Adapted for Film
Page 11
“That’s full-out she-devil territory!” Reluctantly, I pushed my fishbowl toward him. “Want my Absinthe salt? Would that make you feel better?”
“No thanks. Last time the walls said some really cruel—but spot on—things that I still haven’t recovered from. I wouldn’t turn down another beer, though.”
Flagging down a passing waiter, I pointed at the empty beer. “So, how did you handle the sex tape?”
Running the back of his hand over the scruff of his beard, he fought off a wry grin. “I moved her in with me in a barely concealed attempt to smother her into loving only me. You?”
“I married him,” I admitted and erupted in a fit of giggles.
“Well played,” Kole laughed along with me. “It seems we adopted similar, unorthodox methods.”
The waiter returned with Kole’s beer, allowing us the perfect moment to clink our drinks in honor of our terrible past choices.
“Dear Lord, there are two of them,” Tandy mumbled and finished her fishbowl with an exaggerated slurp.
Kole paused, watching with horrified interest as she gulped the rest of it down, then shook it off and looked to me with raised eyebrows. “So … are you jealous your imaginary boyfriend is out there flirting it up with the barely legal crowd of LA?”
“Nah!” I proclaimed a few octaves too loud. Scanning the sea of faces, I found Greyson posing for pictures by a fishtank pillar. A line of eager ladies had already formed. “Am I jealous that a guy I could never get in real life is attracted to girls more his type? Of course not. I’m a realist. Peacocks don’t frolic with emus.”
The director squinted, trying to make sense of what I’d said. “You may be too intoxicated to metaphor.”
I continued my ramble as if I hadn’t heard him. “I mean, does the guy give me a low-down tickle every time he so much as looks at me? Absolutely.”
“Ickiest game of Descriptive Narrative ever,” Tandy slurred, resting her chin on her hand to support her head.
“But I think that’s just a chemical reaction from him being mind-blowingly hot. It’s physiobochi ... physiectomy …. Physiology. That word is hard.” Reaching in front of Tandy, I squished the pads of my fingers into Kole’s cheek. “I can’t feel my face. Is that normal?”
“That’s my face,” Kole pointed out, yet continued to let me poke at him.
“That explains the beard.”
Catching my hand, Kole held it in his for a beat. “I think some of the Absinthe salt fell into your drink.”
“That’s why your earlobes look like the killer plant from Little Shop of Horrors,” I hissed.
“Aubrey! Aubrey!” Sebastian dashed over, the feathers of his canary yellow coat blowing behind him as he took the stairs two at a time. “We have a problem!”
“Where did you come from?” I slurred, glancing around for wires or pulleys that could’ve dropped him from the sky.
“I’ve been behind the scenes the whole time,” his blinks were heavy and exaggerated to compensate for the yellow-feather lashes he’d worn for the night, “orchestrating every detail!”
Leaning forward on my elbows, I tried—unsuccessfully—to focus on him. “Just tonight or my entire life? Because there’s a summer camp situation I could’ve done without.”
Grumbling his annoyance, Sebastian grasped my arm and yanked me from the booth. “Just tonight. How much have you had to drink?”
“They don’t serve those fishbowls half full,” Kole answered for me, his smile audible.
My head lolled to the side, my eyes squinting to merge the two Sebastians I was seeing back into one.
Sebastian snapped his fingers directly in my face, forcing me to focus. “Greyson is down there dancing and posing for pictures with fans, which would be great except for one little lipsticked leech that is inserting herself beside him in every photo! If those photos get leaked, we could have a scandal that will ruin our Cinderella story!”
“Not Cinderella!” I gasped, completely aghast but not really sure why.
Sebastian frowned, casting a judgmental glance at my empty fishbowl. “Keep your mouth shut, edge your way up beside him, and stake your claim by throwing an arm around his waist.”
“Or, I can stake my claim the fun way!” Trumped up on what I thought was a stellar idea, I sashay/stumbled my way down the stairs.
