tissue, she wiped lipstick smudges from his mouth.
He slapped the side of her thighs. “See you at seven.”
There were five men in suits around the table they usually occupied at The Sky—his five closest acquaintances, five men he respected and trusted. Paul, his best friend, was missing, but then Paul had never fit into this crowd. He was a committed family man and these men weren’t.
“Ordered you your usual.” Donald, the balding CEO of a talent agency, said, gaze pointed at a bottle of whiskey.
“Thanks.” Grant poured himself a glass. “What’s everybody been up to?”
“The usual. Business,” Vladimir dropped his head. “I heard you took your VP of Legal up to your Montana lodge.”
His eyes were judgmental.
It made Grant feel like he’d done something criminal. He squirmed in his skin. “She didn’t get a promotion this year. She was upset.”
“So let her be upset. You’re her boss, not her therapist.”
“I can’t let her be upset; I need to preserve the few female employees I have in upper management.” He studied the glass of whiskey under his nose.
“There are rumors you have a thing for her.” Ice clinked against the edge of Vladimir’s glass.
“What?” Office gossip could beat tabloids any day.
“Right. It’s ridiculous. I mean, you, with an old woman like her? You’d never stoop so low. Whoever started such a rumor had to be drunk.”
All the men around the table guffawed at the joke.
Grant formulated a fake smile, discomfort creeping up to him.
With Eve, he simply didn’t know where he was headed. She excited him like the first taste of alcohol excited a fifteen-year-old. They had great chemistry. They had great conversation. They had great everything. But she wasn’t good for him. And she wasn’t what he should want. Desiring her threatened his comfort, his ego, his identity, his values. She was changing him and he didn’t want to be changed.
Fifty-two wasn’t the age a man decided to toss aside the life he’d been living. It wasn’t the age when he suddenly started believing in love and altering his standards.
To be with her, he’d have to change. He’d have to transform.
He was too old for change. He’d lived his debauched existence for too long. Even if it was becoming boring and repetitive, it was all he knew.
“We’re heading to Lace tonight. You coming?” Donald slumped in his chair.
Lace was a gentleman’s club which Grant often frequented with his friends on the nights he was bored.
“I have other plans.” Guilt chewed him. He was picking dinner with an old woman over strippers? If his friends knew, they’d laugh at him.
“With the blonde intern?” Vladimir mentioned it like he knew it for a fact.
Actually, his plans were with Eve, but Grant nodded along.
“Doesn’t every man wish he could be you. Humping hot twentysomethings day and night.” Vladimir added with an envious chuckle.
Grant couldn’t explain why he flinched at that. In the past, words such as those had made him feel powerful, virile, desirable. They’d been medals he’d striven to collect; the pat on his back he’d sought. But now they sounded embarrassing and misguided.
“Long live Eddie Mans.” Robin, the new President of Legal and Business Affairs, joined in. Donald pulled him a seat.
Grant felt slightly nostalgic at the reference. Eddie Mans, the unapologetic womanizer he’d played in his most famous movie. He was still playing that role of-screen.
“How’s it being President?” Grant asked, shaking Robin’s hand with gusto.
“Busy. Frustrated, I have the most bullheaded woman working under me.”
“Eve Rosenberg?” Vladimir guessed.
“Who else?” Robin turned his eyes upward. “That woman has an opinion on everything. Nothing I do or say is right. The department’s procedures are outdated; the company culture is too masculine, asking her to make coffee is discrimination…someone needs to tell her that the workplace is not the place to release all her estrogen.”
Grant felt everybody’s stares. They expected him to be that man—the one who told her to stop doing the job she was being paid to do and cater to the wills of the men she worked for.
Last month, he’d have cocked his head and said something equally ignorant like, “I tried. But a man can never win against a vagina,” and they’d all have laughed at it and trivialized it.
But today, he bit on the rim of his glass and stayed silent.
A minute later, Grant realized he should’ve said something to defend her. Letting his friends put Eve down, wasn’t right. But what right did he have to talk about right?
He was spineless. A man who’d lived his whole life trying to please the audience, the critics, the press, his directors, his co-stars, his friends. His career and income had depended on being likeable. On fitting in with the people he was supposed to fit in with.
Men needed a place to belong. These were the people he belonged with. He had a certain way he needed to be if he wanted to continue being with these men.
He couldn’t break out of years and years of conditioning at fifty-two.
What was she doing to him, anyway? These men were his closest acquaintances, the only pals he could have a good time with and now he was criticizing everything they said, feeling uncomfortable for no reason, questioning this way of life.
He couldn’t let her take away his friend circle. Let her keep her opinions and stuff them up her ass. Vladimir was right. The entire scenario—him and her—was ridiculous.
Sure, they had a good time when they were together, but that was all he should be having with her. Not grand delusions of something more.
It would serve him well to remember that he was the Eddie Mans—he had a life every man desired. And he shouldn’t be throwing all that away for the sake of one woman.
Patting Robin’s shoulder, he said, “Don’t let her get to you.”
Now if he could only follow that advice himself.
*
“Glad you made it.” Eve offered Grant a half-hearted hug and nothing more as she led him to her living room.
