by Staci Hart
“Reindeer,” Kira huffed, impatient as we turned into her room.
“He has no lines! I just end up giving Kira rides around her bedroom.”
“Well, Mama, you’re not a good singer like Anni and me,” she said matter-of-factly.
Roxy laughed. “I guess that’s true. But I could at least get to be Olaf.”
“Okay,” Kira started once we reached her room, straight to business. “Anni, you sit here. Mama, you sit there. Kaz will go here.” He was already in her room, asleep on the rug, and she picked him up under the arms, moving him to the bed. He looked apathetic at best. “Okay, lemme get your costumes.” She turned for her closet to rummage through a trunk full of dress-up clothes.
We sat, and I unbound my hair, shaking it out before getting started on a French braid that sadly lacked the length or girth of Elsa’s. Roxy leaned in. “What’s going on?”
My fingers wound my hair around and around. “Hairy.”
Her brows rose. “Good or bad?”
“Both,” I said as I wrapped the hair tie around the end.
Dresses flew over Kira’s shoulder as she kept digging.
“Well, what happened?” Roxy asked.
“I think I like him.”
She opened her mouth to say something snarky — I could tell by her face — when Kira cheered and ran over with two dresses in hand.
“This one’s for you, Anni.” She extended the blue-and-white sparkly costume, adult sized, which I took. “And this one’s for me.” She clutched the darker dress to her chest.
“What about me?” Roxy asked.
“Oh!” She bounced off, and Roxy turned to me.
“I’m glad you finally figured it out. But what happened?”
Before I could answer, Kira was back, wiggling an antler headband in Roxy’s face. Roxy leaned back to avoid getting speared in the eye and situated the headband on her head.
“Okay,” she said as she wiggled into her dress, and I pulled mine over my head, an adult-sized costume copy of Elsa’s gown. “Let’s start with me looking for you. You go sit up there in the ice castle, Anni.” She pointed to her bed, and I did as I was told. “Come on, Mama. I mean, Sven. Let’s go find Elsa.”
Roxy got on all fours, and Kira climbed onto her back, humming as Sven crawled in circles on the rug. “Was there k-i-s-s-i-n-g?” she asked.
“No,” I answered. “But I think I want there to be.”
“And you really just figured this out?”
“No, I mean, I knew, but I didn’t want it to be true. After today though, I don’t think I can hold off. I don’t think I should. In fact, I don’t know what was stopping me in the first place.”
“Well,” she said, circling the rug again as Kira pointed to her closet and said over there! Roxy headed in that direction. “You gave me the list the other night, but it all sounded like BS to me.”
“BS, BS, BS,” Kira sang, then said, “Oh, no! It’s Marshmallow the snow monster!”
“Rawr,” Roxy growled and reared back, and Kira squealed as she held onto Roxy’s neck. “Whew, we made it,” Roxy said as she continued on and began to circle the rug again.
“I don’t know, Rox. I don’t know anything right now.”
She gave me a sympathetic look.
“There she is!” Kira pointed at me, and Roxy gave her a lift to the bed.
“Sister!” I cried, opening my arms.
She climbed into my lap. “I missed you. Me and Sven looked all over the forest and almost got eaten by Marshmallow!”
I gasped dramatically. “But my monster wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
She giggled. “I know, but he growls scary. Okay, now it’s time to sing ‘Let It Go.’”
I laughed. “Oh, it’s already that time? Will you sing with me?”
“Yes!”
And that began our musical interlude, wherein my little cousin and I sang “Let It Go” for the eighteen thousandth time. I’d learned all the lyrics like a good auntie and sang them almost daily. Halfway through the song, Kira stopped singing, leaning into the crook of my arm so she could look up at me with wide eyes. Even Roxy looked dreamy as she listened, and I sang through to the end.
They paused for a second when I was finished before cheering, clapping and squealing or whistling, depending on age and ability. I bowed my head, smiling.
“Thank you, thank you.”
