"I dunno," he said. "Double the tips?"
"Oh come on. Just for one minute, can you look at it from my point of view?" I gave him a pleading look. "I'm serious. I can't just not show up."
"So find someone to take your place."
"Just like that? On a Friday? You're kidding, right?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
No. He didn't.
I tried again. "Okay, let's say I were willing to quit, I'd still need to give a notice."
"Or what?"
"What do you mean?"
"Let's say you don't, what happens?"
"Aside from screwing over my co-workers?"
"Yeah. Aside from that."
"Well…" Desperately, I tried to think. "Later on, when I try to get my job back, I'll be the loser who quit with no notice."
"So…?"
"So maybe they won't hire me back. And it's not like jobs grow on trees, you know."
He eyed me with cool disdain. "You work at a waffle joint, not NASA."
I was glaring again. "Says the guy who used to work at a gas station."
"Yeah. And I don't anymore."
"Well goodie for you."
The words had barely left my lips when the blaring of a car horn made me turn toward the front of the house.
The horn sounded again, longer this time. When I looked back to Flynn, he strode out of the pink bedroom and brushed past me, heading into the room across the hall.
It was another bedroom, just as nice, but not nearly as pink – thank heaven. As I watched from the hallway, Flynn strode to the window and looked out over the front driveway. With a low curse, he turned back to me and said, "You're on."
Chapter 16
Anna
With long strides, Flynn left the front bedroom and once again brushed past me, this time heading toward the stairway. Without bothering to look back, he said, "We're old friends." And then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "For now."
I scrambled to keep up. "Wait, who's old friends? You and me? Or you and whoever's out there?"
Without breaking stride, he said, "You'll figure it out."
Well, that was helpful.
But soon, he didn't need to explain, because when we reached the front door, his visitor was already coming up the front walkway.
From the open doorway, I sucked in a breath. Holy hell. It was her – Felicity Saint Cloud. She looked just as beautiful as she did on-screen, and I couldn't stop myself from staring.
Her hair was long, golden, and lush. Her face was angelic perfection, with big blue eyes, stunning cheekbones, and full sensual lips. She was wearing a silvery blue dress that shimmered when she moved, like it was sprinkled with fairy dust or enchanted by a secret spell.
At that moment, I swear if she sprouted angel wings and fluttered toward us, I totally would've believed it.
Idling in the driveway behind her was a long, dark limo. Its horn was still blaring.
Felicity turned and hollered out, "Hey! Dipshit! You can cut the noise! He's at the door!"
I stiffened. Woah. That's not how she sounded in the movies.
In the movies, she was all sweetness and light. But there was no sweetness in her voice now as she added, "And bring in the luggage! I'm not paying you sit on your fat ass!"
With a frown, I looked toward the limo. When the driver's side door opened, I was doubly surprised to see that the driver was a guy I knew from working at the waffle joint.
His name was Randy, and yes, he did like a good waffle as much as the next person. And okay, maybe he wasn't the skinniest guy on the planet, but he wasn't a freak of nature either.
I felt my gaze narrow. Maybe Felicity didn't look so angelic after all.
As Randy hustled to the rear of the limo and threw open its trunk, I looked back to Felicity, only to freeze when I realized that she'd stopped on the porch and was staring straight at me.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Who the hell are you?"
"I, um." I gave Flynn a sideways glance before blurting out, "Old friend." I paused. "I mean, me and Flynn, we're old friends. From high school, I mean."
At this, her lips formed a sneer. "Oh, so you're a townie." She said the word "townie" like was something you'd catch off a toilet seat.
I looked to Flynn and said through gritted teeth, "Aren't you going to introduce us?"
He didn't.
Instead, he looked to Felicity and said, "What are you doing here?"
She gave him a sunny smile. "I came to surprise you."
Flynn looked toward the limo, where Randy was unloading suitcase after suitcase. Flynn called out, "Don't bother. She's not staying."
Randy stopped in mid-motion and gave Felicity a questioning look.
She didn't see it, because she was far too busy staring at Flynn like he'd just slapped her silly.
She moved forward and said in a hushed voice, "But of course I am."
"No," he said. "You're not."
She blinked. "But I came all this way."
"Not my problem."
With a huff, she whirled to me and demanded, "Is this your doing?"
I glanced around. "Me? No." But then, I paused. Maybe I was supposed to say yes?
No, that wasn't right.
Supposedly, Flynn and I were just friends, for now anyway, assuming that I'd gotten the gist of what he'd said on the way down.
Honestly, this was all pretty darn confusing.
I looked to Flynn and said, "Maybe you two want to talk alone?"
But it wasn't Flynn who answered. It was Felicity, who snapped, "Excellent idea." She looked over her shoulder and called out to Randy, "And don't forget my makeup case. It's in the back!"
With that, she moved toward the front doorway, only to stop in mid-motion when Flynn refused to step aside, telling her, "Unless you're planning to sleep in the limo, you're wasting your time."
She blinked up at him. "But why would I want to sleep in the limo?"
"Don't know, don't care." He flicked his chin in my direction. "But we're heading out. If you're smart, you'll do the same."
