by Thorpe, Elle
The thought hit me like a ton of bricks. It hurt every time I walked away from her, but today as I pulled out of her and sat up, the thought of letting her go again cut me to my very soul.
I yanked on the workpants I was still wearing from this morning and did up the fly before running my hands through my hair. I watched her as she scrambled to the other side of the seat and pulled on her yoga pants. She was barely on the other side of the car, but it felt so damn far away.
“I’m sick of this, B,” I said quietly.
She paused to meet my gaze, but she only held it for a moment. Then she whipped her head around and renewed her efforts at getting dressed, straightening herself up with vigour. She yanked her shirt so sharply one of the seams tore.
“It’s not like I forced you, Riley. And you’ve never minded any other time. If you don’t want to do this, then don’t.”
She reached for the door handle, trying to escape the confines of the car and the awkward post-sex conversation. Normally, I would have let her go. We sucked at the talking bit. We were great in bed. She was by far the best sex I’d ever had, not that I had a lot to compare it with, but every time we came together it blew my mind. It was everything else we’d never been able to work out. But after watching Jamison and Elodie and the way they looked at each other as they’d held their newborn baby, something inside me had cracked wide open. I was thirty-two years old. What the fuck was I doing with my life? I hadn’t had a serious relationship in years. People had tried to set me up, and sometimes I’d even gone on dates, but nothing had ever come of it. And I knew why.
I grabbed her arm. “That’s not what I meant.”
She relaxed a little and sat back on the seat next to me. “What then?”
“Aren’t you sick of this, too? All we do is fight and fuck.”
She shrugged. “It’s what we do. It’s what works.”
“I don’t want to do it anymore.”
She flinched but tried to cover by pulling her arm away. “You’ve met someone?”
“What? No!” I grabbed her hand again and threaded my fingers between hers, even though it felt strange to do so. We didn’t touch. Not like this. Not when we weren’t screwing. “I’m just too old for this shit. I want more. I don’t want to just screw you and then watch you walk away. I want to take you out. Do this thing right.”
She sighed. “We already tried that. It didn’t work.”
“We tried when we were twenty-two. I’m not the same person I was then. Are you?”
Her eyebrows drew together, and my fingers itched to reach out and smooth the frown from her forehead.
“So…what then? You want to date?”
Was that what I wanted? No, I wanted a whole lot more than just a date. But baby steps. “Yeah. I do. At the very least, can we be friends who fuck instead of enemies?”
She was silent for a moment as she searched my face. “Riley, there’s so much stuff I haven’t told you. So much water under the bridge. I don’t see how we can overcome that if I’m being honest.”
Her words hurt, but this was the closest she’d ever come to agreeing to something more, and I didn’t want to let it slip through my fingers. “Fresh slate then. We start over. From today. Our pasts don’t exist. We’re meeting right now for the first time.” It didn’t matter what had happened in the past. We didn’t have to rehash old hurts. Not if we could just move forward together.
“Just like we did on Friday night? How many times can two people first meet?” Her voice sounded dubious, but a tiny smile lifted the corner of her mouth, and that was all I needed.
“Please. Give it a try?” Then I stuck my hand out. “I’m Riley.”
The moments ticked by in agonising slowness, until she reached out to take my hand.
“Bianca.”
Hope filled my chest. It was as close to a new beginning as we were going to get.
12
Bianca
Seven a.m. starts sucked. Though it could have been worse I supposed. The catering company was here at this time, so I could at least get a cup of coffee. Some mornings, we had five a.m. starts, and those truly were a nightmare. Nobody around here was very pleasant to work with before coffee. Myself included.
I poured a mug full of steaming liquid and inhaled, letting the warmth and the pleasant smell of roasted coffee beans fill my lungs. I closed my eyes for a moment and reminded myself of how damn lucky I was to have this job, and to have had it for as long as I had. It was maybe not the role of a lifetime, by Hollywood standards, but I’d never had ambitions that big. I loved the Australian television scene, and unlike most of the starlets I worked with, I had no desire to move up the food chain. I had everything I wanted right here. Sort of.
A loud thunk startled me, and my eyes flew open as I spun to find the source of the noise.
A set assistant tapped the stack of envelopes he’d just dumped on the table. “Yours,” he said to me.
“What are they?”
“No idea. I had to sign for them. Came in yesterday when you were off. Jackson is going to have your head over that, by the way. We had to reschedule the whole day.”
Ugh. I did feel bad about that, but it wasn’t like I could have just left Elodie to go off to work. “I know. I’m sorry. I had a good excuse. I swear.”
He shrugged, heading for the door. “Tell Jackson, not me.”
I winced. Jackson, our director, hated anyone putting out his schedule. But since I never did, I knew he’d forgive me for one day. Even if he did pretend to pout about it for an hour first.
I eyed the stack of envelopes and picked them up right as my phone rang. Dropping them back on the table with a sigh, I rummaged through my bag.
“BB!” my manager, Tangie, said with entirely too much energy for this time of morning. “Did you get the scripts I sent over yesterday?”
Well, that explained the envelopes. “Just got them then. Why are there so many?”
