“Are you excited about having a baby?” Angelina asked. She couldn’t tell if Daisy was or not.
“Am I excited about having a human being who’s only going to be a baby for a very short period of her life?” Daisy asked.
“That’s an accurate rephrase—are you?”
Daisy looked thoughtfully across the yard. “I’m not excited, but I am content. I never wanted to raise children. It’s a job in itself”—she rubbed her belly—“but fate had other plans for me.”
“I never want to have children either. That’s something else we have in common.”
Daisy chuckled. “I told Belmont that I want to name her Hillary, like Hillary Clinton. I want her to be strong, resilient, and overly ambitious.”
Angelina snorted. “You sound like my mother.” The moment she said that a pinch of sadness stabbed her in the heart.
“I want a lot of things for the human being in my belly, but I’ll wait until she shows me who she is and who she wants to become and then I’ll guide her from there.”
“Wow, Daisy, could you please be my mother?” Angelina joked.
They shared a laugh and continued talking until they couldn’t keep their eyes open. On Tuesday night they had the most life- changing conversation ever. Angelina had told Daisy what Karina said about her mother and the voodoo woman.
Daisy let out a facetious laugh. “Well, she shouldn’t have wasted her guilt. Do not cry for Heloise Krantz, she had her share of affairs as well. Neither one of them was faithful to the other. They had no real passion in their marriage. As soon as Jacques’ one and only son died, he stopped being lazy and finally filed for a divorce. And he gave me some serious daddy issues, which is why I stayed with that asshole Adrian longer than I should’ve.”
One look at Daisy and Angelina could see the blood still dripping from unhealed wounds. But what Daisy did unknowingly for her in that moment was remarkable. Angelina no longer had to share in her mother’s guilt of being the “other woman.”
“Now about Charlie. Are you ready to elaborate?” Daisy asked.
“We made love. It was wonderful.”
Daisy nodded contemplatively. “Charlie is the kind of person who’s better defined by his present. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Angelina smiled and nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“Then give him a chance, but yes, remain cautious until you don’t have to anymore. You’ll know when that time comes.”
“Oh, what a joy it is to have a prettier, wiser older sister,” Angelina said.
“I don’t know about prettier, and the wiser part is yet to be determined.”
They shared another laugh, but Angelina felt better about offering herself to Charlie. So when Daisy flew back to L.A. the next day, Angelina went with her. After all, she had to officially move out of her apartment in downtown Long Beach. At least that was her main excuse for choosing to fly back to L.A. at the last minute.
Daisy’s chauffeur drove them to the lot to pick up her car. Charlie wasn’t in the trailer, and Pearl, who happened to be in the office, said he was on location in Arrowhead for the week. She gave Angelina the address for where he was staying.
Angelina didn’t drive up to the mountains right away. First she returned to Long Beach to pack up the rest of her apartment. Once she got everything in boxes, she arranged to have a company pick up her things and ship them to Louisiana. She didn’t plan on staying in Louisiana or L.A. long. New York was her final destination, and a couple of her friends were awaiting her arrival.
However—deep down Angelina knew that she wouldn’t leave the City of Angels if Charlie asked her to stay and be with him, at least until they figured out where they should go from there. Perhaps back to New Orleans. She could see herself living there with him from now until forever.
Chapter 12
A Hand in the Cookie Jar
Shane sinks his hand into the ice shavings. “The fake snow is sticking to the ground pretty well,” he says. He had his doubts being that it’s May in California.
In this shot stunt doubles are skiing down the side of the mountain and an avalanche chases them, but Juan La Costa will save Clara Richardson’s life. The next scene will be their first sexual encounter.
It’s quiet on the set. Shane raises the bullhorn to his mouth. “Action!”
