The Redhead Series

by Alice Clayton

  “Who am I allegedly fucking?” I asked, trying to play it off.

  “Please, who do you think you’re talking to? I just spent thirty minutes with him, dancing around the issue of Grace Sheridan. He’s so transparent. He likes you. He thinks you’re ‘cool,’” she answered, using air quotes.

  “I am cool, but that’s beside the point. Did he say anything else?”

  “No, except that when I mentioned that I had a meeting with you today he seemed to already know about it. Now, how would he know that, Grace?” she said teasingly.

  “He might have called me last night,” I answered.

  “And what time did he call?” she asked, eyeing me carefully.

  “Um, it was about one thirty this morning,” I said, almost under my breath.

  “No way! That’s a booty call. I knew it!” she yelled as I attempted to shush her.

  “Shut up! He’ll hear you,” I whispered.

  Her eyes got wide. “He’s still here? Why?”

  “He asked me if I wanted to go for a drive after I was done with you, and I said yes,” I said quietly, wishing I were anywhere but there. She was going to tease me mercilessly about this. My new friend and me. My much younger new friend. She didn’t tease, though.

  “I think that’s great, Grace. Have fun . . . just be careful. The press is starting to really ramp up lately with him, and his fans are beginning to seek him out. You’ll see,” she said, warning me. “Enough of that. Let’s order up some coffee and get started on your showcase piece.”

  She pushed the speaker button on the office intercom and we could hear Sara giggling. “Hey, Sara, can you make a run to Starbucks for us?” she asked, rolling her eyes kindly at the giggles.

  “Sure, Holly, what did you want?” she asked, her voice high. She was obviously still losing her mind out there over Mr. Hamilton.

  You might be losing your mind, too.

  “Grande soy caramel macchiato for me. What do you want, Grace?” she asked.

  “Tall nonfat, no-whip iced mocha with three sugars please,” I shouted over the intercom.

  “Doesn’t anyone just get regular coffee anymore?” I heard Jack grumble in the background.

  “Quiet, Brit boy,” Holly said, “or I will make sure you get cast in High School Musical 4: Electric Boogaloo.”

  I laughed loudly and then heard Jack say, “I might need to rethink my representation.”

  We worked for about an hour, planning which scenes I was going to do. My scene partner would be another actor she was representing, and we were doing a scene from a film that hadn’t even been released yet, where the two characters kiss for the first time and change the trajectory of their relationship forever. It was intense and sweet, and I thought we would do it justice. The second scene was between a couple going through a messy divorce, and it was full of tension and drama. The two scenes did exactly what a showcase should do, highlighting the emotional range that an actor was capable of.

  We had yet to choose the songs, but I had a few in mind. Holly and I agreed to discuss it again later that night after I had narrowed my choices down. As we finished up I was reminded of the treat that was waiting for me out in reception, and my heart sped up a little. We walked out toward where we could hear Sara, who was still giggling, for God’s sake, and I looked at Jack. He was still sitting on the couch, listening to his music, exactly where I had left him. He looked up as we walked out and he smiled at me, standing to walk over.

  “Gee, Jack, what are you still doing here?” Holly asked him directly as I blushed behind her.

  “I’m trying to chat up your friend here. And don’t pretend you don’t know everything already. I could hear you two cackling in there,” he said, placing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me toward the door.

  “See you at home!” I said to Holly as we walked out, leaving Sara and her wide eyes behind. She had finally stopped giggling.

  “Don’t forget we have a date with our gay tonight, Grace!” Holly called after me as the door swung shut.

  Once we were in the elevator lobby, he dropped his arm and leaned against the wall, looking at me. “So, what do you feel like doing?”

  “Hey, man, this was your idea. I thought we were going for a drive,” I said as we entered the elevator. He pushed the button for the ground floor and turned to me. We were alone in the elevator and I began to feel the tension from earlier building again.

  “Well, we can, but I have to warn you. I have kind of a shit car. I only bought it because you can’t not have a car in L.A. We should probably take yours,” he said, smiling slightly.

