Better than the Book: A Romantic Comedy (Charitable Endeavors Book 4)

by M. E. Carter

“Is that my Twinkie?” she shrieks.

  I open my mouth to respond when the curtain that makes up Celeste’s door opens.

  “Anna?”

  Never taking her eyes off me, the woman I now know is Anna asks, “Why is there a lumberjack in our apartment?”

  Looking past her shoulder at Celeste I drop my shoulders in shame. “I really need to shave, don’t I?”

  Celeste shrugs. “I told you it was a little Paul Bunyan chic. You opted not to listen.”

  “Wait,” Anna says, dropping her pepper spray to her side. I relax at the gesture, feeling like I just dodged a bullet. “You’re Hunter Stone.”

  Pushing past her, Celeste snorts a laugh before stepping up next to me and whispering, “Good morning. Do I smell coffee?”

  Smiling down at her I nod just as Anna speaks, pulling both of our attention. “Hunter Stone is in our apartment. In his underwear. It must be five o’clock somewhere, get the whiskey and make my coffee Irish.”

  I knew I was in my boxers when I started my quest for coffee and breakfast but in the chaos of the almost pepper spraying, I forgot. I’m also having regrets for my consumption of the Twinkie. I don’t remember this weird after taste from when I was a kid.

  “So I’m just going to…”

  “Your luggage is at the foot of my bed.”

  “Thank you,” I say as I squat down to eye level with Celeste before placing a quick peck to her lips.

  As I step away Anna whisper shouts, “Ohmyfuhreakinggod Lumberjack Hunter Stone kissed you!”

  Laughing to myself, I make my way into Celeste’s room and rummage through my things for a pair of jeans. As I’m fastening the button, I see my phone on the desk plugged in. I’m still not ready to face the real world and turn my back on it. Maybe if I do that, it’ll go away. Or at the very least, I can pretend I didn’t know where it is.

  Slapping on some deodorant and tugging on a T-shirt, I make my way back out to the kitchen area and find both women with a cup of coffee in their hand. Leaning close, I can tell Celeste is catching Anna up on the weekend. I know this because Anna keeps smacking Celeste and saying “Holy shit” each time.

  “How’s the sunburn?” I ask, announcing my appearance. The ladies jump apart, guilt written across both their faces.

  “A lot better. Here, I took a sip.”

  I accept the cup from Celeste and slide up next to her. Being together this weekend was seamless, but we were also alone most of the time. We haven’t actually been together, affectionate, in front of other people but until she smacks me away, I’m going to enjoy every minute I get to touch her.

  “I’m going to excuse myself and change while you two… well whatever.”

  Anna leaves us alone and scurries down the hall to the actual room with a door. When the door clicks closed I turn to Celeste.

  “So, how exactly did I end up here and do you know why I’m craving a tuna sandwich?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Celeste

  “You don’t remember anything about our flight from Atlanta, do you?”

  I can tell he’s trying hard to remember something, anything, but he’s coming up blank. Good thing I have enough memory for both of us. And oh, what fun memories they are.

  “I… I don’t.” He shakes his head, likely trying to sort out whatever fuzzy thoughts he can’t totally grasp. “How much did I drink?”

  I take a sip of coffee before answering. I’m not angry at him. Not even close. But as a lover of stories, I want to make sure my comedic timing is just right. It’s not every day you get to tell a celebrity they may want to avoid getting a pet cat, and not because he travels too much to take proper care of it, but because they may be too close to kindred spirits.

  “You didn’t drink anything.”

  “I didn’t?”

  I shake my head.

  “Did I get drugged or something?” The sudden realization has his eyes widening in horror. “Ohmigod, did someone drug me so they could take pictures? Holy shit. Does Eddie know? Is he on it already? Tell me I kept my clothes on.”

  Well damn. My comedic timing didn’t take in account that he might skip right over the truth and go straight into panic mode.

