by Lia London
The gesture surprised Milo so much that he didn’t know how to respond. “I’ll be watching.” Gripping the bars tightly, he made his way into the darkness above. When he was five rungs from the top, a bank of blue and red lights flared to life, nearly blinding him. He squinted and pulled himself onto the cat walk. There, he took a moment to catch his breath and think about what had just happened. That was just a showbiz kiss, right? Like all the movie stars do?
Below on the stage, Amaya pulled off her sweatshirt revealing a black leotard and a sheer, flowy skirt that went to her knees. Next to him, a giant roller started lowering a weighted see-through mesh.
Parker entered the stage and walked over to Amaya. Indicating the lowering cloth, she said, “I’d like to film this using a scrim. Your whole dance will be in silhouette against a multi-colored backdrop. What do you think?”
Amaya flexed her shoulders. “But they won’t see me, not my face.”
Milo could hear the smile in Parker’s voice. “They’ll see your talent.” She made a megaphone of her hands and called through the scrim. “Cue the music in twenty seconds. Let’s get some color checks to follow the moods. Ned, set a wide angle shot for the whole thing. We’ll fine-tune it on the second run.”
Parker walked back off stage as Amaya took her position. When the music started, the energy that emanated from her drew Milo across the catwalk until he stood directly above center stage, enjoying the birds’-eye view. During a long sliding note at the beginning, she blossomed from a tiny bud on the floor to a wide-open rose balancing on one leg. Her core strength blew Milo away. As the tempo increased and the layers of sound grew, she kept pace, filling the stage with her presence. Milo couldn’t see her face, but her power and grace mesmerized him. The music pounded to a stop, and she threw her head back, looking straight up with arms outstretched to the sky, triumphant and jubilant. Her eyes found Milo’s, and she gave him a huge smile.
“Cut!” Parker’s voice came over the sound system. “Wow, that was amazing, Amaya. Go ahead and catch your breath while we review the tapes. We may not need more takes.”
“Thank you!” Amaya rushed back stage to the base of the ladder, tapping on it with her fingers so the hollow ping echoed in the wings.
Milo hurried down to her, and the second his feet hit the ground, he gave her a congratulatory embrace.
“That was … I don’t even know how to describe it!” He pulled back just enough to see her face.
“Thank you so much for coming. Even if it’s all America ever sees of me, it might be enough.”
“Oh heck, yeah. You were …” Milo was suddenly very aware of her arms still around him, and a second later, her lips had found his. By the end of the kiss, he felt like he’d just danced his heart out, too. I don’t think that was a showbiz kiss …
In the car, Milo didn’t turn on the radio. “We’re up on Monday. Any idea what the heck we’re going to do for our Olympic moments?”
Though still irritated with him for going off with Amaya, Jill couldn’t resist teasing. “You sure you don’t want to try the Speed-o?”
“Ha!” Milo blushed and pulled out onto the street. “That is not going to happen.”
“Bummer for America.” Jill slid her sunglasses on and blinked slowly at a memory of Milo’s new summer body glistening with water. Don’t get carried away. If he liked you, he would have made an unmistakable move by now …like sneak in to watch your Olympic moment taping.
“So, Antonio and Amaya’s featurettes will be …”
“Heart-wrenching and heart-stopping respectively, I assume,” said Milo matter-of-factly.
Jill raised an eyebrow. What was so heart-stopping about Amaya’s feature? “And we’re going for …?”
Milo met her eyes for the longest time in days. “I don’t know, Jill. Are we going for a win?”
“Of course!”
“Sounds like you want Antonio to win, which would kind of knock me out of the picture.”
“And a win for Amaya would knock me out, too.” Jill fumed inwardly without fully understanding why. “Or Crawford and Chieko.”
Milo cleared his throat. “I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think Antonio is going far in this competition. You’ll be stuck with me or Crawford.”
“What? Why?”
His lips pressed into a thin line for a moment. “Try not to sound too disappointed about my loss.”