“I’m terrified to my very core,” Sebastian confessed, jamming both hands on his hips as he watched me leave.
I glided through the sea of churning, rolling bodies with what felt like ethereal fluidity. Anything that touched me pinged right off—or twirled me in a dizzying waltz. Finally, I found Greyson. A totem of magnificent allure settled in a field of the mundane.
Hmm, my lips twisted to the side, impressed with the lyrical picture I had painted, I should write that down. Wait, what did I say?
“Aubrey, my queen!” Grey greeted me with a gleaming smile. “Come take some pictures with us!”
“I didn’t come for pictures,” I purred. “I came to dance. For inspiration. Ah … come on.”
“Are you quoting a Madonna song?” a pretty blonde, with a rope-like ponytail swaying between her shoulder blades, asked.
“Maybe,” taking a threatening step forward, I glared down my nose at her, “because we’re going to do this old school style. Before there was twerking, there was something more subtle and sexy called freaking. And I’m about to show you how it’s done—bitch.”
Tapping her pen against the pad of paper in her hand, she raised one pierced brow. “Look, I’m just trying to get his drink order.”
Stabbing one hand on my hip, I glared her down. “Stand back, ’cause I’m about to work it.”
“We’re all a-flutter.” The blonde flipped her hair and sauntered off with an exaggerated eye roll.
A hand on the small of my back spun me around, plunging me into the deeply indulgent vats of Greyson’s chocolate eyes. “Aubrey,” he asked in a hushed whisper, “did you eat the salt? I thought Kole would have the foresight to warn you.”
I cut off his words by brazenly pressing my index finger to his lips. “Come with me.” Swishing my hips in time to the music, I laced my fingers with his and led the Hollywood god to the dance floor.
Spinning on Greyson, I urged him closer with a come hither look and the curl of a finger.
Desire sharpened his features, granting him a passionate intensity that took my breath away as he obliged my request. His eyes locked with mine, asking an unspoken question of what it was I wanted from him. My hips offered my only response, swaying and rolling to the slow and seductive vocals. Hooking my finger in his belt loop, I coaxed him to move with me. The taut muscles of his chest brushed against my own soft curves, his narrow hips rocking with mine. His hand snaked around my waist, to my sweat dampened back, and pulled me closer still. My lips parted, a sigh of pleasure escaping. His cheek brushed mine, the warm caress of his breath teasing over the bare skin of my collarbone. Inching his way up my neck and over my jawline, he swept his petal soft lower lip over the curve of mine, begging me to claim it. All the while the rhythmic grinding of our hips hinted at the euphoric bliss that lie just a few articles of clothing away …
“Aubrey!” Kole’s hand closed around my upper arm and spun me around.
In my right mind, that would have snapped me from the pheromone induced spell. In this case it inspired me to thread my hand into his back pocket and coax him to join our little dance party.
Greyson pulled back for a beat, before nodding his approval. “Atta girl,” he encouraged, and dotted a kiss to the back of my neck.
Kole, on the other hand, jumped back as if I’d scalded him. “Sorry to ruin your public devil’s threesome, but I felt you needed a voice of reason over here. Are you close with your parents, by chance?”
“You suck at sexy talk,” I giggle-snorted.
“I ask because if you look around you will see every cell phone in this place is fixed on you, recording every wriggling movement.” Stepping
back, Kole made a sweeping motion at the crowd that had formed around us. Every face was hidden behind a phone. “Maybe you should give your mom a little wave. I’m not sure how she’ll feel about watching you dry-hump an American heartthrob, but I suppose that’s sober-Aubrey’s problem.”
My nose crinkled in distaste. “Such a vulgar word.”
“The show wasn’t exactly G-rated either,” Kole pointed out with a casual lift of one shoulder. “You’re a bestselling author known for your clever prose. You keep this up and you’ll be reduced to nothing more than Greyson Meyers’s play thing. Is that what you want?”
