by Alice Raine
Rolling out of the bed I blushed as I felt the smooth dampness between my legs and recalled my dream again. I wasn’t a prude by any means – in my months apart from Sean I had sorted myself on numerous occasions when I’d felt horny – but still, I couldn’t believe I had done it in my sleep! Shaking myself out of my groggy, slightly embarrassed state with a full body stretch, I picked up my phone to check for any new emails.
To my surprise, there was a new text message alert on the screen. With slight trepidation I checked the sender and saw Sean’s name, but the date read as 10.49 p.m. last night. Frowning, I wondered how I’d missed it; I’d checked my phone before bed and hadn’t seen it. Pulling in a deep breath I opened the message and skimmed my eyes across it.
From: Sean
I’m trying to be patient, Allie, but I can’t take this any longer. I need to speak to you. I’m on the film set tomorrow until four, but I promise to call after that, please answer. Goodnight, my gorgeous girl. Sleep well. xx
Sleep well? Huh! Hardly. Although, I had woken up rather pleasantly, I thought with another blush. Allowing myself a small smile I decided that I liked the fact that he’d upped his usual one kiss to two. For some reason that made me ridiculously happy and I held the phone tightly against my chest, trying to absorb some of his reassuring warmth from the cold plastic.
The space and time, although torturous, had at least made me feel ready to speak to him. I loved him, and believed him, so all I needed now was his reassurance that this engagement situation wasn’t going to last for too much longer. When he called later today I would answer his call and be calm, level-headed, and sensible. Perhaps all this stupidity with Sean, Savannah, and me would be behind us quicker than I’d expected. At least I hoped that would be the case.
Delving in my suitcase, I pulled on a loose T-shirt and some pink running shorts before leaving my bedroom and navigating my way towards the bar area in our bungalow on a quest for caffeine. The bar was complete with marble top and two leather stools, but as well as a vast selection of alcoholic beverages it housed a smart coffee machine, which was my focus this morning.
I would have thought that eight in the morning was quite an early hour for a seasoned traveller like Cait, but she was already sitting by the bar reading her book, as she had been both previous mornings too. I suspected she had been getting up early on purpose to make sure I had company if I was feeling low, which was really rather sweet, and a very Cait-like gesture.
Seeing her sipping at a steaming mug I licked my lips in anticipation – hopefully that meant there was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me somewhere.
‘Morning, sweetie,’ Cait crooned when she saw me. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes please. Morning.’ Slipping onto the second stool along the bar I watched greedily as Cait filled a large mug for me, topped it with milk, and then handed it across. ‘God, that smells amazing.’ Lifting the mug of delicious-scented nectar to my lips I sipped and groaned in near ecstasy. ‘And it tastes even better.’ I sat in silence for a few moments, letting the bitter taste dance over my tongue before commenting, ‘You’re up early again.’ Placing my mug down I glanced up at Cait to find her studying me closely. A flush crept onto Cait’s cheeks and she shrugged, feigning casualness.
‘I was worried about you. I thought after your … jet lag … that you might be up early, so I decided to get up and keep you company.’ I translated that to ‘I thought after your shitty week you might not be able to sleep so have been getting up early to make sure you weren’t moping around pathetically’. Even with her dreadful lie I appreciated the effort and smiled gratefully.
‘Thanks, hun. I’ll be OK.’
‘No problemo. So, you got any plans for today? It looks like the weather is going to be glorious again.’
‘Um, no. I’m expecting a call this afternoon, but apart from that, nothing. I was hoping to keep myself busy again, do you have any ideas?’
Plonking her mug down so some coffee slopped over her hand and the counter, I saw Cait’s eyebrows rise. ‘Back up there, lady. You’re expecting a call?’ Her tone made it obvious that Cait wanted the gossip, and so with a sigh I explained I’d had a message from Sean last night, and was now expecting to speak to him this afternoon.
‘It sounds like a step in the right direction,’ Cait agreed with a pleased nod as she licked some coffee from her thumb. ‘So, back to my plans for distraction. How does a bit more sightseeing sound? Starting with the best pancakes you’ll ever taste, squeezing in a few more landmarks, and finishing with some lounging on the beach?’
