Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy

by Susan Hammond

  “Tell me what? What about Boston?”

  For a second, Ben didn’t think Josh would answer. But then he shook his head and widened the space between them. “She’s been accepted to grad school at Harvard. Full ride. That break up with Timothy really did a number on her self-confidence. So much, she didn’t even apply to grad schools last year.”

  Why hadn’t Ali told him about it? They’d talked about grad school, but she didn’t mention that she’d applied for next year. And her silence stung. “We’ll figure it out. People commute long distances—there are ways, but you have to give it a chance.”

  “And if you get that directing job? How is that going to work?”

  Ben didn’t have an answer.

  “So your move is some movie fantasy, some grand gesture, whatever the fuck it takes?” Josh walked to the door, stopping only long enough to throw out, “You’re some piece of shit,” before slamming the door behind him.

  “Whatever the fuck it takes.” Win Win, Jeffrey Tambor and some kid…Ali would know the kid’s name.

  “Oh crap. Ali, what the hell have I done?” Ben stood looking out the window at the terrace where he’d sat with her and talked last night. He didn’t know how long he stood there, but he knew what he had to do because he was no better for her than Smithfield had been, standing in her way every bit as much. He needed to rip off the Band-Aid right now because waiting would hurt too much. Could it hurt more than this?

  In and out of the shower in five minutes, he didn’t bother to shave, thinking maybe the scruff would cover the bruise on his jaw a little. It wasn’t bad, just beginning to show. Josh should have hit him harder.

  He grabbed clothes from the closet and tossed them on the bed. The bed where they’d made love. The thought of losing what he thought they’d found knocked him to his knees. Sitting down, he ran his hands over the sheets, the sheets where he’d held her as she slept. He needed to pull his shit together and write this script. He could do that. But was he enough of an actor to pull it off? Picking up his phone, he started a text; but his hands were shaking. He erased and started over—twice.

  . . . . .

  Ali raced to the shower, but skidded to a stop when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She hadn’t seen herself dressed—naked, yes, but not dressed. Had she really turned up at his door asking for sex looking like a fashion Don’t from a YMCA spinning class? And her hair! Maybe it hadn’t looked quite this bad when the night started. But after hours of being tangled in Ben’s hands…God. She needed to up her game.

  And she had just the dress to do it. If she had the nerve to wear it. Going to the closet she pulled out the dress that Bree had talked her into buying. On the hangar, it looked modest, ladylike, even proper. A black jersey sheath, elbow length sleeves, almost knee length, with a cascade of azure and white flowers on one sleeve and over that shoulder trailing to her hip. But when she put it on, proper was the last thing anyone would think. The knit clung to her curves—curves that Ben seemed to like very much—and the plunge of the V-neckline bared more than a hint of cleavage. Another Ben favorite.

  She picked up the azure blue D’orsay pumps from the closet floor. Only three-inch heels, understated enough for brunch, but the cutout style and the color were sexy. Bree had summed it up perfectly: sometimes more is less. The thought of Ben’s face when he saw her in this outfit made her grin.

  Stepping into the shower, her mind whirled with anticipation. And her grin widened as she wondered if the dress was enough of a tease to earn her another spanking. Images of dancing with him tonight at that sexy club, tomorrow their first real date. Her choice would be something simple. Dinner and a movie seemed fitting. And he’d asked her to come to LA for spring break. A whole week together. She could even look at some apartments when she was—

  Whoa. First things first. She had to tell him about grad school. About Caltech. What would he think? She couldn’t even tell him he was wrong, but she wouldn’t put it off any longer. She’d do it right after the brunch. Before they were naked again.

  No matter how embarrassing it was.

  Thirty minutes later her curls were tamed into soft waves, pulled back on the sides with demure mother-of-pearl combs, but cascading past her shoulders in an invitation to tangle-your-hands-in-this. Finishing up simple make-up, she riffled through a drawer for the right lingerie. She wanted to be wearing something sexy this time, but she wanted the whole sweet-hot thing. Slipping into an ivory lace bra and thong, she snorted. No worry about panty lines.

