Stars Collide

by H. P. Munro

  He waved back an acknowledgement as he stood talking through details of the following evening’s shoot with the members of the production crew.

  “The yawn collection?” Freya asked confused.

  “You’ve never been on a night time shoot with us have you?” Jordan scrunched her face up. “You’re in for a treat.”

  Freya gave her a worried glance.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll look after you. In fact as your almost-fictional girlfriend, who in real life got assaulted by a geriatric fan of yours for something I didn’t do, I am going to make sure that you are ready for tomorrow night.”

  Freya pulled her hair out of the loose ponytail she had tied it into for the rehearsal. “You are? And how do you plan on doing that?” she asked threading her fingers through her hair to separate the strands.

  Jordan shrugged as she headed towards her own trailer, “I’m picking you up in two hours for the Ellis method.”

  As she watched her co-star sashay her way through the lot Freya couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d just been asked out on a date.

  ***

  Turning the key in the lock Freya pushed her weight against the door and entered her home. Her mind was currently creating a checklist of all that she had to do before Jordan picked her up. She was so engrossed in her planning that she didn’t notice the feet dangling over the end of her sofa.

  “Hey Egg, how’s my favorite ex-wife?”

  Freya leapt in the air emitting a yelp, clutching her hand to her chest. “Dan. What the hell. You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here? Where’s your car?” she half-yelled looking back out towards her drive in case, in her planning stupor, she had managed to walk past Dan’s 1968 Ford Mustang.

  Growing up in Britain, one of the first things Dan had done when he moved to America was to buy himself the type of car that he had grown up watching on TV and in movies. The car he was currently driving was thanks to his recent fascination with all things Steve McQueen.

  “Bunty is unwell, she’s been taken into the car hospital,” Dan replied, still lying prone on the sofa, his arm draped dramatically across his brow.

  Freya winced, “She’s in the shop?”

  This could mean a lot of pouting and dramatics as, despite his love of cars, Dan had no idea how they worked. He was more interested in the aesthetics and Christening them with wildly inappropriate names.

  “So you’re here to mope?”

  Dad sat up. “No I’m here to borrow your car,” he grinned. “Oh and to drop your photos off.”

  Rolling her eyes, she tossed her car keys across to her friend as she dragged his feet off the arm of her sofa. Sitting close together, they examined the pictures that Dan had taken of her a few weeks previous. Despite having a successful career taking fashion and publicity photographs Dan still hankered after a career as a portrait photographer.

  He had been working on pulling together an exhibition for the past year called Twelve Hours, where he took portrait shots of subjects from different walks of life during each hour over a twelve-hour period. Freya had been only too happy to become one of Dan’s subjects and he had followed her when she was getting ready to go to an event. They flicked through the photos, which ranged from Freya’s preparations before the event, having her hair and make-up done and leaning against her sofa to put on her shoe smiling broadly into the lens of the camera, to a shot taken the following morning, from behind, of her rising from her untidy bed and stretching.

  “These are amazing Dan,” Freya nudged her friend as she looked through the shots once more.

  “So did you speak to Jordan today?” Dan asked examining his work with a critical eye.

  Freya checked the clock, “Crap. Yes I did and she’s picking me up in an hour.”

  “Ooooo you and the buxom blonde bombshell are going out and after dark as well?”

  She stood up smacking Dan on the back of the head, “Stop reading fanfiction! For a gay man you’ve become obsessed with reading about our characters’ fictional sex life!”

  “I can’t help it, it’s like crack cocaine,” Dan sighed. “Right I must be off, I too have a hot date. One can only hope that my picking him up in a Prius does not dictate how the night will end,” he leaned over and kissed Freya’s forehead. “Love you Egg, be good.”

  He walked over to the front door and opened it, stopping he turned back to look at Freya, “Call me, but only if anything interesting happens. I’m not interested in longing looks and gentle caresses. I only want details if there’s been pushing up against walls and grinding.”