Roxy sighed. “You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. I wish you weren’t such a fuddy-duddy about karaoke.”
“Please. Embarrassing myself in front of you two is nothing, but bar full of strangers? No thanks.”
“You’re crazy,” Roxy said.
Kira squished my face. “You sound like an angel,” she said, triggering the memory of Joel saying the same thing about his mother.
I kissed her nose. “Thanks, Bunny.”
“Okay,” Roxy started, “I hate to cut this short, but it’s super late, kiddo.”
Groans of dissent filled the room.
Roxy got back on all fours. “Come on. I’ll still be Sven until after teeth are brushed.”
That perked Kira up, and she slid off my lap and onto her mother’s back.
“Go pour us drinks. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten,” Roxy said as she adjusted Kira.
“Deal.” I pulled off my costume as they made their way down the hall, packing the abandoned dresses back in their chest before heading downstairs.
I smiled to myself, listening to my cousins upstairs laughing as Roxy read her daughter a story, and I settled into the couch with a bottle of Russian Standard, pouring a finger of liquor into a rocks glass. Kaz jumped up and lay down next to me as I knocked back the shot. I was just pouring another when Roxy came down.
She climbed onto the couch next to me and picked up her drink. Her feet brushed Kaz, and he bit her toe, swatting at her foot with his paw. “Ouch!” she shouted, jerking away from him with a furrowed brow and red cheeks. “Screw you too, you mean old son of a bitch.”
I laughed, chiding the old cat half-heartedly.
She settled in, still eyeing him. “All right. What’s the deal? You and Joel?”
I took a sip, buying a second before answering. “I don’t know what the deal is with us. I mean, I’ve been telling him absolutely never for the last week, and now …” I sighed. “I don’t know anything past the fact that I want him to kiss me. And that seems like a terrible idea. There are still reasons why I shouldn’t, but they all seem stupid now that I’ve admitted to myself that I like him.”
“Okay, so tell me again for real — why can’t you let him kiss you?”
“Because I already told him he’s not allowed to. Because he’s not the kind of guy I usually picture myself with. Because we work together, and me getting emotionally involved with one of the cast members could affect my ability to be objective. Because he makes me uncomfortable. Because he scares me.”
“Scares you?”
“Roxy, he is the literal unknown, in the flesh. I’m not the one to throw caution to the wind.”
She chuckled. “No, you are the last one to disrespect caution so openly.”
“But he’s just so different from anyone I’ve ever been with. He’s not like me.”
“Annika, listen to me.”
I looked up to meet her eyes, eyes that were so much like mine.
“You’re smart. You know yourself, and you know your limits. You’re not going to fuck up.”
“I don’t even know why I’m entertaining this, honestly. He’s not the first guy I’ve been attracted to, and that isn’t really a reason to potentially put my career on the line.”
“Is there anything that expressly forbids you being with him?”
I shook my head. “No, but Laney made it pretty clear that she’s onto me and that it could end in disaster. I’ve worked too hard to throw it all away just because I’m hot for a guy.”
She took a sip of her vodka, watching me over the rim of her glass.
�
��I mean, what am I even doing? I swear to God, Rox. I showed him my tattoo tonight—”
Her eyes widened.
“—and when he touched it … he could have done anything he wanted in that moment and I would have let him.”
She sighed. “The thought of you not acting on something that intense makes me itchy.”
“Me too.” I knocked back my drink and poured another.
“Do you think a taste would be enough to satisfy the thirst?”
I chuffed. “I don’t think a five-gallon tank would satisfy that thirst. But even worse than that — what if it turns into more? What if he wants more and I don’t? What if I want more and he doesn’t? What if I have to do something … lie to him or manipulate him? This is my job, and he’s the star of the show. It can’t end well.” Futile resolution washed over me, cold and steely. “It can’t happen, Roxy. I could ruin my career or his heart or my heart or all of the above. It’s not worth it.”
She reached for my hand. “I hate to say you’re right, especially about this, especially knowing how much you like him, but I think you might be right.”