  He rushes to my room and since our apartment is the size of a postage stamp, returns before I can swallow my coffee. Hunter’s panic is evident as he taps at the screen of his phone. Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve seen him looking for it all weekend. I know he’s been avoiding it so before he blows his self-imposed technology hiatus, I stop him.

  “No one drugged you, Hunter. And I promise there are no pictures anywhere. Although I may have missed out on opportunity for some playful blackmail myself.”

  Hunter turns to me, his eyes darkening. “There is no such thing as playful blackmail.”

  It seems that’s a hot button issue. “You’re right. I’m sorry. What I mean is you can stop freaking out. No one drugged you.” Well, except maybe himself. “There are no pictures. No one even knows you’re here. I was very stealth, and your vacation outfit seems to have done the trick.”

  His whole body relaxes and as I suspected, he tosses aside that phone he’s been avoiding. Rubbing his hands down his face he takes a deep, centering breath. “Then how did I get here and why don’t I remember anything?”

  Putting my mug down, I lean back against the counter, my flannel jammie shirt sliding down one shoulder. “You had a headache.”

  “Right. So I took some Tylenol.”

  I shake my head. “That wasn’t Tylenol, Hunter.”

  And just like that, a proverbial lightbulb goes off over his head. “I got it mixed up with Ambien, didn’t I?”

  “That’s is our suspicion.”

  He groans and plops down on one of two bar stools next to our tiny island. “I can’t believe I accidentally drugged myself.”

  Laughing lightly, I walk to him and rub my hand down his back. “That you did, my friend. You’re just lucky I was sitting with you to help keep you contained.”

  “Wait.” His head pops up and I have to step back quickly to avoid being nailed in the face. “You said ‘our’ suspicion. Who is ‘our’?”

  “Let’s just say the flight attendant was less than happy to have a human-sized cat batting around some airline issued headphones with his man-sized paw at thirty thousand feet.”

  His eyes close slowly and blush covers the entirety of his face. “That explains my craving for a tuna fish sandwich.”

  I can’t help it. My laugh comes out loud and lasts way too long. But now that I’m not worried he’ll accidentally ram open an emergency exit as he chases a bit of fluff across the aisle of the plane, the entire thing is really funny. For me, anyway. Hunter doesn’t quite see the humor in it yet.

  Wiping the tears from my eyes, I fill in a few more blanks. “You spent most of the time curled up on my lap, grooming your paws.”

  His nose wrinkles like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever heard, and he jumps up, crossing the tiny area to the sink to wash his hands. “That is so gross. But you’re sure there’s not pictures?”

  “Positive,” I say, hoping the strength in my voice reassures him of just how confident I am this will stay between us and the poor traumatized flight attendant.

  Wiping his hands on a tea towel, he tosses it on the counter and leans toward me. “Thank you, Celeste. I’m so sorry I grabbed the wrong pill.”

  “This is why most mothers abandon the whole putting all the pills in one bottle thing.”

  He huffs a small laugh. “I think I may need to do that as well. That would have been disastrous if I were by myself. And since you have no food in this place, can I take you out to breakfast? You said you live in Brooklyn, right?”

  I nod.

  “I know a really great luncheonette style place and I could go for an egg and cheese sandwich.”

  At the mention of food, my stomach growls. “Let me take a quick shower first. I didn’t want to leave you alone last night to rinse
the plane off me. I was afraid you’d head out one of the windows to go dumpster diving.”

  Finally, seeing the humor, he holds back a smirk. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that. I’d offer to shower with you, but I’ve been in your bathroom and I don’t think we’d both fit in there.”

  I unattractively snort a laugh. “Yeah, Anna tried that one time.”

  “Tried what?” My roommate’s long, unruly dark hair swings violently as she whips her head around her door frame.

  Feigning offense, I gasp and grab at my chest. “Excuse you, were you spying on me?”

  “Nope. I was spying on him.”

  “That’s kind of rude.”

