by Frankie Love
“Maybe next you’ll be the one finding a girl and settling down.” Even as I say it I can’t quite picture the sort of woman for Cliff. He’s gruff and keeps to himself in ways even I don’t. I work in town, with lots of customers, and have to have some decent social skills for that. But Cliff? Hell, the campgrounds are mighty empty for long stretches of the year and besides me, I’m not sure he runs into much of anyone during the winter.
“Yeah, I can’t imagine a woman who would put up with me,” Cliff chuckles.
We keep hiking, lost in our own thoughts. The air is icy but the sky is clear blue, just like Goldie’s eyes. And the whole hike, she’s all I can think about.
When we get to the summit, Cliff pulls out two cans of beer, per our tradition. We lift them, making a toast. “To Mark,” I say.
“To Mark.” Cliff and I finish our beers in silence, my mind on the past, wondering just what my future might hold.
It’s late by the time I get home, and once I shower, change, and take Otis out for a walk, it’s time to pick up Goldie for our date. Earlier this week we decided to go to Fireside Bar and Grill. They have live music on Saturdays, and I’m looking forward to getting beer on tap.
I knock on her door, fresh flowers in hand, and she opens it with a big smile on her face. “Hey, Grant,” she says, letting me inside. She’s wearing a pink sequined dress, thigh-high boots with heels and earrings made of feathers. Her hair’s been curled and she has shimmer on her eyes. She looks like magic.
“These are for you,” I say, and she kisses my cheek in thanks before finding a mason jar to keep them in. “So how did it go this morning? Did you get enough people to audition to make the cast?”
“Nearly,” she says, pulling on a black leather coat. She takes my hand as we leave her place, and head toward Cherry Popper Way where the restaurant is located. “Four people showed, and even though one of the women is slightly older than what I planned, it works great. And everyone was so excited. I felt bad that one of the girls who came out was only fifteen. I didn’t have a role for her but she’s excited to help with costumes and make-up. And one older man, Thomas Miller, came and offered to do the lighting.”
“He’s the town’s Santa Clause. He’s a great guy.”
“That’s what I heard,” Goldie says as we grab a table at the bar inside the restaurant.
“So which cast member are you short?”
“Well, there was no one for the leading man. I think since the men who came out to audition are pretty inexperienced, they were intimidated by the part.”
“What are you going to do?” I run a hand over my jaw, thinking that maybe I could step up and help. Any excuse to spend more time with her.
“That’s the thing, I was racking my brain, trying to figure it out.”
A waitress comes over and we quickly scan the menu, both of us ordering beers and deciding on a plate of nachos and side of fries.
“You know,” I say, taking a leap. “I don’t have any acting experience, and I’m barely capable of public speaking — proven by last week’s career day — but I could do it, Goldie. For you.”
Her eyes widen, and she reaches across the table for my hands. “That is so sweet, Grant. But—”
I laugh. “It’s okay, I won’t be offended if you want to keep scouring Cherry Falls for the right person.”
“No, I can’t really afford to scour the town for a week. I need to start rehearsals tomorrow. The show is in six weeks. I’ve learned if you drag practices out much longer than that, actors lose interest. And I already printed fliers and everything advertising the show.”
“So what’s the plan?” I ask.
She bites her bottom lip, averting her eyes. “I actually called a guy I used to do theater with. I knew he was between jobs — he’s actually booked a role in a movie but doesn’t start filming for eight weeks. So the timing was right.”
“Oh, well, that’s great,” I say. “But if it’s good news, why do you look so anxious?”
She swallows. “The thing is, we used to date. Sebastian and I.”
The waitress brings us our drinks and leaves quickly, probably noticing the intensity of the table.
“How long ago?” I ask, lifting my pint to my mouth, forcing myself not to jump to any conclusion.
Goldie takes a sip of her beer before answering. “Like… a month ago.”
“Well, shit.” I sit back, trying not to take offense. Wondering if I should take offense… honestly not knowing what to say at all. I want to be a good guy, not assume anything. But she won’t meet my eyes. “I guess Madame Lovecraft was right.”
The words hang between us. Another man is going to enter her life. He’s on his way.
“We were never serious.” She reaches for my hand again. “He wasn’t interested in an exclusive relationship.”
“And you were?”
She shakes her head. “Not with a guy like Sebastian. We were better as friends, that was clear a few dates in. The only thing he takes seriously is himself. Which is why moving to L.A. is the perfect plan for him.”
“Do you want to live in L.A.?” I ask her.
“No,” she says adamantly. “I want to be here. I don’t need some big city production to prove I have what it takes to be successful. I just want to write and direct and perform, and I love the stage at the Greyhound. It feels like home. It feels like where I belong.”
“You don’t think it’s just a phase, being here?” I ask, wanting to be sure I’m not just a joke to her, that this isn’t all an act, big city girl in a small town, that she isn’t going to leave as quickly as she came.
“God, Grant,” she says, shaking her head. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m a flake or something?”
“I don’t think that. I know you’re passionate about your work, and I think it’s sexy as hell. I really like that about you. And I love the idea of the theater being open again, it’s a good thing for Cherry Falls.”