My muddled mind was unable to formulate a suitable answer. With the Absinthe staging an angry revolt in my gut, I stumbled forward a step, bent in half, and gave my only rebuttal by vomiting all over Kole’s shoes.
Chapter 16
I padded out of the bathroom, drying my hair on a towel. The club clothes forced on me at Sebastian’s insistence had been replaced by U of C sweats on loan by Kole. They were about three sizes too big, but had been worn to the perfect level of broken-in comfort.
Kole swiveled in his chair, the dailies paused on the screen behind.
“I like this look better,” he said with a soft smile, waving two fingers up and down the length of me.
“You weren’t a fan of the metallic, disco-fabulous ensemble?” Turning my head to the side, I shook the water from my right ear. Tiny droplets rained over my feet and the ceramic tile I stood on.
“Nah,” he pushed one sleeve further up his forearm, then did the same with other, “this seems more you. And it isn’t covered in techno-colored vomit, which is always a plus.”
My stomach rolled in protest at the all too recent memory. Knotting my fists in the fabric over my revolting belly, I flopped down in the chair beside him. “I was so hoping we could forget that happened and never speak of it again.”
“That contradicts my plan to torment you endlessly about it.” He grinned, leaning his elbow on the arm rest of his chair.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Not after you were nice enough to bring me here to help me get cleaned up. I would’ve spent the night rolling around in my own disgusting squalor if you took me home.” My gaze flicked around his on-set trailer. All the luxuries of home, which filled the main living area of my own trailer, had been removed here to make room for a film editing booth. His bedroom, visible down the hall with the sheets still ruffled, and the bathroom were the only signs that he was actually living here. “Did you talk to Mateo? Does he know to take Tandy home?”
“I did before we even left the club.” Leaning forward, he plucked a fuzzy off my sweatshirt and rolled it between his fingers. “He immediately started sheep dogging her toward the exit. It was pretty comical to see.”
“It won’t be as funny when she hands me my own ass later.” On the screen Greyson held Willa’s face between his palms. His thumb paused mid-trace along her lower lip. “What about Sebastian and Grey? I’d wager they are off in a corner somewhere trying to get Greyson out of the studio’s deal tying him to the disgusting puke monster.”
Flicking the fuzzy to the floor, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs at the ankle. “Exactly the opposite, actually. They teamed up to hunt down anyone that got video of your—ahem—momentous eruption, and bribed them to delete it with the promise of tickets to the premiere.”
“Hmm,” I swiveled my chair one way and then the other with the tip of my toes, “the silver screen idol is truly a nice guy. I think I feel a swoon coming on. On second thought, that could be the remnants of the absinthe.”
“Buying into the great Meyers hype, are ya?” Kole stretched his arms up over his head and scratched his fingers through his hair. “We could probably find you a comfy spot in line with the millions of others that have sworn their undying love and devotion to him.”
Squinting into the darkness—the only light in the room coming from the glow of the screen and the bathroom fixture I had left on—I tried to get a read on Kole and the sharp clip that had crept into his tone.
“No way,” I admitted, finger combing my wet hair. “I wouldn’t subject myself to that even if I wanted to … which I don’t.”
“Subject yourself to what?” He let his arms fall, one dangling over the back of his chair. “A good time with The Vindicator?”
“What can I say? I find capes and tights a turn-off.”
The long shadows of the dimly lit room added depth to the fleeting glimpse of his dimple. “That’s shocking to me. Not the tights thing, but your lack of real interest. Hell, I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit he’s hot. So, why the complete shut down? Are you into someone else?”
“Is this for me?” I pointed to an unopened bottle of water on the desk between us.
Kole nodded his confirmation.
I wasted no time picking it up and cracking it open. Gulping down the crisp coolness, I felt the heat of his stare on the side of my face. He had no intention of letting me change the subject that easily. Wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, I gave into his passive aggressive pressure. “No, I haven’t been into anyone in a very long time.”
“Since the ex-husband?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re just inquisitive enough to be annoying?”
