Role Play (Silhouette Studios)

by Katana Collins

  Whose skin? Brie asked. Mine or Lucy’s?

  “We’re all going to Alma’s,” Marly said. “A little fun night out with Pierce.”

  Pierce swatted the air. “Oh come on. Let’s just consider it a celebration of the crew having a weekend off.”

  “Pierce, you have no idea what a life saver you are,” said Jude. “Chase is a decent actor, but he’s a total dickhe—”

  “Let’s just say this week with you has been a lot more enjoyable than the first two weeks of filming,” Marly said, with a side glance at Jude.

  “What do you say, boss?” Neil asked. “You in?”

  “Nah,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “I should prep for Monday’s shoot and the set changeover tomorrow. Not all of us have the weekend off.”

  “Come on,” Jude nudged. “You’re at least taking one day off, right? Come out for one drink. The prep can wait an hour.”

  He wasn’t wrong. The prep could wait. Hell, it could probably wait until Sunday night if I was being honest with myself. And frankly, I didn’t need to be here for the set changeover. We had producers and production coordinators to handle that shit.

  Just as I was about to decline again, Lucy walked by with Miguel. And she… what the hell was she wearing? The black skirt barely hit her mid-thigh. Her normally flip-flop clad feet were now in some black high heels and she wore a sequin halter top that showed off her ample curves that I fucking loved so much. Makeup covered her face. Black smudgy eyeliner, nude glossed lips, contouring on her already sky-high cheekbones.

  My cock was immediately hard and I was immediately pissed.

  But what was the most alarming? She wasn’t wearing her glasses.

  She looked gorgeous, but then again, she had looked gorgeous before. She also didn’t look like Lucy anymore.

  Neil pointed at them and whistled as they passed. “You’re awfully dressed up. Are you still coming to Alma’s or ditching us?”

  I dropped my gaze to the marble floors, counting the gold veins in each square. I could feel the weight of Lucy’s eyes on me.

  “Yeah,” Miguel said. “We’re still coming.” Then, he grabbed her hand and twirled Lucy around. “Doesn’t she look fierce though? I did her makeup, thank you very much!”

  “A little overdressed for Alma’s, don’t you think?” I grumbled and Jude shot me a look.

  Lucy shrugged. “I just… felt like doing something a little different tonight.”

  “Um, she’s being modest,” Miguel said, putting his hand up and gesturing up and down her body. “We’re grabbing a bite before Alma’s and we are on a mission to snag a couple of men to keep us company on the dance floor.”

  My head snapped up. We’re on a mission to snag a couple of men. She was looking to date? Only a week after she and I…

  She and you what? We never even went on a date in public. We hardly had a few nights together and I felt some sort on convoluted possession over her? Hell, we’d been broken up for longer than we’d ever been together.

  It was total bullshit. I was total bullshit.

  Lucy cleared her throat. “He’s exaggerating. I was totally roped into this.” Even though she was looking at Marly as she spoke, I knew it was directed at me.

  “Alma’s has food. A bunch of us are eating there,” I said quickly, then immediately swallowed a groan. What was wrong with me? Maybe I wasn’t so much a sadist as I was a fucking masochist.

  “We are?” Neil asked.

  Marly, God love her, touched Neil’s arm gently. “Yeah, I was saying how much I love their kale Caesar salad. She sent me a quick smile.

  “I think we’re just going to go somewhere else—” Lucy said.

  But as she was rejecting the idea, Miguel shouted over her, “I guess it does make sense to eat with the group.”

  Lucy’s hand moved to the bridge of her nose, and froze when she realized there were no glasses there to push higher. A smile twitched on my mouth—the moment was just too damn cute. “Um, sure. Yeah, that’s fine.”

  “Okay,” Miguel said, beaming. “Right on, dude! We’ll see you there.”

  Right on? Dude? It was bad enough he was helping Lucy go out on a manhunt, but now he was calling me dude? I quirked my mouth into a tight, forced smile and shifted my gaze from Lucy to Miguel. “See you there. Dude.”

