by Dee J. Adams
“I wish.” Ashley dumped her load of books and files on the dining room table, kicked off her pumps and grabbed the mail on the corner desk as she headed into the kitchen. “What’s up? How was your day?” She bent forward and Ellie lost sight of her behind the counter.
“Hot. I’ll be glad when we get into the studio and get some air-conditioning. It’s brutal out there. How about you? Why so late?”
“Boss man is going to trial next week and it’s a last-minute race to get everything finished.” She reappeared with a head flip and shook her long, thick hair out around her shoulders. “God, that feels better.” She set her hairpins on the counter, opened the fridge door and reached inside. A second later, she popped the top on a Dr. Pepper and chugged half.
“Anything interesting?” Ellie asked, referring to the mail in Ashley’s hands. Time for the inevitable.
“Mostly bills,” Ashley said, still in the kitchen. “How about we do them tonight? If you’re not too tired.” Ashley set her drink on the counter and flipped through the new Victoria’s Secret catalog.
“God, I was thinking the same thing.” Ellie heaved herself off the sofa and set her script on the entry table by the door. “I figured this weekend was going to be so crazy that maybe we could get it over with tonight, but I didn’t want to overload you. It’s late. Did you eat yet?”
“Yeah. We had a pizza delivered at work.” Ashley picked up her drink and the stack of mail and headed to the sofa. “Got your checkbook?”
Ellie pulled it out of her back pocket. “Right here.” Plopping next to her, Ellie reached for the mail. “How bad is it?”
“Not bad. Two bills. One from Visa, one for your cell phone.” Ashley handed them over and kept the rest. Ellie opened the envelopes.
Greek. Aside from the company symbols, it may as well have been Greek. If she really took her time, really studied the letters she could make them out. Maybe even figure out a few words. But for the most part, it all looked like a big jumble of lines and curves.
The numbers made sense on both bills. She always kept track of what she spent and remembered each transaction. Her cell phone bill didn’t change because she never went over her allotted minutes or used text messaging. Just the idea of texting gave her stomach cramps.
Ellie opened her checkbook register and found the date on her watch. Carefully, she wrote the date in the upper right-hand corner of two checks before handing them to Ashley. Watching her roommate make the checks out, Ellie had the familiar pang of inadequacy. “Let me write the numbers, okay?”
“Sure.” Ashley’s beautiful handwriting flowed across the small piece of paper with perfect lines and swirls. Ellie was always amazed at how graceful and easy she made it look. But when Ellie tried, it came out horrible and ugly as though someone had scratched gibberish that made no sense. Somehow she’d grasped numbers, at least enough to understand how to write and read them. But even those could get confusing if there were too many. “Here ya go.” Ashley handed back both checks with the amount and company the check would go to.
Ellie carefully looked at the bills and filled in the same numbers on her check then painstakingly signed her name.
“Looks good,” Ashley said as Ellie finished writing the amounts in her checkbook. “Here, let me subtract for you. I can’t find the calculator. I think it’s buried under some stuff in my room.”
“I should do it, Ash.”
“I know you can. That’s not in question. It’ll just be quicker if I do it. It’s easy.” Ashley wrote down the new balance in the register. “See. Done. You’d still be hunting for the calculator.” She handed over the envelopes and Ellie stuffed the stubs and checks inside.
“Thanks, Ash.” Ellie always felt bad enough having to rely on Ashley to write checks and fill out forms, but when it came to the things she could do, she still felt downright stupid because Ashley could do them so much faster. One of these days, she’d have to face her fear and learn to read instead of making excuses why she couldn’t do it. Yes, long, erratic hours and fill-in work that cropped up on a moment’s notice made taking classes hard, but if she wanted a career change, she had to face reality. The truth hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. Memories of high school, of classmates laughing at her when she stood frozen at the blackboard haunted her. What if that happened now? Kids were cruel, but what if adults laughed too? How could she face that kind of humiliation again?
