Getting Tricky

by Scarlett Finn

  His inhale was long and his grip tightened. “Is this about the kissing on our wedding night or ‘cause I shouted at your pet?”

  Offense made her twist to gape at him. “My…? Trick!”

  When his gaze landed on hers, she saw that same intensity he’d had when he shouted at Curtis. “We need goddamn blueberries,” he growled.

  Neither reacted to his comment, but they both knew what it meant. The car was rigged with cameras and audio recording devices. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other. “No,” she said and shook her head. “No, we don’t… Go get your liquor, Trick.”

  “Get out of the car, Malloy.”

  Leaning closer, she hissed, “We are not going to have an argument in the middle of the street, Nairn.”

  “Rather have it in the apartment?”

  The apartment that was as rigged as the car he was trying to contain his anger in. Growling aloud, she unclicked her seatbelt and tossed it away to shove out of the vehicle. Trick was already at her side of the car.

  Grabbing her arm, he pulled her onto the sidewalk, but she yanked her limb away from him. “I don’t need you to pull at me,” she said, shoving him to put some distance between them as they both stalked down the block.

  Having the argument where it might be picked up by the recording equipment in the car was dumb, so they had to get away from the vehicle. When they turned the corner, she went another five paces before she stopped.

  “You had no right to do that,” she said.

  Trick spun on her. “You were messing around! What the hell, Ly! I’m sorry, ok? I know the wedding night was screwed up, but that was back then, before I was honest with you, before we were… us! You went out there after the show tonight and found him to—”

  “To what? Did you think I would marry you and refuse to be intimate only to track down my friend and jump him just because you kissed a couple of strangers?”

  “Did you?” he asked. “Was that the point? You wanted to make me mad, right? Well you succeeded, baby!”

  “Don’t get sarcastic,” she sneered and put her hands out when he tried to approach her again. “And don’t come near me!”

  “Why? You didn’t mind him getting up close,” he said. “Is that why you married me? To make him jealous? Well it worked, guess you’ve got him now.”

  This side of Trick was the most infuriating. She knew how to deal with his “character” and she could deal with him when he was sulking about something. But when Trick was mad, he was just so difficult and there was nothing reasonable about his arguments.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and couldn’t believe that he’d picked this insignificant thing to get so mad about. “Curtis is my friend, he saw the show, he was worried. He doesn’t… he doesn’t understand.”

  Pacing away and back, Trick seemed to be having trouble staying still. “Doesn’t understand what?” Trick asked. “What was he saying to you? Tell me!”

  This anger was overwhelming, but there was plenty of space between them, so she didn’t feel threatened despite the strength of his mood. For sure, she was safer with Trick than Curtis had been. “He doesn’t understand what it’s like,” she argued. “And he was looking out for me! We’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “Isn’t that nice, your best buddy. How come your bestie didn’t even know we were getting married? Huh? Why were you so scared to answer your phone on our wedding day? It was him, right? He was the guy who called you while you were waiting to marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “And I didn’t tell him because I wasn’t allowed to. I wasn’t as lucky as you, ok? I didn’t have a friend on my side. You had Sadie looking out for you every step of the way. She was always there in your corner. I didn’t have that. So yeah, maybe I have to build some bridges now, but that doesn’t give you the right to put your hands on my friend in anger! I’ve been nothing but respectful to your friends, to Sadie, to your boys, I’ve been polite and understanding and—”

  “Too polite!” he screamed and came back towards her. “You know what it was like to walk in on that? That prick was going to kiss you and you were just—”

  “Curtis was never going to kiss me! He would never kiss me!”

  He scoffed. “Yes, he would. That bastard wants you! He wants to screw you! But you are my wife!”

  “And what does that mean, huh?” she asked. “It means nothing! In a few days you’re going to be back in Kira’s bed and all of this will be ridiculous!” Someone had to be rational and for some reason, Trick was having trouble seeing how stupid his anger was. “You hurt my friend. You hurt him and you hurt me… Curtis never signed up for this. He didn’t sign up to be pinned to a wall and yelled at. He didn’t sign up to make great television. So, yeah, well done, you’ll be Bunyan’s favorite again because you know they got all that on film. You blew your top because you knew it would look good on film, and now you’re annoyed that I’m not shrugging it off like I shrug everything else off. You know what, Trick? You can be a jerk to me as much as you like. Shout at me. Pin me to walls. Grope me. Do your worst. But do not hurt the people I care about. Don’t do it again.”

  “You’re mad at me?” he asked. “You screw around and think you can—”

  Lyla growled at him and threw up her hands. “Oh, Nairn Strickland, you are the most infuriating man! You get the bit in your teeth and you just won’t let it go!”

  Storming away down the block, she went past him and kept on walking. “Where are you going? Malloy! Where the hell are you going?” he shouted after her.

  Damn him and his mood, if he wanted to be a jerk then she would let him pace and grumble to himself as much as he liked. She was in control of herself and her own actions and she did not have to give him an audience.

