One More Time

by Laurelin Paige

Now they’re the ones between me and the bar, so I give her ass the merest brush as I walk by in search of a top-shelf tequila. I’ve hardly even begun to examine the choices on the neon-lit glass shelves behind the bar top before I sense someone next to me. Someone who smells like orange blossoms. I start to look over but she hisses at me.

  “Don’t look.”

  I can’t help but laugh. Naturally, the bartender chooses to serve her even though I was there first. I can’t blame him, although the way his eyes linger on her boobs makes me want to punch him in the nuts, but I count to ten under my breath and let it slide.

  I let Jenna order lemon drop shots for her and Toothpaste before asking, “Why aren’t we looking at each other?”

  “This place is crawling with gossips,” she stage-whispers back, still staring straight ahead. “Including professional gossips. Angela invited the press team. You need to cool it, Tanner. No grab-ass.”

  “I like grab-ass,” I tell the bartender, since I can’t look at her.

  “Me too, man,” he says.

  “Uh..cool. I’ll have a Sauza 901, chilled.” I slip him enough cash to cover all the drinks plus a large enough tip that he’s probably thinking I want to play grab-ass with him.

  “Save it for the chick on the dance floor, then,” Jenna says as she slides her shots off the bar and walks off without so much as a backward glance. I know, because my head whips toward her at that remark.

  Is she… jealous? Of Maddie Bauer?

  Interesting.

  I say cheers to the bartender and take my drink in the opposite direction of where Jenna just walked off. There really isn’t much over here but the pool, and the night’s still a bit too young for anyone to be hopping in to splash in their underthings. I fold myself onto a couch that’s made for smaller people than me and cross an ankle over my knee. There’s a chill to the breeze up here that’s a nice contrast to the warmth burning down my throat from the tequila.

  “Tanner James. I thought I saw you walk out here,” comes a woman’s flirtatious voice from over my shoulder. I brace, expecting Angela to be lurking behind me, but I’m pleasantly surprised to see Amber Jacobs instead.

  Amber is one of the only female sound engineers I know, and a total badass. She’s petite enough to fool people who don’t know her into complacency, but I’ve seen her reduce grown men to tears on more than one set. Hollywood is a very small town, so I’ve had the pleasure of working with her on a number of films. It was a happy surprise to see her on the list for Reason To Love.

  “Why’s the star of the show sitting alone?” Amber asks as she makes her way over to me.

  “Just taking in a view of my whole kingdom,” I say, expansively indicating the empty pool with a wave of my arm.

  “Your kingdom’s waiting inside to yell surprise to the queen.”

  I half-stand to go inside and join them, but I won’t be missed in there, and I’d rather chat out here where I can hear myself think than inside where the EDM beats are pumping. In that brief motion, though, I see that Jenna and Toothpaste have been joined by an older guy. I’m pretty sure he’s one of the execs from Three Spots, the guys financing our movie.

  Oh, good, I think, she can schmooze while I enjoy myself.

  “Keep the king company?” I ask Amber.

  She sits down next to me and clinks my glass with her own. I notice her drink immediately, because she must be the only woman here without either champagne or a vodka soda.

  “Whiskey?” I ask, impressed.

  “Bourbon. I’m a Kentucky girl, originally.” She flips her red hair over one shoulder, in a gesture I’ve noticed often accompanies the prideful statement of a born-and-bred southerner.

  “No kidding. I just got back from Louisville a couple months ago. We shot The Bridge there.”

  “Oh, right. I went up for that job but didn’t get it. I was dying to shoot back near my hometown. My parents would have gotten such a kick out of it.”

  “Well you should have called me. I would have used my kingly powers to make them hire you.”

  “If only I’d had your number.”

  I startle. Is Amber flirting with me? When I look at her again, she gives me a huge wink and grin that tells me she’s fucking with me, and that she’s very aware of my reaction.

