by Angel Payne
“I don’t need to. I don’t want to. Dios, Ava! Soldiers are to your soul what bees are to your body. They suck you dry and you happily let them!”
“This isn’t like that. Ethan is—”
“Different?” her sister shot back. “Really? How? He doesn’t have the body that’s hard in all the right places? He doesn’t have the stare that makes you all gooey, ready to throw away every scrap of dignity you have just to feel that way again? He hasn’t growled all the right things in your ear, kissed you until you can’t think beyond wanting to be with him all the time, until you can’t think at all? Am I wrong about any of that, cariña?” She stopped to let out a girl growl. “Am I wrong about telling you, as the person who helped scrape up what was left of your heart after Flynn’s bullshit, that you’re a jewel who doesn’t deserve to be crapped on by these animals?”
“Stop it.” She spat the words. “These ‘animals’ sacrifice their lives for us! Ethan’s team has spent the last seven months on a mission that was so dangerous, he can’t even talk about it.”
“His team?” Zoe practically stammered it. “A mission? No me digas, is he Special Forces, too? Ava, are you out of—”
“Time,” she snapped. “I’m out of time, Zo. We have a long day on the set and I need to get going. So save your breath.”
She listened to her sister swallow back a lump of emotion. “I love you, Ava. That’s all. It’s only you, me, and Papí now. We need to take care of each other.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I know. But I’m twenty-four years old. I need a sister now, not a mother.”
Zoe’s thick silence told her all about the raw nerve she’d just struck. Feeling like crap, Ava picked at a thread on the pillow. Zo hadn’t asked for the burden on her eleven-year-old shoulders when Mom came home from seeing Giagia in Greece and was dead from tuberculosis a week later, but she’d accepted her new role with grace and generosity, and she’d always been there to show Ava the way. But now it was time for her to let go a little. Now it was time for her to see that her cariña was full-grown and capable of learning from her mistakes—and qualified to make better decisions because of them.
Ethan was a better decision. She felt it in every thought he filled, in every window he’d smashed inside her lonely heart.
“Have a good day.” Zo said it with as much cheer as Eeyore.
“You too, Ms. Dance Lead.”
Her sister’s comeback had a renewed smile in it. “Go make some people beautiful, wench.”
“Got it, baby.”
She laughed as she disconnected the line, then looked at her phone for another long moment. Biting her lip nervously, she scrolled to her text-messaging screen…and tentatively typed in the beginning of Ethan’s name. Though she’d been diligent about deleting every message he’d ever sent to her, the device recognized his name and automatically filled it into the Recipient field. The blinking cursor waited for her to fill in the message part.
With a chastising grumble, she closed the window.
“Do this the right way,” she ordered herself. “He told you he’d call and he will.” She nodded with determination. “Show Zoe she’s wrong. He’ll prove he’s the different one. You know that. You know that.”
Maybe he’d even prove he was the right one.
With a smile she felt down to her toes, she hurried to take a shower, taking care to keep the phone nearby.
* * * * *
A text came in on her way to the studio. She heard it ding when she was three stoplights away from the studio gate but dutifully left her cell in her purse until she’d parked. That officially turned those blocks into the longest she’d ever driven.
Her heart sank when she picked up her phone. The message was from Bella.
Exciting cast + crew mtng this am. Meet me on main set.
After the disappointment ebbed, the curiosity set in. Bella never went to the set without makeup. But her message distinctly said “exciting.” It was a dichotomy worth witnessing, at least.
When she arrived at the soundstage, the air buzzed with activity like it was nine a.m. and everyone was ready for the first take of the day. Ava checked her watch. It was barely seven thirty. She gravitated toward the area they all referred to as main set, though it was actually a composite of four smaller areas that represented the main characters’ homes and domestic base workplaces. The show had a couple of other permanent sets, including a huge “Middle Eastern forward operating camp,” affectionately nicknamed Camp Cameron, and a scale representation of a Chinook helicopter with part of its side carved away for camera accessibility. Though the crew called that one “the shithook,” openly borrowing the real Army’s slang, Ava had heard rumors it had a more secret pet name, as well: Bella’s Bodacious Bird.