  “Away from you!” Lyla threw the words over her shoulder. “Go be a jerk somewhere else! Find another woman to act for; I’m not interested in being your audience or encouraging you. When you’re ready to be the nice, calm, reasonable Nairn, you know, the real you who’s decent to me, you give me a call!”

  “Malloy!”

  But she kept on going and didn’t slow down. They spent so much time together that maybe they needed a night apart. Lyla sure wasn’t going to stand here all night screaming in the street.

  When she got to the corner, she glanced around to check for traffic and was surprised to see a figure in her periphery. Turning around, she didn’t expect to see Trick ten feet behind her. “What are you doing?”

  “You can be as pissed at me as you like and walk a hundred miles, but I am not leaving you alone in the street at this time of night.”

  Where had his anger gone? Why was he staying away from her? “Who would attack me?” she asked looking down at the oversized coat she was wearing over her baggy clothes. She looked more like a bag lady than a primo target for a rapist. “Go away, Trick. I’m not in the mood to look at you. Just go back to your apartment.”

  Scanning, she saw no cars and crossed the street to walk down the next block, her apartment was on the other side of town. But it was a nice night, and Lyla decided that she’d walk for as long as she felt like walking and then she could get a cab.

  Since she’d moved into Trick’s place, she hadn’t thought about going back to her apartment. But two weeks wasn’t a bad run. She hadn’t expected to settle into living with anyone after living on her own for so long.

  On the next corner, she looked for traffic again, and yelped when she saw Trick was still behind her. “I’m not leaving you,” he said without her asking for an explanation.

  “And I’m not getting in a car with you,” she said. “Stop following me. Go away. Don’t be creepy, stalker guy. I’m telling you to go away. I’m giving you permission to leave. Go. Go away.” But he was shaking his head. “Nairn—”

  “If something happened to you—”

  “I don’t have anything worth stealing and a rapist would never get through all the layers I’m wearing,” she
said, realizing that they weren’t shouting at each other anymore. Trick began to approach her. “I don’t want you to come over here. I’m mad at you, Nairn.”

  But she didn’t move away even when he came up so close that his body moved against hers. Trick ducked to brush his lips over the sensitive spot beneath her ear, just at the back of her jaw.

  Oh… when his breath warmed her there, Lyla’s whole body vibrated until her muscles loosened. Grateful that she had his form in front of hers, she exhaled and closed her eyes as she sank against him.

  Scooping a hand around the other side of her head, Trick angled her and kissed her in that same place again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “You hurt me,” she said, tipping her head up to meet his eye and he really did look repentant.

  The man was a good actor, but he didn’t usually lie to her when they were alone like this, so she believed the contrition in his eyes.

  “I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he said and dipped to kiss her forehead. “Let me take you home and get you liquored up… and when you’re nice and loose, I’ll give you a foot rub.”

  He made her smile and when she did, so did he. Turning them back the way they’d come, Trick tucked her under his arm and guided her back up the block. Yeah, Lyla was still pissed, but he was doing the brotherly protective thing again and she couldn’t deny that it was sweet enough to sway her.

  They’d both feel better after a good night’s sleep. Maybe watching the show had affected both of them more than they’d realized.

  Whatever the reason for their spat, they couldn’t walk away from each other because they were both contractually bound. Oh yeah, and they were married.

  TEN

  By Monday, everything was pretty much back to normal between her and Trick. Yeah, Lyla had given him the cold shoulder for a few days, but it played well to the camera and Paul was ecstatic about the drama.

  Curtis had been emailing her, but Lyla kept that quiet because she didn’t want to include him in the performance any more than was necessary.

  Today they were going on a Prem corporate break. It was a few days away for team-building apparently, but it was really just a setup for the show. She hadn’t been told that in explicit terms, but she was sure it was.

  Some of her colleagues were here, as were some of Trick’s, although she hadn’t actually seen him yet this morning. He’d been run ragged these past few days filming the quiz, and pre-recording segments for Boys Night. Although he would be doing a live Boys Night episode via Skype while they were away, which she thought would be fun for him.

  The Boys Night shows weren’t always live, they only did a few live ones a year as a novelty. The audience loved them and were always demanding more because when things went wrong, they went really wrong. And there were often a few setups and surprises during the live shows.

  There were also a series of Boys Nights specials due to begin filming in a few weeks where the boys would be required to do tasks and take part in missions in different locations. The audience loved the trio’s interaction and the channel were taking advantage of Trick’s boost in exposure and popularity. Though she’d miss it because filming would start after her three months with Trick were done.

  The media had loved the first episode of Opposites Marry and were panting for more. She got her first paparazzi experience on Thursday and the cameras had been a pretty constant feature since the show aired. But Paul was so desperate to keep the footage of the couple secret that they now had security when they were out and about.

  For the most part, the picture hounds had given up crowding them outside the apartment, though Trick was sure they were still being monitored via long lens, which made their walks feel much more exposed, so she’d been making them shorter.