“Because your Logie Award nomination has made my job a breeze! I got you auditions for three upcoming projects. You’d be great for all of them, of course. But Ridge Leone specifically asked after you, and if you got the part in his movie it would do big things for your career, honey. Really big things.”
I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder while I ripped the ends off the envelopes and pulled the scripts out, shuffling through them while Tangie chirped on about the virtues of Ridge Leone’s projects. I frowned as I flipped through his script. “These are all Sydney-based productions, though, right?”
“Of course!” Tangie answered smoothly. “You said you didn’t want overseas stuff, and I heard you. Though I really wish you’d reconsider. There’s at least half a dozen huge movies casting right now for next season…”
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. “Australia only, Tangie. I agreed to do a movie while Ocean Bay is on hiatus, but that’s it.”
Tangie sighed loudly into the phone. “You’re entirely too loyal to that show. It’s holding you back.”
“It’s not holding me back if it’s exactly where I want to be,” I replied firmly. We’d had this argument multiple times before. I looked around the familiar building that I’d been pouring my coffee in for the past ten years. This building, my trailer, our sets…this was as much my home as the expensive apartment I owned by the beach.
“Fine, fine. Just go over the scripts and learn your lines, because the auditions are at the end of the week. You’ll kill it. Let me know how you go.”
“Will do,” I answered before cancelling the call. I picked up the stack of scripts again, balanced my coffee and phone on top, and took exactly one step towards the door when my phone rang again.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered, placing everything back down on the table and flipping my phone over so I could see the display. Surprise caught me off guard when it was Riley’s name flashing. He never called me. My finger froze over the accept button as our conversation in the car yesterday came back to me. We’d
had those conversations before. Where we’d be caught up in the moment, and one of us would suggest we try again. Try for something more. But then in the cold hard light of day, away from the crazy attraction we’d always had, we came to our senses. So why the hell was he calling me? This wasn’t what we did. And it made me nervous.
“Riley?”
“Yeah. Hey.”
There was an awkward silence. It drew out, and I had no idea how to fill it so I just waited. And tried to calm the butterflies in my belly. Had he been serious yesterday?
“Do you have a newspaper?” he asked eventually.
I let out a breath. Okay. That wasn’t what I’d been hoping for. “Um, no? Because I’m not eighty? I read the news on my phone, like everyone else.”
He chuckled. “Damn.”
“Why?”
“I just…never mind.”
Intrigued, I didn’t want to let it go. “Wait.” I walked over to where Danny, one of our regular caterers, was prepping bacon and egg rolls.
He smiled up at me as I approached, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Morning, Miss BB.”
“Morning. You don’t happen to have a copy of today’s paper, do you?”
He nodded, tilting his head towards the counter behind him where there was an abandoned coffee cup and a newspaper. “I was reading it just before I started my shift,” he explained.
“Mind if I borrow it for a moment?”
He shook his head and I retrieved it from the kitchen counter before I turned my attention back to Riley. “Okay, so I have the paper.”
“Turn to page thirty-six,”
I flicked through the pages with no idea where this was going but I wanted to find out. “The Live events page?”
“That’s the one. Now close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Fine. My eyes are closed. But I don’t know why you made me get a newspaper if I was just going to close my eyes and not read it.”
“If you were quiet for more than three seconds, I could tell you.”
I wanted to retort but bit my lip.
“It’s killing you not to have the last word, isn’t it?” He laughed into the phone, and if he hadn’t sounded so damn sexy, I would have hung up on him.
“Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes,” I replied, my voice soft.
“Then point to a spot on the page.”
I did as I was told.
“Now open your eyes and tell me where we’re going tonight.”
My eyes flew open. Where we were going tonight? Was he asking me out? Whoa. That definitely wasn’t part of our regular routine. We were never alone, unless we were having sex.
I looked down at the spot on the newspaper my finger was touching and read the words out loud. “Live Music. Eight p.m. till late. Main act, Rip Chord.”
“Pick you up at seven then?”
A burst of excitement blew away the butterflies in my stomach. The feeling took me by surprise. Were we seriously going to try this again, after all these years? It would be awkward as hell, but I couldn’t deny that I wanted to. I wanted to with every fibre of my being. But he hadn’t dated me since I’d begun acting. He didn’t know how his life would change. Not just his life either, but Sadie’s. Had he thought that through? That by dating me, his daughter would become a person of interest in the sick games the media played? I barely knew the girl, but I knew how much she meant to Riley. I didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardise her safety or the relationship she had with him.
“Riley, I don’t know about this. My world is…complicated. And public. And you and Sadie—”
“Sadie and I are my responsibility. Not yours. It’s one date, B. Give me that. Please.”
Please. Damn, that word on his lips would have had me agreeing to anything.
I opened my mouth to tell him yes, I could give him that, even though it was selfish to draw him into a world I knew he wouldn’t be happy in. But a new worry cut off my tongue. I wrestled with the thought, trying to ignore it, but then knowing I couldn’t, I fought to meld it into something I could actually voice.