Smiling, I nodded gratefully. ‘That sounds pretty perfect to me.’
When Cait had said that I’d eat the best pancakes I’d ever tasted, I’d assumed she was going to cook them, but that wasn’t the case, and now, at just gone nine o’clock we were sitting in a booth in Blu Jam Café on Melrose Avenue, a place apparently renowned for its amazing pancakes. I was impressed with the décor; exposed brick walls and a high vaulted ceiling made for quite a stunning breakfast setting.
‘It’s just as well we’re relatively early, this place gets rammed later on when all the cool kids wake up with hangovers and sugar cravings,’ Cait told me as she sipped on her second coffee of the day.
Every now and then my mind would drift back to thoughts of my planned phone call with Sean, but when my pancakes arrived ten minutes later I quickly became engrossed in a blur of syrupy, blueberry, battered goodness and thought of nothing except how bloody good they tasted.
Placing down her knife and fork with a satisfied and rather inelegant grunt, Cait leant back and rubbed her stomach. ‘I swear they get better every time I come here.’ Grinning, I nodded, pleased to see Cait really tucking into her food for a change. She was too slim in my opinion, but then again, she always had been slender, so perhaps it was just her build.
Using my last bite of pancake to collect the remaining syrup on my plate I then popped it in my mouth, savouring every chew until it was gone. ‘They were amazing. You were right, best pancakes I’ve ever eaten,’ I confirmed as I licked the traces of sugar from my lips. ‘Let’s have five minutes to digest and then hit the sights.’
Just over twenty minutes later, Cait and I were staring avidly at the ground outside the Chinese Theatre. If the crowds out here were anything to go by, then this place must be one of LA’s most popular tourist spots. The forecourt was infamous for its amazing array of hand- and foot prints belonging to the rich and famous, but I’d seriously underestimated how exciting I’d find it. At this rate I’d have a bad back from the constant hunching as I read the names.
‘Look, here’s Harrison Ford!’ I yelped, dragging Cait across so she could look at the square containing his prints. I’d had a bit if a crush on Harrison Ford ever since I saw him in Indiana Jones. A bare-chested, whip-wielding historian with a wild side? What’s not to love? Crouching lower I couldn’t resist placing my hand in his print, where it was dwarfed by the imprint of his fingers. ‘Wow. Big hands and feet, you know what that means …’ I said teasingly, looking at Cait and seeing her flush.
‘Yeah. Big shoes,’ she replied dryly, refusing to rise to my bait. ‘Look, you can see from the sole print that he was wearing Converse like yours,’ she commented, probably to divert my rude comment. Cait always avoided conversations about anything remotely sexual; it was another one of her defence mechanisms. I would sometimes persevere in an attempt to get her to loosen up, but this time, her diversion worked a treat as I checked out his shoe marks and saw she was right.
‘Ha! I wear the same shoes as Harrison Ford! How cool is that?’ The fact that half the population of the world also wore Converse slipped conveniently from my mind as I placed my right foot into his indent and snapped a picture on my phone.
After taking several more photographs and even managing to jump onto a quick ten minute tour of the interior of the theatre, the two of us were back on the busy pavement outside. Glancing down the street, Cait suddenly drew in a quick breath and po
inted urgently along the road.
‘Quick! That’s the bus we need!’ She took off at such a rate that I didn’t even have time to stop and ask where we were going, having to practically sprint to catch up with her.
Once we were on and seated with tickets clutched in our hands I exhaled in relief and leant back in my seat. ‘This is one of the Hop-On, Hop-Off tour buses, we don’t need many of the stops but it’s probably cheaper than keep paying for taxis.’
The bus was actually a really great introduction to the city, and I enjoyed a bit of people watching while we made our way past brightly colourful billboards, American diners, and wide, tree-lined boulevards. After about twenty minutes we passed by a very affluent neighbourhood of huge sprawling houses, which Cait informed me was called Cheviot Hills, and then began winding our way down towards the coast.
