I squeezed my fists closed until my fingernails bit my flesh. “Witch!”
Wayne’s eyes goggled, and he backed away. For good reason, for there appeared to be lightning sparking from my ears. I heard nothing but the whistling of my rage and the opening strains to the theme from Jaws.
I ran out of the trailer, and Wayne caught me up to lead me to the scene of the accident. I heard the Southern drawl oozing through the galleries before I saw her. “Ah’ve starred in the Las Vegas Players production of Guys and Dolls twice now, and—”
And then I died, only to return and haunt this old woman until her botox caused her face to mummify.
“Mom!” I screamed it, and everyone who wasn’t already gaping in glee turned to witness the new goings-on.
Be cool, Samantha. Be the star you know you are. Or at least, the star you might be, someday. Be the kind of cool person who would be a star if they weren’t you.
Oh, to hell with it. I squared my shoulders and glided to my mother’s side. I wedged between her and Diego, who wore a shirt made of mesh that came from an International Male catalogue circa 1986. “Mom, hi. How nice of you to visit the set.”
JenX ran a hand over her blue fauxhawk. “So…why?”
I grabbed Suzie by the shoulders and swivelled her towards any direction away from JenX. Suzie being on set was definitely not “profesh, yeah?” “My mom’s a big fan!” I called over my shoulder to JenX. “But she must go now.”
Suzie squeaked and adjusted her silk pink capris. “Don’t you think Jayde should have a mother?” she yelled to all and sundry. “Not that many would believe that I could be a mother to such an old—” I shoved harder. Diego trotted next to us helplessly, his mesh shirt no doubt irritating his razor-burned chest.
We passed Sam on the way outside. “Holy crap,” he said. Suzie’s sequined suit jacket was trimmed in hot pink ostrich.
I bypassed my trailer and continued yanking her by the arm all the way to the parking lot. Every time she wiggled I growled at her and, for once, she seemed to acknowledge my feelings by shutting the hell up.
I stopped on the sidewalk. “How did you get here?”
“Cab.”
Pointing towards the street, I said, “Diego, please take her away.”
“Samantha!” Mom fluffed up her ostrich and descended into full on Scarlett O’Hara. “How dare you embarrass me that way?”
Something inside me snapped. I felt it physically—a flick, a sharp pain, a loosening. My face tingled into numbness, and I took a deep breath. “Embarrass…you?”
“Samantha.” Sam, behind me. Whispering and grabbing my arm.
“But I embarrass you all the time, don’t I, Mom?” The echoes of a thousand cutting remarks slithered into my head. “I’m too fat, or too ugly, or too untalented, or too short, or expectedly single, or too poor, or too not-rich-enough, right?”
Suzie’s jaw went slack. Her eyes roamed to a focus somewhere behind me.
“How dare you spend my entire life disparaging me, and then come into my job—my job, Mom—and…and try to…”
Sam grabbed my shoulders from behind. “Baby, don’t. You have an audience.”
I closed my eyes and sagged against him. My adrenaline rushed so hard, I heard little but a whirring noise.
“Suzie, leave.” Sam did my talking for me. “Do not come back here. You two can discuss this later.”
A few moments’ silence. No one moved. “Discuss what?” said Suzie, light as air, before clicking away on her kitten booties. Diego shuffled off to Buffalo right after without meeting my eye. At least one of them was experiencing shame.
My eyes squeezed shut, I turned around and pressed my face to Sam’s chest, peeping Toms be damned. I forced out every thought but the balming scent of his shirt. He held me for a moment before grabbing my hand and leading me away. I didn’t even see where. Or care.
When I peeled my eyelids open, we were in a deserted stairwell on the first floor. “Do you think I’m fired?” I whispered. My hushed words bounced off the steel surrounding us.
“No.” He rubbed my shoulders. “No, she’d only just got to speak with JenX. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you’re imagining.”
“Oh, so I overreacted?”
“Whoa.” He took a step back and leant down more on my eye level to stare me directly in the face. “I said nothing of the sort. I’m telling you I watched the whole thing—I sent the PA to get you—and you have not lost your job, okay?”