Grant wanted to feel her up, to kiss her senseless and then slide a dirty whisper into her ear, the way he usually did, but his mood soured when he saw both her daughters lounging on the couch.
“You didn’t tell me they were going to be here.” He wagged an accusing finger at the girls, who were so underdressed for the occasion, it was an insult to his ego.
“Alana’s here for the weekend.” Eve sounded a little worried.
As he swept into the living room, the two girls kept their noses buried in whatever they were doing. Grant stifled the urge to just turn back and walk out.
Here he was, legendary Hollywood star, multiple Oscar winner, and they couldn’t be bothered to even push up their snooty little noses to greet him.
Clearing her throat, Eve tapped her feet, clearly embarrassed. “Girls. This is Grant. My—”
“Your boyfriend. We know.” Carla, whom he’d grown quite familiar with over the last few weeks, said, tapping the screen of her Nintendo 3DS with her stylus. Still no eye contact.
Alana flipped pages of a glossy magazine, pretending that none of this was happening.
“Be nice to him.” Eve tapped his arm and pierced her children with a glare. “I need to finish roasting the potatoes and then we can have dinner.”
Heading to the kitchen, she left him with her two disinterested daughters.
“And no playing on your DS or reading magazines when he’s talking to you!” she yelled across the living room, but Alana and Carla pretended to be deaf.
Grant dropped on the couch and wedged himself between Carla and Alana. The fact that Eve trusted him enough to leave him alone with her daughters was
a testament to how far they’d come.
Since September, they were growing closer and closer. They went on a lot of dates nowadays and sent each other lovey-dovey messages through work email. Every new detail he found out about excited him like a little boy.
Last week, she’d even taken another vacation with him to Los Angeles where he’d shown her his old Beverly Hills mansion and they’d strolled Rodeo Drive together. Then, they’d taken a detour to Stanford to visit her alma mater.
They were in the honeymoon phase. It wouldn’t last. He knew it wouldn’t. But it was good.
“How did it go with the sponsor?” Grant asked Carla, who had her nose buried and eyes glued to the blinking images on the small dual screen.
Somehow, Carla had gotten his number (probably from Eve’s phone) along with the erroneous idea that he was a mentor of some sort, because he called him every third day to ask for advice on her fledgling YouTube career.
“They said they’ll pay me a thousand dollars for talking about the product. I’m so excited! My first endorsement.” Her attention went back to her game. “Shoot! Mario died.”
Grant regarded Eve, or rather her ass that stuck right up in the air as she bent to get potatoes from the oven. Arousal kicked him in the balls. Quite literally.
Frustration was a bitch. Sexual frustration was a bitch on crack. Grant tried to think why he hadn’t taken Eve when he’d had an opening. Multiple openings. These days he rarely understood what he was doing around Eve. He cared for her. That was obvious. Beyond that, he had a jumble of confusing feelings surrounding her that he dared not try to untangle.
“What’re you looking at?” Carla’s round eyes peered from over her pink Nintendo 3DS.
“Your mother’s ass,” he twanged. “It’s a damn fine ass.”
A finger closed over Carla’s lip. “Don’t let her hear you say that. We’re not supposed to use words like that at home.”
Then he’d better not reveal anything else going on in his head.
He snuck a peek at the colorful animations twinkling on Carla’s dual DS screen. “What’re you playing?”
“Mario.”
“What’s it about? Does it have a storyline?” He didn’t know too much about video games, but he could see a red and blue man sprite jumping around.
“You won’t understand. It’s complicated.” Carla shrugged and closed one screen over the other.
Bringing her knees up to her chin, she hurled a glance at Eve in the kitchen. “By the way, when are you planning to marry her?”
That question caught him off-guard. Without a reason, his pulse raced.
“Sorry?” Grant rested his sweaty fingers over his pants.
Not once had he considered the idea of marrying Eve. Sure, he liked her. And since he’d never had sex with her, this was genuine affection. He wasn’t confusing intense physical attraction with actual compatibility, as he’d done with Melanie.
But he was Grant Star, for crying out loud. Mr. Desirability. A sex symbol. He couldn’t marry an old, unattractive woman. That would be like Hugh Hefner marrying a seventy-year-old grandma. It just wasn’t right. What would people think of him? The media would laugh. His friends would laugh. His image, his appeal, would be ruined.
He wasn’t going to lower himself to that level.
“We’re just dating.” The sudden urge to get up and stretch his feet overtook him. That odd tangle of emotions churned inside him again.
“Yeah. But at your age, people usually date with marriage in mind, not just for fun,” Carla said.
At your age.
Even the kid thought he was old. Fifty-two was not old. Fifty-two was a good age for a man. Fifty-seven, on the other hand, was old. And Eve was fifty-seven.
“Not always,” he said.
“You might want to tell my mom that.” Alana spoke for the first time, looking up from her copy of Scientific American. “Because she’s very serious about you. Why do you think she wanted you to meet us? We’ve never met any of her other boyfriends.”
“No...” Grant lost his voice.
“Dinner’s ready,” Eve informed loudly.
His hands were clammy and too many questions riddled his mind when he faced Eve.
