Typecast

by Kim Carmichael

  “Doesn’t matter.” Her voice lowered. “Text me and I’ll be ready.”

  “Fine.” With too much force, he pressed the button to end the call and had the overwhelming urge to take a shower. Ivy would be here soon.

  “You are a wimp.” Wilson stood with the exact same expression on his face.

  “I set up the interview. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.” He shoved his phone into his pocket.

  “You chose Erin for you, not Ivy. I guess you only want to be the gentleman when it suits you. Though honestly, I would have banged her and given her Ryder.” Wilson waved his hand as if trying to make him disappear. “Scared of a little competition?”

  “He’s nothing.” After a quick check of his watch, he headed toward the door. “I need to make sure the place looks presentable.”

  Wilson caught him by the sleeve. “Just because he’s the one who looks like he made it, doesn’t mean he did.”

  “I guess the movies and television sort of gives that impression.” He snapped his arm away.

  “If Ivy is who you think she is, she won’t be swayed by the pretty boy.” Wilson opened the door for him.

  He stomped into the main room, the heart of the establishment. Rather than a typical bar, the place was unique. At his urging, Wilson designed something different, part old-world library where gentlemen would sit with a book and a brandy, part hipster cocktail lounge rolled into one. Aside from the long antique bar with every available type of glassware and a display of backlit vintage alcohol bottles, different seating configurations dotted the large space—tables for two, areas for a larger group, and even a couple cozy little alcoves for something a bit more intimate.

  He set his focus on a curved black leather booth in a corner. “That’s perfect.”

  A quick glance at the time told him she should be here. “I should probably be ready for her.” He scurried around the bar, collecting some glasses and a bottle of wine and a candle, and set them up on the table. Maybe they could use the wine later. He played his gentleman card last night, but now they could cement their relationship.

  “How pretty.” Wilson joined him with the video camera. “I thought I would take some establishing shots for Ivy.”

  “I’m going to get some air before she gets here.” He would tolerate Wilson wanting to plug the bar since he agreed to shoot the footage and they didn’t have to have a camera crew come here. His brother might be a good elixir to her stage fright, but he would like his starlet to show on time.

  “Okay, go wait for her. She’s like a minute late.” Wilson set up his gear.

  Ignoring his brother, he walked out the front door, grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, and placed one in his mouth. He shielded his eyes from the midday sun and checked out their corner, a little off the beaten track in Hollywood, but still close enough to be relevant.

  Where was Ivy anyway? Once again, he looked down at his watch. The one-minute acceptable grace period turned into five and then ten. His chest tightened. Why didn’t she call? Wait. Maybe she couldn’t call. Driving in Hollywood could be a challenge—narrow streets and a lot of tourists who didn’t know their way around.

  The adrenaline surged through his muscles, and he ran back into the bar, right past Ivy and some blonde.

  Wait.

  He skidded to a stop, inhaled, and turned only to have the breath knocked out of him.

  Thus far, Ivy had given him quite a sampling of decades with her unique style choices, but hands down, no holds barred, he would say with absolute and complete certainty that her 1980s black lace bustier and black leggings layered with a matching blazer, spiked heels, and a contrasting string of white pearls had to be his favorite. His girl gave new meaning to the trend of lingerie as outerwear. With her underwear in full view, what was she wearing underneath?

  He put his cigarette behind his ear. “I have wine.” Those three words were the best he could do at creating a coherent sentence, since his blood supply had been diverted elsewhere.

  “And good afternoon to you too.” She licked her perfectly pigmented lips.

  He wasn’t going to make it through their interview. Maybe they should test-drive her outfit first and then do the taping. He blinked and swallowed in an effort to get himself together and took his time approaching her. “How did you sneak past me?” With the urge to kiss her too great to deny, he bent down. “I thought you were late.”

  “We came in through the kitchen. There was a little traffic down Melrose.” Ivy stepped back and motioned toward the blonde. “I don’t think you ever formally met my best friend, Giselle.”