  Ten minutes later, fifteen of us were pulling tables together in the corner of the busy bar. Even though it was early for a Friday night, it was still crowded and it wasn’t until I saw the karaoke being set up in the corner that I groaned. Fucking Los Angeles. Here and New York City might be the worst places in the world to have karaoke. It wasn’t funny nights of drunk folks singing renditions of “When I Think About You, I Touch Myself,” it was wannabe actors singing their hearts out in hopes of getting discovered.

  And it was the fucking worst.

  I leaned in to Jude’s ear, “What are the chances we can get out of here before they start singing?”

  Jude snickered and quietly whispered back, “We’re all eating at this dive because of you, buddy. So, suck it up, buttercup.”

  The waitress came by and I ordered a double of Laphroaig. I was going to need it.

  My eyes drifted to the other end of the table where Lucy had settled in across from Miguel. He was already making eyes at men around the bar. Lucy laughed, covering her mouth with her hand and hiding her blushing face every time he’d point out a new man.

  A growl slipped beyond my tensed lips. When I looked over to find Marly, Jude and Neil all staring at me, eyebrows lifted. “What?” I snapped.

  Neil shook his head, and Marly’s lips tipped in a small smile. “Play it cool, Ash.”

  “Play it cool? I don’t need to play at anything. I am cool. I’m fine.”

  Yeah, I was about as cool as kindling in a fire pit, but I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone at this table.

  Pierce looked up from his phone. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  None of us answered him and he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Man, you miss the first two weeks and fall all behind on the gossip.” The waitress came by, a tray of drinks balanced on her shoulder, and she set my tumbler of scotch in front of me, then continued to distribute drinks down the table, finally depositing a sweating glass of something that looked like soda in front of Lucy—but if I had to guess, I’d say it was her signature vodka and diet coke.

  “Lemme guess,” Pierce said, leaning across the table. “You’re sweet on that girl down there, right?” He lifted his dark eyebrows from behind his sunglasses and I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Sunglasses inside. At night. It was so LA, it made me want to barf.

  My jaw clenched. Pierce seemed like a nice enough guy, but he wasn’t one of my friends.

  Jude answered in my place. “Nah, there’s a non-fraternization clause at the studio. Ash just isn’t used to coming out with the crew.” He clapped a hand to my shoulder as he took a sip of his martini.

  “Ah,” Pierce said, leaning back in his chair and gripping a beer in hand. “I see.” But he didn’t look convinced.

  For forty minutes, I tuned out the awful karaoke and stared at the other end of the table, watching Lucy as surreptitiously as possible. Watching as she barely ate her chicken fingers. I literally saw her nibble on half of one and I think that was it. Miguel was clueless, drinking his stupid IPA and chatting with a man who was standing beside them. Wasn’t he supposed to be her wingman? Wasn’t he supposed to be watching out for her? Making sure she ate enough? Making sure no one slipped something into her drink?

  Every so often, Lucy’s eyes darted to mine, only to dip away when she found me watching her. At one point, she widened those brown eyes at me and I almost chuckled. I could practically hear her voice in my head, Would you stop staring already?

  Pierce stood from behind the table, still staring down at his phone. “I’ve gotta run,” he said, grabbing his jacket and swinging it around his shoulders.

  The group said their goodbyes as the man on
the stage finished singing “Bohemian Rhapsody.” The crowd clapped, and I had to admit, he wasn’t all that bad, though no Freddie Mercury. He stumbled down off the stage and a curvy girl with jet black hair and short pin-up style bangs took center stage.

  The intro music began and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Though I’d only heard that song once before, I somehow managed to recognize it immediately. Why? Why did I know this?

  Then it struck me. Like a shiv to the kidneys, it hit me. This time when I looked at Lucy, she was already staring at me from across the table, her eyes glossy.

  That’s what that song was. “The Man Who Got Away” from A Star Is Born. And the girl singing was good. Not Judy good, but as Lucy would say, who the hell is?

  The hauntingly crooning song serenaded us and everyone around us seemed to recede away. Melt into the background. The room was spinning. Tipping on its axis. Even though I was stone cold sober, the floor and ceiling switched places, and my heart fell into my stomach as my eyes remained fastened onto hers. And for the first time in the whole night, she didn’t look away. She didn’t shrink back from my gaze.