My hands began to shake. My body was Vesuvius, and I was ready to reign terror upon the poor citizens of Pompeii. Right now, Sam was the only poor bastard in front of me. I clenched my teeth closed to avoid saying something I oughtn’t, and that he didn’t deserve.
Only one thing to do, if I couldn’t erupt poisonously.
I grabbed his shirt front, slammed him into the wall and stood on my tip-toes to kiss him. No, I didn’t kiss him—I devoured his mouth with mine, biting, sucking, tugging. He offered no resistance, but grabbed my face and leapt into the fray. The first yelp of pain came from me. My sore, throbbing bottom lip hurt damn good, and I pressed my hips into his so he would abuse me further. My hand inched downward to cup his hard-on through his jeans. His ragged moan reverberated in the tiny space. I teased his zipper downward.
His hand caught mine. “Samantha.” His voice blended in an ego-boosting combination of shocked censure and aroused fascination. “We can’t screw on the stairs.”
I grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him down to my mouth. “I wasn’t going to fuck you. I was going to suck your cock.”
“Jesus.” In a flurry, he removed my hands from his hot, bulging places. He whipped his phone out of his pocket and said, “You need to be on set in ten minutes.”
“Ugh.” I paced away a few steps and turned to face him from too far away to grope. “Are you actually being my assistant right now?”
“Shameful, I know.” He grinned, and the dimple told me that it, at least, was completely pro-blow-job. “You are so hot right now, and I can’t begin to tell you how that dirty little jumpsuit with its dirty, long zipper has invaded my personal fantasy time, but”—he took a deep breath and moved his cock into a less obvious place—“rain check. Or not, but I don’t want to get you fired for real. Someone needs to support the family when I’m forced to walk the straight and narrow.”
Sam acting high and noble and correct should have sobered me…yet, all I wanted was to toss him on the cold ground. Especially when he threw around the word “family” willy nilly. I pictured a quiet night at home—him, me, Taco—watching old episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show and then showering together. Maybe not the cat for that last part. It was the horniest, homiest thought I’d ever thunk…and it filled me with bemused bliss. My muscles began to ease. “I love you,” I told him.
He melted me with his eyes, already a melty shade of chocolate. “You only love me for my body.”
“The body is only seventy-eight per cent of it. Your evil mind and admiration for my butt also contribute.” He smiled and made wiggly eyebrows in my butt’s direction.
I licked my lips and took a steadying breath. We were alone, and I couldn’t not ask the question anymore. It haunted my brain like the spectre of unflattering pictures on the Internet. “What is the plan, Sam? We only have four, five days until V—her deadline. We can’t just—yank the thing out of the…thing. Because I’ll bet there are things that will…counteract…when things are thinged.”
He gave me a thumbs-up. “Good code wording there.”
“Thank you.”
He climbed a few stairs to peer up the square, circular staircase. Squarecular? When satisfied that we were, indeed, alone, he said, “I am waiting for…a thing. Equipment. It will help. But I can’t do anything until the thing arrives from…the place.”
I nodded as if I understood any of the words.
“Look, what is she going to do to you if you miss her deadline? Nothing.” He began to pace. “She can’t
touch you while you’re filming.” His eyes focused on mine, then slipped away to stare at the wall. “You’re safe in production.”
Safe. The bald patch on my head tingled. Safe. “What about you?” I asked softly.
He only hesitated for a moment. A second long enough for me to imagine every worst scenario. Belatedly, he laid a reassuring smile on me. “She knows you need me for this.”
“And what about Ellen? And Nicolette? And even horrible Suzie? If anyone is going to end my mother, by great Caesar’s ghost, it will be me.”
“Enough.” He closed the few steps between us and swept me into his arms. His kiss brimmed with the kind of desperation usually only found in movies about vampiric teenagers. He pawed my body, pressing it to his own, and we fell against the wall.
“Yeeeeaaaahhhh,” came Shelley’s voice a split second before the metallic screech of a door opening. “They’re in here.”
Thump thump thump sounded Shelley’s heavy UGG-footed steps. My legs were still wrapped around Sam and his hands helpfully supported my ass, when who should follow Shelley…but Danny.
Sam froze at the sight of Danny, who glared first at me, then at Sam. A wide grin split my lover’s face, and he cocked his head in a pure asshole kind of way. Danny crossed his arms and stared Sam down. “A little help, please?” I asked. When Sam didn’t reply, I helpfully tweaked his nipple.