“Milo, don’t be dumb. What are you talking about?”
“I overheard something at Amaya’s shoot.”
Jill crossed her arms and stared at him pointedly. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Kamilah was there. I heard her talking to Ned in the light booth. She is … not optimistic about his chances.”
Unconvinced, Jill shrugged. “So? She likes you best. She’s allowed to have favorites, isn’t she?”
Milo shook his head. “No, it wasn’t like that. It was because he’s Mexican. They made some crack about taco trucks on the marina, laughing at him.”
Jill glowered. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, it was horrible.”
“Did you say something?”
Milo cast her an exasperated look. “Jill, I wasn’t even supposed to be there, remember.”
“Oh, I remember.” A measure of tension in her shoulders released. “But … that’s racism.”
“What was I supposed to say?”
Jill slouched and thumped her bare heels into the dashboard, scrunching herself into an angry knot. “That is so totally scummy.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do!”
“Not you. The show.” Her eyes stung and she exhaled a pound of frustration. “It’s not fair.” She snapped her attention back to Milo. “Do you think they feel that way about Amaya and Chieko, too?”
“I don’t know. But we should probably watch for it.” His voice softened. “Do you still want to win?”
Jill snorted. “Don’t you want the ten thousand? My parents were dropping heavy hints that I’d better win something because it’s time for me to fend for myself, pay my own way.”
“So win. That doesn’t affect Antonio.”
“But it affects you, if you don’t win. But now I almost want to help Antonio win just to spite them.” She stifled a screech. “This is so stupid. Why do they have to cut four of us in the first round?!”
Milo swept his palm across his forehead and sighed. “I don’t know, Jill. What do you want us to do?”
“What if Crawford wins?” She gave an ill-contained shudder.
A grin crept into Milo’s cheeks. “Are you ever going to tell me about that?”
“Ugh. Let’s just say his idea of team unity with the ladies is a bit excessive.”
Milo gaped, still staring at the road. “What did he do?”
“It’s what he tried to do …”
“And?”
“And failed!” Jill’s brows sank. “What kind of girl do you think I am, Milo? First you accuse me of something with Antonio, and now Crawford?”
“Accuse you?” His voice pitched higher. “I haven’s said anything!”
“It was implied.” Ugh. Why do I want to cry? Why am I fighting with my best friend? Sinking lower in the seat, she muttered, “You’re the genius, Milo. What do we do?”
“You’re the creative one.”
“Actually, you’ve been pretty creative lately.”
“And you’ve done a few genius things yourself.” He lowered the sun visor and checked his rear view mirror. “I guess we’re rubbing off on each other more and more.” Tossing an elbow in her direction, he asked, “You feeling okay?”
“Just thinking.”
“I see the smoke.”
Jill back-handed Milo’s arm with a reluctant smile. “Har har.” She weighed options in her mind. If the deck was stacked against Antonio, then it was between Milo and Crawford, in which case, Milo didn’t stand a chance. So, if she won, they would be separated as she went on to Hollywood and he stayed
behind to finish school. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Taking a deep breath, she sat up and dropped her feet back down to the mat. “Let’s see … You should probably go for the mad scientist angle, huh?”
***
A sleepless night cemented Jill’s strategy, and on Monday morning, she rode up to the rendezvous point on her Harley, hair a helmet-pressed, wind-tossed mess. No bugs in her teeth, but definitely not a Yacht Club princess. She wore the red and white polka-dot dress again, and heeled cowboy boots, a choice calculated to show she was all wrong daytime drama, while still being a little sexy.
Jill parked, and Milo pulled up right behind in the Corolla laden with gear. She tossed her helmet in the front seat of his car. “Thanks for the official escort.”
Milo glared at her. “You scared me to death three times. Don’t change lanes that fast. I can’t keep up! What if a semi had—”
“But it didn’t!” He’d been acting a little weird all weekend, tense and awkward. Hopefully he’d chill out before his shoot. Especially given the bomb she was about to drop on him about her plan for the rest of the competition.
