Hollywood Stardust Supporting Roles - Wilson and Giselle

by Kim Carmichael

  “You make me so happy. I love you too.” The words left her mouth before she even thought about them.

  “I’m a lucky man.” He pulled her closer and brushed his lips over hers. Once more, he got them nestled in the bed. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but tonight felt right. With the business finally taking off and everything, we’ll have a great life.”

  No other life preserver an option, she held on to him, lowered her head to his chest and lay without moving while his breath evened out in peaceful sleep.

  She stared into the darkness, taking in outlines of all the items in the room. Is this how it started? An “I love you” blurted in the heat of the moment, a life built? Once it was built, it had no choice but to crumble, she had been taught that lesson over and over again. The moral of the story was to have fun.

  Right?

  She forced her eyes closed.

  Chapter Nine

  I LOVE YOU TOO.

  For the umpteenth time that day, Giselle’s words echoed through Wilson’s ears, warming him and making him smile.

  Once she returned, he wanted to hear her say them again.

  Truth be told, he wasn’t all that surprised to find her gone when he woke up. No doubt the I love yous took her by surprise, and knowing how she felt about commitment and relationships, he figured she needed time to clear her head. He simply needed to go about his day and trust she would return by sunset.

  After a fast breakfast, he spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the bar. Following lunch, he sat down to catch up on the news, but the moment he got ready to find any trending stories on Wilson’s or his brother, he closed his laptop. Without Giselle there making her little one-liners, he decided for once in his life the news could wait, especially since it seemed like he should discover anything about the bar with her.

  Unspent energy building up inside him, he dashed back upstairs and straightened up their room, hanging up the clothes from the night before and tossing the appropriate ones in the laundry. He even made the bed.

  His whole schedule off by the absence of the woman he loved, he found himself with an overabundance of time. He wanted to call Giselle, text her and just have some sort of contact with her, but like she promised she would return, he promised he would let her be when she needed to think.

  At hearing a knock downstairs, his heart raced and he smiled. Giselle must have forgotten her keys again. He flew downstairs and opened the back door to some dude in a green uniform.

  “I have a delivery.” The man held up a box.

  Wilson didn’t remember expecting anything. “What is it?”

  “Custom stir sticks.” The man thrust the box at him and a clipboard. “Sign here.”

  “I have custom stir sticks?” Wilson signed the paper, took the box and went inside. Giselle must have ordered them. Not wanting to do anything with them that she didn’t want done, he put the box with the other bar supplies alongside the napkins and returned upstairs, sitting down on the bed. He supposed the earmark of any good relationship was when the woman bought things without the guy’s knowledge. The thought warmed him, but he wished Giselle were there to make a big stir about the sticks.

  He laughed at his own joke, and once more rushed downstairs, this time colliding into his baby brother in the kitchen.

  “Whoa!” Logan backed up. “What has you all fired up?”

  “I’m just waiting for Giselle.” Wilson ran his hand through his hair. While the day felt like it were crawling, it was already early evening.

  “Where is she?” Logan opened the refrigerator.

  “Doing her thinking thing.” In hopes his brother was here for a snack, he sat down at the table.

  Logan glanced over at him then returned his attention to the fridge.

  “After the party last night, things got a little intense between us.” The words left his mouth, and he strummed his fingers on the stainless steel surface.

  “Did you get in a fight?” With a pile of food, Logan emerged from the refrigerator and plopped it on the table.

  “No, not at all.” To make sure his brother got the hint, he reached behind him and got two plates.

  “Then what happened?” Logan began making one of his creations.

  How did one tell another man what went on last night? “The soft opening was good, don’t you think?” He tried to snake a pickle out of the jar.

  Logan slapped his hand. “Yes, it was awesome, but that’s not what I asked.”

  His brother was always smart and attentive to details. Wilson shook his head. “You know, we did the ‘I love you thing, we have a life together thing.’”

  Logan took a fork, speared a pickle and handed it to him as if he were handing a child a lollipop. “Oh, really? Strange she’s not here to bask in it.”

  “She has her own way of doing things.” He bit into the pickle letting the sourness take over his taste buds.

  “You’re telling me.” Logan finished assembling their sandwiches and handed him one of the plates.

  “The soft opening went so well, we are in good shape for the real opening. I need to go make some plans.” Dish in hand, Wilson stood, grabbed one of the bottles of water off the table and walked into the front room, sitting down at their booth. Again, he peeked over at the time. They said they loved each other. That didn’t seem like that warranted all these hours away. Maybe a little time to think, but then shouldn’t she be back here and celebrating?

  “Hey.” Logan came out and joined him. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

  “What are you, a woman?” He bit into the sandwich, but with his mind so cluttered, he couldn’t tell what he was eating.

  “So, everything is not all right.” Logan took a swig of his water. “Everything will work out.”

  “I just have a lot of work to do. You sound like her.” Again, he opened his laptop.

  His brother continued to chomp away. “Any big plans for the grand opening?”

  Wilson polished off his food and clicked on the folder containing the notes for the event, scanning the list of documents. Decorations, invitations, inventory, everything was tied into Giselle, had her touch on it, and he didn’t even know where to begin. Like earlier, he slammed the laptop shut. “Can we do this later?”

