Who Needs Reality? (Team Northwest Sweet Romance Book 1)

by Lia London

  Antonio didn’t move around or emote, but Jill believed every single word. When he finished, he didn’t wait for instructions. He just stalked off the set, removing the costume apron and throwing it on the prop table on his way out the auditorium door.

  Jill bolted out after Antonio and caught up with him just as he slipped outside into the sunshine. “Antonio, that was incredible. It was so real.”

  “Yeah, it was.” He didn’t make eye contact.

  The way he answered made Jill second-guess his meaning. “Wait. Did you ad lib that? Was that real?”

  He leaned his shoulder on the wall. “The lines were in the script, but it’s all real. It’s all real. Except I have two little brothers. My sister already died in Mexico.”

  “What?!” One hand covered her mouth and the other reached instinctively to his arm. “How?”

  “She got caught in the cross fire of gang violence. It’s bad there.”

  “Your sister was shot? How old was she?”

  “Twelve.”

  Tears filled Jill’s eyes and she threw her arms around him. “Oh, Antonio, I’m so sorry. I can’t even fathom …”

  He half returned her embrace. “Asi es la vida. I’m just looking for a way for us boys to get ahead without all that, y’know? I won’t go that low. My sister was good. She was pure. I gotta honor that.” His voice took on an edge. “If I ever get the chance. I’m just a Mexican, right? Good for waiting tables or harvesting crops. Nada mas.”

  Jill pulled back, ignoring the hot tears still streaming down her cheeks. “You’re more. Look at you. You just rocked that scene better than—”

  “Jill, you seem nice, y’know? But you’re not paying attention. They already fired my character—on the first episode. Where am I supposed to go from there? I don’t stand a chance here.”

  “Hey guys, you want to watch Amaya’s monolog?” Milo stood holding the door to the lobby open, eying them with curiosity.

  “Yeah, sure.” Antonio gave a nod to Jill and went back inside, head down.

  Jill hesitated. “In a minute.”

  Milo let go of the door to come to her. “What happened?”

  She wiped her cheeks dry with the back of her hand. “Oh … nothing, it’s …”

  Milo lifted her chin with his finger. “What happened?”

  Jill coughed out a laugh. “You sound like Cleon, saying the same line over and over.” She met his gaze and lost her sense of humor again.

  “What happened?” A muscle in Milo’s jaw tightened. “Did he say something? Hurt you?”

  Jill broke away and walked back to the door. “No, no. Nothing like that. He … I just feel really bad for him. He’s been through so much.”

  Milo cleared his throat. “What do you mean? You just met the guy. How can you know about his past?”

  She sniffed and wiped her nose again.

  He rubbed her back in gentle, soft circles. “Want to talk about it?”

  Jill stood still, feeling the warmth of Milo’s hand on her back, sensing the genuine concern, and suddenly her sorrow for Antonio turned to shame at her own self-pitying nature. “I’m lucky. I’m so lucky.”

  The hand stopped smoothing. “I don’t follow. That’s making you unhappy?”

  She gave a sad smile and turned to face him. He was so close. “Whenever you hear me feeling sorry for myself because of my parents, will you please remind me that I have you?”

  Alarm flitted across his face before shifting to a compassionate smile. “Of course. You’ll always have me.” He took her into a comforting embrace, and she flattened her palms on his chest.

  She could feel his heart beating beneath her fingers. Milo’s good heart. His kind heart. He had always been there for her, and she had taken him for granted. But loved ones could be taken at any time. Swept away by another love. Killed in the cross-fire.

  ***

  “Let’s try this one again. Action!” Parker called, and the stagehand held up the fan again, on low power so it created a soft breeze that ruffled Amaya’s loose sleeves.

  Amaya took a deep breath and her eyes found Milo as he and Jill sat down to watch. “Maybe I’m crazy to believe in the dream that you and I could be.”

  Jill glanced at Milo’s reaction in time to see him blush and stuff his hands into his pockets. She knew Amaya was just reciting her lines from the script, but by focusing on him as the person-character, it upped the intensity. After all, she had done the same.