  “You asked me to go for a drive and now you want to take my car? What the hell, Hamilton?” I laughed as the elevator dinged open. “Come on,” I said, walking in the direction of my car. My black convertible was parked at the end of the row and we walked toward it.

  “Did you have a place in mind where you wanted to go?” I asked, tossing him the keys.

  “You want me to drive?”

  “Yep, this is your party. Where are we going?”

  “Santa Barbara?” He grinned back.

  “Nope, I can’t leave the greater Los Angeles area.” I laughed, thinking there was nothing in the world I would have liked more than to drive to Santa Barbara with him.

  “Well, how about we drive Sunset to PCH and then grab some lunch? Sound good?” he asked, starting the car.

  “Yes, I love driving Sunset, especially once we get past Hollywood. Top up or down?” I asked, my finger on the button. He looked at me, turning the full force of his green eyes on me.

  “Top definitely down,” he said as his eyes left mine, moving lower across my body and then finally back up to mine. I let my breath out in a slow whoosh.

  Damn.

  “Whatever you want, Hamilton,” I said quietly, my heart struggling to return to normal. This guy had yet to hug me, hold my hand, even touch me, really, and with his eyes alone he had me coming apart at the seams.

  “I’ll remember that, Grace.” He smiled sexily.

  Double damn.

  As Jack and I rode through the streets of L.A., we began the process of actually getting to know each other past all the banter. We talked about how long he had been in California and whether he preferred it to London. He didn’t. I asked him about the film that was coming out in just a few months, pretending that I still knew nothing about the story. He gave me the CliffsNotes version. I prayed silently that he wouldn’t reveal anything that happened late in the series, as I was only about halfway done. I’d have to get on that.

  Jack had been working in the industry for just a few years, having been spotted in London one day by a casting director. He auditioned for a small role in a movie for the BBC and then began working in independent films. After he landed some breakout roles in a few high-profile films, Hollywood had come calling. Being cast as the lead in Time had quickly made him an official “star on the rise” and “one to watch.” He called it all “rubbish.” He loved acting, but I got the sense that he could have walked away from it all and been happy working on a set somewhere in London’s West End.

  As Sunset wound through Brentwood toward the Pacific Palisades, we moved on to other matters. I learned he had two older brothers and that he had lost his mom to cancer when he was only sixteen. His father was still in London, but one of his brothers was now living here in the States, working for the embassy in Washington, DC.

  We both liked dogs and cats equally. We discussed the last few movies we had seen and whether we liked the current president, and I discovered that we shared a mutual love of Tina Fey. We laughed as we talked about our favorite sitcoms and argued about whether the UK or U.S. version of The Office was better. I thought he secretly preferred the U.S. cast, but being a proud Londoner, he could never admit that.

  As we talked, I found him to be delightful. He was charming and funny, yes, but he was also very intelligent. He seemed interested in what I had to say as well, and I couldn’t remember the last time
I’d enjoyed talking to a guy more.

  I had plugged my iPod in when we first took off, and we’d been so busy talking that I hadn’t even turned it on. I selected my favorite “driving” playlist and turned up the stereo. When the first song came on, he looked at me curiously.

  “What made you turn this song on?” he asked, moving his eyes back to the road, which was beginning to get curvier as we got closer to the mountains.

  “Oh, this is one of my all-time favorites. This is my driving playlist, for when I just want to relax. Do you like it?” I asked, tucking my feet underneath me on the seat as I settled back.

  He didn’t answer but smiled at me.

  I pulled on my ponytail, letting my hair spill out behind me and get picked up by the breeze. I could feel myself begin to relax further and a slow grin spread across my face.

  “This song never ceases to make me happy. If I had a top-five song list, this would be on it.” I leaned my head back against the leather seat and let “Into the Mystic” pour over me.

  I began to sing as we drove. I could never resist this song. I sang along, keeping my eyes closed as I let my hand trail along in the wind. The sun was shining perfectly, warming my skin and making little patterns on the insides of my eyelids. It was one of those moments when you find yourself and your own little world in perfect harmony. I was content.

