by Cassie Reed
He glowered at her and there went her knees again. “I thought you liked my mouth.”
“I never said I didn’t,” she countered, leaning toward him. Their lips found each other again, their second kiss threatening to dethrone the heat level from the first. They gasped as they parted, their attentions drawn down to Trayce’s ringing phone.
Pulling it from his pocket, he frowned. “Layton,” he said, his eyes raising to her face. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be calling me unless it were an emergency.”
Olivia gave a nod. “You’d better answer it.”
18
Trayce inserted his key into the lock on Layton’s front door, turning it and swinging the door open to an entirely dark apartment. “Layton?” he called out as he stepped inside.
“Over here,” Layton’s voice replied a moment later.
Flipping on the light switch, Trayce gazed around the now lit front room.
“Down here,” his brother’s voice directed.
Following the sound, Trayce made his way across the living room, stopping to gaze behind the couch where Layton was lying between it and the wall. “I’m not even gonna ask,” he murmured, resting his hands on his hips.
“I was trying to get out to the balcony,” Layton explained. “I wanted fresh air. I felt like I was going stir crazy, but as you can see, I didn’t do so well.”
Walking over to the sliding glass door six feet from where Layton was lying, Trayce slid it open, welcoming in a cool breeze from the chilly outside air. “Why didn’t you use your chair?”
He heard his brother let out a tsk of protest from the floor.
“Layton.” Trayce rubbed his eyes with two fingers. “You even have crutches you could have used.”
“I don’t need either of those,” Layton replied, prompting a sigh from Trayce. How had he partially raised someone so stubborn? Then he remembered. They were both stuntmen. It was their job to look common sense in the face and laugh. Usually it worked out. . .except for cases when it didn’t. Cases like right now.
“I guess we should just call your doctors and tell them not to bother,” Trayce said. “You obviously know better.”
“I don’t want to talk about doctors right now,” Layton muttered bitterly. “Or hospitals. Or bills. They’re all trying to bury me.”
Trayce lowered himself to his knees beside Layton before scooting back to rest his back against the couch. “It’s going to be okay,” he told him. “I know you’re having trouble believing me right now but I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“You sure about that?” Layton said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Trayce frowned.
“The whole thing with Olivia Warner, down at the train station,” Layton said. “I know that wasn’t the first time you met her.”
Trayce was quiet, his mind searching for a way to explain why he ever would have agreed to the cockamamy stunt that had brought her into his life. “Layton—”
“How long have you been seeing her?” his brother asked.
He shook his head, his mind still hazy with endorphins from the evening he had just spent with her. “Not that long.”
“How’d you meet?” Layton wanted to know.
“A mutual friend,” Trayce replied with a shrug. He waited, anticipating Layton’s next question. Would it be about the money, the plot?
“Must’ve been pretty scary when you saw her about to fall.”
Trayce gave a nod. “Yeah, actually it was.”
“Almost like you guys were meant to be together,” Layton declared, his voice faraway. “If you hadn’t been dating her, you never would have been there. And who knows what could have happened then.”
“Right,” Trayce agreed, staring down at his hands. He told himself he would explain things better, when the time was right. When Layton wasn’t having an existential breakdown of his own.
Layton lifted his head from the carpet, letting it fall back down with a thud. “I get screwed by an accident and nearly lose everything. You get to be a superhero’s stunt double and start seeing one of the most gorgeous women in Hollywood. The universe works in mysterious ways.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I’m happy for you. But I won’t deny I’m just a little bit jealous of your luck right now.”
Trayce was quiet. It hadn’t been purely luck that he had gotten to where he was today. He had worked hard to build a reputation as one of the best stuntmen in the business, but between his humble beginnings and securing the contract for Captain Patriot, there had been a hundred times he could have wound up in Layton’s shoes, or worse. When it came to most stunts, the difference between success and disaster was usually just a matter of millimeters.
Only it had never happened.
Trayce had endured a black eye or two, a broken rib, even a dislocated shoulder. But he had never experienced the earth-shattering, life-changing calamity that his brother had gone through. As much as Trayce wanted to tell him there would be light at the end of the tunnel, that things would be normal again, eventually, it felt wrong lecturing Layton, especially when normal felt so far away. Nevertheless, he tried. “Look,” he began. “Someday you’re gonna be able to walk out here and open your sliding glass door all by yourself. But now is not that time. You need to ditch the whole hardheaded act and get it through your thick skull that, for now at least, you need to use either your chair or your crutches. Pick your poison, because one day I might not be able to come running over here so quick to save you.”
It was Layton’s turn to be quiet, if only for a moment. “Dinner was going pretty well for you tonight, huh?”
“It was going,” Trayce said opaquely, unwilling to kiss and tell. But kiss they had, Trayce thought, his mind returning to Olivia. She had tasted delicious, sweet like marshmallows, and he was sure if Layton had been facing him, his face would have given everything away entirely.
“Sorry I ruined your night.”
“You didn’t ruin it,” Trayce dismissed him. “There’ll be other nights.”
