I've Seen You Naked and Didn't Laugh: A Geeky Love Story

by Eden Butler

  “You’ll live,” I told him tugging on the hem of my tank top, sliding my bare toes into the cool water below the dock. “I can get you a Band-Aid if you’re gunning for my mom’s sympathy.” Will laughed, head shaking when I glanced at him. “Who knows, it might even land you some of her banana pudding before the family lunch tomorrow.”

  When that stupid, eager expression moved across his face and the twinge of something unexpected but not remotely surprising shot straight to my gut, I decided to push the sensation away. Will was here with me, on my family’s property to enjoy the hot Christmas break. He didn’t need me mooning over him or trying to unravel the tight coil of friendship we’d built together for the past two years.

  “But I wouldn’t hold my breath.” I tapped off my feet, the cold water dripping between my toes, leaving wet footprints on the wood dock as I helped Will to his feet and we both headed toward the noise and laughter coming from the house just a few hundred feet away.

  “You don’t think she likes me enough to break out the banana pudding early?” It didn’t shock or surprise me when Will draped his arm over my shoulder. He did that a lot and it never failed to shoot a wild thrill through my bones each time he did it. I doubted he even knew the reaction that one small maneuver raced in me. Will was a flirt, to everyone, and I was his friend. His best friend, according to the man himself. He’d never believe what I thought of him or how I worried over what he thought of me.

  “I think she’s got the smallest bit of a crush on you, but then, that’s usually the case with women.” He looked entirely too pleased by my compliment so I decided to make it backhanded. “Especially older women.”

  “Nice.”

  “Hey, Pippi. Mom says come in here and help with the potatoes.” My brother Pete’s words were rushed and I picked up the winded breath before we got to the side entrance. He’d driven in from New Orleans that morning with his wife Sherry and their three loud, prepubescent daughters, but that exhaustive road trip hadn’t completely taken the tease from his tone or the humor from glittering in his eyes.

  Ass.

  “Can you not call me that?” I asked him, shoving that smug smirk out of my line of sight as I pushed on his face to get through the door.

  “It’s what Dad calls you,” Pete said, trailing beside me just like one of those annoying mosquitoes.

  “It’s what Mom calls you,” my brother Riley managed, stopping me in the mud room before I could make it to the kitchen.

  “It’s what Granny Quinn always called you,” Pete supplied, ducking when I attempted a quick punch to his shoulder.

  “And you two aren’t Daddy or Mom or Granny Quinn.”

  “Oh, what’s the matter, lil sister?” Pete’s voice grated my nerves. There was always an edge to his tone, something that came from being surrounded by kids in the high school where he coached the football team. He’d never really managed to grow up completely. Being around kids every day seemed to suit him. It also kept him annoying as hell. “Big Hollyweird star now? Can’t handle her brothers putting her back in her place?”

  “Big Hollywhat?” Ellie asked, shoving Pete aside to pull me through the door. The strong whiff of tequila came off my friend’s breath and I reminded myself that she’d endured a morning breakfast with her mother and step-father. Judging by the red streaks that weaved around the whites of Ellie’s eyes, I guessed she’d had a heaping of liquid courage to get through her family time.

  “Oh Lord, the Waco Witch. Hide, Pete before she puts some wicked juju on us.” Riley laughed when Ellie flipped him off, but otherwise disappeared with our brother as Ellie, Will and I came into the kitchen. The smell of baked ham and warming turkey had my mouth watering.

  “God, Mrs. Quinn, I swear you should open your own restaurant.” Will eyed the succulent ham through the oven door. “I’ve never had food like yours,” he told my mother, making a pretty flush of pleasure color her cheeks. Will knew how to flatter and he’d done a lot of that over the past few days as my parents doted on him. My father, it seemed, had taken it upon himself to acquaint Will with the ins and outs of outdoorsman’s hobbies; taking my friend fishing and hunting despite the warm weather. The casting incident had been proof enough that Will needed a little outdoorsy practice, but he still wore a smile and offered my father a nod as they passed each other in the kitchen.

  “Oh, Will, honey, how’s your hand?” Mom threw a dark look right at my father, who left the kitchen without attempting a backward glance at his wife. “Peter said it was a lure? Did you get it out okay?”