He made a grumpy face. “Well, you’d better go find Parker and Ned and rock this Olympic moment. I’ll be in the car with the AC on in case you need the other gear.”
Jill gave him a sharp salute, grabbed her duffel, and marched through the oak tree shade to a picnic table area. Two seconds later, Parker shouted, “That was quite an entrance!”
Surprised, Jill turned on her heel and toppled gracelessly onto the bench. She immediately crossed her legs, smoothed her hair, and smiled as if she had meant to do that. “You saw us?”
Ned stood with his camera shouldered and smirked. “Biker chick. Nice.” He drank in Jill’s legs, lingering at the hem line. “Got any tattoos I missed in the hospital shot?”
Parker whacked him over the head with her clipboard so fast that he almost dropped his gear. “Try to go a whole day without pushing the line, Ned. I swear I’ll have your butt fired for harassment before this show is over.”
“I doubt it.” He blinked smugly. “I’m the best the studio’s got.”
Parker stared straight up. “Aliens, come take me now.”
“Oooh, is that really part of the plot of Angels and Tycoons?” teased Jill.
“If you can find a way to work it in …” Parker tucked the clipboard under her arm and rubbed her hands together. “So, we got you riding in. What more are we doing action-shot-wise before you charm us with your girl-next-door blurb?”
Jill unzipped the duffel and grabbed out some ropes. “Is there a place to do any rappelling nearby?”
“In a dress and cowboy boots?” Ned whooped. “Man, I love my job!”
Parker slid her hand down her face, stretching all her features like silly putty. “For the love of peanut butter …” she muttered. “Got any other options?”
“Is the camera water proof?”
***
Parker finally agreed to a shot of Jill kayaking through the ducks, getting drenched in the fountain. The wet clothes would play well on camera, though not so much the wet hair and rubbed-off make-up. By ten in the morning, with her clothes mostly dried off, Jill combed her fingers through her hair to detangle it a bit. The time had come to talk about herself and convince the regional panel that, despite all evidence to the contrary, she maybe missed the mark for leading lady material after all.
Jill cast a glance in the direction of Milo’s car and suddenly wished she had run her idea past him first. Would he be disappointed in her? Would he resent her for dragging her into this mess just to throw in the towel so early in the game? She unclenched her fists and breathed in resolve. You don’t want to do this without Milo, so you have to lose this round, she told herself. But make it look good.
“You ready?” Parker directed Jill up onto the picnic table with her feet on the bench, no boots. The oak trees created natural dappled lighting, and the fountain swished and sparkled brightly in the background. Jill could tell it would be a flattering shot.
“Okay, tell us about yourself,” said Parker, standing beside Ned to check the angles. “What was your family like?”
“My dad’s in commercial real estate—Ripley, Vanguard & Schue. They oversee a ton of the development in the Portland and Salem metro areas, especially anything along the Willamette waterfront. Mom’s a corporate tax accountant for seven of the biggest firms in Multnomah, Clackamas, and Marion counties, so that’s pretty cool, I guess.”
“So … do they rub shoulders with the millionaires in the area?”
“All the time. They do power lunches and fancy gala events.”
“But they do all right? Your parents?”
Jill shrugged. “Yeah.”
Parker churned her hands to keep Jill talking.
“Yeah, their net worth is easily seven figures, so I guess that makes us millionaires, too. Ha!”
“So, you were born into the world of high finance, like Angels & Tycoons?”
Jill faltered. “Yes, I suppose. But that has never called to me. I’m more interested in theater, writing, chasing adventure, and learning new things. Pretty much all my life, Milo and I have been—”
“Milo Halsey?”
Jill harrumphed. “Yes, of course. I don’t know any other Milo’s. He’s the only one.”
A commotion broke out somewhere behind Parker and Ned.
“Oh man!” Ned trotted away to where several women flocked around a man.