The real Bella wasn’t looking terribly bodacious yet today, though Ava admitted the woman was more put together than she’d anticipated. Since the studio sent a car each morning out to the villa, Bella’s usual MO was to roll out of bed and into the car, relying on Ava to tame everything into place for the day’s shooting schedule. Right now, Bella had actually changed out of the sweats and T-shirt in which she normally showed up, favoring a soft caramel-colored sweater that was belted so as to show off her bust to its fullest. Her skinny jeans were tucked into suede ankle boots. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a purposeful mess, with tendrils framing a simple, self-applied makeup job. The only exception to the Bella au naturel look were her lips, perfectly adorned in the red she’d made so famous, MAC Cosmetics had renamed it “Bella’s Kiss.”
The title seemed appropriate this morning—in a way that made Ava’s stomach turn over.
She entered just in time to watch the woman transfer at least an inch of that lipstick onto a defined, noble jaw…on the face that had filled her dreams last night. “Ethan?” she queried beneath her breath. “What the…?”
It trailed into nothing as her lungs clutched. Even in his dress uniform, he let the lipstick just stay there. Revision. He broke into a dazzling grin as Bella wiped it off for him. He murmured something, making her laugh louder as he tugged at the curls near both her cheeks. When she leaned her face into his palm, his smile vanished…as he tunneled his long fingertips deeper into her hair. They looked like a pair of teenagers dancing around the are-we-gonna-do-it-or-not elephant.
“Oh my God.” She had a weird urge to laugh. Though she hid the burst behind a hand, it was the comfort she needed to push down her nausea and apply some common sense to this alternate universe into which she’d clearly stumbled.
That logic returned some indisputable facts. Ethan had been at Bella’s last night but chosen to go home with her. He’d done those magical, carnal things with her. He’d commanded her to call him Sir and assured she’d never look at a peppermint without smiling again. And he’d helped her to start putting Colin and Flynn where they truly belonged. Far in her past. She was ready for the future—and his parting kiss from seven hours ago had told her he wanted at least an immediate part of that. Oh hell, that kiss.
He hasn’t…kissed you until you can’t think beyond wanting to be with him all the time…until you can’t think at all?
“Basta,” She spat it at a nonexistent Zoe, jamming her hands into her jeans pockets so she didn’t have to watch them shake. There was a sensible reason why Ethan was back here today. And letting Bella paw him like they were rehearsing a sexy tango for one of those celebrity dance shows. And continuing to smile like he enjoyed every second of it.
Cameron to the rescue.
She let herself breathe as their director and unspoken leader entered. Cameron Stock was big as a UFC champion but gentle as a high school guidance counselor, a combination that served him well during the show’s production. By the gleam in his eyes and the eager grin on his square face, Ava judged he was working on his fifth or sixth cup of coffee for the day. Despite that, the man lifted his voice in its normal blend of statesman and quarterback.
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you
for prying yourselves out of your normal nooks and crannies for the early call time.”
As everyone chuckled, he turned to give a nod to one more person who arrived on the set. Though Cameron’s motion was small, the effect was significant. The person he greeted was Mr. Lemare himself, dressed in his usual open-necked shirt, casual but custom suit, and luxurious Italian boots that were worth three months of Ava’s salary. Everyone bolstered their posture and silenced their phones as Cam continued.
“As you can surmise, we’ve got a significant piece of news to relay today. Several, in fact. First, we have decided not to renew Mr. Lake’s contract with the show. I know this part doesn’t come as a surprise, considering how avidly Trent’s been pursuing a film career. We wish him the best with his endeavors.”