  “Rainey did. Thanks, Mrs. Quinn.”

  “Here,” she told him taking the knife he’d picked up and replacing it with a small bowl of banana pudding. “Don’t tell my husband. He’ll be jealous.”

  “Not Peter Quinn. No way he’d be jealous of me, Mrs. Quinn.”

  “Where’s mine?” I asked, looking between the emptying bowl Will had tucked into and the faltering smile on my mother’s face. “I’m your daughter.”

  “And not a guest. Here.” She shoved a bowl of raw potatoes at me and a small metal peeler. “Help me peel the potatoes.”

  “Ellie,” Mom asked, offering my friend a hot cup of tea from the whistling kettle on the stove, “how is your mother and step-father?”

  “You know nothing changes in Waco, Mrs. Quinn.” Ellie waved off my mother’s offered tea and pulled a bottle of scotch from the counter. “My mama isn’t any different than she was when I came back for my niece’s Christening this summer.”

  Ellie’s mother and sister were carbon copies of each other. Both had settled down early. Both had started their families at nineteen, before the ink had completely dried on their marriage licenses. But unlike either of them, Ellie hadn’t been able to forgive her mother, who married her father’s best friend less than a year after his death, or her sister Ana who’d started dating Ellie’s ex-boyfriend Trevor three months after they’d both finished high school. Ellie did her best to avoid her family. Three years ago she’d taken me up on my offer to be her roommate in L.A., and since then it was rare for Ellie to come back to Waco. Guess that’s what had created the need for the scotch.

  “Don’t mix liquor,” Will muttered between bites of pudding, but Ellie ignored him, guzzling down the amber liquid as my mother watched her; eyes growing wider with each gulp.

  “Well,” Mom said, pretending to check the ham as Ellie finished off her glass.

  “Slow down,” I whispered, pushing the bottle away from her. “We’ve still got two more days before we can head home.”

  “Home,” she said, laughing louder than a sober Ellie would manage. “How funny that half way across the country is home now?”

  “Do you get homesick, Ellie?” Mom asked, head tilting as my friend slumped onto a stool next to Will. My fingers ached from peeling the potatoes and the peeler in my hands felt hot against the curl of peelings, but my attention was on my friends and how close Ellie leaned next to Will.

  “No ma’am, not at all,” Ellie promised, slapping a hand onto the granite counter. “I hate Waco and I don’t know why I bother coming back at all.”

  “To visit your family,” I told her.

  “No, that’s not it.” She swayed a little in her seat and my mother fiddled with the ham, adjusting the placement on the rack as though she didn’t want to pry or look too judgmental when Ellie spoke. Still, my friend continued, oblivious that her voice grew louder when she continued. “Maybe…maybe it’s for your mama’s good food.”

  “Maybe it’s because you want everyone to see how good you look.” Ellie smiled at my teasing, waving her fingers as though she didn’t care if people we knew thought she looked good or not.

  “Maybe,” she agreed.

  “Nah,” Will said, emphasizing his words with the spoon he’d licked clean of pudding. “It’s because Rainey is sort of our surrogate mother over there and we all chase after her when she leaves town.”

  Ellie’s laughter was a little biting and sharp, but
she still smiled at Will’s assessment. “No, I don’t chase after anyone. Even my best friend,” she tossed her hair from her shoulder and leaned across the island as Mom shooed my father and brothers from the room when they asked for the fifth time what was ready to eat.

  “Well, that’s why I’m here.” Will eyed the oven again, stealing glances at my mother as she retreated from the kitchen.

  “Because I’m your surrogate mother?”

  “No.” He returned his attention to me for a second before he spoke. “Because when you leave town I sort of don’t know what to do with myself.” I could only blink at him, face heating as he glanced at me, as those mildly thick eyebrows moved together as though he’d maybe revealed a bit more than he intended. Will traced the pattern of wood grain along the butcher’s block counter with his fingers, seeming more interested in that dark mahogany than me or the small bit of awkwardness his words had conjured.

  But Will and I had never been all about feelings and love and general Hallmark greeting cards bouts of truth and honesty, unless it had something to do with our hatred of the Star Wars prequels. No way could I let that small confession makes things weird. “You could always go hang out with J.J. and Erik.”