  “We haven’t known each other for long,” continued Amaya. “But I feel like we know each other in a different way. We both feel things more than we think we do, and I know we feel something budding between us. We can’t let an old lover come in and tear us apart.”

  Jill shifted uncomfortably and checked Milo’s response. He was rapt.

  Amaya continued, “I won’t give up easily, and I hope you’ll give me a try. We could be so good for each other, don’t you think?” Her eyebrows lifted hopefully, and a soft smile played at the corner of her lips.

  “Yes,” whispered Milo.

  Jill’s stomach dropped. Did he mean, Yes-we-should-give-it-a-try? Or Yes-you-rocked-that-scene?

  “Nice work!” shouted Parker. “Okay, Milo. Last man standing. You ready for this?”

  Milo’s eyes widened, and he straightened his bowtie. “Guess so.”

  “You’ll do great,” said Jill, patting his back as he stood. “And no matter what, you look incredible. We need to get you a tux of your own because—”

  “That was fantastic!” Milo cut Jill off to greet Amaya with a hug as he headed over to the green screen.

  “Right.” Jill felt a chill she couldn’t explain.

  “How do you think our guy’s going to do?” Amaya rubbed her palms together.

  “Our guy?” Jill considered Milo, alone and prop-less in front of a green screen. For two seconds, he sizzled with a subtle brand of sexy, and then he bit his lip and gave them both a nervous, cheesy grin. “Whoever knows what to expect with Milo?”

  “Watching yourself on TV is like getting a root canal, having a puppy chew your favorite shoes, and winning the lottery all at once. I hated it. I loved it.” Milo switched the phone to his other ear, laughing.

  “Who’s with you?” asked Mabel.

  “I am surrounded by beautiful women.” He chuckled and winked at Amaya on his left and Jill on his right.

  “Not bad for a pharmacy major. What about that nice Antonio?”

  “He had to hurry home. Long commute.”

  “Okay, you have a safe drive home. We’ll talk to you soon!”

  Milo pocketed his phone and glanced back at Chieko and Crawford who sat behind them.

  “I can’t believe how they made those crappy little sets look so good on camera,” said Jill. “And whatever lens Ned’s using is mega flattering, don’t you think?”

  The insecurity in Jill’s voice bewildered Milo. “Jill, he could film you in your sweats with my smartphone and you’d look like a star.”

  Her eyes softened. “Milo, you’re the best cheerleader any girl ever had.”

  “Um. Thanks?” He pantomimed shaking pom-poms.

  “All right, everybody out of here, and for the love of eggnog, don’t leave anything behind because I’m not sure our next shoot will be held here.”

  “Is this where I tell Parker I hate eggnog?” Amaya gathered her purse from the ground.

  “Don’t do anything to make her mad!” teased Crawford. “She’s already trying to kill me.”

  “At least it wasn’t as stressful today,” said Chieko. “No judges around. Just the techies watching me crash.”

  “Oh, Kamilah was here.” Crawford wiggled his eyebrows.

  “What? Oh!” Chieko hurried down the aisle and outside.

  “Creepy.” Milo shuddered. “Kamilah’s everywhere, huh?”

  “See you around?” Amaya hadn’t moved to let him out of the row yet. The look on her face threw a yo-yo into his stomach.

  “Yeah, next time.�
��

  “Not sooner?” She batted her eyes shyly. “Maybe before the next shoot?”

  The yo-yo did a few spins and loops. “Oh. Wow, yeah. Okay.”

  “You’ve got my number, right?”

  “Do I?” Milo pulled out his phone and fumbled through the contacts. “Here, why don’t you enter the info so I don’t spell your name wrong.”

  She quickly tapped her number into the phone. Behind him, Jill rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered, “Getting the cute girl’s digits! Way to go, Romeo.” Her joking tone had an unfamiliar bite to it.

  “Here you go. Call me!” Amaya handed back the phone with a coy half smile, then turned and walked through the seats and down the aisle.

  Milo found himself staring at the way she moved.

  “Checking out her butt?” Crawford snickered.

  “Did you notice she didn’t lean over all clumsy like everyone else does?”