“Maybe after we’re finished filming. It’s just a few weeks. Maybe there’s a way later, but not now, not yet. Maybe not ever.” The sadness in my voice pissed me off, and I took a long pull of my vodka, hating myself for the position I found myself in, which was, in the end, not under Joel where I wanted to be.
PLAYED
Joel
THE NEXT DAY, I FOUND myself sitting behind the counter in the shop watching Annika, as I had since she’d walked through the doors of the shop that morning. They were filming Patrick as he worked on a client’s back, a piece he would work on throughout the course of the season. The idea was to show the progress, give the viewers some insight into the work that goes into art that big, that detailed, and Patrick was the one to watch. He was one of my most talented artists.
But I didn’t pay him much mind, just snuck glances at Annika over the top of Persuasion.
I felt like I’d snapped the night before, seeing that mark on her skin, touching it, feeling the heat of her under my palm, against my thighs. I knew she felt it too. She had to — she was practically calling my name with every breath she took.
That tattoo shouldn’t have been there, a tacky slash on her perfect skin. If anyone was ever to mark her, it should have been me. It should have been something beautiful, something to complement her own beauty.
The thought that I wasn’t the first to mark her made me furious. Unreasonably furious.
I shook my head and tried to turn my attention to my book, which had been a lost cause since I’d picked it up that day. The words all blurred together, my mind comprehending nothing, still somehow tuned to her.
She said doesn’t want you, I told myself. I reminded myself to take the hint, which wasn’t even a hint — it was a flat-out demand. It didn’t matter what I thought she wanted or what I felt. I didn’t want someone who didn’t want me any more than I wanted someone who would ruin me like Liz did. And Annika seemed to fit into both of those categories.
The bell on the door rang, and what I saw when I looked over sent an icy hot shot of adrenaline through my veins.
Hal strode into my shop — a threshold he hadn’t crossed since he’d walked out the door almost fifteen years ago. And yet, there he stood, looking smug.
I hated his beard. I hated his undercut. I hated his stupid fucking face and his stupid fucking smile and all of him. I hated him.
My fists clenched, and I wondered what I’d hit him with first, THIS or THAT.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked as I stormed around the counter.
Hal smiled. “Good to see you, brother,” he said as he approached, hand extended.
I slapped the back of his hand. “I’m not your brother. Answer my question.”
He shrugged, seeming unfazed. “Just wanted to swing in, see how the show was going.”
My eyes narrowed to slits. “You thought you’d just drop in, huh? You haven’t been welcome in this shop in more than a decade.”
“Come on, man. It’s been years. Water under the bridge, right?”
I arched over him. “Fuck you, you little punk. Water under the bridge,” I scoffed. “The bridge you blew up the last time you walked through those doors. Now tell me why you’re here.”
“I got a call. They asked me to come.”
My nostrils flared, my vision dimming with the pressure of my pumping heart. My eyes swept across the crew, coming to rest on Annika, registering distantly that all of the cameras were pointed at me.
“Everybody, get the fuck out of my shop.”
No one moved. My eyes were still on her — she was still as stone other than her eyes, which darted between me and Hal.
“Did I stutter?” I roared, and she flinched. “All of you, get the fuck out. Now.”
The cameras hadn’t stopped rolling. Patrick’s hands were still, his client looking over his shoulder, everyone staring at me. Two steps and I had my hand on the hood of a camera lens, pointing it to the ground. “Out.” I pushed a sound engineer toward the door. “Out!” I bent to level my eyes at a PA as I pointed at the door and yelled, “Out!”
They finally got the hint and began filing toward the door, including Annika.
I grabbed her arm. “Not you. You stay right where you fucking are. And you,” I whirled around, stepping into Hal until our noses were nearly touching. “Don’t show your face here again, or I’ll fuck it up beyond repair. Got me, Hal?” I spit the words at him, my lip curling.
But he didn’t back down. “Get over it, Joel. You always were a fucking baby about shit like this. Look at you. You can’t even have a civil conversation with me.”
