Cuffing Her

by Emily Bishop

  I switched off the smartphone, got up, and stowed it in its usual hiding spot. I only ever used the damn thing for emergencies or binge Candy Crush in moments of weakness. You have to get rid of him. Get rid of this before it’s too late.

  Five years since I’d last lived in Moondance. I’d hoped five years would’ve been enough to dull memories of me and Mom for the residents. Not for me, no, never for me. And now this.

  Don’t panic. Stop panicking. You’re fine. Just get rid of him. The situation isn’t as dire as you think it is. I would’ve given anything to have had my mother saying the words to me instead.

  The side door of the RV creaked, and I squeezed my eyes shut. He was back inside.

  “Aurora?” he called out. “Where is she, Mistress?”

  The kitty meowed in the next room.

  “Coming,” I said and cleared my throat. “Just a sec.” I smoothed my palms over my loose cotton shirt then moved out into the dining area. My bare feet scraped across the carpet.

  “There you are,” he said, still topless and breathtaking. Why was this painful? I didn’t know him. It’d meant nothing. Nothing! “Time to get cooking. How do you like your eggs?”

  “I think you should leave,” I said.

  Both Mistress and Jarryd looked at me as if I’d lost my shit.

  “What?”

  “I said, I think you should leave. I’m grateful for your effort here but we don’t need to make this into something it’s not.” I was stiff as a board. “We had a good time, and that’s over now. I’m sure you have things to get to, and I do, too.”

  “Aurora—”

  “Leave, please,” I said, and a note of plea entered my voice. I hated myself for that but I wasn’t the commanding type.

  Jarryd was stunned. He put down the pack of bacon and stepped back from the counter, nodding once. “Yeah, all right. My shirt.”

  I swept it off the table and held it out to him. He took it from me. Our skin didn’t connect.

  Jarryd Tombs tugged on the shirt and grabbed his jacket from the sofa. “Thanks for everything.” And then he was out the door and gone.

  I let out a long, low sigh and clung to the table. I should’ve been relieved. One less problem to deal with. Except the only emotion I could identify was disappointment.

  I sat down and buried my face in my palms. This should never have happened.

  Chapter 5

  Jarryd

  Moondance could’ve graced the pages of a lifestyle magazine—log-cabin style buildings, even if it was the barbershop I strolled past, and wrought iron streetlamps. The street wasn’t busy either, just a few cars meandering past, some of them in rough shape, exhausts put-putting along.

  I pictured Aurora in one of them and perked up, but it was a little old lady behind the wheel, squinting out from behind thick glasses that magnified her eyes to owl-sized.

  “I don’t think he heard a word I said,” Luke said.

  I shifted my focus. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you today, bud? You’re not with me.” Luke, my script co-writer and a good friend, tapped the end of his ballpoint on his palm. “This is what we had planned today. There somewhere else you need to be?”

  It was a rhetorical question. Luke was one of the only people who took that tone with me, and I appreciated the hell out of him for it. Too many yea-sayers. Too many folks willing to do whatever I said, even if it was a shit idea.

  “I’ve got a lot to think about.”

  “Like Pride’s Death,” Luke replied.

  “Wait!” A woman called out.

  Footsteps crunched grit on the sidewalk behind us, and I held my breath, tried my hardest to cool a rising tide of irritation. This is all I fucking need today.

  “There you are.” Felicity inserted a purr into the words. She was an oversized blonde cat, and I was the mouse. “You forgot to ask reception to call my room when you left.”

  I avoided looking at her. Every time I did, I saw her with the other man. A flashback to the day I’d found them together in my bed. My feelings for her had drained away, but the fact that she’d risked my reputation and hers still ate at me.

  Reputation was everything in Hollywood. It was the crux of the issue here. If I didn’t play nice, the investors would pull out and I’d lose the movie. Years of work flushed away in seconds.

  “He’s gone again,” Luke muttered.