Ellie pushed aside the scary thoughts, found stamps in the desk and set the mail on the entry table. After tossing her checkbook through her bedroom door onto the dresser, she came back to the sofa and sat next to her roommate.
“What’s up? Why so quiet?” Ashley set her feet on the coffee table and flexed her toes.
As the realization settled in her head, Ellie took a deep breath. “You know how I’ve really taken to the car this week and I’ve loved driving?” Ashley nodded and took another drink so Ellie continued, “Well, I’ve decided that I want to talk to Trace about going to her race school and maybe think about a career change.” She dared a glance at Ashley, not sure what her roommate’s reaction would be and hurried to explain, “I can’t rely on you the rest of my life. I know that. And to take this step means I have to learn to read.”
Without any hesitation, Ashley threw herself at Ellie, tears in her eyes. “Good for you!” she squealed. “You can do this. I swear,” she said. “I know you’re scared, but I’ll help you every step of the way.” She laughed and pulled away. “God, do you remember your driver’s test? There’s no way I’m doing that again.”
“I’ll always owe you for that,” Ellie said. Ashley had gone with her to the DMV. They’d dressed alike and with their long blond hair they’d almost looked identical. Ashley had taken the written test, but after a switch in the ladies room, Ellie had taken the driving test and picture ID. It had been much easier than they’d anticipated.
“You’ve kept to the deal,” Ashley told her. “No car accidents. Just because you couldn’t tackle the written test doesn’t mean you don’t understand the rules of the road.” She leaned back. “I’m so proud of you for making this decision. First thing tomorrow I’ll get on the internet and find you a class somewhere. We can totally do this.” After another hug, she leaned back.
Despite her worry, Ellie had hope for the future. With Ashley helping her, she could do this. Everyone faced fears and it was time she face hers. Just because she’d fallen through the cracks, didn’t mean she couldn’t strive for the life she deserved.
“So, is there another reason you’re finally going to do this?” Ashley asked. “Like ‘Play-ah’?” She loved putting a spin on the name. “What happened with him today?”
Ellie smiled in spite of herself. “Quinn—” Player. “—rented a limousine. He must have money. I think he’s spoiled rotten. Gotten everything handed to him on a silver platter all his life. He seems so different than his brother, Mac.”
“You of all people know that siblings don’t necessarily have to be anything alike,” Ashley said, wriggling her toes. “How old would Phil have been, now?”
“Uh…” It took Ellie a second to come up with it. “Thirty-six.”
“That’s right. He was eight years older than you. I always think it’s less.”
“Probably because of the way I used to talk about him.” He’d always be sixteen to her, a gangly kid with a brilliant brain trying to find his way in the world.
“Speaking of talking, have you talked to your folks lately?”
Thinking about her parents brought Ellie a fresh wave of guilt and anger. Their relationship had been a one-way street for years and she was tired of traveling the same road. She held back a groan and sounded as casual as possible. “Not in a few weeks.”
“Elle…” Ashley’s voice was full of reproach.
“Don’t ‘Elle’ me. I’ll call tomorrow before we take Sheryl out.” Maybe if she was lucky, she’d get the answering machine.
Ashley sat up and faced her. “Your pa
rents hate going that long without talking to you. Your mom’s told me that.”
“Then why do they treat me like crap when I do call?” She knew the answer to that question, but it still hurt too much to think about. She’d never been good enough, especially since Phil’s death. “Besides the telephone works both ways.” She really didn’t want to rehash this subject with Ashley. How many times had they climbed this hill only to come rolling back to square one in the end? Ellie stood and headed toward her bedroom. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh c’mon, Ellie Belly, don’t go away. I promise not to talk about your parents.”
Ellie leaned against the doorjamb. Ashley’s pitiful face begged forgiveness. “That’s not it. I really am tired and I doubt we’ll be getting much sleep tomorrow night.”
“Sheryl made me promise to get her in early so she’ll look good for Sunday. No hangovers.”
“What a party pooper.”
Ashley laughed. “Said the girl who never drinks. How would you even know a party pooper if you saw one?”