The tension has faded, and when our food arrives we begin dishing up. “You said rehearsals start tomorrow, so when is this guy coming into town?”
“Tonight,” she says.
“And he’s staying where?” I ask, but her eyes tell me everything. Usually they are clear blue, but right now they are clouded.
“At my place. There’s a second bedroom. Look, Grant, I’m telling you, I only called Seb because I’m in a jam. I need this show to go well, and maybe you don’t understand because you haven’t spent your life failing at your dreams, but this feels like my one shot to prove to myself I have it in me to direct.”
“But you’re using this guy from Syn City as a crutch,” I say. “You just got here to prove all those haters wrong, and right away you call one of them back into your life. Into your house.”
“I just don’t want to fail, Grant. It’s the only reason I called him. Success for me would be this production making it to the stage, seeing my script performed. I want to see it happen. Even if just once. ”
“I get that,” I tell her. “And you’re right, I haven’t had disappointment like you have. I bought the auto shop with my brothers without any big problems. I do what I love — fixing cars — and get to be my own boss. I’m living my dream. I just… I just wonder if Cherry Falls is your dream. Or if it’s going to be a disappointment. A letdown. If moving here is something you’ll regret.”
“Trust me,” she says. “I know what I want.”
“And what do you want, exactly?” I ask her.
“I want this show to go off without a hitch,” she says.
And I know it’s her truth, but still, it leaves me with a pang in my heart. Because to be honest, I was hoping what she wanted was me.
Chapter Ten
Goldie
Sebastian arrives while I’m on the back porch with Grant, sharing a bottle of wine and eating a slice of cake that we ordered to go from the Fireside.
It’s white chocolate raspberry cheesecake and it’s divine, but the moment I see Seb, the sweet taste in my m
outh is gone. Tension fills the air as Grant eyes this man from my not-so-distant past.
They are opposites in every conceivable way. Seb is lean, not much taller than me, and has his hair gelled and styled, and I know for a fact his skin care routine has nine steps.
His collar is popped, and he has aviator sunglasses propped on his head. It’s late at night in January, which makes it all the more ridiculous.
Grant, on the other hand, is all man — I don’t think he owns product beyond deodorant and toothpaste. And he doesn’t need any. He is ripped, muscles everywhere. And one look makes me weak in the knees. But Grant is more than a man. He is a gentleman. And I know being with a man like him would mean being cared for.
Maybe that is the scariest part of all of this. Being with Grant would mean truly letting someone all the way in.
“I’m Grant,” he says, offering Seb his hand.
Seb laughs, shaking it. “And I’m sure you already know all about me.”
Grant smirks, standing from the back steps. “All I know is that I’m tired. I had long day hiking and I’m beat.”
“I’ll just walk you home,” I say, swallowing. Wondering if I’ve already ruined the best thing I’ve ever found with a man.
Seb confidently waves goodbye to Grant before taking a swig from the bottle of wine. He’s a bit of an asshole — one minute with him and I am reminded of that. But he is a damn good actor. And I need this show to be a success.
At Grant’s doorstep, I take hold of both his hands. “I could stay here with you,” I offer.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m not gonna get intense about this curveball you’re throwing. If you think it’s a good idea to have him here, then I’m sure you’re right.”
I lick my lips, wishing I had the same sort of confidence in my decision-making abilities as Grant seems to believe I have.
“You’re not mad?” I ask.
“What do you want me to say? I have known you one week, Goldie. I’m not sure I get to decide who sleeps in your house or not.”
“And if we’d been dating longer, a month or more, you might have more of an opinion?” I ask.
He pulls me in close, lifting my chin with his thumb. “Why don’t you go home and tell that idiot that I’m the man for you.”
“Is that what you want me to say?” I ask, my shoulders relaxing.
“Depends on what you want, Goldie, after the play. But I think you should do this production before you make any decisions.”
“Can I at least get a kiss?” I ask.
He grins. “You think I’m letting you leave my porch without a kiss that tells you how badly I want you?”
He leans down and kisses me, hard. The kind of kiss that takes my air from me, in the best possible way, that has me on my tiptoes, arms wrapping around his neck, body wet and awake and wanting more. So much more. His tongue slips between my lips and I taste him, his alpha scent — hunger and desire laced with longing. My tongue swirls with his and I’m panting through the kiss, my panties ruined as I feel his cock against my belly. The kiss goes on and on, and I don’t want it to end.
Eventually, though, it does. He pushes back, running a hand over his jaw, and I whimper; wanting.
“We could go inside… you could really make sure I know,” I whisper.
He chuckles, adjusting himself. “And maybe that would have happened tonight if you hadn’t invited your ex for a long-term sleepover.”
The words feel like a bucket of ice, but I know I deserve them.
I nod, licking my swollen lips.
“Thanks for the date.”
“Anytime, Goldie Greyhound, I’m here.”
I walk away, back to my apartment, looking over my shoulder. His eyes are still on me. And I close my eyes, make a vow. Don’t mess this up.