Like the Film Critics’ Awards, his thoughts traced back. Had she really been serious about wanting him to go, or had it merely been a suggestion? She had been right that the thought of a red carpet filled him with a unique kind of quiet dread, but if it meant getting to see her dressed to the nines, not to mention laying his claim to her, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Especially when she managed to play dress up so well. While he was sure he would have still been infatuated with her in a cardboard box, the thought of her body wrapped in satin or silk made him want to run his thick hands all over her smooth, soft skin.
“You really like her, don’t you?” Layton’s voice stirred him from his thoughts.
“I haven’t even said two words about her to you,” Trayce refused.
“Eh, I saw the way you looked at her the other day at the forum.”
A laugh echoed from the back of Trayce’s throat. “And how was that?”
“Like time stopped for you. Like she was the only person in the room. It was pretty obvious,” Layton said matter-of-factly.
Trayce frowned. Had he actually been that obvious? “Anyways,” he murmured. “I’m not sure you know what you’re talking about. I think you’re dehydrated from lying on the floor for hours.”
“Maybe,” Layton replied. “Or maybe you’re just in l—”
“Don’t say it,” Trayce warned. “Unless you want me to bring you a book and a bottle to pee in and I call it a night.”
“Wow,” Layton observed. “Your own brother. Fine. Help me get off this floor. I’ve gotta pee like a racehorse.”
Trayce got to his feet. “I can help you get off the floor,” he said. “But you’re on your own for part two.”
19
Olivia took one last glance at herself before grabbing her clutch and heading out the door. In a sleeveless, calf-length coral lace dress and elegant nude pumps, her chosen red carpet look felt like the perfect mix of classic, bold, and modern.
It would be her first event of this kind in what felt like forever, but as she made her way out to the waiting limousine, she was finally beginning to feel like herself again. Positive, confident, a leading lady. Olivia Warner was back.
The chauffeur opened the door for her and she ducked inside the limo’s secluded white leather cabin. Mia was already inside, two flutes of champagne already held in her French-tipped fingers, one of which she handed to Olivia. “Girl’s night,” she squealed excitedly as Olivia slid into the spot across from her.
Olivia grinned. In Mia’s chosen dress from the other night, a light pink gown in an empire silhouette, complete with beaded bodice and a leg-revealing slit, she looked like a star. “That dress was made for you,” Olivia gushed.
“Well it’s all thanks to you,” Mia said, holding her glass up for a toast. “Cheers.”
Olivia obliged her, clinking her glass against hers before bringing it up to her lips for a tentative drink. She may have looked cool and collected from the outside, but inside, her mind churned. She needed, and wanted, to tell Mia about the script, and the coveted role they were both after, before they were both face to face with Meredith Mitchum. Mia would be nothing but upset if she found out at the last minute, or worse, from someone else.
“Excited?” she murmured instead, unable to bring it up just yet.
“What do you think?” Mia replied jubilantly. “You and I may not be nominated for any awards this year, but that doesn’t mean this can’t be our night. I’m talking Vegas level shenanigans so I hope you’re ready. I already heard there’s going to be an after-party at Rolling Greens. . .” Mia’s energetic spiel tapered off. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
“Huh?” Olivia uttered, taken by surprise. “What do you mean?”
Mia made a face. “You may be a good actress, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well. Now spill it.”
“Uh,” Olivia began, her brain searching for one last mental parachute, a thing she could blame her obvious nerves on that wasn’t the truth. “Mia,” she said, with a shake of her head. She wouldn’t put it off any longer. It was time. “You know how the other day you told me about the script from Meredith Mitchum?”
“Blossoms of the Pacific, sure.” Mia waited, her green eyes staring at Olivia expectantly. “Why?”
“Well,” Olivia continued. “It’s just that. . .I sort of received the same script from my agent.”
“Okay. . .” Mia said. “So what does that mean?”
“It’s just, we’d be going after the same role,” Olivia replied, a silence growing awkwardly in the space between her words. “And I just thought you should know.”
“Know what?” Mia asked, crossing her arms.
“I don’t know,” Olivia said exasperatedly. “That I’m going after it too. That’s all.”
“So I shouldn’t get my hopes up?” Mia said, her eyes narrowing. “Or I just shouldn’t bother at all?”
“You know what, forget I said anything,” Olivia declared. “I was just trying to give you a heads up—”
“My agent already told me, Olivia,” Mia said. “She told me multiple actresses received the script. You included.”
Olivia’s mouth fell open. “Then why didn’t you say anything when you brought it up the other night on the phone?”
“Because,” Mia said with a roll of her eyes. “I thought we could just handle it like professionals. Yeah, we’re up against each other for the same role. It happens, and I didn’t feel like bringing it up.” She paused. “Or do you just feel threatened that someone like me would ever be considered for the same part as you?”
“That is not it,” Olivia told her. “I’ve been nothing but happy and supportive of you this whole time—”
“Oh, please—”
“Oh, please yourself,” Oliva shot back. “You know what really bothers me now? Is that you knew I had the same script as you, yet you still called me up to gush about it. ‘Meredith Mitchum, of all people.’ Where’s the professionalism in that?”