  “Not a problem, I was just trying to make conversation.” Logan slapped him on the back.

  A pain in his shoulder made him wince, and then he ground his teeth together. His brother managed to catch him right in the same spot where his girlfriend dug her nails into him from the intensity of her orgasm last night. Was she trying to torture him now and why?

  He stood and looked around. Even after all the cleaning, there was still an errant streamer in one corner and a party favor bag on the bar. He walked over to the take-home present and wondered who forgot to take their prize? “Has the sun set yet?”

  “I don’t know. Let me go consult my sundial.” Logan got out of the booth. “What’s going on?”

  Wilson slid his phone out of his pocket, took note of the time, then did a reality check and glanced out the window. “If you told Ivy you loved her, and you woke up and she wasn’t there, what would you do?”

  “I would find out where the hell she was and demand an explanation.” Logan stood by his side.

  “I need to check something.” Heat building up through his body, he went to the front door and opened it. He didn’t need a sun dial, or a watch or his phone. All he needed was his own two eyes to tell him everything he needed to know.

  Only an orange glow lit up the sky at sunset and Giselle was nowhere to be found.

  “Wilson.” Logan came outside. “What’s wrong?”

  Refusing to have this conversation, he pushed passed his brother and returned inside, going behind the bar and shaking his head at the gorgeous display of premium brands Giselle created. He picked up quite an expensive bottle of whiskey and read the label. Too bad this would be downed in an effort to forget everything. This was the type of bottle that should be s
avored.

  “Wilson?” Logan continued to follow. “Come on. Tell me.”

  “You want to know?” Fire taking over him, he spun around and faced his brother. “I spent my life taking care of everyone, making sure I did things right, and the second I think I have something, someone, she breaks her promise and everything else. Just like this!” He took a bottle of vodka and slammed it to the floor.

  The bottle shattered, sending thousands of little shards of glass everywhere.

  “You clean up the mess for once! I’m done being the parent. I’m going to let loose!” Everywhere he looked, Giselle’s presence was there, but she wasn’t, and she wasn’t coming back. Glass crunching beneath his feet, he made his way around the bar and headed for the back.

  “Good!” Logan called after him

  Without a glance back, he got into his car and started the engine. He leaned his head back on the seat and turned to what would always be Giselle’s spot. A sick laugh escaped his throat, the G she created in the window created an outline in the sunset.

  She was everywhere except where she needed to be.

  Chapter Ten

  SPRAWLED ON HER BACK in her mother’s permanent suite at the Zen At Last Ranch, Giselle was quite certain she would never find Zen again. In fact, the thought of Zen was so far away that she could travel to another planet and still not find the inner peace her mother searched for her entire life.

  “Giselle, I insist you stop this crying this instant. You can’t come here and mess up the flow of everything. This is a place of tranquility and fun.” In what was no doubt an extremely expensive designer robe, her mother stood.

  Giselle looked up backward at the woman. She looked like an upside down bizarre butterfly. “I tried to make it fun and it ended up not being so much fun. My heart hurts.” She was sure the poor organ would break soon.

  “You have been lying on the floor for hours and then nearly had a nervous breakdown when I asked if you wanted some mixed nuts.” Her mother came and stood over her. “Now, I insist you get up and stop the crying. Later, you can come with me to our 3:00 a.m. hot tub and hot tamale Zen hour. We don’t use tamales though, they’re fattening.”

  Three in the morning? Had she really been rolling around on the floor with nothing to show for it for all these hours? Right now she should be in bed with Wilson. They should have made love then be exhausted.

  “I told you to keep things light and look what happened.” Her mother kneeled down.

  “Something always happens.” Giselle stared up at the wood beam ceiling, breathing in the scent of fresh lavender and listening to trickle of the waterfall in the background. No matter how much fun they imparted into things, something always happened.

  “Well, what’s going to happen now is that we’re going to get an emergency technician here to get your eyes de-puffed and get you back in shape.” Her mother went to the phone.

  “They have people here to give treatments in the middle of the night?” Giselle shook her head.

  “Service here is 24/7. Isn’t that fun?” Her mother turned her back and made the arrangements for some treatment Giselle had never heard of before.

  “Not as fun as what I should be doing.” She shook her head. Her mother was right, she was going to end up exactly like her.

  Her mother hung up the phone. “All right, daughter of mine. I have someone on their way here ASAP and I am going to go meet some friends for some pre-tamale fun. Your crying and complaining is starting to cause me wrinkles.” The woman bent down and patted her head. “I’ll be back.”

  Giselle barely waved as her mother flitted out the door. She supposed if the woman couldn’t have inner peace she could have ageless skin. Hell, she lived at a spa.

  Waiting for whatever was next, she returned to her rolling around on the floor gig, though in truth that was getting really old, really fast, and it was playing havoc on her back.

  The knock on the door indicated her mother’s newest quest had arrived.

  At the second knock, Giselle crawled over to the door and used all her strength to pull herself up to her knees and turn the handle. A person in sea foam green scrubs and a white coat greeted her.