  I drained the last of my scotch as the girl sang about wind growing colder or some shit like that. I didn’t care what the words were. I didn’t care about that song outside of the fact that it was Lucy’s song. It embodied my Lucy. And because she loved it, by proxy, so did I.

  So, win her back, Brie said. Apologize. Get the girl.

  I did apologize, I wanted to scream. She made her choice. She walked away and it was clearly for the better. I might have been a shitty Dom in our scenes, but right now? The best way I can care for her is to let her walk away. Maybe a woman like her—someone who had been through so much abuse… had watched her father hit her mother—didn’t belong in this lifestyle. In my lifestyle. Before the other night, I had thought I could help her. But maybe she was better off without me.

  Or maybe you’re just scared.

  “Excuse me,” Lucy said and stood, rushing for the bathrooms.

  No one at the table seemed to think twice. No one seemed to notice that we had been having a moment. No one but Jude, Marly, and Neil.

  I pushed my chair back, moving to stand as Jude’s hand shot out, clasping my wrist, stopping me. He shook his head. “Don’t do it. Not here in front of the whole crew.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Marly countered. “Go to her.”

  “Uh—” Jude interrupted tapping his fingernail to the edge of my empty scotch. “That might not be a great idea.”

  “He only had one,” Marly said, gesturing at the glass.

  “One double. Two scotches.”

  Marly snorted. “Thanks for the math lesson.”

  I sighed and grabbed my water glass, gulping down several glugs. “You guys are talking about me like I’m not even here.”

  “Are you drunk?” Neil asked.

  I tilted my head, giving them all a look. I’ve been drinking for years. Scotch was something you sip, not chug. I was so far from drunk that the question itself was insulting. “I’m not drunk.”

  “Tipsy?” Marly offered.

  “Tipsy is for blonde chicks named Britney.”

  “He shouldn’t follow her—” Jude said, shaking his head.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Marly shot back.

  “Well,” I said, standing. “You two keep arguing. Let me know what you come up with.”

  I didn’t wait for any more input, but rushed for the bathrooms, waiting outside the ladies room door. It didn’t take long for her to come out and when she looked up, seeing me there, an electric current sparked between us, so palpable, so intensely friction-filled that she actually gasped.

  “Ash,” she said in a rush of breath. “You have to stop staring at me. People are going to figure out…”

  “I know,” I said, taking every ounce of energy not to step into her and wrap my arms around her waist. “I’m sorry… I lost it when Miguel said you were on a manhunt.”

  She swallowed and shook her head. “My sex life is none of your business.”

  I winced at that. The thought of her having a sex life without me was painful. Fucking painful. “Miguel’s been a really good friend to me this week. He’s another PA, like me. We have a lot in common. And it feels good to have a friend on the set. Someone people won’t whisper behind my back about if we’re friends.” She looked around for a brief moment. “So when he suggested yesterday that we should go out after work and that he wanted to give me a makeover, I caved.”

  My gaze softened and I pinched a strand of hair, running my fingers through it. “You’re beautiful no matter how you dress, but I’ll always prefer you in jeans, a t-shirt, and glasses.”

  She blinked as though taken aback. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “And seriously. What were the goddamn chances someone would sing that song, right?”

  She lifted her eyebrow. “Pretty high. Because Judy Garland is fucking awesome and all of Hollywood seems to know it except you.”

  I laughed and it felt both incredible and fucking hurt all at once. “I’ll let you go back first,” I said, nodding toward the table. “And … just do me a favor. If you’re going to keep drinking, can you at least eat your chicken fingers.”

  Her relaxed shoulders tensed, jerking higher toward her ears, and her grin melted into a scowl. “Are you kidding me?” she hissed. “For the love of God, Ash, I’ve been real patient. But do not comment on what I eat. Do you understand me? I’ll eat however many chicken tenders I feel like. And I’ll drink as many vodka Diet Cokes as I want.” Her eyes narrowed so tightly that all I could see were two onyx slits peeking through at me. “Stay out of my business, Ash.”