“You’re my friend, and I was excited!” Mia exclaimed. “And by the way, you could have said something too instead of pretending to be clueless. ‘Oh, Fiji? I wouldn’t see you for so long.’ You’re fake, Olivia. Fake, fake, fake!”
“I was in shock!” Olivia announced in her defense. “Do you know how long it’s been since I received a script for something of actual substance? A real motion picture and not some made-for-a-third-rate-streaming-service nonsense?”
“No, actually I don’t,” Mia countered. “Because I’ve been too busy starring in that so-called nonsense, for years! You just can’t stand to think it could be my time to shine—”
“That has nothing to do with it. I need this. You know how hard things have been for me—”
“What’s been hard? Keeping up your house in the Hollywood Hills? Polishing your Oscar?” Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Or is it having to loan your poor friends the dresses collecting dust in your walk-in closet?”
Olivia returned her glare. “You know that’s not what I was talking about.” The car came to a sudden stop, prompting her to glance away. “What’s happening?”
“We’re here,” came Mia’s cheerless reply. “Yippee.”
Olivia gazed out of the tinted windows at the crowd gathered outside the theater where the Film Critics’ Awards were being held. “Crap.”
“Just don’t talk to me,” Mia said as the door was opened to let them out. “Pretend you’re here with someone else. You’d probably like that anyway.” With that she was gone, stepping out onto the beginning of the red carpet.
Olivia took a deep breath, half to give Mia enough space to get ahead of her, and half to cool her own frazzled nerves. That whole thing had gone pretty much as poorly as it could have, and now she was barely going to have time to process any of it. It was time to put her best foot forward and get out of the limo, whether she liked it or not.
Stepping out onto the bustling red carpet for the first time in months had a dizzying effect on her. Camera bulbs flashed their blinding lights incessantly, spotting her vision and making it hard to see. Around her, handlers shouted out directions, their voices booming in the struggle to be heard over photographers and screaming fans. She was lucky the carpet only led in one direction. Unless it doesn’t, the paranoid thought came over her suddenly. It could have been one of those red carpets that forked. One wrong step and she could have found herself face to face with one of those reporters interviewing people solely for a Worst Dressed list. Or worse. A correspondent from TMI.
Ahead of her, Olivia spotted the bouncing curls from Mia’s sky high updo. At least she was going in the right direction. As she struggled to keep her eyes locked on Mia as a directional tool only, an arm jutted its way across her path. “Wait right here please,” a handler in a black jacket and earpiece instructed. “Each celebrity gets a minute with the cameras.”
Olivia knew that. Of course she did. She narrowed her eyes in the handler’s direction, whose focus wasn’t on her anymore as he held a finger to his headset. Had he not recognized who she was? Paranoia wormed its way into her subconsciousness as she watched Mia pose for the cameras.
“Mia! Over here, Mia!”
“Mia! Beautiful, Mia!”
“Mia, who are you wearing?”
Olivia watched Mia’s confident, sultry starlet façade drop as she considered the question.
She doesn’t know!
Flapping her hands from the sidelines in a desperate but demure bid to get her attention, Olivia mouthed the name of the designer. Versace! She saw Mia frown slightly as she caught the last part of the word and held her breath in hopes that she had interpreted it right.
“Gucci,” Mia announced assuredly before turning around and looking over her shoulder for the cameras.
Olivia let out a sigh. Apparently Mia had only caught the “chi” sound.
Before she knew it, she was being waved forward by a different handler, and as she stepped in front of the branded Step and Re
peat banner, she found herself worrying that no one would call her name. Or worse. That they’d tell her to move.
To her relief, a cacophony of calls rushed forward.
“Olivia! Gorgeous!”
“This way, Olivia, over here!”
“Olivia, let’s get a smile!”
Of course, she thought, automatically obliging. That’s why she was here. To be photographed being happy, not traumatized by an epic limousine row with the friend she was supposed to be step-in-step with right now.
The minute inched by, second for second, each one losing more and more magic than before. Finally, she was waved forward, and she stepped away from the Step and Repeat as a flurry of voices accosted the next person.
The entrance to the theater loomed before her, but once she was inside, the whirlwind of activity only seemed to become more intense. It was like putting a tent over a circus. People congregated in groups, talking, laughing, and schmoozing, and there didn’t seem to be any kind of seating arrangement of any kind. As her eyes looked for a seat at an open table, she made eye contact with Mia who had already taken refuge with another group of actors she seemingly knew. She gave Olivia a pointed look before turning away.
Maybe she could just go hide in the bathroom for a while, she considered as she gazed around the crowded room. It would be just like middle school all over again. She had lived through it once, and she could live through it again.
“Olivia?” a familiar voice prompted from behind her.
Turning, her mouth nearly fell open in surprise. “David?” She let out an exasperated puff of breath she was sure no one would hear in the crowded room. On a night like this, there was nothing like running into her ex-fiancé to put the cherry on top of her bad luck sundae.