Down the mountain they go. I yawn as the scene plays out. The skiers look frantically over their shoulders. The tumbling snow will be added to the video later, but they are pretending as though they see it coming. Shane does five more goddamn takes of this same scene, which takes at least thirty minutes to set up. He wants to do a sixth, but Nate, Pearl’s eyes and ears on the set today, warns him that “takes are time and time is money.” So Shane picks up from the point where the stuntmen narrowly make it to the bottom of the mountain. They switch places with Monroe and James Carlisle. This takes another twenty fucking minutes. I’m losing more patience.
Finally Shane calls, “Action!”
Juan saves Clara; Mandy and James make out in the snow. And I actually owe James a lot for keeping Mandy off my ass. She hasn’t tried to grab my nuts since the second day of production. It’s been a different story with Monroe. For instance, last night she sat next to me at dinner and massaged my dick under the table. I rose to the occasion, and she reveled in the fact that she made me horny.
Angelina’s actions speak loud and clear. She’s done with me. It seems unfair to get passed over for something that’s not even the case. I’m not in love with Daisy. I love her as a sister-in-law, but that’s it.
At the moment, Monroe is standing behind my chair, rubbing her tits on my back. I can feel how hard her nipples are under the flimsy shirt she’s wearing with no bra. She’s pretending that her actions are merely friendly, but Shane wouldn’t see it that way if he knew about the hand job during dinner last night.
After the last shot of the day I head over to the bar in the lodge and order gin and tonic with a twist of lime. So far, I’m sitting alone. I prefer it this way. Usually someone has something to say to me about one thing or another. Some guy always wants to know when’s my next project or they want to introduce me to someone they think I should meet. Generally I nod and say, “I don’t know” or “I’ll think about it.”
Suddenly I’m struck by an urge to call Angelina. She might have moved on, but hell if I let her do it without hearing me out. I dig for my cell phone in one of my jacket pockets. It’s not in that one, so I check the other side.
“Here you are,” I mutter victoriously. The case is metallic green. “Damn it.” It’s Angelina’s phone.
I brought it with me just in case she decides to sneak back into L.A. Jack has the key to my house. I’m positive he’ll let her waltz right on in without me knowing it. I’ve done some crazy shit to that phone while alone with it. I’ve kissed it. I’ve put it on my pillow while I slept. Angelina has this picture of herself as the wallpaper, so most recently I rubbed one off to it. Like I said, I’ve lost my fucking sanity.
“What sort of blues are you drinking away tonight?” It’s Monroe and she’s put her tits on me again.
“Where’s Shane?” I ask and take another swig of my drink.
“He’s in the cutting room.”
“You know he’s into you? It might be love,” I say sarcastically.
“I never asked him to fall in love with me.”
“Then you should let him know that.”
“Charlie, look at me,” she says.
I turn reluctantly. “What?”
“What the fuck have we been doing?”
“Making a movie,” I say, pretending I don’t know what she’s referring to.
There’s a reckless twinkle in her clear blue eyes. She is beautiful, and her nipples are still poking her flimsy shirt. Her jeans are always skintight, and her curves are begging for attention. However, none of those attributes are enough to get Angelina off my brain.
Monroe and I motion to the bartender at the same t
ime. “I got it,” I say and order another gin and tonic with a twist for me and a dirty martini for her.
“Thank you.” She heaves herself up onto the stool beside me and makes herself comfortable. “So why are you here night after night drinking your blues away?”
Unfortunately, all of my blues are still with me. “I’m not doing that,” I say.
“I disagree. After dinner last night you sat in that same seat, drinking the bar dry. If you keep it up, the next time I talk to Maggie, I’m going to tell on you.”
“Ah, Maggie,” I whisper cynically. I haven’t thought about her in a while, which is progress in itself. Her voice plays in my head like a track of all the shit that’s wrong with me. “How is she?”
“In love.”
“Good for Vince for lasting what”—I check my watch just to make the point—“three weeks.”
“Three and a half.”
“Then he hasn’t left the toilet seat up or hair on the sink.”