  “Oh, sweetie, no.” Will laughed, head shaking at the idea. “There is only so much Clay Aiken concert footage anyone can handle.”

  “True facts.”

  Ellie snorted and I smiled, sharing a glance with her. She knew almost as much as me how J.J. and Erik like to watch the Aiken concerts. Well. J.J. liked watching and Erik liked J.J. He’d do just about anything to be around our friend. My back to my friends, I dumped the peeled potatoes into the sink, catching the expression on Will’s face in the window’s reflection when he released a weird little noise, something akin to a squeak of surprise and groan.

  Behind me Ellie had leaned close to Will, her mouth against his earlobe and her hand hidden behind the island but looking very near to the center of certain parts Ellie had not been invited to touch.

  When I turned around, drying my hands on the towel and caught Ellie’s gaze, she straightened up, reaching for the bottle of scotch again before she gave me a shrug and moved out of the kitchen.

  There had never been anything happening between Will and Ellie, despite the fact that both of them knew how to use their looks to their advantage. Still, I hadn’t given her or anyone for that matter, any idea about Will and me and, well, me and Will. It didn't even occur to me that I needed to. You just didn't make a move on your best friend's friend.

  And yet, no one but J.J. and possibly Cooper had ever paid attention to the two of us when we were together, had ever suspected there was anything between us except for a geeky friendship. Everyone tended to leave us alone, unless, of course, they had designs on either of us, usually Will. Most times when that happened, though, females were relentless and uncouth - they didn’t care if I was Will’s girlfriend. They generally didn’t bother to ask. If they spotted him, they went for it no matter if I was at his side or not.

  But Ellie had never been one of those women. Not in the couple of years that Will and I had gotten close. Ellie was ambitious and calculating. She was smart and, when she wasn’t angling for a leg up, she was funny and sweet. Any guy would be crazy to reject her. But Will Callahan wasn’t just any guy. As far as I knew, Ellie wasn’t his type. But, hell, what did I know?

  “I didn’t…” Will started, pushing away from the stool at the island to drop his dishes in the sink behind me. “That was her. I wouldn’t ever…”

  I found it strange that Will would explain anything about women types and their agendas to me. Even women types who were my best friend. We’d never stopped each other from dating or flirting, unless we were totally blitzed out of our heads and trying to seduce a garden gnome.

  “Will, it’s no big deal.”

  “Right. Exactly, and you and her, I mean, I would never cross that line.”

  “Oh.”

  “I mean, it’s not…well. She’s just…drunk.”

  “Yes. Exactly. She’ll be totally embarrassed in the morning that she was hitting on you.” Fact was, I doubted Ellie would remember. She was typically good at getting men. One look at all that thick dark hair and her killer body and any man was putty in her hands. But this week Ellie had been around her family. She’d been subjected to her once-ex-now-and-forever-brother-in-law. That had to put a chink in the ego. The Scotch and the ego crash had likely been the culprit of her hitting on Will.

  There was a chirp from Will’s phone and he fished the device from his pocket, scanning over the screen. Whatever he saw pulled his needless apology and previous humor from his features. It was an expression I recognized easily as my friend being disappointed. He’d been worried about a part his manager was angling for him to land, but I doubted that was had his face tightening up when he read his text.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said, squinting at the screen for a few seconds more before he slid the phone shut. “That Walker Dixon film. I’m not gonna take it.”

  “What? Why?” Will shrugged, squeezing my fingers when I touched his arm. “You were so excited about that. I hear he’s doing a fey piece. Some crazy mix between Tolkien and Midsummer’s Night. It’s supposed to be huge.”

  “Yeah well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t…”

  “Pippi!“ Pete’s loud bellow brought my glare toward the kitchen doorway and I moved through it, forgetting Will for a second, forgetting anything at that moment but throttling my annoying brother.

  “Oh my God! Will you stop calling me that?”

  INTERVAL

  Will: Why am I getting emails from Erik’s sister? Is he plotting something? Am I being plotted upon at all?

  Raine: No. Not that I know of.

