VANCE: A Movie Star Romance

by Lucy Lambert

  It was the bulge of my phone in my back pocket. I reached down and yanked it out of my jeans.

  The old lady, confused, her quarters jangling in one hand, tried shifting her cart out of the way. She nudged me. I dropped my phone on the belt.

  The old lady dropped her quarters to the scuffed floor. They scattered in all directions.

  But then I squeezed through. By then a bunch of other shoppers stopped to watch.

  I couldn’t stand their eyes. Not even long enough to lean over and grab my phone again.

  “Erin! Wait!” Sam said.

  I hardly heard her. I made for the doors, hitching my shoulders.

  Out in the parking lot, the sun dappling all the windshields with spots of light, I went to Mandi’s car.

  It was locked, and Sam had the key. I couldn’t wait out there.

  So I left.

  I walked back to the apartment. It was a long walk, and my feet and calves ached by the time I opened the glass door at the front of the building.

  It gave me a little time to cool off, and to think about my reaction. My overreaction, was more like it.

  Then again, just about everything over the last few weeks seemed like an overreaction to me.

  I hoped Sam was okay. I’d just left her standing in the line with all our food in the cart. I reached the door to the apartment with the idea of apologizing to her first in my mind.

  I went inside and kicked off my shoes.

  “Sam?” I said. I thought she might come right out as soon as she heard the door open.

  That having the car meant she’d definitely get back home first.

  “In here,” Sam replied. From the kitchen, of course.

  Her reply relieved me.

  I started for the kitchen. “Hey, I’m really, really sorry about all that, it was just…” the rest of the sentence died on my lips when I went through the doorway, moving from the carpet of the hall to the linoleum of the kitchen.

  Sam was in there, all right. But so was Vance.

  They both sat at the little dinette table. They stood when they saw me come in.

  “Hi,” I said, needing to say something.

  I should have been paying more attention when I came in, I thought. That red Corvette of his had to be parked around here somewhere. Then I would’ve been forewarned.

  Then what? Would you have just kept on walking? Admit it, you like seeing him.

  I don’t know if I liked seeing him at that moment. But I did like looking. He looked good. Of course he did. When didn’t he? Belted slacks, a light jacket.

  Sam looked absolutely star-struck. A constant blush hid many of her freckles, and she kept glancing at him as though not certain if he actually stood there next to her or not.

  I knew that feeling.

  And me. I didn’t look good. Old laundry day jeans, a baggy shirt, hair pulled back in a quick ponytail so that I could go out and not feel totally tattered. And an absolute minimum of makeup.

  I wanted to turn away, but knew that would be weird.

  Also, the air between Vance and I filled with tension, neither of us speaking.

  Sam sensed that too. She stepped forward, “You seemed so upset. And you dropped your phone. I… I sort of… called Vance. Mr. Tracker, I mean. I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

  I wished I hadn’t let her know my passcode.

  “You did the right thing,” Vance said. Without breaking eye contact with me, he put his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

  That proved too much for her. She nearly swooned, managing at the last second to turn the move into an awkward turn. Her freckles disappeared completely in her blush this time.

  She caught herself against the counter. “I… I also picked up your groceries for you, Erin. You can get me back later. I’ll leave you guys alone, okay?”

  She walked past me. Waddled, more like, her body so stiff. I almost reached out and caught her arm, almost asked her to stay.

  Because I didn’t trust Vance and I alone together.

  I let her go, though.

  Vance hooked his thumbs into his pockets and watched me.

  Behind me, I heard Sam close the door to her bedroom. I glanced at Vance, then away again. I wondered if there was any excuse I might use to run to my bedroom and then the bathroom. I wasn’t presentable. Not at all. He had to see that.

  “So… this is my apartment…” I said, unable to stand the silence yawning between us any longer.

  “Tell me what happened,” Vance interrupted.

  “I thought Sam told you.”

  “Tell me yourself,” he said.

  Before I could think to step back, he closed the distance between us. He took my hands in his and gave them a squeeze.

  He smelled good. The breeze of his passage wafted some of his cologne my way.

  Did I remember to put on deodorant before we left for Safeway?

  I tried pulling back, but his hands tightened around mine. “Tell me, Erin.”

  I liked when he said my name. He had a nice, deep voice. The kind that reverberated within my own chest when I stood close enough.

  I told him. I wasn’t sure I would, but I did. The words spilled out. At some point, he took me over to the table.

  While I talked, he rooted through the kitchen cupboards until he found what he wanted. He made me a cup of chamomile tea, tendrils of steam rising from the mug when he set it down in front of me.

  He set something else down beside the mug, too. A blank white card, like a credit card that the manufacturer had forgot to finish.

  “What’s this?” I asked. Just talking about what happened brought the feelings back. The tightness in my chest and stomach, the panic.

  The tea helped. I wrapped my fingers around the mug and let the warmth of the ceramic leech into my palms.

  “A key,” he said.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Looks like a card to me,” I said jokingly.

  He sat down across from me, hands flat on the table.