  She stormed past me, intentionally knocking into my shoulder.

  Lucy

  He had some nerve demanding that I eat more of my dinner. He didn’t even have that privilege back when I was getting his dick. He certainly wasn’t going to have it now that he had crossed so many lines. I was done playing nice. I was done being cordial and trying to have a decent working relationship.

  On my way back to the table, I made a pit stop at the bar and ordered another vodka Diet Coke and two shots of tequila. One for me and one for Miguel.

  We had tomorrow off of work and I planned to embrace it and get shitfaced with my new friends. I liked Miguel. He was a nice guy who I could vent to about Kelly and he could vent to me about Ben in a safe environment.

  We were going to go grab burgers before going out for drinks with the crew… until Ash shoved his nose in. The second Miguel got wind that the director was going out to eat, he jumped right on that opportunity. Not that I could blame him—not everyone’s uncle was the president of the studio. And if I didn’t have that connection, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the exact same thing at the opportunity to network with some heavy hitters on the crew.

  Even still, I could feel Ash watching us. No, watching me. Glaring at Miguel. I weaved back through the crowd, taking my seat across from Miguel once more and slid him the tequila shot. “Here,” I said.

  His brows shot up. “Seriously? Tequila?”

  I shrugged and held up my shot glass. “It goes down smooth.”

  He tapped the edge to mine, and I threw my head back, sinking my teeth into the lime after I swallowed. Miguel didn’t quite follow in suit. He sipped a little of his tequila, wincing and set it down on the table beside his beer. “Sorry,” he said, shrugging. “I’m not much of a liquor guy. I tend to stick to beer and occasionally wine.”

  I gave him a smile. Shit, I didn’t want to make him feel bad or pressured. “Oh, that’s okay,” I said.

  Then, leaning in close, Miguel whispered, “Dude, why does Ash keep staring at us?”

  I glanced down at my barely touched basket of chicken tenders and fries and grabbed a french fry, nibbling on the tip. I shrugged. “Maybe he’s into you.”

  Miguel jerked his gaze to mine, eyes lighting up. “Yeah? You think? I could have sworn he wa
s straight.” With another glance at Ash, I met his eyes, hating the way my heart jumped. Miguel studied me, eyeing me suspiciously. “He seems to be looking at you though,” he whispered.

  “Is he?” I played innocent, moving my chicken tenders around my plate some more.

  “I mean, don’t look now… but yeah. He hasn’t stopped staring since you brought the shots over. No… scratch that. Not staring. Glaring.”

  I snorted. Well, he can glare away. I reached across the table, grabbing the half-finished tequila in front of Miguel and held it up. “Can’t let this go to waste.” I tipped it back, relishing in the biting sting as it surged down my esophagus.

  Two drinks faded into three. Faded into four. And soon I was on the dance floor with Miguel. The night was a blur of laughing and dancing and I had almost forgotten all about Ash and the way he kept watching me. I loved dancing. It was one of the few things I missed from my sorority days, and though occasionally Andrea and I hosted epic dance parties in our living room, it wasn’t quite the same as spinning and moving in a sea of other people lost in the music.

  After several songs, Miguel leaned into me and shouted over the music. “I think I’m going to call it a night soon.”

  “No!” I cried. I moved my hands to his shoulders, using him to steady myself as I lost my balance. “It’s too early! The night’s only beginning.” My head felt buzzy and I was thirsty. Like, really, really thirsty.

  Miguel laughed and shook his head, checking his phone. “Girl, it is one-thirty in the morning. You, me, and Ash are the only people left from the crew.”

  My heart pumped and I snapped my gaze back to our abandoned table. Half-empty water glasses and food plates littered the table, but sure enough, Ash was still there at the end of the table, sipping water through a straw. “Why is he still here?”

  Miguel looked at me, not answering, his lips pressed into a firm line. “You tell me.”

  Even through the fog of alcohol, I could hear the innuendo in his tone.

  “Look,” Miguel sighed. “I know we only met a couple weeks ago, and really only started becoming friends like a few days ago, but… be careful. If you can help it, I wouldn’t get involved with him.”