“Oh, she’s expunged them for a lot less than that.”
I raise a finger. “The farter. I remember him. And he didn’t even mean to do it!”
“There was a guy who wouldn’t let another driver in front of him. They were on their way to Connecticut for the weekend, and as soon as he did that, she made him turn the car around and take her home. She said it confirmed he was an inconsiderate asshole.” The bartender serves us. “It’s always been Jack doesn’t do this or Jack doesn’t do that. I tell her, well, you can’t fuck Jack.”
We look at each other, both of us smirking. It would be much easier if I could feel it for Monroe. I feel something, but not “it.”
Others who are part of the production start trickling in. A few hours later it’s crowded. Monroe hasn’t abandoned her stool. She keeps squeezing my thigh as she talks to whoever is on the other side of her and letting her fingers brush my dick. Then fucking Donald sits down next to me. I search for the fastest way out, but my feet and brain aren’t fast enough to take me.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he says.
I wave him off. I’m always wary when another guy wants to buy me a drink. It means he has a motive. “I’m fine.”
“Let me, man! Not all of us here have been dumped by the hot and sexy Angelina Beauchamp. I feel as though we’re kindred spirits.” His grin is shady as hell.
I snort. “She dumped you? Not me.” I finish the rest of my drink.
“If you haven’t heard from her since she last fucked you, then she dumped you.” He slaps a hand on my shoulder like we’re old buddies. I want to punch him.
“I’ve heard from her since I last fucked her,” I say.
He looks like he’s about to choke. “You fucked her?”
I shrug. Hell, I’ve already said too much by misrepresenting the facts. “But I’ve been wanting to ask you—why the hell are you here?”
He lifts one side of his mouth into a sneaky-assed smirk. “It was a good script and a good movie. I wanted to be part of it.”
I snort sarcastically. “Did you practice that answer?”
He ruffles his eyebrows as if he’s stunned. This guy is a serious hack.
“Come with me, Charlie,” Monroe whispers in my ear. I let her take my hand and drag me out of there. “I’m going to do you a favor and help you conquer your blues.”
“I’m just going to go back to my room,” I mumble. It’s not hard to see that she has sex on the brain.
“We can go there.”
“Alone.”
“Charlie, you don’t have to love me or like me, I just want you to want me.”
I used to be able to want more than one woman at a time. Now I only want Angelina, and shit, I can’t have her—or maybe I can. Maybe I should stop sulking and go get her. But then what in the hell do I really have to offer her. She wants to go to New York and dance. I don’t know what the hell I want to do other than nothing at all.
I still let Monroe pull me down the hallway. I have no idea where we’re going. We pass a couple of familiar faces. They observe us curiously. She takes a sharp turn into an empty room.
“What are you doing?” I ask as she closes the door behind us.
She takes me by the shoulders and guides me until the back of my legs hit a lounge chair.
“Sit,” she whispers seductively as she pushes down on my shoulders.
“I’m not in the mood,” I say, but I sit anyhow.
My pants unsnap and unzip, and she wraps her fingers around my limp dick. It’s happening so fast that I can’t keep up. Her warm wet mouth engulfs me. I’m getting hard. It feels so damn good, but I haven’t put my hands in her hair or thrust my thickening pole deeper down her throat.
I look down to see the top of her head bobbing up and down. I want to ask her to stop, but the sensations are stirring in my penis. I pitch my head back. “Shit,” I mutter. I don’t want this, but then I do. Should I let her finish and deal with the consequences when it’s over?
Through her slurping and my heavy breaths I hear someone knocking on the door. Before I can turn to face the slice of light that has infringed on us, I hear Angelina say, “Charlie?”
Am I hallucinating or having a fucking nightmare? “Angelina?” I lose the sensations in my dick.
“Oh, sorry,” she says in a shaky voice and closes the door. I can hear her running down the hallway.
“Shit!” Monroe and I say in unison.