  I shoot a glance in Jenna’s direction. She’s staring but quickly turns back toward Richard Thurgood. I notice her friend is gone, and it’s just the two of them now. I narrow my eyes, but it isn’t my business. We’re meant to be flirting with other people, after all, and the more time she spends flattering the bigwigs, the less time I have to.

  As long as flattering is all it is.

  “So what do you think of the shoot so far?” I ask Amber, politely trying to keep the conversation flowing while also keeping one eye pinned on Jenna.

  “Best crew I’ve had all year. Polly Kemper runs a tight fucking ship. Jenna Stahl is the one that’s really blowing me away, though.”

  “Jenna?” At her name, I turn my full attention back to Amber.

  “Yeah. She’s good. It’s a cool feeling to realize you’re one of the first people to see a performance that everyone will be talking about. Like, not only is she spot on in the dramatic bits, her comedic timing is way better than yours. No offense. But really, who knew models could be funny?” She takes another swig of her bourbon and side-eyes me.

  A chorus of surprise! announces Polly’s arrival inside. I wait until it dies down before I answer Amber’s question, even though it was most likely asked rhetorically. “I knew.”

  It takes a second before Amber remembers what she’d asked. I see it in her expression when it clicks. “You knew about her acting or her humor?”

  “Both. I always knew she had the chops. It’s exciting to see it all come together for her.”

  “And do you know how nice she is to the crew?” she asks, tossing her hair again.

  “I know,” I say simply.

  “And do you know how good her ass looks in that dress tonight?”

  “Oh, I fucking know,” I moan before catching myself.

  Amber laughs out loud and claps, and my hand makes a little cut it motion at her.

  But I do grin. Amber deserves kudos for that move.

  My gaze flicks back to Jenna who is no longer pretending to listen to the man in front of her. Instead she’s just staring at me. Me and Amber.

  She’s so jealous.

  My grin widens.

  Then Thurgood snatches her attention by grabbing her chin and moving it back to him, and my grin immediately turns into a clenched jaw.

  “Any idea where she got that dress? It’s so cute.”

  It takes effort to refocus on Amber, but somehow I manage. “I’m not sure, but I’ll ask her,” I say with gritted teeth.

  Amber wraps a curl around her finger. “You don’t have to. Just tell me what it says on the tag.”

  And then I don’t have to force the focus at all, because Amber is 100% insinuating I have access to Jenna’s wardrobe, and not the one on set, either.

  I start to panic as I down the remainder of my drink.

  “Oh. Looks like I can ask her myself,” Amber says.

  That’s when I see Jenna walking directly toward our couch. This is bad. Very, very bad. The second Amber turns her laser-focused interrogation on Jenna, she’ll suspect that I’ve been telling tales outside of school.

  “Hey guys,” Jenna says with a smile that’s pure acting. “Must be an interesting conversation, since you missed the surprise part of the surprise party.”

  “Very interesting,” Amber says slyly. “I was just asking Tanner—”

  I cut her off sharply by holding up my glass.

  “And that was very rude of us. I should say hello and get a refill, care to accompany me?” It’s hardly a question, since I’ve already firmly fastened my arm around Jenna’s.

  She glares down at the link between us like she’s going to pull away, but then Amber speaks. “Tanner, we should definit
ely catch up again soon.”

  That’s all it takes for Jenna to tighten her arm in mine and start turning us away. I don’t miss the redhead’s eyes on us the whole time.

  “Sure. Watch the kingdom while I’m gone.”

  She’s cackling to herself as I rush Jenna away.

  “Your kingdom?” Jenna quips once we’re out of Amber’s earshot.

  “Inside joke,” I say, which is rude, because I know it will piss her off. But I’d rather have her jealous than freaking out about what people suspect or know about the two of us.

  Jenna starts to walk me over to a little banquet, but I pause at the bar, holding my empty glass up toward my new friend the bartender. At least he only touched my girl with his eyes.

  “Should we maybe pop down here?” she says gesturing to the seats she’d been leading me toward, and, from the tone of her voice, it’s more of an order than a suggestion.