‘And this is Venice Beach,’ Cait announced as the bus pulled to a stop by a beach which stretched its beautiful, golden sands in either direction far as the eye could see. Jumping from the bus we stood for a second soaking up the view as a warm breeze tickled my skin. I smiled at how relaxed I suddenly felt. This place really was a perfect distraction from my troubles.
Peeling off my T-shirt I stripped down to the cooler vest below, but predictably Cait stayed as she was, in her tunic dress and three-quarter length leggings. I didn’t pass comment on the fact that it was roasting hot, because I knew the reason Cait didn’t expose great amounts of skin – her bastard of an ex. To be honest, the fact that she was wearing short-sleeves and knee-length leggings that not only uncovered her forearms but also the bottom of her legs was a pretty big step forward for her, because usually she was covered from top to toe.
‘So, do you want to walk, or sunbathe?’ Cait asked, but something over her shoulder caught my attention and after staring for a second I grinned like an idiot and spun Cait around to look with me. Behind some yellow and blue fences there was a vast array of tanned, toned, half-naked men lifting weights in an enclosure before us.
Wow-oh-wow. I had been so taken with the sea view that I had barely noticed this lot. It was certainly a heck of a lot of budgie-smuggling action in one small area. Not to mention some serious testosterone levels. I liked muscles on a man, but perhaps not quite this big. Jeez, some of these guys had boobs bigger than mine.
‘Oh, yeah. Uh … this beach is famous for its outdoor weights area,’ Cait stuttered.
Unfortunately, seeing the muscled men nudged my mind back to my own decently toned man. As I allowed myself to think about Sean for the first time in several hours I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked for any calls. Nothing. Admittedly, it was still only early afternoon, but as it was getting closer to the time of his proposed call I could feel my stomach tightening with nerves.
Leaving the weightlifting boys to their thing, we made our way to a quieter spot on the beach and decided to indulge in some sunbathing. It was certainly a nice change from the cold UK weather, but as we whiled away several hours lounging in the sand, I became twitchier and twitchier as my phone remained staunchly silent beside me.
As the afternoon dwindled to early evening and I still hadn’t had a call from Sean, I could feel my mood dropping lower and lower. Bloody man. I would not cave in and call him. I’d honestly thought he would stick to his promise to call me today, but it looked like he simply couldn’t be bothered with me after all. He was probably too busy socialising with his celebrity friends to even think about little ol’ me.
In our last hour at the beach I must have checked my phone a million times, probably to the point where Cait was getting tempted to snatch the thing and chuck it in the sea. But there were no calls. No texts either, and by the time five thirty rolled around and we were on the bus heading home, I was in a severely bad mood. Like apocalyptic levels of stroppy-ness. As far as I was concerned, Sean Phillips could take his snivelling apologies and shove them where the sun didn’t shine.
Cait checked her watch and glanced up. ‘It’s been a fabulous day, but I need to pop back to the hostel now – I’ve got a meeting to finalise the social event I said I’d run with them tomorrow. Shall we eat there? It’ll be cheaper than the hotel menu.’
Cait was watching me carefully, and there was concern obvious in her voice – she’d clearly seen me repeatedly checking my phone, not that it would have been easy to miss.
‘Actually, I think I might have an hour or two alone, if that’s OK with you? I might head back to the hotel and do some writing. It always helps take my mind off things.’ I stayed vague about what the ‘things’ were, even though it would have been pretty obvious that I was referring to one thing in particular. One man.
Cait didn’t look convinced at all, but I knew I would make miserable company, so I nodded my head again. ‘Honestly, go to your meeting and get some dinner then we can meet up for hot chocolate when you get back to the hotel.’
Looking reluctant, she relented with a sigh. ‘OK, but only if you’re sure?’
‘I’m positive, I’ll be fine.’ And I would be fine, once I’d cursed Sean’s name a few times, anyway. ‘If you need a hand with the event tomorrow, I’ll help out,’ I offered. ‘What is it exactly?’
‘Just a meet and greet for the newbies to help them settle in to travelling, but help would be great, thank you. I kinda got roped into volunteering by Julie, the cook.’
It sounded quite interesting, and besides, anything would be better than sitting in a posh hotel waiting for a call that clearly wasn’t going to come.