“That was written on all of my report cards in school.”
Despite my deep desire not to discuss this particular matter, I chuckled at his persistence. “Yes, no one since Danny.”
“Let me guess …” He rubbed a hand over the stubble of his chin. “After a rocky start, the two of you experienced a love so true and passionate that Heaven itself seemed to have aligned your hearts. Then, tragedy struck. A horrible accident at sea robs young Daniel of his memories, leaving him with the fractured mind of a child. Could true love really overcome all odds? Or will the love they once shared be lost with the receding tide?”
My mouth opened, then clamped shut in stupefied confusion. “That was the blurb for my book, Dark Harbors, pretty much word for word.”
“I know,” he said with an impish grin. “I memorized it just so I could recite it back and freak you out.”
Tilting my head, I peered at him through narrowed eyes. “My mind boggles over the things that motivate your actions.”
His chair squeaked as he pivoted in my direction. “Tell me about Danny and I’ll offer you a little insight.”
Cracking the bottle back open, I treated myself to another sip. “Danny and I met freshmen year of college. We fell fast and hard into the kind of blind, stupid love that blocks out rational thought. When we got the bright idea to get married, a couple of years before graduation, both of our families warned us against it. In the case of my parents, they didn’t have a leg to stand on because I was a year older than they were when they got married. Of course, we thought we knew better than any of them.” I dropped my voice to a melodramatic drawl to add, “Our love could weather any storm.”
“Even random guitar hickies?”
“They say love is blind. In my case it was also deaf, dumb, and mute.”
“So, when did the happily ever after morph into, just ever after?”
“One of the biggest things that drew us together in the beginning was that he was an aspiring musician and I had my writing. Our creativity fed off of each other’s—for a while. Right up until my career started to take off and his didn’t. He took a teaching job at the local high school and resented me every day for it. I’d go on book tours, and he’d play with his band in smoke-filled bars followed by weekend long benders. Somewhere in the midst of that, whatever was between us died.” Time had healed my wounds enough to soften my features at the memory of the good times we had shared. “It wasn’t all bad, though. We had some moments between us—mhmm—full-out romantic spectacles that even your sharp director’s eye would have marveled at the beauty of. In the end, I guess that’s all any of us really have to hold on to—the moments that take our breath away.”
My statement hung heavy on the air between us.
After a beat, Kole cleared his throat, as if struggling to find the right words. “Your readers would agree you are the reigning queen of literary gems comprised of those exact moments, but you have to know there’s more to relationships than that.”
“Oh, yeah?” I challenged, one eyebrow hiking up. “Like what?”
His mouth screwed to the side, a wry laugh bubbling passed his lips. “Heck, I don’t know! I’m horrible with all things love related. Either I hold on too tight and stifle the girl, or I play it cool and come across like a career driven asshole.”
“Which you kind of are.”
“Which I kind of am,” he agreed. “Then again, I’m not the romance guru who has spawned a rash of pregnant women thanks to her nookie inspiring books of mommy porn.”
My head fell back against the chair with a laugh. “Whoa! Warn me before you raise the intellect bar of the conversation. We’ll get the bends!”
Kole leaned forward with his elbows on his knees; his expression prying, as if longing to dissect my brain. “This is like learning Gandhi, advocate of peace, didn’t believe it was actually possible.”
My shoulder rose and fell in a self-conscious shrug. “You think all authors believe every word they write to be the gospel truth? I’m pretty sure King doesn’t believe pyscho clowns live in the storm drains, nor does Rice believe that New Orleans is overrun by vampires.”
“And you categorize your genre with theirs? Making you a fantasy fiction author?”
Unable to articulate a more accurate description, I bobbed my head in a brief nod. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Casting his gaze to his bare feet, Kole shook his head. “Your readers would be heartbroken if they knew how jaded you really are.”
“I’m not jaded,” I corrected, cuffing the too-long sleeves of my sweatshirt, “I’m a realist. I’ve been in love and I know what it turns into.”