  She wiggled into the dress, stepped into the shoes, and grabbed her black clutch, dropping her room key, phone and lip gloss inside. If they went straight to his room after brunch, was there anything else she needed? Nah. She smiled. If she wanted a toothbrush, she’d borrow his. Again.

  The sound of a text intruded on memories of this morning. From Ben.

  >> Change in plans. Meet you at brunch.

  That was odd. He’d been so insistent about going down together. But all the better to have him see her dressed like this across a room full of people with no possibility of checking to see if she had on panties. The thought of teasing him made her smile.

  She slipped on the zebra necklace he’d given her and looked at herself in the mirror one more time before heading to the elevator. Mr. Harrison, prepare to have your socks knocked off.

  Ali stepped inside the large, private dining room and hesitated, feeling self-conscious. She didn’t see Ben, but the room was full with a lot of the same crew from last night plus the parents and close family. Servers were bustling around a buffet table and checking the place settings at round tables for eight. Bree was waving her over to where she was standing on the edge of a group of their college friends.

  Her eyes were wide as she checked Ali out. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. You. Look. Smexy.”

  “Smexy? Is that good?”

  “Smart plus sexy. And it is very good. You rock the ‘lady you want to fuck’ look. Mr. Hollywood is gonna take one look at those tatas and be drooling in his frittata.”

  “Bree! Shhh.” She laughed at the awful word play but checked around them to see if anyone had heard the outrageous remark. So much for being discreet. “That has to be the worst pun ever.”

  “Oh, I can do much worse.”

  Ali didn’t know if Bree said anything else because at that moment, Ben walked into the room. She wanted to be cool, even a little aloof, the kind of woman he’d pursue. But it was a lost cause. She was beaming. He looked so good. Chinos and a white dress shirt, morning scruff. His smile.

  His very fake smile.

  For just a second—so fast she might have imagined it—he looked at her and heat flashed. Then the forced smile was back, and he was greeting her dad. Something was wrong. The only thing she could think of was that something had gone wrong with Ed’s proposal. Had Donna said no? Was his dad okay? She watched Ben as he talked to friends and her dad. He was getting closer to her but didn’t seem to even notice she was there. Yet she knew he knew.

  It was a couple of minutes before he looked her way and gave her a friendly nod of his head. He was close enough to reach for her, but he didn’t. Just looked her over quickly and with a quick kiss on her cheek said, “You look nice.”

  Nice?

  Crooking his arm around her neck, he added. “Last night was fun, Ali-Cat.”

  Fun? A trip to the zoo was fun. Finding the perfect pair of Jimmy Choos on sale was fun. Last night was…what was going on?

  Giving her a fast squeeze, he said, “I’ll try to catch you later,” as he waved to a group near the buffet.

  She reached out her hand to grab his arm—to ask him what the hell was happening—but pulled it back. Staring after him, too uncertain to demand answers, Ali watched him walk away and join the others, giving Cynthia the same friendly hug and kiss he’d just given her.

  She didn’t need to ask. She knew. She’d thought their friend zone had crumbled last night, but she was wrong. Ben had ju
st wedged her firmly back into place.

  Chapter 17

  How could I have been so wrong?

  She’d thought…it didn’t matter what she’d thought. Sadness and hurt would come, but right now all she felt was numb. And confused. But he’d told her, and she should have known. It’s just us, Ali.

  Timothy and Pippa waved as they passed near her, and she realized she was standing alone in the middle of the floor surrounded by groups of happy, chatting people, like she’d wandered into the wrong party. Her mother was talking to Chase, and she headed in their direction.

  “Sweetheart, don’t you look lovely this morning.”

  With a grin, Chase agreed. “She always looks lovely.”

  Well, not always. It’s a really funny story, you guys. Let me tell you what I looked like when I showed up at Ben’s door last night for some sexy “fun.”

  “And I love that necklace. It’s adorable. Is it new?”