  “Get out pervert,” Freya chimed as he threw her a backward wave and closed the door behind him. “Right, let’s get this show on the road,” she said to herself heading towards her bedroom.

  ***

  She was almost ready with just the final touches to her make-up to apply and her dress to slip on when the doorbell went. Looking down at her bathrobe she rolled her eyes, “Crap. Trust her to be an early type of person.” She put down her eyeliner pencil, pulled her robe tighter around her body and skipped to the door. She opened it and peeked her head around the edge of the door.

  Jordan stood looking at her car parked in Freya’s drive her hand playing absently with the zip on her leather jacket. She heard the door open behind her and turned to see Freya’s head poking around the door.

  “Hi, I’m a bit early. I hope you don’t mind.”

  As Freya opened the door wider to allow her to enter Jordan realized that her co-star was wearing a white robe that exposed more than it covered, causing her to become extremely nervous and start to ramble, “I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going and for once the traffic was quiet so it didn’t take as long as I thought. So I got here early.”

  “It’s okay, I’m almost ready. Take a seat.”

  Freya pointed over towards the cream leather sofas surrounding a large marble coffee table.

  “I’ll be five minutes tops, I promise.”

  Jordan watched as Freya left the room and then walked over to where she had pointed and perched anxiously on one of the sofas. Allowing her eyes to wander around Freya’s home, her eyes settled on the scattered photographs lying on the table. She turned her head to look at one of Freya smiling at someone as they applied blusher to her cheek. She then found her hand absently moving to push that photo aside revealing another of Freya, her head tossed back in a fit of laughter.

  Sitting forward Jordan started to examine the other photos, stopping when her hand came across a black and white shot. She picked up the image and felt an intake of breath that surprised her. The image was of Freya’s naked back, she was sitting on the edge of a bed with the white sheet rumpled behind her. Her hands were raised up into her hair pulling it up off her neck leaving just a couple of tendrils caressing her shoulders. Jordan was astounded not just at the beauty and intimacy of the photograph itself, but also of its subject. She traced her fingers round the outline of Freya’s shoulder blades. Realizing what she was doing she quickly pulled her fingers away as if they’d received a burn. However, unable to resist, the tips of her fingers returned to the image and lightly caressed a pathway down Freya’s spine until she reached the small crevice in her lower back.

  Gulping slightly Jordan replaced the photo guiltily and hid it beneath others on the pile. She stood trying to distance herself physically, if not mentally, from the multiple images of Freya strewn on the table and walked across to examine some framed photos sitting on top of an old beaten up much-loved piano. She smiled at the various snapshots of Freya and her family. These were the candid family photos that the press did not get to see and the smiles on faces that had graced so many screens, and were so familiar, seemed different in these private family moments. She picked up a photo of Freya and her grandfather. Their intelligent green eyes twinkled with resemblence.

  “Handsome old devil wasn’t he.”

  Jordan smiled at the photo, “I was thinking that you look a lot like him.” She turned to face
Freya, her smile wavering as she noticed the short black dress she was wearing.

  “What? Too much?” Freya asked, her smile frozen as she worried that she had dressed inappropriately for where they were going. “’cause I can go change,” she continued, turning her shoulders and pointing her thumb back towards her bedroom.

  “No. God no. You’re perfect,” Jordan gasped. “I mean your dress. It’s perfect.”

  Freya’s smile returned to full beam, “Excellent, erm...I...I need a little help.”

  She turned her back revealing the unfastened zip of the dress.

  Jordan swallowed hard. Only moments ago she was caressing that back in a photograph and now here she was, faced with the real thing.

  “Sure,” she cleared her throat. “No problem.”

  She closed the gap between them. Her hands made several false starts towards the zipper before she clenched her fists and knocked her knuckles together silently.

  “You okay back there?” Freya asked.