I felt my eyebrows furrow. Was that a threat? I honestly didn't know. From the look on Felicity's face, she was just as confused as I was.
In a quieter voice, she repeated, "But I came all this way."
Flynn still didn't budge. "So you said."
"And," she continued, "the jet's probably gone by now."
I didn't know which jet she meant. A private jet? That's the way it sounded. But wouldn’t a private jet stay and wait?
I had no idea. Even when times were better, I'd been a long, looooong way from Private Jetville.
Still, as awful as Felicity was, I couldn’t help but feel at least a little sympathy for her current situation. The way it looked, she'd been so sure of her welcome that she hadn't thought to make alternate plans.
In a lame attempt to be helpful, I said, "There's some hotels downtown. I'm sure they've got a room if—"
"If what?" she practically spat.
"If, um, you need it. And it's off-season, so…"
"So what?"
"So…they've probably got some really great deals."
Her nostrils flared. "Do I look like I need a deal?"
"No," I stammered. "I'm just saying, it's not quite summer yet, and ski season is a long way off so–"
"So fuck off," she said. "I'm staying right here."
What could I say to that? I had no idea. In truth, I didn't care where she stayed as long as I had no part in it.
But then it hit me. This was exactly what I'd signed on for, wasn't it?
Yikes.
It was crazy to consider how simple this had all sounded the other night, when Flynn had made his surprising offer.
Even now, I wasn't quite sure what I'd been expecting, but this wasn't it.
Cripes, maybe I was stupid.
I looked again toward the limo. Randy was standing near the trunk, surrounded by suitcases on all sides. There had to be at least a
dozen of them, and all I could think was, "Wow, I didn't realize the limo's trunk was so big."
Oh yeah, I was definitely losing it.
I looked to Flynn and said, "I'll just, um, catch up with Randy."
Looking less than thrilled, he said, "Who's Randy?"
But already I was on the move. I brushed past Felicity and called back over my shoulder, "This way, you two can talk in private."
And more importantly, I could gather my wits. The way it looked, I'd definitely be needing them.
Chapter 17
Flynn
Felicity's visit was no surprise. With our history, I'd known that she'd come looking for me sooner or later. But as far as the timing, it sucked balls.
From the front porch, I watched as Anna rushed toward the limo driver and greeted him like they were old friends.
I frowned. Were they old friends? Or something more?
Compared to Anna, the guy was at least ten years older and not nearly as good-looking. But hey, maybe she wasn't as picky as she used to be, back when she'd been the princess of the town, and I'd been just another serf living in her daddy's kingdom.
Still, when the guy smiled like he might be interested, I didn't like it – not because I had a thing for her. It was because I didn't need another hitch in my plans.
Yeah, that had to be it.
In front of me, Felicity said, "Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"
I was still looking at Anna. "No."
"But why not?"
I looked back to Felicity and said, "Because I don't feel like tossing you out later." Ugly or not, this was the stone-cold truth. Letting her in? That was the easy part. But getting rid of her? It wouldn't be so easy, especially with all those suitcases.
"Oh, get real," she said. "You wouldn’t do that." But then, she hesitated. "Would you?"
Felicity and I had a history, and it wasn't nearly as nice as everyone thought. Counting the upcoming release, we'd costarred in three films together and had been an item off and on for the past four years.
On screen, it worked. But in real life? Not so much.
I gave her a hard look. "What do you think?"
Her lips formed a practiced pout. "I think you're still mad about the thing with Larry."
Larry Bellarue – he was a married movie producer with roaming hands and a thing for blue-eyed blondes. A couple of months ago, he'd started sucking up to Felicity, looking to cast her in his next movie.
In the process, he'd gotten a little too friendly, and I – dumb-ass that I was – decided to have a chat with the guy. During that chat, I'd told him to keep his hands to himself – and other parts, too, while he was at it.
Now, here's the thing. If Felicity wanted him, hey that was her decision. But she'd been griping for days that someone should tell the guy to lay off or else.
The way I saw it, that someone was me.
I was, after all, the guy sharing Felicity's bed.
But now, she was saying, "I just don't get why you were so unpleasant to him."
Unpleasant, huh? I'd wanted to beat the guy's ass until he screamed for mercy. Now that would've been unpleasant – for him, not me.
But I'd barely touched the guy.
Now, all I said was, "The guy's a pussy."
Her lips pursed. "Well, you did threaten him."
"Yeah? So?"
She made a sound of frustration. "It's just not how things are done."
When it came to Hollywood, Felicity was an expert in how things were done. She'd been a child star. And unlike most of her costars who'd already been chewed up and spit out, she'd made the unlikely transition from kid actor to bonafide movie star.
When I didn't bother with a reply, she added, "I'm just saying, you didn't have to do anything. You could've just let it go."
If she thought that, she didn't know me at all. "Wrong."
"But why?"
"Because if you tell me some guy's hassling you, I'm gonna do something. You know that."
At this, she smiled. It was a slow, sultry smile with all kinds of promise.
Oh, for fuck's sake. "I don't mean now," I clarified.
Her smile faded. "But why not?"
"Because we're done."