“We all look alike.” Ellie waved four fingers in her roommate’s direction. “Nighty-night.”
“Night, babe. See ya in the morning.”
Ellie brushed her teeth and hair and pulled on a clean T-shirt to sleep in. Unfortunately, once she closed her eyes, Quinn Reynolds made a very strong impression beneath her lids. All he’d had to do was lean in a little more through her window earlier and she could’ve kissed him. She might’ve too. Just to see the surprised look on his gorgeous face.
Chapter Four
Monday morning and the dark soundstage was already a big den of monotony. Because of rain at the track location, the schedule had been changed and they were now shooting in the studio. The plan was to be back at the track on Wednesday after the storm had moved off.
The huge soundstage held different sets required for the movie and they currently worked in “Trace’s office” attached to the “garage.” Farther to the left, a maze of hallways opened up to a bigger area where a fight scene would take place. At the moment, the lights in the studio illuminated only the small space they worked in, leaving most of the giant stage a dark abyss.
Having spent an hour on one tiny scene—who were they kidding, it was a sentence—the quiet set had erupted into movement and frenzy once the director yelled, “Cut. Check the gates.” A minute later, two cameramen announced, “Gates are good,” and the director said, “Moving on.”
Hallelujah.
Quinn kept a lookout for Mac. His brother and Trace had been in a closed-door meeting all morning, leaving him to stew in solitude. Watching Julie work hadn’t been a hardship, but Quinn kept finding his gaze roaming to the stage door. Looking for Mac, maybe, but also keeping an eye out for Ellie. Because Mac and Trace had made an impromptu trip to San Diego to help fix the potential investor snafu, Quinn had been stuck alone the whole weekend and his thoughts had centered on Ellie. No woman had ever been this hard to get. Sure, he’d played games with women, but something about Ellie struck him in an odd way.
The stage door opened and Quinn knew Ellie by her silhouette. She turned her head and that long blond hair swooshed behind her back in the same ponytail. Jesus, did he ever want to touch her hair. He’d never wanted anything more. His pulse picked up and his mouth went dry. The low cut jeans would’ve revealed her belly button if her T-shirt—knotted at the bottom—hadn’t covered her. Even dressed down she topped his chart of beautiful females.
She scanned the dark studio, no doubt letting her eyes adjust from the outside light. She started forward, but stopped suddenly. Reaching for the cell phone clipped to her waistband, she flipped it open and listened. Her serious expression dissolved into utter relief as she sighed and let her head fall back.
Quinn’s pulse took another odd leap as he watched the graceful column of her neck in the dim light. He wanted to press his lips against her skin, nuzzle her neck and taste the shell of her ear. He looked away and exhaled a rush of air. Shit. He was more than half hard.
A few minutes later, he spotted Ellie talking with a couple of stuntmen. Standing in a set that looked every inch the bowels of a racetrack, they went over the fight scene step-by-step.
The lighting guys had just started setting up the shot so it was bound to be another thirty or forty minutes before they started rolling. Set dressing put the last touches on the walls, making them seem like real cement, exactly as the forgotten alley where the final showdown happened.
Trace hadn’t been looking forward to this scene where the villain and heroine ultimately faced off. Quinn figured it brought back too many memories of a horrible day. Both she and Mac had nearly died.
Quinn let his gaze fall back to Ellie just as she took a slow-motion hit from one of the stunt guys and fell back. The guy picked her up by the collar and her belly flashed, smooth and flat, before he hit her again. All in slow motion as they choreographed the scene. But even in slow-mo, Quinn’s stomach took a queasy roll. The idea of someone hitting her didn’t sit right with him. He’d seen pictures of Trace’s sister. Chelsea had been beaten within an inch of her life that day. Imagining Ellie with all those bruises made him nauseous.
The stunt guy extended a hand and helped Ellie to her feet. Her smile brightened the whole frickin’ stage. He wanted her to smile at him that way.
Dammit. He didn’t want to be on the sidelines. He wanted in.