  “Sorry, yeah, I’ve got it,” Jordan took a deep breath and nodded to herself. Trying to steady her hands as she reached out she pinched the fabric of the dress and slowly pulled the zip up, pouting slightly as she did so as the glimpse of Freya’s porcelain skin disappeared behind the dark fabric.

  “All done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Freya turned to face Jordan. “You look great by the way,” she smiled, her eyes quickly scanning appreciatively down Jordan’s curves which were encased in a black leather jacket, black dress pants and a dark blue top which dipped dangerously low into her cleavage. Reluctantly Freya dragged her eyes back up from Jordan’s chest and turned towards the door, “Reeeeally great.”

  “You have a lovely home,” Jordan smiled, indicating around the room.

  “Oh I can’t take any credit, it’s my grandmother’s guest house. I moved in to keep an eye on her when she first got sick and I’ve been too lazy to move out since we realized that the woman will go until she’s a hundred and fifty. It suits us both. I’m close by, but we’re not living in each other’s pockets. You wouldn’t know that it’s part of the main house unless you go out back.”

  “The main house must be pretty impressive.”

  “Embarrassingly so,” Freya smiled, she motioned to the door. “Shall we?”

  ***

  Jordan pulled her top of the range Audi up into the parking lot of DeLucca’s and Freya frowned as she recognized the restaurant from the previous evening.

  “Really? You want to go back there?” she asked incredulously.

  Chuckling as she put the car into park Jordan turned to look at Freya, “We’re not going back to the restaurant.”

  Freya watched, confused, as Jordan got out of the car.

  “We’re not?” she opened the door and swung her legs out of the car. Never keen to end up in magazines flashing her underwear, she was practiced at deftly navigating exiting and entering cars in short dresses.

  They walked towards the entrance, however instead of going through the main entrance Jordan walked to the side of the building. Freya smiled as she read the gold lettering on the green awning covering an entrance, “DeLucca’s Jazz House? We’re going to a jazz club?”

  Jordan grinned as they approached the entrance, “It belongs to the owner of the restaurant, she’s a big jazz fan and decided to combine both her passions. I was talking to the manager last night and he suggested checking it out.”

  She pulled open the door and motioned for Freya to enter, “They do a mini version of the menu from the restaurant, so maybe you can get dessert after all.”

  “I doubt that it will be as good as your pie,” Freya replied as she entered, passing deliberately close to Jordan as she did.

  Jordan pursed her lips and smirked at the comment as she followed Freya into the club.

  They sat down in a booth that afforded them a perfect view of the stage where the band would play but also gave them some privacy from the rest of the patrons. They had just ordered drinks when the emcee walked up onto stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Titus James and his band.”

  Freya and Jordan joined the applause as the band got up on stage and took their places beside their instruments. The emcee shared a warm half embrace with a handsome young black man, who was carrying a saxophone in one hand. As the man reached the center of the stage he smiled out across the club and attached his saxophone to the strap around his neck.

  “Welcome to DeLucca’s, we hope you enjoy the show,” he smiled, his voice a warm honeyed tone. Turning, he counted the band in and they launched into their first number.

  Freya tapped her fingers along on the table to the quick beat as they listened to the saxophone free-styling around the melody.

  Jordan leaned over, Freya gulped as she felt warm breath at her ear.

  “I take it from your fingers that you like it?”

  Freya glanced down at her hand then turned her head to face Jordan, their lips only millimeters from each other.

  It was Jordan’s turn to gulp when Freya’s mouth tugged into a smirk as she playfully responded, “When I like something my fingers seem to have a mind of their own.”

  Retreating from Freya’s personal space Jordan felt her heart beat, its quick pace almost matching that of the upbeat tempo the song was maintaining. As the band ended the song, the audience burst into a round of applause.

  “Thank you,” Titus smiled. “Now that we’ve woken you up let us soothe your ails with something a little slower.” The band started to jam. Their instruments coming together in a slow and sultry melody made Jordan feel like she was soaking in a deep warm bath. She could feel the tension leech from her body as her head swayed gently to the music.