  Crawford gave him a knowing smirk. “Uh-huh. Suuuure.”

  “Oh, good grief, you guys.” Jill squeezed past Milo and made a show of leaning way over the seats as she walked, pretending to teeter and lose her balance. Laughing, Crawford kept up with her in the next row and caught her hand just as she reached the aisle.

  “Slick moves!” He winked at her.

  “Oh crap, is Slick here, too?” Jill raised an eyebrow at Crawford. She had failed to let go of his hand yet.

  Milo cleared his throat. This was awkward. Amaya flirting with him. Crawford flirting with Jill. Why couldn’t he learn to flirt with Jill?

  Jill chuckled and pointed her thumb at Milo. “I gotta get this boy home. I’ll see you next time.”

  Out in the car, she drummed her fingers on the dashboard. “C’mon. Let’s do something fun.”

  “I thought being a soap star was fun.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I thought it would be, too.”

  Unsure of what to say, Milo started the car to get the AC going. “What’s brewing, Jill? You have that look in your eye that gets my adrenaline pumping.”

  “Fight or flight?” she teased.

  “When do we ever fight?”

  “Just thinking.”

  He chuckled. “About what? Solving tensions in the Middle East? You look stressed.”

  Jill sighed. “Team Northwest isn’t really the right word, is it? Parker says it, but we’re all just competitors.”

  “Gladiators in a pit.”

  Dusting his lapel, Jill imitated Kamilah. “Gladiators in tuxedos, darling. It’s high drama!”

  Milo didn’t skip a beat. In pure Slick Patton, he quipped, “Don’t trip on the red carpet. You know how expensive those hip replacements are at your age.”

  “Speaking of which, I hope they let me go barefoot in the mini-golf. The last thing I need is to break an ankle falling into the lava pit on the fourth hole.”

  Putting the car into gear, he pondered the competitive element of the show. “As long as you and I stay friends, I don’t care whether we win or lose.”

  “But what if only one of us wins and has to move to L.A. for the actual job?”

  Would my credits transfer? Could I get into UCLA? Am I really thinking of following her when we’re only just friends? Milo’s heart twisted with confusion. “You could try not to win, you know.”

  “Right. And waste the stupid flirting I did with Slick and Ned?” She made a grossed-out face. “Besides, I thought maybe you’d want to stick around and see how Amaya does.”

  “Wha … I …”

  “You’re cute when you blush.” Jill reached over and tugged his earlobe affectionately. “C’mon. Seriously. I need some fun in the dark where no one knows my name.”

  Milo couldn’t resist arching a brow. This was his cue to flirt. “You know I’m not one of the judges, right?”

  “Black light miniature golf, dweeb.”

  “Dressed like this?!”

  “My treat!” She winked.

  “Winner buys nachos after?”

  “Milo, seriously. What am I going to do with you?”

  “Play golf?” Shall I give you a list? I have a great imagination.

  “I shouldn’t have to pay for the golf and the nachos.”

  Milo tapped her knee lightly. “Then like I said before. You could try not to win.”

  Scene 9: The Paparazzi

  Milo removed his tie as he and Jill advanced to the seventh tee at the Polynesia Putt Putt. She was only beating him by three strokes, but the confidence had rushed to her head. He needed to up his game. Checking the angle of the next shot, he muttered to himself. The lava vents were hard to hit, but they dropped the ball a few inches from the cup.

  “You need to want this more, Milo.”

  “I do, but you keep distracting me.” He calculated the probability of a banked shot. Not good.

  “I mean the part in Angels and Tycoons.”

  “Which part?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I guess not, if it’s a paying job.” He repositioned his feet and took a practice swing while his mind wandered to the idea of being cast opposite Jill in a love scene. He closed his eyes and savored the—

  “For the love of peanut butter, hit the ball already.”

  “Yes, Parker.” With a firm tap, he sent his fluorescent orange ball up the PVC pipe lava vent, through the tunnel and clattering into the cup. “Yes! Hole in one!”

  Jill applauded generously and dropped her ball into place to tee off. “Speaking of Parker and the crew, I wonder why they hate Crawford so much.”