  Will: He keeps telling me she has wide hips. Good for child bearing.

  Raine: You do like big butts.

  Will: Of that I cannot lie. But for other sundry and inappropriate things. NOT FOR THE CHILD BEARING THING.

  Raine: Ha! My best friend…the man scared of bodacious booties.

  ***

  Raine: Okay, I think Ellie has completely lost her mind. She’s talking about getting a pixie cut and losing thirty pounds.

  Will: It’s L.A., Pinkie. Every woman in town wants to drop thirty pounds.

  Raine: Not this woman. I like my curves, thank you very much.

  Will: I like your curves too.

  Raine: You say that to all the big bottom women.

  ***

  Raine: Walker Dixon, man. I know you aren’t doing the shoot, but Millie Avery…MILLIE AVERY just called my agent to tell me he’s interested in me for the lead! The lead, Will!!!

  Will: You aren’t gonna take it, are you?

  Raine: Are you very high? Of course I’m gonna take it. Millie called herself. She said she had to stick her neck out to get me an audition. This is amazing. You should be both jealous and elated for me.

  Raine: Will?

  Will: I’ve heard things about Dixon. Just tread lightly.

  Raine: I don’t care what you’ve heard. I’m gonna be in a huge budget film…hopefully.

  Will: Pinkie…

  Raine: Dude, be happy for me. Tell me congratulations, that my boobs are flawless and bring me champagne.

  Will: Congrats. On the boobs. They are flawless. (I still sometimes peeks). I’ll be there in twenty.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PRESENT

  “There’s this little thing called professionalism.” Cooper’s chair was a mammoth thing, all brown, vintage leather, plush the whole of it tufted and expensive-looking. Rumor had it (and Jojo started the rumor) that Coop had conned it off of a cousin of Orson Wells via a loaded deck and sleight of hand during a particularly vicious round of Texas Hold ‘Em. “Professionalism is the benchmark of…”

  “Honey, cut the crap.” Cooper might look like some light-skinned Haitian, old world mafia Don in that ridiculous Orson Wells leather chair, but Jojo leaning next
to him seemed like the one in control. And, by the swift button Coop’s lips made, my money said Jojo was in control. “There’s no need for theatrics.” Jo’s hands squeaked against the leather as she moved away from her husband. Her sweet, heart-shaped face hardened as she shifted her gaze between me and Will, who stood at my side, arms folded and his mouth set as straight as a baby monk in Vatican City.

  For the most part, everyone had been as warm and welcoming as they’d always been throughout the years the second Jojo pulled me through the front door. There’d been hugs and kisses and glass after glass got put in my hand as we moved around the mansion, making small talk and having guesses at how Cooper would run this hopefully fun shoot.

  Coop tended to keep around a select group of actors and writers, sometimes producers who he trusted. It was the Vilmont Inner Circle. If you weren’t in it or being pitched by a huge agency or studio, you didn’t get in a Cooper Vilmont project. So, I knew everyone at the Thanksgiving dinner that night. There were actors who’d started with Coop and Will on AURA—Bennie and Mike, who looked enough alike to play twin Lieutenants on that first show; Niki West, a funny, rail thin actress who was pretty enough to land jobs left and right but whose talent was so remarkable she had her choice of projects. Niki had been my co-star on Clockwork, playing my character’s orphaned cousin hell-bent on seeking revenge against the demon who murdered her beloved. There were others, at least a dozen of them, all who had Cooper’s confidence, all who welcomed me and didn’t ask how I was holding up since J.J.’s death—I suspected Jojo asked them not to. All, except Will, who’d shot one glance at me and made the laughter from his mouth die and the happy smile on his face disappear. It had been a hell of an awkward dinner even with Jojo insisting that I sit to her right while Will was at the other end of the table with Coop and Niki.

  “He keeps looking at you, Rainey. You aren’t going to speak to him?” Jojo meant well. Coop did too. They just didn’t understand what had come between us or why we’d let whatever it was keep us apart. A few gazes down the table, between hefty gulps of wine, and I got that Will was staring and likely wondering for himself why I’d turned cold toward him, both before the funeral and after. Several more glasses and I’d let the buzzing sensation from the wine help me ignore how often Will watched me.