  “No, I’m here.” I looked up at the cloudless blue sky and the Big Horn Mountains, which shaded the west side of the town. “Beautiful setting. Maybe it’s too beautiful.”

  “See?” Felicity slipped her arm through mine. “This is why you need me here.”

  I shook her off and met her gaze, at last. Nothing happened. No anger, no irritation, just a sad lack of emotion. I’d given her a ring, and we’d come to this. “No,” I said. A simple command.

  “But I’m helping you. You did cast me as the star in this movie. I should have some input here.” Her long blond hair hung lose around her shoulders, and she tottered on stilettos. Perfect shoes for hiking. “Why are we walking, anyway? Let’s take a cab.”

  “Old Bobby doesn’t run after a storm,” I said, and my heart thumped. Aurora. Free and different, maybe a little crazy. And she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m too much trouble.

  “What’s an Old Bobby?” Felicity asked. “Oh, god, do you mean that lame old dude who runs the taxi service around here? He’s still alive?”

  “Enough of this,” Luke said. I could rely on him to cut the bullshit at any given time. My friend was all business and no pleasure. He pushed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We’ve got to view a few places here before we make a decision.”

  “Fine,” Felicity huffed. “But I don’t see why. This town is perfect. I told you that when I suggested it, Jay.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said.

  “Stop spitting at each other, and start walking.” Luke led us down the long sidewalk that separated the road from the trees. We’d come from our hotel, the Moondance Motel, another potential setting for a scene in Pride’s Death.

  “So, what’s the list?” Felicity asked.

  Luke lifted his clipboard—he preferred pen and paper to touchscreen—and ran the tip of his pen down the scene list. “We need a bar, a restaurant, a grocery store, library, forest, motel. I’m interested in the potential for a lake.”

  “We didn’t write anything for a lake,” I replied.

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t the forest chase scene be more interesting if the protagonist ended up in the lake? Hiding below the surface of the water while a flashlight strobes overhead, seeking her out?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe.”

  We continued in silence, past a few entrances to dirt roads, some of them labeled as private property, or outfitted with a wooden mailbox. One had what looked to be a Native American totem next to it.

  “Quaint,” Felicity said. “Isn’t it?”

  “It’s nice. I think it has potential,” Luke replied.

  I didn’t answer. We had more to see, and each passing tree reminded me of the ones outside Aurora’s trailer, and the surreal sense of having my life laid out before me. I’d lose money. Change was coming, and I’d had heartbreak recently. I glanced at Felicity askance.

  Is it heartbreak if the person you loved wasn’t real? The Felicity Swan I knew was a fake, and this woman next to me… the mask peeled back.

  “Here we are,” Luke said. We passed the first of the local stores, a little bakery and a barber next to it, all constructed in a log-cabin style, and moseyed on down the street. A bird swooped past, showing off its bright yellow undercarriage, and disappeared past the roof of another shop.

  “Ugh, so much wildlife,” Felicity said then giggled. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it again. I can’t say I missed that part of this place. Or the lack of nail salons.”

  “When did you leave?” Luke asked.

  “When I was sixteen. I had good memories here, but t
his town was never big enough to hold me. Once I was discovered, it was too late to look back, you know?” Felicity fanned her face.

  Discovered. Felicity’s mother had been a toxic, overbearing iteration of the younger actress herself. She’d forced her into every local commercial in the state then dragged her across the country to transform her into the blockbuster star she was now. Felicity had spent her formative young adult years in Hollywood.

  Had she always been this selfish?

  “This is the General Store,” Luke said, and placed a mark next to one of the scenes on the list. “Let’s check it out.”

  We filed into the shop, the bell tinkling above the door, and Felicity laid a hand on my arm. “Hold on a sec,” she whispered. “Before we go any further, we need to talk.”

  “This isn’t the time,” I said. “We’ve got nothing to talk about. You have your place, I have mine. We weren’t married, so we have no assets to split—”

  “Oh, for god’s sake,” Felicity whispered. “We don’t have to talk about the breakup. I want to know where you were last night. You worried me.”