  A half hour later they sat in comfortable silence each absorbed by the relaxing journey the music was taking them on.

  “Thank you for this Jordan,” Freya said holding her wine glass up in a salute.

  Jordan smiled as she sipped her water, “You’re welcome.”

  Freya smiled then turned her attention back to the stage as she sipped her wine, her contentment was almost palpable.

  Throughout their meal, Jordan sneaked glances over towards her co-star trying desperately to read what was going on in her mind. She needed to know that what she was feeling wasn’t just her, that it wasn’t all in her head, that she wasn’t the only one whose heart was racing.

  “Freya, I...”

  She stopped as the waiter approached their table, a folded napkin in his hand.

  “I’m sorry to bother you but Mr James asked that I deliver this to you Miss Ellis.”

  Jordan frowned and took the napkin, opening it she laughed as she read the content.

  “Tell Mr James I would be honored.”

  Freya watched the exchange with a look of confusion on her face, “What? What just happened?”

  Jordan raised her eyebrows and smiled a response. Freya gave a small ‘humph’ then let her head fall to the side as she lost herself once again in the music.

  Jordan’s eyes trailed up Freya’s neck, she closed her eyes trying to vanquish the desire to lean over and trail kisses down the exposed skin. Jordan almost growled as she tried to control her thoughts. She held Freya totally responsible for her raging libido. Ever since they’d read that fanfiction, she’d struggled to get images of making love with Freya from her head.

  “Damned oranges,” Jordan groaned.

  Freya turned, “Sorry?”

  Horrified that she had spoken aloud, Jordan covered her faux pas by waving her hand, “Nothing, didn’t say a thing.”

  She looked innocently over to the stage where the band had finished playing.

  “Ladies and gentleman, I have the honor and pleasure of welcoming onto the stage to perform with us this evening the wonderful Miss Jordan Ellis.”

  Jordan plastered a huge smile onto her face and slid from the booth. As she walked through the tables towards the stage Freya could
n’t help but think that everything that Jordan did seemed to be permeated with a sexiness that only comes naturally and can’t be recreated. She sipped her wine as Jordan spoke with the bandleader choosing what song she was going to sing.

  The bass players started to pick out the instantly recognizable riff from ‘Fever’ and was swiftly joined by the pianist highlighting the refrain. Jordan stepped up and gripped the microphone. Closing her eyes for a moment she centered herself on the stage and allowed the music to wash over her.

  Opening her eyes, she started to sing.

  Moving her head back and forth, Jordan slipped the microphone out of the stand and stepped down from the stage and onto the floor of the club where she allowed her voice to have freedom with the melody as she shimmied across the floor. She moved around the tables with only one destination on her mind. Freya sat captivated by Jordan’s performance and soon realizing where Jordan was headed bit her lip nervously, watching the slow sensuous approach.

  Jordan paused at a table to tease a man sitting there and ran her fingertips around his collar as she continued to sing.

  She locked eyes with Freya, her focus unwavering as she edged closer to their table. When she arrived, she placed her palm slowly onto the cool wood and lowered herself in a catlike fashion down onto the surface.

  She practically purred the last line. Standing quickly she turned and walked briskly back to the stage as she repeated the last line while performing vocal gymnastics. As she stood back on the stage she arched back letting loose her voice on the final line.

  Freya started to clap so fast that she was sure her hands were going to come clean off her wrists.

  Jordan kissed the band members in thanks and gave a small almost shy bow and a wave before exiting from the stage and making her way back to their table.

  Freya raised an eyebrow as Jordan slipped back into their booth. “So much for a quiet meal,” she grinned taking a sip of her wine.

  ***

  Jordan heard a dull ringing permeate her sleep-addled brain. Realizing it was her phone, she reached across the bed and grabbed her cell. She looked at the caller display and frowned as she read ‘Orlando’.