“Ow.” That moved his hands.
I nearly slid to the floor, but Danny lunged in to slow my progress towards a certain bruising. “Thank you, Danny. What a gentleman—”
Sam snipped, “Do not even—”
“What can I do for you, Danny? I’m very sorry about…this.”
Danny narrowed his eyes at Sam, both still too engaged in their dick-measuring contest to respond.
I left. The smack of boots behind me told me that my time apart from Shelley had come to an end, and that of all the people I would want following me, I got her instead. I smoothed my outfit and jumped into makeup for a lipstick refresher—whoops—and ran into JenX. “So, right. Your scene. Running. Danger imminent. Danny. Where?”
Shelley removed her gum. “Yeah. Samantha has a massage now.”
“What?” I will not punch Shelley. I will not punch Shelley. “I have to start work now, Shelley.”
She didn’t immediately reply, but stared at her wadded-up blue goo before depositing it back into her maw. “Yeah. I have to talk to you, and give a massage. I’m your massivity.”
JenX said, “So…schedule, yeah?”
“Yeaaaaaaaaaaah, no. I’m massuring her.”
“Shut up, Shelley!” I stepped between her and my director, who was now disturbed enough that her giant designer headphones were off. If she was forced to remove her sunglasses, I was in deep shit. “Shelley is an idiot. I’m totally ready. Running. Danger. Profesh!” We were set to film a chase—our group running from and foiling security. I smiled, yet JenX did not return her headphones to their usual position.
Danny joined us then, thank goodness. He said, “You sure you don’t need some time to boff your boyfriend? Maybe we could all take lunch while you snog in the stairwell, and Shelley gives you a massage.” Damn. And also ouch. Danny had stepped up to the plate, batting a nasty shot straight over the pitcher’s mound.
I smiled. At least, I grimaced, teeth grinding. “You’re getting funnier, Danny. This comedy thing is rubbing off on you.”
“Speaking of rubbing off…”
There could be no good end to that sentence. When did Danny get so snarky? And since when did horrible Shelley want to ‘talk’ and ‘massivity’ me? The idea of her massaging me struck me right in the cold sweats.
JenX pushed up her aviators and said, “So, focus, right? Mum. Boyfriend. Weird gum girl. What is it?” She dropped the glasses again. “I need hot thieves. I need sexy running. I need box office.”
“Right,” I replied, my heart pounding. To hell with all these jackasses. I nodded, lifted my chin, and sailed onto set, ready for work like a responsible actress.
“Not ready for you yet!” hollered a deep male voice.
“Right!” I continued sailing out of the crew’s way like a responsible actress. I hid myself between two giant, warm generator things and ducked when Shelley came wandering around in the lowest-speed chase ever. Danny spied me, but kept his distance and began flirting outrageously with a startled-looking middle-aged makeup artist. I hadn’t meant to lead him on. I’d been dumped, and he was hot, and geez, it was only a little kissing, anyhow. The guy probably got as much action just by setting foot outside his house—that mother of four was ready to jettison her eyeshadow brushes and commit adultery on the spot.
When my actual job began, happiness disrupted the worry smothering my soul. I could deal with drama so long as the magic flowed through me while we filmed, and it did. Even my co-star warmed to me once we began work.
Early the next morning, they were done with me, and instead of dealing with my people like an adult, I ran straight to my trailer, Sam on my heels. He was the only one I wanted to see. Or hear. Or grope. “Come here,” I said, and he obliged me. We made it to the couch, me atop him, his hands everywhere. Sex is the best way to avoid real life—that’s a life lesson for the masses from yours truly.
I sat back on my heels, facing him, and he pulled me deeper into his lap. His fingers played with my zipper pull. “Ah, jumpsuit,” he murmured. “We meet again for the first time.”
I giggled. The jumpsuit jiggled. His dimple flashed. With two fingers, he tugged, the zipper unlocking tooth by tooth. His smile got wider the more cleavage he revealed. He opened his mouth, and my breasts tingled, anticipating his warm, tender assault.
The door opened. “Dammit!” growled Sam, loud, the frustration piercing my eardrum.