“Coming.” Alana bounced to her feet and he tagged along with her.
Appraising the food on the table, he was hit by fear. Chicken and gravy. Roasted potatoes. Too homely. Too domestic. Too traditional.
Then, for some reason, Eve chose to sit next to him at the dining table, which didn’t help him.
“The food looks good.” His voice was flat.
“Thanks.” When her daughters turned to look at the cake, she gave him a secret smile.
A smile that made laugh lines appear.
The imperfections on her face didn’t even bother him anymore. He no longer looked at her thin lips and thought about lip fillers. Rather, he thought of licking them. And he wanted to run his hands over her lines, not erase them.
What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be thinking this way. He was Grant Star. He didn’t look at wrinkles and think they were cute. How had she screwed him up so much?
He frowned.
“Something wrong?” Eve asked, because he’d been staring.
He battled with words, before choosing the ones he knew would hurt her.
Stretching the skin on her cheeks with his thumb pads, he said, “You need to get botox, baby. You’re looking like a prune.”
Yeah, he was being an asshole, but it was the only way to preserve the man he was. The man he should be.
Eyes widening, she hissed. “Excuse me?”
“Pay some attention to your appearance, won’t you? I don’t want you looking like a fossil by next year.” To add to the insult, he tossed in an annoying snigger.
Eve’s fingers tightened around her fork.
“The potatoes are so delicious. Here, Grant, have some more. Isn’t my mom a great cook?” Hyperactive, Alana transferred some potatoes to his plate, serving it with a hateful look.
The message was clear—stuff some of these into your mouth and shut up.
Eve returned to smiling. “So what were you discussing with them on the couch earlier?”
“Mario.”
“I told you not to play that game around him.” Eve hurled a displeased look at her daughter.
Carla speared a potato with her fork. “Don’t you think he should know I’m a video game addict if he’s going to be my step-father in the future?”
Step-father? Grant coughed, then dunked water into his mouth, waiting for Eve to correct Carla, but she didn’t.
So he did.
“I’m not going to be your step-father. I have no intention of adopting two annoying kids.”
Taken aback, Eve blinked, but Carla smoothed over it. “Hey, we’re not that bad. Once you get to know us, you’ll like us. We grow on everyone.”
Flashing a smile, she passed him the gravy.
“No, we don’t,” Alana cut. Her gaze darted between Eve and him. “He either wants us or he doesn’t—”
“Why don’t you tell him about Dartmouth?” Shrill, Eve interrupted Alana. “He’s been asking me how you like college.”
“Has he?” Alana directed at him, unconvinced. “Do you really want to know?”
“Not really. I didn’t go to college. I don’t think I’ll understand anything.”
At this, both her fists rained down on the table, shaking the plates and pots. “He didn’t go to college. Mom, how can you be dating someone who didn’t go to college? You always said that guys who didn’t go to college were unrefined and stupid.”
“Not always.” Grant added.
He was proud of his beginnings, humble as they might be. And he didn’t want anybody looking down on it.
“He’s...different.” Rubbing her cheeks, Eve closed her eyes. “And I’ve changed my mind about college since then.”
Visibly perking up at this, Carla jumped on the chance. “Does that mean it’s okay
if I don’t go to college?”
“No.”
“But I can become a big star, too. Grant will help me. He’s helped actresses make it big before. Haven’t you?”
“Only the ones who slept with me.”
Carla blanched. Eve slapped her forehead. Alana cringed.
Hell. That had come out too fast. He was used to making jokes like that. Most of the time, he was around adult men, who wouldn’t bat an eyelid at that.
“You’re just joking...right?” Clinging onto optimism, Carla asked.
Unperturbed, Grant spooned food into his mouth. He tasted nothing, though. “Did you fall for it?”
Nobody believed him. Why were they all so uptight?
Tense, Eve fell silent. Alana cleared her throat. Carla chewed fast. An awkward pause ensued, broken only when Carla said “The food’s so good, mom,” for the fifth time.
“Yeah.” Grant nodded along. “It’s good, even if it’s a little overcooked.”
His ears picked up a long exhale. Then a slam of fists on the table.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough of you insulting my mother. I think you two need to talk.” Alana ejected herself from her chair abruptly, dropping her spoon on the plate with a clank. “Come on, Cee.”
She forced her sister out of her chair. Bothered, Carla shot him a glance that said, ‘You so screwed this up.’
“Sit down.” Mustering all the strictness she could, Eve tried to keep the night from slipping into disaster territory, but Alana didn’t look like she was about to be swayed.
“No, I can’t watch this anymore.” Searing him with a glare, she said, “You’re obviously in love with someone who doesn’t give a damn about you, mom.”
Her heavy footsteps, followed by Carla’s, pounded the floor as they disappeared into their rooms and banged the doors shut. Dull sounds reverberated in the still living room. Beats passed.
Resting her face between her cupped palms, Eve sighed. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t ruin this.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“No, I’m not. You’ve just embarrassed me in front of my children.” He’d never heard her sound so furious. She was almost shouting. “I was right about you. You’re a callous jerk. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to love you.”
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