Parker shielded her eyes and squinted across the green. “It’s Slick. What’s he doing here?”
A gaggle of groupies with cell phones approached, each snapping selfies with Slick or filming his slow walk over to the picnic table.
“Well, hello. Don’t I know you?” His accent lilted with friendly charm. Not the Slick from the judging panel. “I remember you from the auditions. Quite outstanding!”
Jill’s mouth fell open and she shook the hand he proffered. Slick Patton, harsh judge or not, possessed all the right Hunk capital, and now held her hand warmly pressed in his.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything. A live remake of The Little Mermaid, perhaps?” He turned in a slow circle, overplaying the nonchalant act. “Good luck to you, Jill.” He waved and winked.
As Slick swaggered off, trailing drooling girls behind him, Jill slid off the table and whispered, “What was that all about?”
“Jelly beans, girl, you don’t get it? Slick has picked you as his little starlet.” She sighed, turning away. “Why do I even bother?”
Jill stared after Slick. Losing had just gotten a lot harder.
Jill opened the passenger door and plunked down in the front seat next to Milo. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” Milo glanced down at the text from Amaya wishing him luck and tucked the phone in his pocket. Frankly, he had plenty he didn’t want to talk about, too. Especially that kiss with Amaya and all the texts since. Part of him felt guilty, as if he’d betrayed Jill. But then he’d remind himself that he was the only one involved in that love affair. Jill never knew about it, never truly indicated that she wanted him, so he couldn’t possibly be breaking her heart.
He was still trying to sort through his feelings for Amaya. She was beautiful and talented enough that he should be falling for her, but …
“We doing lunch?” Jill sniffed.
“Sure. Are you okay leaving the bike?”
Jill stared dully through the windshield at her motorcycle. “Yeah. We won’t be gone too long.”
“Um. I’m not filming here, remember?”
“Oh yeah.” Something was eating her, all right. Maybe she’d tell him over tacos.
***
Or not.
Jill narrowed her eyes over her chalupa. “What’s eating you, Milo?”
Milo had just bitten into a seven-layer burrito. “Mph-mm.”
“Don’t tell me ‘nothing’, Milo. I’ve known you too long.”
He
held up a finger while he chewed enough to swallow, then took a gulp of soda to clear his palate. “What makes you think there’s something wrong? You’re the one who came back to the car all moody.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Moody?”
“Okay, quiet. That’s not your norm, so I figured something’s bugging you.”
“You saying I talk too much?”
“I’m not saying anything, Jill. I’m eating a burrito.” He took another bite to illustrate.
“Fine.” She looked away, dropping her food on the wrapper uneaten.
“Are we having a fight?”
“Are we?” Her tone tied his tongue up in knots.
“I … I don’t know what it’s about, if we are. Shouldn’t I know that before we start a fight?” He lightened his tone. “You know, so I can get all my arguments and zingers lined up? I’m new at this.”
Jill grunted and pinched the bridge of her nose the way she did to stop tears from coming when her parents said something particularly insensitive.
Milo put his burrito down, all appetite lost. What had he said or done to make her cry? He reached over and rested his hand on her arm. “Jill, what’s going on?”
Wiping a lone tear from her cheek, she sighed. “I’m sorry, Milo. It’s been a really weird day. Weird week.”
“Weird summer.”
“What the heck have I gotten us into?” She shifted her hand and started fussing with her pony tail, so Milo leaned back and poked at the condensation on his cup.
“Adventure. It’s what you do.”
“But what are we doing?”
Milo shook the cup to check the ice status. “At last count, trying to win a reality show.”
“And what if that’s not the right thing to do?”
Milo pried the lid off his cup and grabbed a mouthful of ice. “Jill, you’re going to have to get me up to speed. You’re on your Harley, six semi-trucks a head of me.”
Jill leaned her elbows on the table, sagging into the orange and purple vinyl padding. “Slick wants me to win the regional.”
Milo sat up straighter. “How do you know that?”