  “Felicity, it’s none of your business where I was. It never will be again. Get that.” Once again, I removed her grip from my arm. “Back to work.” If there was one thing I could do, it was remain professional.

  Nothing mattered more to me than business, than work. It was the reason Felicity was still the lead in this damn movie. She was the best in the business, even if I begrudged her for it.

  “Whatever.” She swept past me, channeling Coco Chanel in scent and attitude, and halted in front of the counter. “Ring, ring, is anyone home?” she called out. “I’m looking for some service here.”

  A man wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a buck-toothed smile popped up from behind the counter. “Say! You’re Felicity Swan!”

  Felicity jumped and looked down her nose at the clerk. “I need a pack of Marlboro Menthols. Now.”

  Bucktooth Joe scrambled to obey her orders.

  Smoking. I wasn’t a stiff, but it was one of Felicity’s more annoying habits. She worked out with a personal trainer and lit up after each session. The irony never occurred to her.

  “Here,” Luke said and beckoned me from between the shelves. “What do you think of this?”

  I walked down the aisle and halted beside him then turned and surveyed the view from his position. A great shot of the front of the store, between the products and shelves, a low-hanging light near the front, and sunlight through slightly dusty windows, a little claustrophobic.

  “It’s a good aesthetic,” I said. “We could grime up the windows more.”

  “Right? I like this for the scene with the—”

  The bell above the door tinkled, and a familiar figure swept into view. Curvy, short, sexy as fuck. Lavender scent drifted to my nose, and I gripped the nearest shelf, clenched my jaw to keep arousal at bay.

  Aurora. Here, in this store. And Felicity at the front.

  Christ, if this wasn’t a recipe for crap in a handbasket, what was?

  The gypsy girl walked down the center aisle toward us, focused on the products.

  “These aren’t menthol,” Felicity said, out of view. “I asked for menthol.”

  “Sorry, Miss Swan. Right away, right away.”

  Aurora stiffened at the end of the aisle. She half-turned toward the front of the store then took a step back, shaking her head. She darted toward our end of the aisle instead, a basket slung over her forearm. She glanced over her shoulder, didn’t see me, and muttered under her breath.

  “Whoa there,” I said and put out my hands.

  She crashed right into me and bounced back. Recognition dawned, and her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed—fish out of water.

  “Aurora.” It came out breathy.

  Luke shifted next to me.

  “Are you OK?” I asked. It was the first thing that popped to mind. She hadn’t seemed all right this morning.

  “F-fine. What are you doing here?”

  “Scouting,” I replied. “I take it you’re shopping.”

  “Just bread. And sugar.” Aurora’s bottom lip quivered.

  Fuck me, I’d kiss her again. I’d walk her back to her RV and lay her down on that bed. Run my fingers through her hair then eat her pussy until she screamed my name and forgot whatever it was that’d scared her this morning.

  “Bread and sugar,” I managed. “Not bacon and eggs?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t like them that much.”

  Free, and feisty, and apparently, allergic to me. Great. I’d managed to cultivate an obsession for a woman who wasn’t interested in me. Refreshing though it was, it didn’t help the growing… situation downstairs.

  “You don’t like bacon and eggs?” I replied. “Everyone likes bacon and eggs.”

  “They’re overrated,” she said, loudly. “Sometimes, you want one type of eggs, only to find out that they’re the eggs someone else has already had and—”

  The eggs someone had already had? Someone like Felicity? No wonder she’d freaked out this morning and made me leave. Did she think we were still an item?

  Luke’s head swiveled as if he were at fucking Wimbledon. Tick-tock went the proverbial tennis ball.

  “What if someone else had the eggs but doesn’t deserve them anymore?” I asked.

  “How could that be possible?” Aurora hugged the loaf of bread to her chest, and her beaded bracelets rattled.

  “What if they ate more than one type of eggs?”

  Luke clapped his hands. “I hate to interrupt this, uh, egg discussion but what the fuck are you two talking about?”