  I could feel Jack’s eyes on me, and when the song was over, I looked at him. The sunlight had caught his hair and was bouncing shades of blond, wheat, toffee, and vanilla around him. His eyes were burning green as he watched me. He hadn’t spoken since the song came on. He looked at me for so long that I began to get a little self-conscious about my singing. Not everyone was a sing-along-in-the-car kind of person.

  “Sorry, I tend to get a little carried away,” I said.

  He took his right hand off the steering wheel and placed it on my arm. “Shh,” he said softly. “That was lovely, Grace.” He smiled sweetly as he lightly traced shapes on my skin.

  Okay, look. Whenever I hear people say that they felt “sparks,” I usually think it’s a load of poo. I mean, I’ve felt attraction to people, sure, and I’ve even felt some instant lust. But sparks? Please.

  Then he touched my skin. Purposefully. Pointedly. Nowhere near platonically.

  Sparks. Sparks. Sparks. Hot sparks. Flashing sparks. Lightning-bolt sparks. Hal Sparks? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, sparks.

  We were at the end of Sunset Boulevard where it meets the Pacific Coast Highway. I pulled my gaze away from his and looked across to the Pacific crashing against the sand.

  “End of the road, Grace. Where do we go from here?” he asked gently, still touching my arm.

  “Gladstones,” I croaked out, my breath catching in my throat.

  “Where?” he asked, snapping out of his own reverie.

  “Gladstones,” I said again, pointing to the restaurant on the other side of the PCH. “I need to eat.”

  My breathing was finally coming under control again, and he chuckled a little as he followed my finger. “Well, then, let’s get you fed.”

  seven

  Gladstones is one of my favorite restaurants, and although it’s a little touristy, it is perfectly so. It’s an indoor/outdoor restaurant, with a worn plank floor and concrete benches to sit on outside. We chose to do just that and had the entire Pacific Ocean as our backdrop. I ordered a beer immediately, which Jack joined me in as we continued to smile at each other. I know I must have looked like I had fallen asleep with a hanger in my mouth. I could still feel his hand on my arm, as if it had burned an impression there.

  Our server came back with our beers and we ordered our lunch. As it was a seafood restaurant, I always got the she-crab soup and the coconut shrimp. I’d been ordering the exact same meal for years. Even when I came back to visit, I’d always made Holly bring me here.

  After the waitress finished taking our order, Jack raised his glass of Killian’s Irish Red to me and said, “To Van Morrison, and the sexiest version of ‘Into the Mystic’ I’ve ever heard.”

  I blushed a little. “Well, thank you, sir. But you’re really in for it if a U2 song ever comes on the radio. I really lose control when I’m subjected to the Edge,” I admitted.

  “Then here’s to me finding more ways to make you lose control,” he said with a wink.

  Before I had a chance to respond to that little nugget, I saw his eyes flick up behind me. I turned and noticed two women, a little older than I was.

  They wore the same expression Sara had had on that morning. They began to approach us, both giggling, neither wanting to be the first to say something. Finally the bolder of the two stepped forward and said, “Hi, are you Joshua—I mean, Jack Hamilton?”

  Jack began to blush. “Yes, how are you? What’s your name?”

  “Wow, I’m Claudia and this is Michelle. Can we take your picture?” she said, the words rushing out.

  “Sure, of course.” He smiled as they clicked away merrily.

  The two women paid no attention to me. They were caught up with their Super-Sexy Scientist Guy.

  He chatted with them for a moment and then the forward one said, “Okay, enough. We’ll let you eat your lunch now. Thank you so much. You don’t know how much we, uh, I mean, uh, bye!” she said, turning quickly and then marching them away. They had barely made it twenty feet before the screaming started.

  “Oh, man, you really are a hit with the womenfolk, huh?” I said teasingly, taking a sip of my beer. When it was just us, it was easy to forget that all signs were pointing toward his becoming a major Hollywood player by the end of the year.