  Ali’s hand went to the zebra pendant, flushing when she realized Ben must have noticed she’d worn it. Like a seventh grader with her first boyfriend. That’s another funny story. Ben gave it to me for Valentine’s, and I thought it meant more than he intended it to. I’m sure we’ll laugh about it one day. Except we won’t.

  She tuned into her mom saying something about Steelhead Trout. “Chase was filling me in on Bree’s reaction to the surprise.”

  “You knew about it?”

  “Josh told us last week but swore us to secrecy. And I want to find Ben and thank him. That was so sweet of him to arrange it.”

  Chase joked, “Always good to know someone who hangs out with the rich and famous.”

  Ali snagged a Tequila Sunrise from a passing server and gulped down a third of it. Josh had tried to warn her at the reception. He lives in a different world now. A world where geeky science teachers don’t fit in.

  When another server stopped to tell them the buffet was open, her mom went to check on the grandmothers. Chase and Ali started to the serving tables, but he was waylaid by some guys making plans for an afternoon game of pick-up basketball at Hermann Park. Ali left them to work out their logistics and got in line just as Ben and Cyndy walked up on the other side of the table, close enough for Ali to hear parts of their conversation. When Cyndy asked Ben if he’d gotten her text, Ali saw him nod then her heart stopped when she caught his last words.

  “…my room after brunch.”

  If Ali had tried to convince herself earlier that there must be an explanation for Ben’s distance, she stopped right then. He wasn’t going to catch her after the brunch and explain what was going on, he was going to spend the afternoon naked after all. Just not with her. Hands shaking, she managed not to spill her plate and turned to find a table. Ben was only a few feet away, pulling out Cyndy’s chair, and when Cyndy noticed her standing there alone, she motioned Ali to the empty seat on the other side of Ben. “Join us.”

  She expected to hear Cyndy gloat, but the invitation seemed sincere, even friendly. Ben just stood there, with no particular expression on his face, waiting for her to make up her mind, not offering any encouragement for her to join them. She knew when she wasn’t wanted. “Thank you, but I’m still on maid-of-honor duty I think. So I’d better go sit with Bree. And Josh.” That was Ben’s cue. Playing the Best Man card she’d thrown down would be easy if he wanted to sit with her. When he didn’t pick it up, she turned away to the next table.

  As Ali sat down by Bree, Timothy and Pippa took two seats across the table. Great. Just what I need right now. Then Bree noticed that Ben was sitting at the next table and turned to Ali, frowning. “What’s going on?”

  “Later, okay?” Bree might have pushed—she was clearly worried—but Chase eased into the empty chair on her other side, and she let it drop.

  “Hope this place wasn’t taken.”

  They were only a few feet from where Ben was sitting, and the conversation about the dinner that night and the club after was loud enough for everyone at their table to hear. Someone offered to drive, and Ben responded, “From what I’ve been told about this club, unless one of you is offering to be the designated driver—and I’m sure not—we should probably taxi or Uber.” The group laughed and launched into more planning, agreeing to gather in the lobby and go as a group. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ben’s hand on the back of Cyndy’s chair. Looking away, she ran right into Timothy’s smug, questioning expression.

  Chase leaned over to her and didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Your mom was right. You do look lovely today. But the word that first came to mind was not appropriate for mom conversation. You are one seriously hot lady.”

  Ali appreciated the compliment and appreciated even more that he understood there was something wrong and was trying to make her feel better. It helped a little, but hurt was seeping in around the edges. She just wanted this brunch to be over so she could go to her room and try to understand what had happened. And not have to act like she was A-okay. Last night meant nothing to Ben. At least nothing more than fun. She’d known it might be just one night and had taken that chance, but why had he let her believe there would be a next time? Because he crafts words for a living, makes up imaginary worlds and stories that end the way he wants them to.

  “Will you keep me company tonight? I’ll be your designated driver?”

  Chase’s invitation drew her attention back to the real world. “You’re not going to be drinking?”

  “I may have one beer, but I’m on call tonight for the practice group, and I’ve got rounds early in the morning. Very unlikely I’ll get a call, but if I happen to, I’ll get you a taxi.”