“Yeeeeaaaahhhh.”
Sometime before all this was over, I would punch Shelley. Punch her full in her stupid, yeeeeaaaahhhh-ing, gum-popping mouth.
I didn’t move. If she wanted to speak with me, she could talk to my bum. Bum is a fancy British word for ass, which Shelley could also kiss. “Spit it out, Shelley.” I turned. “No, not the gum! Lord love a duck. What do you need to tell me?”
Shelley sat right beside us on the couch. Sam’s hands tightened on my waist, and he stared into my face with crazy eyes. I massaged his shoulders to keep him calm. “Yeah. Valerie says you need to steal the thing already. She doesn’t like, ya know, waiting.”
“Shelley,” I yelled over Sam, who’d started to speak in tones that sounded very much like a rant, “she gave me a week. We need that week to work on our plan. Valerie isn’t going to get the cape if I’m caught stealing it, is she?”
This argument elicited a flicker of understanding in Shelley. Her face rippled with an unusual happening—a thought.
“Now get the hell out. Your shift is over. Valerie can have me watched tomorrow night, but the day belongs to me.”
Shelley shifted to her feet and shuffled towards the door. “Yeah, someone else has day shift. It’s boring, anyhow.” She left. The door clicked closed behind her.
I bit my lip in an effort to keep my swell of emotion at bay. My eyes stung and my stomach churned, churned. Jesus, it was like I was making butter in there.
“Stop, baby.” Sam collected me into his arms and cradled me against him.
“I don’t know what I expected,” I said in a high, breathy voice. “Of course I’m being watched all the time.”
He took my hands and stared me down. “Not for long. I’ll make this right.”
I managed to smile for his benefit. After all, I believed that he believed that. But wasn’t there a saying about good intentions? Ah, yes. The road to hell is paved with short redheads.
Chapter Fourteen
All That Glitters is Not Mold
Ext: The Set Of The Reality Tv Show Thief Island—night.
Angle On: Samantha Lytton sits on a stump in the centre of a beach camp. The Fire of Judgment sparks beside her. The other contes
tants on the show, Sam, Danny, Valerie, Shelley, Jenx, Suzie and Diego sit on logs in a circle around her.
Angle On: The charming host of Thief Island, Captain Taco, approaches Samantha. He wears a little lavaliere microphone on his collar, and yes, it’s insanely cute.
Captain Taco: Samantha, your fellow campers here on Thief Island have chosen you as the worst thief of the episode. You failed to eat the live grubs in the team challenge, and to steal the Mold Cape from the British Museum. In fact, you didn’t even try. You just cracked a couple of stupid ‘mold’ puns and complained a lot.
Samantha: Thanks.
Captain Taco: That’s a bad thing on Thief Island.
Valerie: Duh.
Valerie giggles. Sam scoots away from her.
Samantha: Me? Nobody wants to vote out Psycho McGhee here? She tried to kill Diego!
Angle On: Diego, grimacing and clutching his crutches.
Captain Taco: Valerie is very annoying, but she smells kinda like catnip, so I’m conflicted.
Angle On: Captain Taco begins to climb off his hosting cat perch towards Valerie, but after a dirty look from Samantha, he licks his butt like he meant to do that all along.
Shelley: Yeeeeaaaahhhh, make her do the thing on the thing.
Captain Taco: Yes! It is time for Samantha to take The Walk of the Civilians.
Angle On: Samantha’s brow creases in worry.
Samantha: What’s The Walk of the Civilians?
Danny: Haven’t you ever watched Thief Island before?
He sneers.
Danny: I guess you’re not a method thief, like I am.
Angle On: The camera sweeps across the fire pit.
Captain Taco: You, Samantha Lytton, shall walk across the fire, barefoot, and steal the Oscar sitting in the centre of it.
Angle On: The golden statuette standing upon a pedestal in the middle of the fire, which is ten feet across.
Samantha: Fuck no! I’m not walking on fire for you people. And I’m pretty sure that Oscar is about two hundred degrees at this point. It’s starting to list to port.
JenX pushes her headphones off her ears.
JenX: So, fire. Hotness. Flame. Blaze. Heat. Searing. Combustion.
The Dimple Strikes Back Page 18