She headed toward the stage door and passed behind his director’s chair, showing no sign that he existed.
“Elle.” Quinn dodged some huge lights, clothes racks and set walls as he caught her before she reached the door.
She stopped, turned around and pasted a smile on her face, but it wasn’t anywhere near the one he’d seen a minute ago.
“How was your wedding weekend?” he asked.
“Good. It was good.” She nodded and seemed especially distracted.
Quinn forged on. “So the bride and groom got off all right?” Shit. Poor choice of words.
“Just—”
The door opened behind her and Ellie turned. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed, grabbing the blonde that walked into the studio. Just how many blondes lived in California anyway? “I didn’t think you’d get here.” Ellie grasped the lady’s shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. Quinn would’ve paid money to trade places. To feel her arms around him, have her breasts crushed against his chest.
“You are the best. I love you. I so owe you.” Taking the script the lady handed her, Ellie flipped through it briefly.
“Who’s your friend?” the new blonde asked. She was heavier than Ellie, with pretty blue eyes. Her vivacious attitude reached out and grabbed him.
Quinn smiled at her. With only three words, she conveyed her interest in him. Why couldn’t he get that same thing from Ellie?
Ellie shot her friend a glance that Quinn couldn’t interpret. “Ashley, this is Quinn Reynolds. Quinn, this is my roommate, Ashley Bristol.”
The fastest way to a girl’s heart was through her friends. Not that he wanted Ellie’s heart. Quinn stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you. Congratulations to your sister.”
Ashley went doe-eyed as she shook his hand. This was the kind of response he usually got, the one that paved the way for all kinds of possibilities. “Thank you. That’s so sweet. It was a great weekend. Did Elle tell you about it?”
“Not yet,” he said. “But she promised me she would.”
“No, I didn’t,” Ellie quickly reminded him.
“But you meant to.” Quinn gave her his best smile. Teasing her was too fun. He had a million different ways of teasing if she’d give him the chance.
Ashley playfully smacked Ellie’s arm. “Lighten up. He’s playing.”
“Trust me. I know,” Ellie muttered. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Sorry. It’s just been a stressful morning. I’ve never left my script behind before.”
“Aren’t there plenty here?” Quinn asked. He pointed to a
box on a table not far from the stage door. “There are a ton of them in there.”
“Yeah, but they don’t have my notes in them,” Ellie explained.
“So make new notes.”
She glanced at Ashley then back at him. “Easier said than done.” She twirled the ring on her pinkie finger and refused to meet his gaze.
“Well, I have to get to work. I’ll see you later.” Ashley faced him and cocked her head to the side in heavy flirt-mode. “Nice to meet you, Quinn. Be nice to Elle so she’ll bring you around the apartment.”
“I’m trying,” he assured her. “I’m trying.”
Ashley smiled and made big eyes at her roommate.
Ellie took her arm and lead her toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.” No mistaking the command to get out and, oddly, it made Quinn smile.
“Here, let me get that for you,” Quinn said, opening the door and refusing to be left in the dust. Ever the gentleman, he was. Racking up points right and left. He followed them outside.
The sun was trying its best to blast a hole through the cloudy haze, but the heat still threatened any deodorant that had a job to do.
Ashley settled in her beat up Honda. After three cranks of the engine, she finally took off. Ellie headed toward the long trailer outside the stage door. It looked like the same one from the location.
No way was she getting away from him now. Quinn hustled to keep up. “I see Ashley’s got her car back which means you must have your Mustang.”
A genuine grin split Ellie’s lips. That spectacular dimple came out to play and nearly knocked Quinn down for the count. “Yep. Picked it up Saturday morning. It was ready early.”
“Do I get to see it?”
Ellie stopped at her door, looking skeptical and a little put out. “It’s in the parking structure, so I don’t know—”
“Show me at lunch.”
“You’re not going to stop, are you?” She leveled him with a steady gaze, but he could play the game as good as anyone. Probably better than anyone.