  He smiled. “A key card. To my hideaway apartment. The address is on the back. For when you need space. You seem to have wanted a lot of that, lately.”

  “That’s because I think what we did there was a mistake.”

  There, it was out in the open now.

  “No, it wasn’t,” he said.

  “It was,” I pressed. The heat from the mug helped a lot. “I was vulnerable, and you’re you. I was just as star-struck as Sam. It was fun, but it can’t be any more than that. Especially after today. I can’t take this. I can’t take all the attention. Do you know I have over three hundred friend requests waiting right now? I had to completely lock down my Facebook account, make a new email, get a new phone number… It’s too much. I’ll still be your assistant if you want, but nothing more. I need you to understand that…do you?”

  He might, but I wasn’t certain I did. Just talking about that night made my entire body buzz. If he tried to kiss me at that moment, if he tried to do more than kiss me, I didn’t think I’d try and stop him.

  Though I figured my appearance in my shabby jeans and loose shirt and quick ponytail might do the stopping for me.

  “That isn’t what you actually want,” Vance said.

  “It is,” I replied.

  He changed the subject. “We’re alone now. Do you want to hear the big news?”

  I glanced down at the key card. “That’s not it?”

  This time he grinned earnestly. “No.”

  “So what is it?”

  “We’re pretty much finished principal photography here in LA, and the second unit’s also done over in Europe. Sanders and the producers got approval from the studio for on-location shoots for a few of the final scenes for the film. On-location shoots in the UK.”

  He’s leaving, I thought. I was at once relieved and upset.

  “When do you go?” I said, hoping that my voice stayed steady. I took a sip from my cup to hide the shakiness in my hands. The cup wasn’t as warm as it used to be.

  �
��The shoots are scheduled starting next Monday for two weeks. And you’re coming with me. If you want.”

  I almost choked on my tea. “What?”

  “Come with me to the UK, Erin,” Vance said.

  “I can’t,” I blurted.

  “You can. We can get away from LA, at least for a little. I’d really like it if you came, and I know that you would, too.”

  I searched my mind for some excuse. Any excuse. Any that would make some sort of sense, anyway.

  “I shouldn't,” I said finally.

  “But you will,” Vance replied, grinning again.

  Stop being some damn handsome! It’s clouding my judgment!

  “I will,” I said.

  He stood up and come around to my side of the table. He knelt down beside me. Moved in to kiss me.

  “Don’t,” I said, looking away from him. “I look horrible.”

  “You don’t,” Vance said.

  He put his fingers against my cheek and turned me to face him again. He kissed me. I let him, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I still wanted him.

  “I look forward to doing all that and more with you in London.”

  Then he left.

  I followed, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “Vance…”

  He turned, one hand already on the doorknob. Stay with me tonight, I wanted to say.

  Either he was telepathic or just a good guesser. He smiled at me. A proper smile. A rare smile that lifted both corners of his mouth rather than just the one.

  “Not tonight. It wouldn’t be right tonight,” he said.

  “I know,” I said. Still, all the same, I wanted it. Wanted him.

  “I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

  His eyes lingered another moment on me, then he opened the door and slipped through the gap.

  Chapter 19

  VANCE

  The next morning I went to my trailer on the studio lot and found Linda in my bed.

  I opened the door, stepped inside, and stopped.

  I know they say that telepathy and all that is nonsense, but I do know that there is something like a sixth sense.

  It’s that sense where you can feel when someone else is in the room with you, or when someone’s looking at you across a busy bar or club. It’s a tense, electric feeling. Not always pleasant, but not always unpleasant, either.

  I felt that then. That prickling feeling between my shoulder blades.

  I also knew right away that it wasn’t Erin.

  “Hello, Vance.”

  I turned on the light and swung around towards my bed, where the voice came from.

  Linda lay there. She lay on top of the cover. Well, it was more of a recline. She was on her side, elbow on bed and cheek propped against hand.

  And she was in her underwear. They were a lacy, frilly affair that did more to reveal the important parts than cover them.

  I barely spared her a glance. If this had been a month ago, I wouldn’t have questioned. I’d have been out of my clothes and on top of her without a second thought.

  But at that moment I did have second thoughts. And thirds and fourths and so on. All of them about Erin.

  I thought I was more attracted to Erin how she looked last night, in her hasty ponytail and worn jeans and minimal makeup, than I was to the sex doll giving me a come hither from my bed.

  “Linda,” I said as though I was greeting an acquaintance while we passed each other on the street.

  I closed the door, then went over and sat at my desk. I pulled out my tatty copy of the script for Warhawk. Sanders wanted to do a couple quick reshoots before we headed off to London and while I still remembered most of the lines I wanted to re-memorize them all.

  “Vance!” Linda said, an unmistakable warning tone in her voice.

  “Did you come into the wrong trailer?” I asked, still not looking at her.

  “You know damn well I didn’t. Don’t you want to come to bed?”

  “With you? No.”

  “What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re different now. Ever since the little mouse girl…”

  “Erin. Her name’s Erin,” I interrupted.