  “Shopping,” I said.

  “Nothing,” Aurora put in, at the exact same moment. “Nothing important.”

  The click of Felicity’s heels brought more than irritation this time. A sinking in my gut. “What’s this?” She halted behind Aurora. “Have we picked up a stray?”

  Aurora’s eyes went as round as fried eggs. She scuttled back a step and nudged the shelf. A bag of sugar teetered on the ledge.

  I caught it then handed it to her. “Your sugar.”

  She took it from me with pincer fingers, avoiding all physical contact, still with those fried-egg eyes. “Thanks,” she said, juggling the loaf and sugar in her arms. “I was just leaving.” That was directed at Felicity.

  “Wait a second. I know you.” Felicity touched her shoulder, a two-finger pat. “You’re Aurora—uh—Aurora Nell, right?”

  “Aurora Bell.”

  “Bell, what a quaint name. Cute.” Felicity’s simper sickened me.

  “Ease off,” I said.

  My ex raised an eyebrow, cool as fucking ice.

  “That’s my cue,” Aurora said and side-stepped—a vain attempt to escape. Once Felicity set her sights on something, she didn’t stop until she’d laid her fame-mongering fingers on it.

  “You went to high school here, didn’t you?”

  Aurora froze mid-stride. She shifted her grip on the bread and sugar.

  “Moondance High,” Felicity continued. “I remember you. You were there for two years before I left.”

  “Right. Felicity,” Aurora said and nodded. She didn’t extend a hand to shake on the greeting, and I didn’t blame her. Felicity was up to something.

  “I left when I was sixteen, remember?” Felicity pressed the flat of her palm to her chest. “I left at the same time you did.” She looked over at me. “You see, Aurora here dropped out of high school, as I remember it. Why was that again?”

  Aurora didn’t reply. She looked as if she’d been slapped.

  “Didn’t it have something to do with your mother?” Felicity asked, the picture of innocence.

  “That’s enough,” I said, evenly. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

  “I am? Oh, gosh, I didn’t mean to, sweetheart. I wondered what could possibly be more important than your education? I mean, when I left, I studied from home. Did you?” Felicity was a train on a colli
sion course.

  I stepped between the women.

  Aurora shook her head. “As I said, I’m leaving. I hope you all have an awesome day.” She shuttled past me and out of the store.

  I turned my head toward my ex. “What the hell was that?”

  “What?” Felicity tore the plastic off her pack of menthols. “Just another one of Moondance’s colorful locals.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. You embarrassed her, and you damn well did it on purpose.”

  “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about her, hon. She’s bad news, and always has been. She dropped out of school the year I left Moondance. I know how much education means to you.”

  “What?” She was way off base. I believed education was important, but it didn’t govern raw intelligence or the potential future or worth of another human being.

  “You’re an intellectual. Look, I know it can be tempting to get involved with a pretty little slut like that,” Felicity continued, “but it’s not worth it. Think of your reputation.”

  “Did you smoke something this morning?”

  “Not yet.” Felicity winked and extracted a cigarette from her pack. “But I’m not an idiot, darling. I saw how you reacted to her. You like her. Is that where you were last night? With the gypsy whore in the trailer park? Très chic.”

  I towered over her, and she wilted. “If you talk to her or anyone else like that again, Felicity, I’ll remove you from the film. Understand?”

  Felicity jerked back. “What?”

  “We’re not here to make enemies,” I replied. “If we do end up shooting in this town, we’ll need permission from several locals and Aurora might be one of them.” A lie. We wouldn’t need to shoot in an RV park. “Maintain professionalism or go back to the hotel and pack your bags.”

  Luke nodded. “Couldn’t agree more.”

  It was Felicity’s turn to look as if she’d been whacked upside the head.

  I strode past her. Aurora, here, and victimized by my ex. I’d work this out before she got the wrong idea and ran with it.

  Chapter 6

  Aurora

  I had an uncanny knack for attracting karmic retribution, that much was clear.