  Milo managed to keep quiet except to furrow his brow in mock sympathy. How much did she really like that guy?

  “Seriously, Milo. Ned has it in for him.”

  He chewed back a grin until she added, “I hope I get to work with Crawford at some point.” His face must have melted because she backpedaled. “I mean, it was cool to do that scene with you, too, but you know … you’ve got that chemistry going with Amaya.”

  Amaya and her amazing legs, skin, eyes. That wasn’t chemistry. That was biology. “Right.” ‘Right?’

  Jill’s eyes widened and she lobbed her ball up over the fake mountain ridge and ricocheted it off a mini tiki hut into the cup. “I’m still ahead three strokes. Try harder so I don’t have to buy the nachos.”

  Milo sauntered to the next tee and placed his ball. “I suppose Crawford’s already going to have a zillion babes flocking all over him now. He smacked the ball, and it whizzed through the row of giant seashells, just missing the plywood shark.

  Jill said nothing, but took her shot, missing the shark’s tail by an even closer margin.

  Milo tilted his head towards the tropical mural of cartoon hula dancers on the wall. “At least the soap opera thing is better than being on Island Survivor. I mean, we don’t have to eat bugs or barbecued rats or anything.”

  “Nope,” she said, sinking the putt. “Let’s just hope neither of us has to sacrifice our integrity to the panel of judges.”

  “What? You mean you and Slick—?”

  “No!” She shuddered, then amended it to a shrug. “Well, at least he’s better-looking than Kamilah. And younger.”

  “Don’t even go there.” Milo hit the ball too hard and it bounced back and forth between the tiny concrete walls.

  “She likes you.”

  “She liked Rock Hudson, Julius Caesar, and Moses before me.” Missed the putt again!

  Jill swayed in a haole hula to the canned Hawaiian music. With her foot, she nudged his ball into the hole and held a finger to her lips as if keeping a secret.

  Shielded by the darkness, Milo cut loose and joined her, moving closer so that their bodies almost touched. He could smell her skin. Probably just some mix of shampoo and deodorant, but it was the scent of his dreams, the aroma of comfort and friendship and love.

  Jill burst into a giggle fit and straightened up, brushing close against him.

  His heart skipped as they stilled, and her warm smile melted a few of his intern
al organs. Was this the moment? She was so near. “Jill.”

  Her lips parted slightly. “Yes?”

  Milo’s brain went blank and he couldn’t think of anything sufficiently romantic to say. How could he ever find the right words? He spluttered, “Thanks for the hundreds of times you’ve helped me out.”

  She scrunched her nose. “When?”

  “How about all of eighth grade when you still hung out with me even though my face was covered in zits and I was six inches shorter than all the other guys.”

  She waved his words away. “Friends stick together in hard times.”

  “But it meant the world to me.”

  Her eyes locked with his and she eased a little closer. “Do you remember junior prom?”

  Milo swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “Remember how Paul Coleman dumped me right there on the dance floor for Carly Gifford?”

  “The jerk.”

  “And you came from behind the refreshment table and held me?”

  Oh man, do I ever remember that. It was a long hug. “Yeah.” Milo’s voice was too hoarse to be heard over the commotion. Miniature golf establishments were not designed for intimate moments, even with the black lights, which right now made her teeth glow in the dark.

  Jill pressed closer and her voice got thirty degrees warmer. “Remember how we …?”

  What? What did we do? Was she mistaking me for someone else? Could we re-enact whatever it was?

  “T.P.’d Paul’s car?” she finished.

  “Oh yeah. That.” The romantic feeling fizzled, replaced by a simple nostalgia.

  “That was one of the best nights of my life. You always know how to make me happy when I’m sad.” She squeezed his hand, then returned to play. “If you don’t like your prospects with Kamilah, there’s always Parker, you know.” She gave him an impish wink.

  “Shut up and hit the dumb ball, Jill.”

  With a knowing wink, she swung her club in the wrong direction, sending her ball back to the fifth hole. “Oh darn. Looks like we’re going to be here all night.”