  “Ever since mouse-girl you’re different. She’s not the right one for you. You know that.”

  I heard the slither of her skin against the silk spread on the bed, followed by the light creak of a spring beneath her shifting weight.

  Again, I didn’t look. I didn’t have to. I still had that other sense. The one that told me that she stood directly behind me. She put her hands on my shoulders and leaned in close, so that I could feel the heat coming off her.

  “Imagine the story,” she whispered, “of the two of us getting together on set. You don’t need that silly little assistant anymore to help. You’re done with her.”

  I put my script down on the desk. I reached up and put my hands on hers. She practically started purring.

  Then I pulled them off me and dropped them.

  “No,” I said.

  “No, what?” she said, her voice losing that silky, throaty quality and becoming again dangerous.

  “Just no. Get your clothes on and get out.”

  “But this is the right call, you know that. You know it’ll give us the good buzz we need.”

  Good buzz, I thought, the words a trigger in the back of my mind. I stood, rounded on her. Her eyes went wide and she took a step back.

  “Where did you hear that? Who told you that?”

  “What are you...” she didn’t finish.

  “Good buzz,” I said, “You’ve been talking to my agent, haven’t you? That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it? He told you it’d be good for your career. Really launch you up. Why, Linda? You like me about as much as I like you, and we both know that amounts about nothing plus nothing.”

  She put her hands on her mostly bare hips and glared up at me, “Maybe because I still give a damn about my career.”

  I took a step closer to her, eliminating most of the space between our bodies. She couldn’t step back again without running against the counter behind her.

  “Did you talk to him or not?”

  She tried keeping her glare up, faltered, and looked down. “Yes. But you know that I’m right and that he’s right.”

  “No,” I said again. I moved past her, found her pile of clothes beside the bed. I scooped them up and then tossed them to her. She let out a little squeak when she saw them flying at her face, but caught them all the same.

  I had the urge to keep throwing. To grab the nearby chair and smash it against the wall, to continue on that way until only sticks and splinters remained.

  But I couldn’t, and wouldn’t let Linda see me that way.

  “Vance!” she said, her voice now a childish whine.

  I didn’t say anything right away. Instead I grabbed the door handle, then looked at her. “Have those on in thirty seconds or you’ll be dressing in the nearest alley.”

  She started to protest again, saw the look on my face, and stopped. She struggled into her blouse, then started on her slacks. They were backwards. She huffed and started again.

  It would’ve been funny if I hadn’t been keeping count in my head.

  Nineteen…twenty…twenty-one…

  “Are you happy now?” Linda said, standing somewhat clothed before me. She’d misaligned the buttons on her blouse, and only tucked one side into her slacks.

  “Not yet,” I said. I pulled the door open and waved her out.

  “Think about us some more,” she said when she passed by.

  “Now there’s a waste of good concentration,” I replied.

  I closed the door on her. She hopped out of the way. The narrowing gap showed her glare for a moment before the latch clicked into place.

  I leaned against the wall, pinched the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefinger.

  Damn it, Rudy, I thought.

  Chapter 20

  ERIN

  I came face-to-face with Linda Campion just outside Vance’s tr
ailer.

  Her eyes, already wide from whatever happened inside, widened further so that I saw the whites and the little red lightning-forks of veins around their rims.

  “This is your fault,” she said.

  “Something I can do for you, Miss Campion?” I said. I looked past her at the trailer. What just happened in there?

  I saw Linda’s bedraggled appearance, the buttons askew on her blouse. What is this?

  “Yeah, drop dead,” Linda said. “Do us all a favor. Me and Vance especially.”

  I tried polite. I really tried, I thought, my fists curling against my thighs.

  “I’m going to have to disappoint you on that one. Why are you like this?”

  Linda came closer and poked a finger at my chest, “Because I don’t like you. I see the way you’re looking around, like you think you’re better than everyone. Let me tell you: you aren’t. You served your purpose, now get out of the way.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said, crossing my arms. I looked again at those buttons.

  Linda saw and smiled, “It’s okay, nothing’s happened. Yet. Soon though, I think. I know.”

  Then she pushed past me, checking me with her shoulder. I stumbled.

  For just a second some rage flashed hot inside me, made me want to chase after her and grab her and make her tell me what she was going on about.

  Then I calmed down a little. I went into the trailer, taking both steps up to the door at once. I didn’t knock.

  Vance leaned against the narrow counter, eyes scanning his well-thumbed script. As soon as I came in, those eyes fixed on me.

  “So I just ran into Linda,” I said. “She looked a little… ragged.”

  She looked a little like she’s spent some time in bed, and not sleeping.

  But Vance didn’t. Not a wrinkle on his shirt or pants, no hairs out of place, no post-loving flush to his face.

  “She was in here. Then I threw her out,” Vance said. “Let’s run some lines.”

  I thought about asking him what Linda had been talking about, but I didn’t.

  I should have.

  It was a ten-hour flight aboard an American Airlines 747 from LA to Heathrow in London.

  Did I mention it was a first class flight?