"Oh come on," she said. "It was a fight, that's all."
It wasn't just a fight. It was a screaming hissy. And she'd been the screamer. Me? I'd spent most of the time listening – and planning to get the hell out of there as soon as she got in her favorite car and sped off, which she did nearly every time we argued.
We'd been sharing a place on the West Coast. It was hers, not mine, which made it easy when I decided that I'd had enough. By then, I'd already been building the place in Michigan, this place, where I might have a chance of being left alone – well, after the local residents got over the novelty, that is.
Until today, I hadn't seen Felicity in nearly five weeks. But I had told her a month ago that we were done. And true to my word, I'd moved on.
So had Felicity. Rumor had it, the married producer was her new fuck-buddy. As for myself, well, let's just say I hadn't been lonely.
To Felicity, all I said now was, "Yeah, it was a fight. And like I said, I'm done."
"But why?" she asked.
She was like a broken record. Why, why, why?
She knew damn well why. The argument aside, we didn't belong together. We wanted different things, in different places, with different kinds of people.
Felicity's dream life? It was my nightmare. And I was ready to wake the fuck up.
But I didn't want to get into it – not here, and not now. If she didn't get it already, I was done explaining. "You know why."
Her eyes filled with crocodile tears. "But I love you."
I almost scoffed out loud. She didn't love me. She loved Flynn Archer, the movie star. And, as I'd already told her – not that she'd listened – those days were firmly in the rearview mirror.
Now that we'd wrapped up filming of that last movie, it was as good a time as any to make a clean break of it. Plus, the thing with Larry had been a big wakeup call. After she'd gotten wind of my little talk with him, she'd gotten way too pissed for her own good.
She'd told me to apologize.
To him.
Or else.
At this, I'd laughed in her face, which yes, had been the thing that led to the screaming hissy. But me? I took it as a sign.
Game over.
The sudden sound of male laughter made me look toward the driveway. The limo driver was beaming down at Anna like she'd just made his day. As for Anna, she was smiling up at him like she actually liked the guy.
Did she?
Not on my dime she didn't.
I'd need to tell her. If she decided to fuck him, she'd be doing it in four months, after we were done.
I was still looking at Anna when Felicity asked, "So who's the townie?"
"An old friend."
"You don’t mean an old girlfriend, do you?"
If only Felicity knew. Back in high school Anna Burke wouldn't've been caught dead with someone like me. But all I said was, "Tell your driver to load up. You're not staying."
"Oh come on," she said. "You're not serious?"
See this was the thing with Felicity. It was always like this. I'd tell her something straight-up, and she wouldn't listen until reality slapped her in the ass.
So far, she'd been fairly civil. But I knew Felicity better than she knew herself. As soon as she realized that she wasn't getting her way, she'd be flipping out faster than you could say, "I'd like to thank the Academy."
If I were a betting man, I'd give it five minutes.
Chapter 18
Anna
As I stood with Randy near the limo, my gaze kept drifting to the front door, where Flynn and Felicity were talking too low for me to make out.
It's not that I wanted to eavesdrop, but I was curious. In search of a distraction, I looked to Randy and said, "So, you got to meet Felicity Saint Cloud, huh?"
For someone who'd just met a bigtime movie star, he looked decidedly unenthused.
I could totally relate.
He snuck a quick glance toward the famous couple and said, "Yeah, well, it's a job, right?"
I could relate to this, too. After all, Randy wasn't the only one being paid to be here – not that I could share that little detail with him. So instead, I tried for a self-deprecating joke. "Probably better than slinging waffles, huh?"
"Says you." He lowered his voice. "You want the truth? She's kind of mean."
Based on what I'd seen, this was a huge understatement. Still, hoping to make him feel better, I said, "Well, maybe she's having of those days."
"You want a bad day," he said, "try driving her around."
I winced. "That bad?"
"Oh yeah. Get this. Coming out here, she tells me to hit a Starbucks on the way. And when I tell her I can't, she flips out."
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "But we don't have a Starbucks." This was surprisingly true. We did have a couple of local coffee shops, but they weren't part of any famous chain.
"I know," Randy said. "And when I tell her that, what does she do? She calls me a moron and threatens to shove a latte up my ass if I don't stop."
I stifled a nervous laugh. "She did not."
But Randy wasn't laughing. "Swear to God. And what I want to tell her is, 'Oh yeah? How are you gonna do that if you got no latte?'"
I couldn’t help but snicker. "Good question."
"Yeah, tell me about it." He shrugged. "But eh, what's the point? Customer's always right, huh?"
My heart went out to him. At the waffle house, most of my customers were pretty nice. But every once in a while, I waited on someone who was truly awful – or even worse, a whole tableful of awful people. By now, I realized a terrible truth. Awful people? They ran in packs.
Like rabid dogs.
Maybe this explained the thing with Flynn and Felicity. From what I gathered, neither one of them were all sunshine and roses.
I gave Randy a sympathetic look. "Don’t feel too bad," I said. "One time at the restaurant, someone threw a waffle at my face."
He perked up. "No kidding?"
"No kidding." I laughed at the memory. "But get this. I ducked just in time, and guess what happened."
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