  “Sure…okay.” So much for going to find Polly, but whatever’s on Jenna’s mind is better out than in. Her expression is cold and distant, like she’s about to tell me off. At least that’s progress from past conflicts where she’d usually just avoid me altogether.

  Without getting a refill, I follow her to the side of the lounge. We slide into the booth despite the fact that—what feels like—a thousand people are watching. Including, as she herself told me, half of IK PR. If Jenna is going to make a scene, this is about the worst possible spot in the whole bar.

  But, though a scene is what I expect, a scene is not what I get.

  “How’s your night going?” she asks instead.

  “Um…fine.” I’m confused. “You?”

  “Okay. It’s loud here.”

  That’s when it hits me—Jenna has no real agenda. She’s not about to ream me out for flirting with Amber. She’s not even questioning me about it. She’s avoiding the conflict entirely. Just like Old Jenna did.

  But I have no patience for that anymore.

  “What are you really thinking right now?” I ask, leaning in so she’ll feel a little bit pressured. “Why are we over here?”

  I can tell Jenna’s surprised that I’m being so direct. Good. Maybe it will push her to be a little more honest, too.

  “Nothing! No reason,” she says, trying to be nonchalant. “I just. You know. What do you, uh, think about that bartender’s mustache?”

  “Forgettable. Don’t lie to me, Jenna. That’s not why you brought me here. Are you mad at me?” I pause. “Are you jealous?”

  “No!” she snaps, quickly. Too quickly. “I’m not jealous. I mean, I was. But then Richard Thurgood...”

  The second his name is out of her mouth, I’m on high alert, attuned to her like a guard dog. I didn’t like that hand on her chin one bit.

  “What did he do?” I growl, moving closer to her, my protective instincts taking over from my conscious knowledge that I shouldn’t be so close to her.

  “Offered to make me a star,” she says mockingly. “I mean, I’ve heard that kind of shit before, but I guess I was just naive, thinking that once I landed this role, men would stop asking me if I wanted to fuck them for one.”

  The moment Jenna tells me what Richard Thurgood said, I see red.

  Then we both see white. A flash of light. The flash from a camera.

  Fuck.

  “Cast album!” some youthful intern I’ve seen around set says with a way-too-perky smile. “Can I get one of you two looking a little less intense?”

  “No fucking pictures!” I bark back. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  “Oh… sorry… I just thought, like… I mean you two are the whole movie...”

  She trails off, and I feel incredibly guilty. I’ve officially terrified a totally harmless intern. And for what? Doing her job?

  I run a hand through my hair and take a breath to cool down. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s just that this isn’t really a good time. We’ll come find you later, okay?”

  “I totally get it Mr. James. I’ll delete the picture right now,” she says, fumbling with her camera.

  “Call me Tanner. I didn’t mean to flip on you. I’m just—”

  But she’s gone before I finish what I was saying. I’ll have to smooth that over later, but for now my only concern is Jenna.

  “So he propositioned you?” I ask, wanting to have a very clear picture of the reason I plan to be facing assault charges tonight. My fists are already clenching.

  “He—yeah, but you know what? It doesn’t matter.” I can see her shutting down.

  “It does matter. I know you don’t like conflict, but this guy needs a throat-punch for saying shit like that to you.” I can’t just let her back down on him. I know her. It’s going to weigh on her. It should weigh on her. I know that kind of fuckery goes on all the time in show biz but it’s bullshit.

  It’s not going to happen on a movie I’m producing. Not with a partner I’m working with. And I’m sure as shit not going to let it happen to Jenna Stahl.

  I’m half out of my seat, but Jenna tugs me back down. “Look, Tanner. Stop,” she says insistently.

  I pull my arm away in a huff but I stay seated.

  She goes on. “If you go over there acting all alpha-male on him, it’s just going to start the rumors.”

  I think guiltily of Amber. How many rumors did that conversation start?

  “Besides. I told him I’d call his mother personally the next time I heard him speaking that way to a woman. And then I pulled out my phone and showed him her number. She gave it to me at a party in Milan a few years back.”