  With nothing but air meeting his lips, he glanced at the woman boffing his brother. “Hello.”

  The woman elbowed Ivy. “It is Logan Alexander.”

  He sort of wondered who she was expecting. He turned his attention back to the right woman and went to greet her with a proper hello once more.

  She put her hand to his chest and leaned back. “Don’t you think we should get started?”

  He never thought he would receive the cold shoulder, or in her case, the cold lips, for not making love to her, a situation he would not repeat. “First, why don’t I give you a tour, and we will have ourselves a little chat?”

  “I think I pretty much got the lay of the land. Wilson gave me a little tour while we were waiting for you not to smoke your cigarette.” She pointed to his ear.

  “Let me show you something in the kitchen.” He narrowed his eyes at his brother. Any dealings with Ivy should go through him.

  “If you insist.” Her voice came out nonchalant, as if nothing was all too special.

  “I do.” He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her away, taking a brief second to take in how the leggings clung to her form. No, he was never going to make it.

  “Something smells great.” She entered the small kitchen he had designed when they were completing the build-out.

  Without a word, he went to the stove, retrieved a plate, took his time portioning out a bit of his treat, and returned to her. Steam rose from the dish. “There are too many things in this room that are too hot to handle.”

  Though her expression didn’t change, her cheeks took on a bit of color.

  He cut a piece of the chicken and made sure to get a representative sampling of each vegetable to make the perfect bite. “So, while you were making yourself even more luscious than ever, I got a bit of work done on our project.”

  “What would that be?” As she leaned against the small island, her cleavage came into clear view, making his mouth water.

  With his focus solely on her, he lifted the fork and blew on the food to cool it down, but just to make sure, he pressed the bite to his lip before holding it out to her. “Open.”

  After a brief pause, she opened her mouth.

  “My mother used to make this dish. It sort of tastes like home.” He fed her the bite.

  Her eyes widened as she chewed and swallowed. “Who made this?”

  “So, as I was saying, I did a little work and called one Erin Holland.” He prepared another bite, making sure to go through the same ritual as the first.

  “You called Erin?”

  With a bit of flourish, he placed the next bite on her tongue. “Yes, and tomorrow you and I will go interview her if that is acceptable with my cohost?”

  Upon swallowing, she opened her mouth for more and nodded.

  Once more, he repeated his actions. “I think maybe a wardrobe change is in order. You are so gorgeous, I think I may be jealous of the entire world seeing you.”

  “Logan.” The color on her cheeks deepened.

  “I suppose we should get to work. You have a deadline to meet.” He placed the dish aside.

  “Logan.” As he turned, she caught his arm.

  “You paged?”

  “I thought you might want a taste.” In a sudden move, she pulled him down and kissed him.

  His body reacted instantly. The combination of his food an
d Ivy created an insatiable combination, but rather than a full course, he got merely an appetizer when she broke the kiss. “Ivy.”

  “Okay, let’s get to work.” With one last peck, she walked back into the main room.

  He watched her leave and shut his eyes. Without a doubt, he had to have her, and without a doubt, he couldn’t screw up. At least he chose Erin rather than Ryder.

  HOLLYWOOD STARDUST

  CUT TO:

  INT. CAR ON THE ROAD– DAY

  The four pass the time by playing traditional road games.

  WILLIAM

  All right, let’s play a new game. What are you most scared of?

  WILLIAM twists to look around the car, pointing, trying to find a player.

  No one speaks.

  WILLIAM

  Come on. Charles?

  CHARLES puts his book aside.

  CHARLES

  I guess I’m afraid of not making it, not being successful, and relying on others.

  The car becomes silent.

  STEVEN

  What about you, the question man?

  WILLIAM

  (Pauses.)

  I’m afraid of not being noticed, fading into the background.

  WILLIAM hits STEVEN in the shoulder.