  “I am here for your relaxation treatment.”

  Normally, at the odd male voice with an accent she couldn’t place would have her acting the chatterbox, asking where the guy was from and maybe even trying to learn his different inflections. Instead, she glanced over at the red-haired, mustached man with a sigh.

  “It looks like you could use a treatment.” He motioned to the padded massage table set up in the room. “Please lie down.”

  She managed to get up on her feet and trudged over to the table, facing down into the darkness, the abyss like her life. The only good thing was she would get this part over with now and maybe one day have a life without Wilson, without anyone. While he set up for whatever he was going to do to her, to quote unquote make her feel better, she didn’t move. The same numbness that traveled with her when she escaped this morning from her warm bed in Wilson’s arms seemed to amplify.

  “Turn over please.” The man’s voice came out a little gruff, unusual for someone at the spa.

  Not in the mood for this, but not wanting to fight with her mother, she flopped over and let her arms fall off the side of the table. Before she even had a chance to see what was going to happen with her the man shoved two ice-cold cucumber slices on her eyes.

  She groaned.

  “Is there something the matter?” No sooner had the man asked the question than some gooey stuff fell on her face.

  Did he mean aside from the way the crud dripped off the side of her face? “Do you ever wonder if you’re the stupidest or the smartest person on the planet?”

  The man used a brush to lap up the stuff and proceeded to paint her face. However, his technique reminded her more of painting a wall than treating a face.

  “Every person wonders that.” He answered in a low voice.

  The heartache that throbbed around her since she left Wilson turned into a sharp pain cutting through her at remembering how Wilson painted the wall after that whole graffiti nightmare. Even dealing with her meltdown, Logan, and the destruction of his building, the man stayed calm and cool.

  Yet another tear snuck out of her eye, tickling its way under the stupid cucumber slice, and she squirmed.

  “I don’t think that’s your problem.” He used the brush to wipe away the tear.

  “No, everyone thinks I’m stupid, but him.” Another tear fell.

  Another dollop of something cold and slimy fell on her face. “Ah, now we get to the real issue. So, he treated you bad, yes?”

  “No!” Her outburst jostled the table. “Nothing like that.”

  He gently pushed her back down on the table. “All right.”

  “You don’t understand.” She sighed. “Last night he told me he loved me.”

  The man made a noise acknowledging she spoke and also rolling out the welcome mat to continue.

  “So, last night he said he loved me, and it was the most amazing experience. I mean, to know someone loves you and cares for you enough to actually utter the words, it’s like a true melding of spirits, especially if you love them too.” Again, her eyes heated.

  “Well, do you?” The man went back to his painting ritual and slathered on another product, this one smelled like fresh vanilla frosting.

  Frosting. She couldn’t even go there and chose to continue. “Yes, I love him and look, I’m sitting here in tears, sick to my stomach. This is what happens. It’s all happy and fun and sex and orgasms and I love yous and then the next day it’s divorces or deaths or fights and stomach aches.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to get hurt or even have hurt potential.”

  “That sounds like life.” The man’s accent seemed to change.

  “Not if you avoid it.” As she heard herself speak the words, she clutched the edge of the table. Her heart sped.

  “It seems to me if you love someone and
that person loves you that avoiding it isn’t the answer.” The man continued with his treatment, but honestly the stuff he used felt as if it were either melting or becoming hard or set, but his words were spot on.

  “What if something happens?” She held her breath, waiting for the answer. If the man used yet another accent she would know it was a sign.

  “Something is always going to happen, might as well be with the one you love.” He punctuated his statement with another plop of whatever crap he was putting on her.

  Yes, something always happened. She just said the same thing to her mother. “I love him, we shared everything down to a toothbrush. I have to go to him, and I have to beg him to take me back.” She shot up, the cucumbers fell away and the layers and layers of goop dropped into her lap. Gasping at the mess, she licked her lips and swallowed. “Wait, this is frosting.”

  She froze, the room became eerily quiet, like right before the big reveal on a television show.

  Frosting, not stuff for a facial, the ever-changing accent, the paintbrush technique on her face. She shut her eyes. Would Wilson do this? Get into a costume? Take the risk of making a fool of himself? Would he break the rules? “Wilson?”

  “We share a toothbrush?” His familiar deep, comforting yet sexy laugh filled her frosted ears.

  She spun around shooting the sugar-laden mess all over. Now, as she really looked at the man with the moustache and the red hair, she saw him, saw the eyes, the smile, everything.

  “I drove around all night and every path led me to you. I knew I had to do anything I could to get you back.” He held his arms out.

  “I love you.” In a rush, she ran to him, collided her body into his and kissed him.

  “I love you.” He gave her a deep kiss then pulled back and scooped a bit of the frosting off her face with his finger and took a taste. “You are delicious as always.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She fed him another finger full of frosting.

  “Let’s do this for real.” He sucked her finger then gave her another kiss.

  “That’s all I want, I just had to realize it. I was scared, but I was more scared without you.” For a long moment she simply stared into his amazing face. This was the man she wanted, no amount of avoiding would make it less true. “From now on, if I need to think, I say we do it together.”