  It takes a moment to digest this but when I do, I laugh. Heartily. New Jenna for the win. Hedda Thurgood is an Old Hollywood legend known for both her fashion and for biting off more heads than Amber could ever dream of.

  And speaking of.

  “You were jealous, though?” It gives me such perverse satisfaction.

  “Only for a second.”

  “Just one second?” I know she’s lying. I saw how many times she looked over at the two of us on that couch.

  “Aren’t we supposed to be fucking right now?”

  As far as subject changes go, it couldn’t be more obvious, but goddamn was I glad to hear it.

  13

  Jenna

  I know what bad form it is to ghost a party honoring my director, and I fully expect that someone will bring this up tomorrow when we all finally roll in at the thankfully late call time. As long as Angela doesn’t get anything out of it.

  Shit. Angela.

  There’s no way in hell she won’t be sniffing around over this.

  But I couldn’t stay there any longer. When my thoughts get this twisted up, I’m not fit company. Just look at me now, curled into one side of the limo, the side of my head leaning against the cool glass of the tinted window, pretending to answer emails on my phone instead of talking to the very person that probably deserves the conversation most.

  I could slap myself for getting so jealous over Tanner’s five-second conversation with Amber. I have no right to be jealous. We are not a couple.

  I realize there’s a little something else under my feelings of envy for Amber. Because while I’m sitting here staring blankly down into my little glowing screen, it’s not her face I keep seeing over and over again in my mind.

  It’s Tanner’s yelling at that innocent intern to stop taking our picture.

  That hurt.

  He doesn’t even want pictures of us together. I want to believe it’s just about being safe with the media. That was my idea at first, too. But why was he so insistent and mean with the poor PA? He must really want to make sure there’s no trace of us even looking like we might be together hitting the press.

  It’s the reminder I needed. We are not going to work – not now or ever. This party may have come at the perfect time. I should thank Amber and that snap happy PA. Because if I’m being honest, I was starting to fall hard for Tanner all over again. And that was the one thing I promised myself I wouldn
’t do.

  My lips curl up sardonically. What would Walter say? I don’t even know if I should bother telling him how close I came to screwing up the shoot-long booty call by having Feelings. He already saw it coming.

  “Good email?” Tanner asks, seeing my expression, and I glance over at him. I don’t have to force my return smile, damn it. His huge grin, those friendly eyes… he’s just charming. And now that I’ve had the reminder that I needed that he isn’t a prince, I suppose there’s no reason to stay upset. He’s just obeying my rules, after all.

  That sinking feeling can be dealt with later on. I’ll buy a new pair of Manolo Blanhnik’s and all will be good. Probably. Maybe.

  Right now, the mess in my head can only be unraveled by losing my mind completely, preferably while impaled on his massive dick.

  Apparently Tanner hasn’t learned the healing magic of designer shoes and hot sex because ten minutes later, he’s sitting on the couch insisting that talking is the way to make things better.

  “I don’t believe that you’re not jealous.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  But he ignores my dismissive attitude. “Tell me the truth, Jenna. This isn’t going to work if we lie to each other.”

  “This is not going to work because we’re not in a relationship, remember? And I’m not jealous because there is nothing to be jealous over.”

  “Fine. Prove it.” His voice is thick and his eyes dark.

  And then I get it.

  This is a game. He wants to think of me as jealous because it’s sexy.

  Something about that challenge lights a fire inside. If he wants to get dirty, that’s just fine with me. I can inflate his ego and his dick at the same time.

  I walk to the minibar, grab a couple bottles, and pour them into glass tumblers. Handing him one, I sit down next to him and toss my hair.

  Exactly like Amber did.

  “Whatcha doing?” he asks playfully.

  “Showing you how very little I have to be jealous of.” I hadn’t smoothed down my dress before sitting, and it’s riding up my thighs.

  Tanner doesn’t even try not to look, but I’m not ready for him to touch yet. I clink my glass to his in a parody of his toast with Amber that I watched from the bar earlier.