I was shaking all over, including my breath as I whispered. “Leave before I do something that’ll put me in jail.”
He shook his head, his face hard. “Whatever, man. Whatever.” He looked over at Annika. “Next time you need a stooge to piss him off, call somebody else.”
And with that, he turned and walked out the door. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to reach for his shirt and hit him, my fists clenched so tight they ached from the pressure.
As the bell over the door chimed to mark his exit — the only sound in the silent room — I turned to Annika.
“You.”
Annika
His eyes were wild as he stepped toward me, grabbing me by the arm while Patrick and the client filed out behind us. Joel said nothing, though he huffed like a bull as he dragged me toward the back of the shop, his fingers digging into my arms almost hard enough to hurt.
He tossed me into a private room, one of the rooms with no cameras, and slammed the door behind him.
“Turn off your monitor,” he barked, and I nodded with shaking hands, pulling it from my ear, unclipping my battery and flipping the switch. I almost hesitated, almost left it on, but something stopped me. I set it next to the sink on the back wall, putting the chair between us. In part, because I was terrified. In another part because I was somehow turned all the way on and overheating.
“What the fuck, Annika? Why? Why would you do this? Why would you bring him here with the cameras rolling? Is it just good TV for you? Do you give a fuck about anybody? I want to know why. Tell me why.”
“I … I didn’t know,” I stammered, hands still shaking. “Joel, I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
He leaned on the chair, eyes narrowed. “Why don’t I believe you?”
I jerked back like he’d slapped me. “Why would I lie to you?”
“Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? Lie? Manipulate? Push every button to get a reaction on camera? Well, fuck you, princess. I’m not a goddamn toy. I’m not a fucking joke. I’m not a pawn you can push around your board like I don’t fucking matter.”
My brow dropped, the heat rising up my neck, across my cheeks. “I’ve never lied to you, not once, and I’m not playing games with you.”
H
e laughed, a sound that didn’t hold an iota of joy. “Right. Just like how you keep telling me I’m harassing you, how you don’t want anything to do with me, but then you look at me, show me your tattoo like—”
“You asked to see my tattoo. I didn’t throw myself at you, and I’m not toying with you, for God’s sake. Don’t you get it? They’re playing games with me too. You’re not the only one being manipulated. For the last time, I wasn’t told that Hal would be here today. I had nothing to do with that.”
His chest rose and fell, breath shallow. “But isn’t that just the way it’s going to go?” His voice was lower, quieter, but less calm, somehow, and I almost took a step back as he walked around the chair. “You exploit me. You stick your pretty long finger in my wounds and twist, making sure your camera is rolling when you do it. You tell me with your pretty lips that you don’t want me, but your eyes tell me something else. I don’t trust you. How could I?”
“Because I’m telling the truth.” He was close — too close, not close enough. “I’m not supposed to want you. You … you make me mad and you make me laugh and you make me crazy, and I’m not supposed to want you, but I do. What am I supposed to do? What do you want? You want me to throw away my career? How about you? Should I use you up and toss you out too? Or maybe you’ll do the same to me. I don’t know, because I don’t know you. But that hasn’t stopped me from wanting you, not since the first time I ever saw your stupid, hairy face. I hate you, and I want you, and I hate that I want you. But I do.”
It was too much, the admission pouring out of me too fast to stop. I had to get out of there, needed to run. I sidestepped to move past him, but he shifted.
“Is that really the truth?” His voice was low, rough, and I was assaulted by his proximity, the smell of him, sensing his body, even though we weren’t touching. It was dizzying.
“That’s the truth.”
“Annika.” The word was tortured and elated. His hand was on my arm. My heart was in my throat.
“Don’t,” I said, terrified, and he froze where he was, just like I’d asked. I stepped around him and put my hand on the doorknob, fully intending to leave, running somewhere, anywhere safe. But my hand was on that cold, metal doorknob, and he was still just where I’d left him, doing exactly what I asked, even though he knew I wanted more.