  “Yeah, yeah. The ladies, they love me. What can I say?” He shrugged.

  “Ass,” I stated as the server brought our lunch. Then we slipped back into our comfortable conversation; the fans had broken the tension that had been building all day.

  After sitting and watching the waves for a while, we decided to take a walk before heading back into town. Malibu was always beautiful, and this day was no exception. I held my sneakers in my hand as we walked along the water.

  “This is really a Hallmark moment, Hamilton. Walking on the beach, sunshine, seagulls. It’s freaking perfect,” I said, glancing at him sideways. He was silhouetted against the horizon, the sun highlighting the exquisite planes of his face.

  “If it was perfect, we’d be rolling around on the sand together, kissing like mad.”

  I stopped walking and looked him straight in the eye. Then I lay down on the sand and began to roll myself back and forth.

  He closed his eyes and tilted his face to the sky. “Fucking nuts girl.” He sighed.

  “Come on, big boy, get down here and roll with me. I can’t do this alone. Someone will call Baywatch and tell them there’s a girl on the beach having some kind of fit.” I snickered, getting covered in sand.

  He laughed and joined me, wordlessly rolling back and forth, making me laugh harder. It was so easy, so authentic, being with him. We both stopped and lay on our backs next to each other, looking up at the sky. The sun was out over the ocean, and I raised my legs. Pointing my toes, I covered up the sun with my feet and then moved them apart to reveal it again. I did this several times; then I noticed that Jack was staring at my legs. My yoga pants had slid down toward my thighs, revealing the skin above my knees.

  Thank you, God, for the shaving reminder this morning.

  He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his arm. I looked at him but kept my legs in the air, toes pointed toward the sky.

  “See something you like, Hamilton?” I retorted, waiting for his witty response.

  “You have no idea,” he answered softly, his tone making my legs stop in midair. I brought them back down and rolled onto my side as well, facing him.

  “I have some idea,” I said, dragging my fingers through the soft sand between us. His hand began to creep toward mine. My heart stopped, then started up again, crazy fast.

  “I was wondering about something,” he said
.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you know that U2 is one of my favorite bands? I mean, like, my absolute favorite band?” His hand was dangerously close to mine.

  “How would I know that? I just met you.” I picked up a shell to examine it, then put it down, my hand landing closer to his.

  “There’s all kinds of stuff on the Internet about me lately. You could’ve Googled it.” He moved his hand closer still. I could feel the energy between us begin to hum again.

  “I think that you should go Google yourself, Brit boy. I’m not interested in Googling you.” I frowned, moving my hand back toward me slightly.

  “Are you intrigued by film stars?”

  “Not particularly,” I lied. Only one . . .

  “Are you intrigued by romantic beachside gestures?” he asked, moving his fingers an inch away from mine.

  “Nope,” I said, barely breathing. His eyes were actually smoldering as they looked deeply into mine. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and I was aching to sweep it back.

  “Would you be intrigued by a film star who wanted to kiss you?” he breathed, his fingers finally touching mine.

  I paused as I looked back at him, almost panting. “Mm-hmm,” I whispered.

  Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

  His eyes were heavy as he gazed into mine. He closed the distance between us and his hand came up to my cheek. I could feel the sand clinging to his fingers graze my skin, and it was cool. I was not.

  As he cupped my face gently all I could focus on were the perfect, soft-looking lips that were about to touch mine. I moved in to meet him and then closed my eyes. I knew if I had to look at him right now, I would lose my nerve.

  I felt him even before I felt his lips. The energy between us shifted, and I knew exactly where he was. The instant before his lips met mine, I could tell that he was about to deliver a kiss that would stun me stupid.

  It was soft and sweet. It was tentative and deliberate all at the same time. He kissed me once, then again, and then a third time, with a little more grrr behind it. His scent, which up until now I had somehow overlooked, filled my nostrils. He smelled like sand and sun and sweat, mixed with chocolate and smoke. Not icky cigarette smoke, but warm pipe tobacco and chimney smoke all rolled into one.