“What if they’re awful?” I chewed my bottom lip. “The band, I mean,” I tacked on in a rush. It was the best I could do, given he was waiting for my answer. But what I really meant was, what if we’re awful? What if we end up in another screaming match? I’d always had the possibility of us being together hanging over my heart, and I liked it. It was that, well, maybe one day it will happen feeling. A possibility. But if we tried, and we failed? Then that was it. There was nothing more for us after that. I’d have to close the door on the only man who had been a regular part of my life for what felt like forever.
But Riley’s voice was strong and confident when it came across the line, like he didn’t have a doubt in the world.
“What if they’re great?”
13
Bianca
The music, though I hesitated to call it that, coming from the beer garden of the pub made me cringe. The sound system screeched, the lead singer wailed, and by the looks of the crowded bar area, there was no one outside listening. More like, we were all inside trying to buy enough alcohol to make these guys sound decent.
“Are my ears bleeding?” I asked Riley as we stood side by side at the bar. I turned my head slightly so he could see my profile. “Seriously, you need to check.”
He chuckled, and I smiled in spite of myself, while settling to lean against the bar top. The band being abysmal was probably a sign that this whole evening was going to tank. We’d managed not to argue yet, but we’d only been here a few minutes. Give it time.
Riley ordered us some drinks, and we wandered the crowd before spotting a tiny booth in a back corner. We placed our drinks down and squeezed in, and I tried to cover my surprise when he moved so close our arms brushed. My skin sparked.
“How was work?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his drink.
Was he really as calm, cool, and collected as he looked? Or was he just hiding his nerves well? Maybe his level of investment was lower than mine and that was why he wasn’t freaking out like I was. Maybe he hadn’t thought through the repercussions of this date going badly like I had. He was a guy after all. He probably hadn’t thought beyond his next beer.
“Good. Busy. We had to shoot extra scenes to start making up for yesterday. And my manager sent me a bunch of scripts to go over for auditions next week.”
“Any good ones?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, actually there was. Ridge Leone’s new script is kind of amazing. I spent all day reading it.”
He frowned. “Ridge Leone…why does his name sound familiar?”
My mouth dropped open. “Maybe because he directed and produced that movie Walk it Home?”
Riley shook his head slightly.
“It was the biggest movie of last year, Riley. You had to have heard of it?”
He shrugged. “I did say he sounded familiar.”
The man obviously lived under a rock. “Well, he’s super-hot right now. And I really want this part. It would be perfect for me, and Tangie said it would fit into my Ocean Bay schedule. I can’t believe they’re filming it in Australia.”
He broke out in an easy grin that made my heart flip. God, he was handsome. His dark-brown hair was always a little too long, a little shaggy and messed up. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, the stubble across his jaw accentuating how strong it was. And I couldn’t even look at his dimple without wriggling in my seat. He’d always done it for me, and age hadn’t changed that. He’d added some tattoos over the years, but other than that, looks wise, he was still the same man I’d fallen for ten years ago. Just an older, more filled out, sexier version.
His hand covered mine, and I had to fight to keep my concentration. The feel of his skin was distracting.
“You’ll get it, no sweat,” he said. “You’re a great actress.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “You watch Ocean Bay?�
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He turned away, but not before I saw a blush stain his cheeks.
“Nah. But you know, Reese and Low and Jam and Elodie all go on about how good you are in it.”
He didn’t fool me for a second.
“I call bullshit. You totally watch it.” I laughed. “Which bit do you like best? The overblown drama? The lusty kissing scenes that never go any further because of the seven p.m. timeslot? The long runs on the beach that were likely inspired by Baywatch?” I nudged him playfully and was pleased when he nudged me back.
“Shut up. Fine. I watch it. Sometimes. But it’s only to see you.”
I stilled. “Really?”
He lifted his eyes so his gaze met mine. “Yeah. Really.”
I let my head drop and tried to stifle the smile that threatened to give away how pleased I was by that statement.
The music outside changed, and the deep baritone voice that spoke into the microphone was entirely different to the nasally, whiny-sounding one that had been there moments earlier. “Hey, you guys, we’re Rip Chord, and we’re going to play some covers for you tonight, as well as some of our original stuff. We hope you like it.”
“Couldn’t be any worse than the last guys,” I muttered.
“Truth,” Riley replied as the first notes of Rip Chord’s opening song, a slow rock cover, came through the speaker.
I recognised it instantly and closed my eyes, the lead singer’s sultry voice filling the air.
“You like this song,” Riley stated more than asked.
I didn’t open my eyes. Just nodded and swayed along with the beat.
“Come dance with me then.”
I opened one eye. “You dance? Since when?”
“Since right now when I saw that look on your face.”
The corner of my mouth lifted, and when he held his hand out to me, I took it, allowing him to guide me from my seat. He didn’t let go, and I stared at our interlinked fingers as he led me through the crowd. We reached the dance floor which had suddenly filled with bodies now that the ear bleeders had left the building, and he pulled me into his arms. I stared up at him, linking my fingers around his neck and swaying to the beat. At first, we were out of time with the song, but dancing with him was exactly like having sex with him. We found our rhythm quickly, and then it was amazing. His fingers rested gently on my lower back, every now and then the fabric of my dress moving just enough that his skin glanced over mine, sending tingles of awareness across my entire body.