  “I agree. But it’s not every day we have a celebrity turned skivvies-clad-lumberjack in our apartment.” She makes a valid point and then her eyes narrow. “Plus, he already ate my Twinkie. I’m making sure he doesn’t find my hidden Ding Dong.”

  Of course Hunter gasps with delight. “You have a Ding Dong?” He turns to riffle through the cabinets again.

  “Hands off, Stone,” Anna yells and comes barreling out of her room. “She may not have pictures of your Ambien haze but how do you know I don’t?”

  Hunter immediately freezes.

  “Now back away from the cabinet,” she instructs. He immediately complies. “And go sit on Celeste’s bed like a good kitty.”

  I shake my head at the two of them. I’m not sure what’s happening here but whatever it is, this might be the weirdest conversation that’s ever happened in this apartment. And I lived here when Anna went through her Emo phase and she talked to my plant regularly because she just knew it had feelings.

  Come to think of it, that plant has been looking pretty pekid since she stopped singing Janis Joplin songs to it every night before bed. Maybe she was onto something.

  Regardless, I need to shower off two days of sun and sweat so they can continue playing whatever weird cat and mouse game they want while I get ready.

  • • •

  Leaning back in my chair, I put my hands over my overinflated stomach. It’s probably not that big, but that’s at least how I feel.

  “I am stuffed.”

  Hunter barely looks up at me, still chowing down. Not only did he convince me to get the egg and cheese sandwich, he ordered us a veggie boat to share and some amazing lemonade with a kick. As meals not in the tropics go, it was pretty damn perfect.

  Anna’s going to kick herself for missing out on this so she could work on some song she’s trying to perfect. Although Hunter did promise to bring back an entire box of Twinkies to replace her one. That was good enough for her.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  He nods and continues to eat. When he mentioned knowing about this place he didn’t say he used to come here often. But with the way he feels at home amongst the small tables and pastel wallpaper, somehow I just know this is one of the places he left behind that he actually misses.

  “You haven’t called anyone to let them know you’re in New York. Are you hiding from something?”

  Hunter takes a long drink of his lemonade, wipes his mouth and sighs, leaning back in his own seat.

  “I’m not hiding necessarily. I’m just not interested in going back yet.”

  “How come?”

  “I’m exhausted. With the movie junket and reshoots for the show, I’m tapped out. Five days away from all the…” He stops, looking off in the distance, searching for his words and I sense an internal struggle that he doesn’t want to share right now. “I just need to rest for a bit longer.”

  I nod in understanding. I get it, to a degree. Life can be draining sometimes. Not that I’ve had that same problem as of late. My problem is more one of wondering when the busyness will begin.

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” I lower my chin so I can peek at him through my lashes. “I’m not kicking you out of my bed until you’re ready to go.”

  He pauses as he lifts his glass to his lips and blinks once. “How often is Anna home?”

  “Right now? Too often. She travels a lot to gigs in the tri-state area. But of course she’s off this week.”

  “Drat.” Finally getting that drink, he places his glass back down on the table just as my phone rings.

  I don’t recognize the number, but if I’ve learned anything over the years of trying to make a name for myself in this city, you always answer the phone. Sure, it’s most likely going to be a telemarketer, but on the off-chance it’s a job, I don’t want to miss it.

  I glance up at Hunter who has understanding written all over his face. “Answer it,” he encourages, and I admit a part of me is relieved he still remembers enough about this world to understand why I have to answer a call during a lunch date.

  Swiping, I use my most professional and “no I haven’t been drinking hard lemonade” voice. “Hello.”

  “Hey Celeste, it’s Manuel.”

  “Oh, hey there.”

  Manuel Hernandez and I worked on a small show last year. He as director, me as stage manager. Our styles really meshed and we both said we’d love to work together again at some point. My heart kicks up a notch, hoping this call means it’s sooner rather than later.

  “Listen, I was hired to direct a show at Northston Theater and I’m needing a stage manager asap.”

  “Su….sure.” I stumble over my words as my excitement builds. Hunter’s big hand comes over mine, steadying me. “That’s no problem. When do you need me there?”