The bitterness in the man’s eyes betrayed the opposite sentiment, but that wasn’t a shock to anyone. His smile became a savoring smirk as he continued, “On that note, I’m ecstatic to say that we’ll be killing off Mr. Lake’s character in a big two-hour special taking place on our normal broadcast date in ten days.” After the excited ripple from the declaration abated, he went on, “When I say big, people, I mean it. Mr. Lemare has gotten the studio’s green light to contribute his own backing into this endeavor. We’re buying up our own advertising slots so as to present the episode commercial-free. We’ll be able to write it as a two-hour movie instead of a ten-part television episode, with the last half hour to be a live broadcast of our scripted content.
“Because of this, the story will be bigger, the action more intense. We’ll be double-checking every detail of the plot, with the help of some real-world consultants generously on loan to us from the Army. I’m happy to introduce Sergeants Archer, Lange, and Stafford, whom many of you met during their set visit yesterday. I’d like to thank you all for continuing our Dress Blues hospitality during their time with us.”
Cameron basked in the excited applause that filled the building. Thirty seconds later, the production crew swarmed him in full interrogation mode about how the live broadcast was going to work. Everyone else turned to each other, chattering about the challenge ahead. It wasn’t rare for reality shows to broadcast live but in scripted television, the decision was a move that could either fly high or fall hard. At the moment, everyone concentrated on the more pleasant of those two options.
It was all background buzz to Ava.
Cameron’s news had filled in the blanks about why Ethan was still here. She’d been so riveted on him, she hadn’t noticed Rhett and Rebel were here, too. Of course, neither of them had Bella practically sitting in their lap with the flirtation jets on full, leaving them free to toss Ava a pair of good-natured waves. She slapped on a brave smile in return but quickly made her way outside, deciding she needed several minutes of air and solitude.
There was a corner outside that she’d secretly claimed as hers. It was located steps from the Wardrobe Department, a benefit since Bella enjoyed making sure the team there earned their paychecks with her last-minute changes. Ava could always scoot there fast if need be. But the location was also dark and private, thanks to the hydraulic lift that seemed permanently parked there.
Today, she decided to take advantage of the equipment. After scooting up onto the platform of the lift, she rested her arms and chin on the lower railing and stared at the soundstage wall in contemplative silence.
Ten days. Ethan’s stay had just been given a huge extension because of this gig as one of the show’s advisors. The decision about the script direction must have happened late last night, and explained why he’d gotten the drop-everything text from Franzen.
It was a gift. Wasn’t it?
If asked back at midnight, she would have danced naked on the beach in thanks to the Hollywood marketing gods for it. A big part of her was still crazy proud of him, and girlishly excited for herself. Just knowing he was in the same geographic vicinity, instead of two states and thousands of miles away, made the air itself feel a little more special.
But she couldn’t deny what she’d just seen. The giddy smile on Bella’s face. The cavalier grin on Ethan’s. And damn it, if Noah were loading up his ark today, they’d be the pair picked as the most beautiful creatures on earth. Bella looked like she belonged on his arm—and was fully acting the part too.
Which means what?
The question—to be accurate, her utter lack of an answer to it—had rolled her gut into the aching ball at which she winced at now. The spur to her heels, getting her out of there as fast as she could.
She instantly squirmed in retaliation. “You don’t cower, Chestain.” She ordered it from grinding teeth. “Cowering is in your past, damn it.” Her shoulders straightened on a surge of determination. “You can handle this, whatever it is. He was in your bed last night, not hers. He kissed you good-bye until he broke away.”
He was also the person she’d dragged out Colin and Flynn for. To whom she’d opened herself in ways she swore would never happen again.
“You told him their names. It wasn’t not a crime.”
Just like it wasn’t a crime for him to be holding Bella’s hand and trading some jokes with the woman this morning.
She had to stop being a coward. To at least give him the chance to explain. This time without Bella making like human plastic wrap on him.
With head high and a confident stride, she made her way back to work. But once she was back on set, perplexity hit fast. Bella wasn’t there anymore. That usually meant the star was in her trailer, which normally generated at least one frantic text with a demand of Ava’s whereabouts, but the phone had been silent.
Charlie strolled in. “Hey, sweet truffle!” he greeted. “There you are. I looked for you during Cam’s big pep rally. You didn’t miss it, did you?”