  WILLIAM

  Now you.

  STEVEN

  (Sarcastic tone.)

  I’m terrified this highway will never end.

  WILLIAM

  Seriously.

  STEVEN

  I’m afraid that nothing matters.

  STEVEN clears his throat.

  STEVEN

  Let’s hear from our resident female.

  ROXY

  I’m afraid I’ll never find my place.

  Chapter Nine

  “While I appreciate the infomercial on Logan’s brother’s business, I would like to know where we stand on something more substantial.” Even through the phone, her boss’s voice came out strained with stress or the need to yell.

  “Craig.” Ivy winced. It was probably a good idea she chose not to mention that while he may not have liked the story, Wilson’s place was receiving a ton of calls to reserve a spot for the grand opening.

  “I got the scoop on how Logan never saw his movie all the way through.” Again, she went with not telling Craig she also got the scoop on how he kissed or that he felt her up. Some things were better left off the record. “I also think I’m doing much better in front of the camera.” With Logan holding her hand under the table and playing with her fingers, she sort of forgot about the camera.

  “All right.” Her boss’s tone was completely flat.

  “The story is building. I’m seeing Erin Holland in a few minutes.” She looked up at the hotel where the meeting was set. Since she’d lived in Los Angeles her whole life, she never needed to stay in a hotel, but the one for their interview had a definite reputation for being a Hollywood hangout. Her chest constricted, and she inhaled as Logan taught her. Holding Logan’s hand in his brother’s bar and an interview with Erin at a famous hotel were two different things.

  “Well, let’s dig a little deeper than movie screenings and bar openings.”

  “I need to go in. Everyone else is already here.” The cameraman had showed up a while ago to set up the shot and Logan had texted saying he’d arrived early. When he met her he was late, but she wasn’t Erin Holland, the superstar. She wished Wilson were filming. At least he fit in her comfort zone . . . sort of.

  “Go break a leg and maybe dress a bit more conservatively.”

  “It wasn’t underwear.” She waved her hand in front of her face in an unsuccessful attempt to cool down, then hung up and straightened her outfit. In keeping with her 1980s theme, she opted for a dark gray power-skirt suit, complete with a bow at the collar and shoulder pads. Her cell phone vibrated, and she glanced at the messages, expecting to find Logan. Instead, she got two texts from the two big M’s in her life—her mother and Matt.

  Confirming you and Matt are coming to the Palm Springs house for the weekend.

  She wrinkled her nose. In all the insanity, she had sort of forgotten about the weekend, and Matt had neglected to remind her like normal, or maybe he had. Since he’d left her apartment, she and Matt had texted, but not much else. Logan seemed to take over everything, oozing into each one of her pores. At her parents house, only talk of her career and stage fright would ensue unless she took a man with her, in which case the discussion would turn to settling down. The entire visit would consist of her ducking and dodging from the onslaught of questions, and she never looked good in sporting attire. Rather than answer, she clicked on Matt’s message.

  Good luck with the big interview today. Looking forward to tonight. Let’s get some work done and talk about moving forward.

  She bit her lip. With Logan and her interview, she couldn’t go look at spreadsheets or have a talk about moving forward.

  Who was she kidding? She was hoping Logan asked her out. The same reason she conveniently forgot the trip.

  For the better part of the night, she had tossed and turned thinking about the interview, but mostly about Logan. After their so-called infomercial, Giselle and Wilson had disappeared while she and Logan had shared another helping of that delectable chicken. They had ended up pretty much making out in the little booth, after which, only to prove her point, she ended it and went home, leaving him glassy eyed and in need. Maybe points weren’t meant to be proven. Even an icy cold shower didn’t help her.

  Out of time to stew about her stalled sex life and with the shakes starting, she lifted her head. With the influence and history her power suit demanded, she marched through the huge glass doors of the hotel, allowing the staff to bow in her wake. She made her way out to the huge pool where she would meet Erin in a private cabana.