She scrambles to her feet. I fasten my pants as I run out of the room, chasing after Angelina. I sweep past the bar, hit a corner, and then run through the lobby. I catch sight of her as she runs out the glass doors and toward her car that’s in guest parking. She’s frantically pointing her electronic key fob at the car. By the sound of it, she’s hitting all the wrong buttons.
“Angelina,” I call.
She’s not facing me, so I walk up behind her and hold her tight. Now this feels right. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I promise you.”
Her body is stiff, but soft and warm. I expect her to head butt me or punch me in the nuts. “But it did happen,” she says, way too calmly.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Monroe.”
“Charlie…” She unfastens my arms from around her and turns to face me. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. I don’t regret anything we’ve done.” She forces herself to smile, but I can see that I’ve ripped her heart out.
“Fuck.” I sigh, disappointed. “How did you know I was here?”
“I saw Pearl yesterday.”
“And she told you where I was?”
“Yes, but that’s water under the bridge.”
“Why the fuck didn’t she call me?” I would fire her if she weren’t running the whole show.
“She said she would.”
Then I remember that I left my phone in the room and I have Angelina’s in my pocket. “I didn’t have my phone with me today, probably not yesterday either.” Since I’ve been clinging to and masturbating to her cell phone.
We stare into each other eyes. I can’t believe she’s here. It’s as though a genie has granted me my only wish. But it wasn’t a good genie—it was an evil one, who wants to ruin shit for me.
“How did you know I was in the room with Monroe?”
She rolls her eyes. “Does it matter?”
“To me it does.”
She sighs forcefully. “Someone told me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, a girl.”
I think about the faces we passed as we walked down the hallway. I want to fire every single one of them, but then what would that change? What’s done is done. “Don’t leave,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
“Charlie.” She sighs softly. “After what I saw? I’m not angry, but I am hurt. I don’t know why I’m here or what I hoped to find, but I have to go.”
I curl my fingers around her waist. She doesn’t pull away. I pin her agai
nst the car. “I do have a case to plead here, Angelina. One I can win.”
She peels her eyes off my face to look past me. I turn to see what’s captured her attention. Monroe is standing outside the entrance with Donald.
“Is that Donald Light?” she asks with a snarl. “What’s he doing here?”
I shake my head. “Monroe hired him.”
She sneers. “She plays dirty. I’m leaving, bye.” She moves so quickly that our bodies detach, and she opens the car door.
“Wait,” I say as I catch the door before she can swing it all the way open.
“What, Charlie, what?”
“Are you staying at my house?”
Her laugh is facetious. “Is that a joke?”
“Are you back in Long Beach?”
“I’m at Daisy’s.”
“For how long?”
She blows an impatient breath. “I’ll be gone before you’re back.”
“What about your cell phone?”
“I’d forgotten about it.” She sighs gravely. “Well? Do you have it?”
“Not here.” I’m desperate enough to lie.
“Well, I’m not going to wait until…”
“I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”
She squints. “Are you wrapping tomorrow?”
“They’re not, but I am.”
“Charlie…” She shakes her head.
I open the door for her. “I’ll see you at Jack and Daisy’s tomorrow?”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, yes.”
Say it, I tell myself. Say what you feel. “See you later,” I say, instead of I love you.
***
Angelina
The lines on the freeway were blurry through Angelina’s tears. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Charlie and was embarrassed to be crying at all. She was not the kind of chick who wept over boys. The sad part was that she hadn’t expected more from him. That revelation hit her when he pinned her against the car. Her heart had fluttered and so had her desire. His hilly chest, powerful arms, and his musician’s fingers never failed to stimulate her. If he were anyone else, she would’ve stayed and listened just so they could have make-up sex. And after it was over he would never have heard from her again. However, Charlie wasn’t anyone, and they were family by marriage. She could pull no disappearing acts with him. They would see each other again sooner or later. She wanted to see him again.
Say You Love Her Page 14