She returned his hug. “I was in the back of the mob.”
“Mmmm.” Though his tone was encouraging, his gaze darted away. “Probably for the best.”
Her throat turned into a solid lead pipe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Charlie rolled his blue-greens at the catwalks overhead. “Dear Lawd in Heaven, I told her to jump fast onto the good bounty that is Ethan Archer, did I not? You heard me, heavenly fathah, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” she retorted. “And so did I.” Her face warmed. “And so I…did.”
He plunged his gaze back down, eyes now wide. “Pardon the hell out of me, crème brûlée?”
“Have you and Matt been on another dessert obsession?”
“Don’t you dare change the subject.” He grinned as he grabbed her by the elbows. “You and Mr. Hunk of Decadent Goodness?”
Ava’s whole face began to warm. “Yeah,” she muttered. “Yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“At Bella’s place.”
“At Bella’s place?”
“In the wine room.”
“Holy shit.” He hauled her closer. “Does Bella know?”
“No!” She grabbed the front of his black D&G shirt. “And you are sworn to secrecy, Jenkow.”
“Duh,” he countered. But confusion crunched his features. “I only asked because…”
“Because what?” She dreaded giving the prompt. And if Charlie gave the answer she expected, the feeling was doomed to get doubled.
“If Bella caught a whiff of the tour you gave him of the villa, that would explain a few things.”
“What things?” She verbally stomped on the second word enough to make her friend hunch his brows at her. But before she could get any more information from Charlie, her cell buzzed. Bella’s name appeared in the window, along with the string of exclamation points that formed the woman’s version of a drop-everything summons. “Guess you lucked out, sweetie.”
Charlie’s tugged her into a hug, his face still conveying that strange pensiveness. “And I hope you do too, creamsicle. God knows, nobody deserves it more.”
She snorted. “You’re just saying that because you still want that Prada tux.”
He
r joke worked. He grinned and drawled, “I’m just saying that because I love you.” With his old snark intact again, he pulled back. I also happen to be the new president of your fan club.”
“Huh?”
“Fornication in Bella Lanza’s wine room.” He said it like the explanation was obvious. “There’s no mountain you can’t climb now. Go get him, tiger butter.”
* * * * *
The trip back to Bella’s trailer took her past the show’s on-site production offices. Ava watched Cameron walking toward them, head down in what looked like an intense conversation with Rebel Stafford. Rhett waved at the pair from the window, sitting at a conference table that looked like a war room already, giving her the impression Ethan was likely nearby, as well.
The observation, along with the boost of knowing she had a fan club with a president and everything, made her laugh as she walked the last thirty yards to the trailer. She berated herself for the conclusions to which she’d jumped when scrutinizing Ethan and Bella earlier. Bella herself would likely provide the logical explanation for their overtures, citing how they were remembering old times and couldn’t keep their hands off each other for a few minutes. She’d respond by listening patiently, knowing Ethan would call soon…confident they’d find a way to see each other again during his stay.
Her heartbeat sped. Maybe they could even revisit the prop room. Just flashing on a memory of their kiss from yesterday, with the wall at her back and Ethan’s body fitted to hers in all the right places in front, provided deeper assurance that whatever happened between him and Bella on main set—
Was now the main attraction they’d taken to the dressing trailer.
“Dios.”
The adrenaline she’d been enjoying two seconds ago turned into a congealed mess at the base of her throat, preventing nothing more from coming out. Not a sound. Not a choke. Certainly not a breath. But her eyes worked just fine, damn them, and were now seared with the image of Ethan, sans his uniform jacket, leaned back in Bella’s styling chair, chuckling while the woman straddled him, playfully brandishing a tube of hair cream. Like she needed help from the product. Her red fingernails were missiles of seduction in his thick hair. As she deepened the invasion, Ethan’s hands tightened against her bare thighs. Such a thing was possible when all somebody wore was a mini satin dressing robe, a red demi cup, and matching thong panties.