The next few days are a chaotic blur. Sebastian is his typical narcissistic self, but he’s undoubtably also a fabulous actor. And thankfully we respect one another’s boundaries. There is one bathroom in the apartment, but Sebastian wakes earlier than me for his morning exercise routine, so when I roll out of bed, the house is empty and I can shower and drink my coffee in peace. After that I’m in the theater the rest of the day while he’s either running lines or documenting his every move on social media.
“Are you guys serious?” he asks me mid-week when I mention running to the auto shop to bring Grant a peppermint mocha.
“I think so,” I tell him. Not admitting that while Grant gave me a quick hug when thanking me for the coffee, he didn’t mention taking me out on another date.
“Think so?” Sebastian snorted. “He’s either into you or he isn’t.”
His words stung, because I thought the same thing. If a guy likes you, he lets you know. Right?
Instead of obsessing over Grant, I focus on the play. The first read-through with the cast goes really well, and our first few rehearsals have good energy. The script works for everyone, and the enthusiasm for having a community theater back in town is felt everywhere I go. Cherry Falls is such a supportive community, and I feel like my being here is offering them something they were missing.
I’ve never felt like that in Syn City. There, I was just another woman trying to break into a difficult industry. Here, I feel like I’m bringing actual joy and happiness into the lives of the people I’m working with.
There’s a buzz of excitement when the cast goes out for drinks after our rehearsal at the end of week one. I’m glad we’ve all decided to go out because the truth is Grant has been distant since our front porch kiss.
I know he is giving me space to get this show going, but it feels like more than that. It feels like he is walking away.
At the Fireside, the cast finds a big table at the bar and someone orders a round of shots.
“Tequila and I do not mix,” I say with a laugh, but then the limes are passed out and the shots are here and I take one anyway. And then another. By the time people are talking of a third round, I tap out. Instead, I dive into the mozzarella sticks.
Everyone is out tonight, it seems, and there’s karaoke on stage. “Come on,” Seb says. “You’ve gotta show this little town what you’ve got.”
“You sing?” Kerry Anne, one of the cast members, asks.
“Hell yeah, she does,” Seb says with a laugh. “She’s seriously incredible.”
I groan. “I should have had that third shot.”
“We could do a duet,” Kerry Anne suggests. “My go-to number is No Scrubs by TLC.”
I laugh. “Let’s do it.”
She takes my hand and drags me to the DJ in the corner, where we wait to go up next. It only takes a few minutes before we’re on stage, microphones in hand.
It feels good to be up here laughing and singing — Kerry Anne is killing it with her dance moves and I get into it too, loving the good vibes of the bar.
When we finish, we bow with much fanfare and decline the encore. Instead, we wind back to the table, and I look around for Seb, who has gone missing. I glance around and see he’s at the bar with Grant, the two of them talking — or maybe more than that. Grant shakes his head and raises his hands, as if in defeat.
My stomach falls, and I want to run over and ask what in the world is going on, but before I can, Grant’s eyes meet mine. The look he gives tells me everything. He is over the idea of us. He leaves the bar and doesn’t look back. That’s the part that hurts the most.
When Sebastian returns with a tray of beers, I ask him what that was about.
“What was what about, Goldie?” he asks, handing me a glass.
“I saw you with Grant. What did you say to him?”
He rolls his eyes. “I think your friend Grant is scared of me.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Threatened, really.”
“By what?”
Sebastian pouts. “By us, of course.”
“There is no us.”
Sebastian smiles. “There is in your play.”
“You mean the kiss? The
onstage kiss? That means nothing.”
Sebastian shrugs. “Whatever you say, sunshine. You’re the one who called me here. Not the other way around.”
I’m not doing this. Not here, not with him. He is ancient history. He may be filling a role in my show, but he has no reign over my heart.
I reach for my bag. “Hey guys, I’m beat. See you on Monday at rehearsals, okay?”
They nod, waving goodbye as I rush to the exit of the Fireside.
I want to catch up to Grant.
And I hope to god it isn’t too late.
Chapter Eleven
Grant
I’m on my way home when I hear her heels click-clacking on the sidewalk, her voice calling for me.
“Grant, wait, please,” she says.
I turn, seeing a vision running toward me. Her long strawberry blonde hair flying in the air, her silver ankle boots sparkling, her black velvet minidress sliding up her fishnet tights. She has a big white faux fur coat on that’s flapping behind her and she’s out of breath.
I stop and she wheezes, her hands on her hips, bending over. I want to be annoyed with her, but it’s impossible to put up a fight when she’s standing here, looking at me like that. Her eyes asking me to try. To try and trust her. I want to.
“You okay?” I ask, stepping toward her.
“I’m better now,” she says, smoothing her hair. “I seriously should start working out. I’m winded after half a block.”
I smile. “Blame it on the alcohol,” I say, stepping closer. Loving the fact Sebastian isn’t anywhere near us. God, that guy pisses me off. And I hate the hold he has over Goldie — but I also know she’s a big girl who can make up her own mind. I’m not gonna be the dick telling her what to do and why. She can figure out if I fit into her life. But I sure as hell am not going to force my way into her heart.
I want to be there because she chose me. Not because I put her in a corner.
“I know it’s freezing out, but do you want to get ice cream?” I ask her.