  “Is this Dr. Collins, the grown-up version?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

  He was being kind. If she thought she could skip out on tonight, she would; but she couldn’t. And the last thing she wanted was to be standing on the curb alone, waiting for someone to make room for her in one of the cars. “Okay then. Thank you.”

  “No thanks needed. It’ll be nice to have a beautiful and entertaining companion since I’m going to be stone cold sober.” He squeezed the back of her neck. “And I promise not to bring up your pizza preferences.”

  Ali smiled a little and shook her head at his flirting. The talk around the table was a little strained with Josh’s scowls directed her way—what was that about?—Bree’s worried looks, and Chase’s over-the-top attention. But in spite of Timothy’s earlier smirk, she managed to be friendly with him and to have an interesting conversation with Pippa about the casting process for her jewelry although it probably bored everyone else at the table.

  As soon as Bree and Josh excused themselves to go visit with family that would be leaving town shortly, Ali ticked off a respectable three more minutes then excused herself. She wanted out of here. She sure as hell didn’t want to watch Ben with his hand on Cyndy’s back, steering her to the elevator.

  As she stood up, she told Pippa how much she’d enjoyed talking to her. Timothy was standing and helping Pippa with her chair when he said in an all-too-familiar, fake, solicitous voice, “I hope you and your new boyfriend can work things out.” The same voice she’d heard for two years when he offered helpful advice, like how she could lose ten pounds if she’d cut out carbs or any of the gazillion other ways she could improve herself to meet his standards.

  At almost the same moment, she heard Ben say to Cyndy, “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.” And something snapped. She wasn’t okay, and she wasn’t in the mood to play nice anymore.

  Looking straight at Timothy, she said, “No, you don’t. And he was never my boyfriend.”

  Chapter 18

  An hour of playing carefree Hollywood bachelor with a table of people he had little interest in was torture.

  Ali looked amazing. She always did, but, wow, today. And the way she’d looked at him when he’d walked in—the smile that lit up her face, so glad he was there—was a picture he’d never forget. When he saw she was wearing that damn
necklace, he’d wanted to say to hell with this—I don’t care what’s best for you because you’re what’s best for me. And he’d wanted to sit beside her as she’d talked with Pippa. Not because he cared a flip about the chemistry of silver casting, but because Ali was fascinated. And when she was fascinated by something, she listened with her whole body, like the way she’d listened to his words last night when he’d described to her the different ways he’d take her.

  He needed to get the hell out of there. Telling Cynthia he’d wait for her in the lobby, he stood up to leave when Ali’s sharp words made him turn around. “…never my boyfriend. Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to tell you anyway. He was jerking your chain, having some fun at your expense for dumping me two days before you moved to London, then getting engaged to someone you’d only been dating five months.”

  Pippa was puzzled. “Two days? What’s she talking about, Tim? And we dated almost a year before—”

  Timothy’s imperious tone cut her off. “I’ll explain later.”

  Almost a year? It took Ben a second to grasp the meaning of Pippa’s questions, and he could see the same realization hit Ali when she began slowly shaking her head.

  “Once Ben and I were friends. Nothing more. This was all a joke. Only pretend. Because Ben and I could never be anything more. I’m too boring for him, and he’s too shallow and dishonest for me. Sound familiar?” Timothy started to say something but she cut him off, not finished with what she wanted to say. “And you can bet your ass that’s a mistake I won’t make a second time.”

  Then all eyes were on Pippa as she slowly pulled the rock off her left hand and looked straight at Timothy as she dropped it in a half-eaten bowl of congealing cheese grits. “What she said.” With those three words, she walked away.

  Distracted by Pippa’s quietly dramatic exit, Ben didn’t see Ali whirling around to leave until she bumped into him. He reached out to steady her, but she slowly drew her arm away from his hand with a look of pure disgust as though his touch was distasteful. For a second, there was a flash of hurt and questions. Why? After last night, how could you? Then it was gone replaced by anger, and she never looked back as she walked out of the room.