  “Well, that’s the thing.”

  Oh no. Nothing ever good comes after a sentence like that.

  “We need you now. Today. Like in two hours, tops.”

  My jaw drops open. “Two hours? That’s not a lot of notice, Manuel.”

  “I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that. The producers had someone else in mind but after meeting with her… well, it wasn’t the best fit. Our personalities are too different. I’ve been calling you for a few days, but each call went straight to voicemail. This was my last ditch effort.”

  International calling isn’t exactly part of my phone plan. I don’t exactly love knowing I’m the theater’s second choice, but I ignore that part. A job is a job, no matter how you get it.

  “So will you do it?”

  “Of course I’ll do it!”

  He cheers on the other end of the line and my eyes shoot across the table to Hunter. The smile on his face is huge as he raises his arm in and thrusts it overhead. A fist pump I’m going to pretend didn’t just happen. Returning his smile, I watch as he stands and heads toward the counter, presumably to track down the check and pay up. I’m excited to get to work but I don’t want to abandon Hunter. I know my time with him is limited and I don’t want to miss a second of it.

  As soon as I have that thought, I realize there’s an easy solution. Manuel is rambling on and while I should be listening, my eyes continue to track my date.

  “I have one small request,” I add on making Manuel groan.

  “I really don’t know if I can meet any demands, Celeste. This is a small theater, not Broadway,” he reasons.

  “No, no. Nothing like that,” I assure. “Well, two requests actually. I have to run back home and grab my kit because you know I can’t work without all my supplies. I’m not using those paper shredders you call pens on my notebooks. So I might be a couple minutes late.”

  “Fine, fine. I know how you get without your beloved ball points and multi-colored highlighters. What’s the second?”

  I have a friend in town who actually works in the industry and we’re having brunch. Can I bring him with me? Just for today. I don’t want to leave him sitting in my apartment.”

  Manuel pauses and I can practically hear the wheels churning in his head in contemplation. Director’s don’t like when people visit their closed theaters. Especially so early in the process. But I’m not leaving Hunter behind, not when theater was his first love. Somehow I know he needs to be there.

  “Fine,” he
relents with a huff. “But you get to keep an eye on him, and you still have to get your job done. I’m not here to babysit or answer questions about my process. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Understood.”

  We hash out a few more details and he gives me the address of the rehearsal space we’ll be using for a while. Before I know it, I hang up and clutch my phone to my heart.

  It’s a small theater. Very small. But it’s a job in the industry I’m passionate about. A chance for me to do what I love. To me, it’s a huge win.

  Hunter strolls back over and grabs his jacket off the back of the chair. “We’re good to go. You have somewhere to be.”

  “About that,” I say, leaning my arms on the table. “How would you like to go check out the newest play to hit Northston Theater with me?”

  His smile widens and I know that’s a resounding yes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hunter

  I miss New York. The hustle and bustle of the city. The electricity that buzzes around you as you dodge others on the city sidewalks. Hell, I even find the blaring sirens and horns honking nostalgic. Los Angeles is a nice city but it’s one that you don’t spend time in. No, it’s more like the city passes you by as you drive. And drive.

  Here, taking public transportation and walking forces you to see what is around you. Beyond the architecture and personalities, it’s the small things that remind you that you’re in the greatest city in the world. As we walk side by side toward the subway, I reach over and grab Celeste’s hand, interlacing our fingers. She stumbles and then grumbles a series of swear words. I never falter, just smile, knowing I keep her on her toes. Or, more like stumbling over her toes. Whatever.

  With my ballcap pulled low on my forehead, I have managed to stay pretty invisible to most people. The dark sunglasses and beard don’t hurt the effort. Although, I doubt anyone would expect to see me in New York. I’m known as a Hollywood guy these days. Just the thought of that makes me exhale loudly. The sound catches Celeste’s attention, her gaze darting to mine. Instead of words to respond, I simply squeeze her hand as we rush down the steps.