  She spotted one among the matching yellow-and-white-striped tent tops with people gathering, and Ivy made her way around the pool.

  The actress’s distinctive laugh echoed out from the curtains and a smile took over Ivy’s face. While Logan may be the crush, Erin represented the aspiration, the star, the success, the personification of the woman every other woman wanted to become. She tiptoed over to the cabana and peeked inside.

  “There she is.” In a plush yellow chair, Logan let go of a woman’s hand and stood.

  Wait. Stop. Rewind. He let go of Erin’s hand. A burning nausea rolled through her. Why was he holding it in the first place?

  In what Ivy would describe as a chaise lounge, Erin reclined like an old-fashioned Hollywood starlet in a sheer white robe, showing off her legs and her curves. Her blonde hair was pulled back to highlight an elegant face with big blue eyes, heart-shaped lips, and a perky little nose. Twenty years might have passed since the movie, but her age didn’t keep up with her. Even poolside, she came complete with every accessory, including stilettos, a pair of well-known designer earrings, and a glass of water in her hand with floating fruit.

  Suddenly Ivy’s suit and the shoulder pads squeezed in on her, as if she had become bloated in an instant, and she longed for some of the water sans the macerated fruit. She swore the small space shrank further.

  He reached his hand out to her, the same hand that had held Erin’s. “Ivy, I would like you to meet someone who needs no introduction.”

  Her cheeks heated to the point of blistering, but she cemented a smile on her face nonetheless. In all truth, she had no right to be jealous. “It’s an honor to meet you.” She came forward, but caught her shoe on the edge of the chaise and tripped.

  “Oh!” Erin let out a little squeal.

  Logan caught her. “Careful, babe.”

  She found her footing. “Thanks.” In case Erin didn’t hear, Logan had called her babe.

  Still keeping hold of her, Logan placed her in the seat he’d previously occupied and went and sat at the other side of Erin.

  “Wren, I would like you to meet Ivy Vermont from Chargge.com.” He motioned toward her and winked.

  Wren? A nickna
me? Ivy tried to show no emotion. She didn’t have a nickname. Well, he did call her babe. It would work for now. She held her breath, waiting for Erin to acknowledge her.

  After not only a pregnant pause, but a pause that definitely needed to take a trip to the maternity ward, Erin turned to her. “Logan told me you studied us in college. Isn’t that interesting?”

  “Well, I did study Hollywood Stardust as part of my master’s thesis.” She sat up as straight as she did the day she sat among her professors defending her work.

  Silence.

  Both she and Erin turned to Logan.

  He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled a cigarette out of his pack. After taking his time to put the cigarette in his mouth, he motioned for them to go ahead. “Don’t think about the camera.” She knew he said that for her benefit. Erin lived in front of a camera. “Just talk, make conversation—the video will take care of itself.”

  He never lit the damn thing. The man didn’t smoke. He simply carried cigarettes around with him. She promised the next time she saw Logan with a cigarette she would pull out a book of matches and call his bluff.

  “I’m not saying a word on the record until someone adjusts that light.” Erin pointed to a lamp in the corner. “It’s in my eyes making my pupils look small.”

  The cameraman reached over and turned the light. Nothing changed, but Erin gave him one nod.

  “Okay.” Erin lifted her glass. “You know I specifically asked for raspberries, not blueberries.”

  All Ivy wanted was to give her a raspberry, but she held her tongue, not wanting to insult her favorite fruit.

  “I think you’ll live through it.” Logan patted her leg.

  “I suppose I have no choice.” The star sipped her drink and slowly faced her.

  Like the first time she’d interviewed Logan, her throat went dry, but rather than try to rush, she took a breath and sat back. “You haven’t spoken about Hollywood Stardust in twenty years. Why not?”

  Erin didn’t as much stare at her, as she stared beyond her. “I didn’t want to only be known as Roxy. When you play such a role, it’s easy to never escape it.”