With plans made, I jumped off the bus at the closest stop to the hotel and left Cait to go to her meeting. My best friend had done an amazing job at keeping me occupied, but the events with Sean had finally caught up with me and I needed some alone time. I’d said I was going to do some writing, which I might, but really, after being snubbed by Sean, I just needed to sit down and work out what on earth I was going to do next.
Chapter Fifteen
Cait
As soon as I’d finished my meeting with Marlon and Julie, I grabbed my phone to check on Allie. I’d seen her mood gradually drop this afternoon and I was worried about her, but she often liked to write when she was thinking, so there was really nothing else I could do until she decided she wanted to talk. I checked my phone, sagging in relief when I saw a message from her telling me she was safely tucked up at the hotel.
Phew. OK. Now I wasn’t worrying about Allie I could crack on with the shopping list that Julie had asked me to get for tomorrow’s event. As well as being the in-house cook, Julie was assistant manager and pretty much ran the hostel, but she was so likeable that I really didn’t mind giving her some help every now and then. Picking up my bag, sunglasses, and cap I smiled warmly at the three other volunteers that had been roped in – Jen, Sally, and Isla; girls that I knew fairly well now from around the hostel – and we set off for the local 7-Eleven.
Fifteen minutes later, we were loaded down with enough ingredients to make about a million cupcakes – at least that’s what it seemed like – and after sharing out the bags were heading back towards the hostel.
Turning my face upwards I smiled as the rays from the evening sun warmed my cheeks. This was one of the things I loved about America, the long, warm evenings. It was just gone seven now, and although it was still warm it wasn’t sunburn temperature any more, so I paused to pull off my cap and run my fingers through my hair in an attempt at arranging it in some sort of style.
An excited murmur suddenly ran through the girls as they drew to a sudden stop on the pavement, their heads bobbing up and down as they bounced on the spot like a trio of meerkats. Throwing them an amused glance I shrugged in confusion, wondering what on earth had got them so keyed up.
Jen spun around with eyes wide like saucers, her cheeks flushed. ‘I totally forgot! It’s the American Television Awards ceremony at the theatre tonight! Famous people everywhere! Who fancies some celeb spotting, girlies?’ Her words were met with an uproar of yeses from the others, and I then pro
ceeded to watch in silent astonishment as our small group of usually normal girls changed into a giggling mass of red cheeks and excitable arm flapping. God, they were like a pack of rabid animals.
As amusing as their transformation was, I grimaced. Hanging around street corners hoping for a glimpse of a famous face wasn’t really my scene. I read the occasional gossip magazine at the hairdresser’s, but I certainly didn’t go harassing celebrities in the street like a stalker.
Except for when I had bumped into Jack Felton a few days ago, of course, but that had been totally accidental, not stalker-like, and let’s face it, was probably more his fault than mine. Burned into my brain for posterity, but totally accidental, I thought with a blush, a strange, squiggly feeling settling in my stomach.
Hmm. I was doing exactly what I’d promised myself I wouldn’t – thinking about Jack Felton. That was dangerous territory, so as a distraction I tapped Jen’s arm and made my excuses, telling her I would find a bench in the sun and wait for them. She couldn't understand my nonchalance where it came to celebrities, looking completely perplexed by my decision to miss out on the ‘fun’, before rapidly forgetting about me as she turned back to the crowds.
Unfortunately, there were no benches on this street, so I settled myself in a doorway to the side of the red carpet area at a safe distance from the energetic crowd, but close enough that I could keep an eye on the girls. I might not be keen enough on celebrity spotting to risk getting squashed in the middle of a writhing mass of people, but observing from a distance might make interesting viewing.
Over the course of the next twenty or so minutes, I watched a procession of limousines come and go as they dropped off their cargos of celebrity actors, actresses, directors, and writers, all dressed to the nines and practically reeking of wealth. While I recognised some of the faces and was quite enjoying myself, I was glad I’d chosen this spot and wasn’t in amongst the throng of spectators, because they buoyantly surged back and forth with each new arrival, and I knew that I would hate all of that bodily contact. It was making my skin crawl just imagining it.