  Most everyone who was going was already on the bus that was going to drive them the hour or so to the hotel where they were having their getaway. Everyone except Trick and a few of his crew; no surprise there. Lyla was standing in the aisle of the bus having just pushed the handle of her suitcase down. She began to wonder how she’d reach the overhead compartment when the noise rose at the front of the bus.

  She smiled, Lyla could always tell when Trick was approaching because he was followed by a rumble of conversation or laughter and there was usually some kind of greeting uproar. She didn’t even bother to turn around. He’d seek her out, or he wouldn’t, making eye contact wouldn’t make a difference to his plans.

  But within a few seconds, Trick’s breath warmed her ear. “Save me a seat, Malloy?”

  No one had ever wanted to sit with her, even now, but she didn’t grace him with an answer. She just tapped the top of her case and pointed up. “I can’t reach the overhead thingy.”

  “I got it,” he said and picked up the case to shove it in to the overhead compartment.

  They had a case. Yes, they had a case that was stowed in the trunk of the bus. There were just a few extras in this smaller case; it wasn’t heavy, she was just short.

  Lyla dropped into the seat and began to move toward the window because she’d prefer to be in a corner and if Trick wanted to sit with her, he’d prefer the aisle anyway because he’d be able to talk to interesting people that way.

  Except she didn’t get all the way over to the other side before Trick sank down next to her and scooped her up out of his way. He lay down on the seats and sat her right on top of him. Right on his stomach. Lyla grabbed the back of the seat in front and knew her cheeks flushed because everyone on the bus was looking right at them.

  The woman opposite the aisle made a noise and Lyla turned to see that Trick had stretched his legs out, right across the aisle and propped his boot heel on the arm of the chair where he crossed his ankles.

  “I’m sorry,” Lyla said, smacking Trick’s legs, he dropped his feet flat onto the floor of the aisle and Lyla smiled at the shocked woman who probably wouldn’t have minded, except the move was so unexpected. Turning to Trick, Lyla saw his shoulders slouched against the wall under the window and his eyes closed. “You nearly kicked that woman.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, then raised his voice to call out. “Sorry!”

  “It’s… it’s ok,” the woman said. “He can put his feet up, that’s ok.”

  Trick lifted his feet, but Lyla planted her hands on his thighs to push them down. “No, he can’t. But thank you.”

  Turning back to Trick, she couldn’t be mad at him when he looked so tired, even with his eyes closed. “You haven’t shaved,” she said and brushed the back of her fingers on his stubble.

  “Didn’t have time,” he said, but didn’t bother to open his eyes.

  Slipping off her shoes, she looked around for her magazine. “You’re lying on my magazine,” she said, remembering that she’d tossed it into her seat. He kept his eyes closed, but lifted his shoulders, so she bowed over him to reach underneath to fish it out.

  “Why aren’t we driving yet?” he asked as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

  Glancing around, she saw that there were people still on their feet and there were still some empty seats. She’d been told there would be at most just one vacant seat, this was a popular trip.

  “Not everyone is here yet,” she said and smiled as she opened her magazine and picked up her feet to cross her legs. If Trick wanted to be her seat, she wasn’t going to change her usual behavior. Lyla liked to cross her legs, and he didn’t object, but he was probably used to it. She did this at home a lot, it helped the cameras have something to look at, so while she read and he watched TV, they would fashion themselves in all kind of overlapping seated positions. They’d be wrapped in each other or supporting the other’s body making it look like they had a building intimacy. “Fancy you not being the last one to show up. That must be a first.”

  He sniggered a fake laugh and yawned then rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s warm in here.”

  “The air conditioning probably isn’t on yet,” she
said and found the first article that she wanted to read. She read a couple of lines before he spoke again, a sure sign he was feeling impatient.

  “Read to me,” he said, still in his semi-slumber.

  “There are people here, babe,” she said, glancing around at the others who were stealing looks at the couple, but she was getting used to it.

  Being followed by a camera twenty-four seven gave her a new comfort level for being stared at.

  She often read to him in the apartment when they were alone, but she didn’t think the others here would appreciate it.

  “I want to hear your voice,” he said.

  “Later,” she said because she wasn’t going to read to the whole bus. “You’re going to get a crick in your neck if you stay like that.” He tugged her sweater. “You need a pillow?”

  “We could go to the back of the bus… lay down together.”

  Trust him to find a way to make innuendos even when he was sleeping. “There’s a restroom at the back of the bus,” she said, “not a full back seat.”

  “Then a pillow it is,” he said and tugged her sweater again.

  But she wasn’t going to take it off even though she knew that’s what he was getting at. Balancing herself on him and with a hand on the back of the chair in front, she picked up her purse from the floor and pulled out the inflatable pillow she’d brought. Yes, she knew him and knew that he’d be tired.

  Laying her magazine on his chest, she shifted down his body a bit and began to blow in to the pillow. “I get so sick of reading about climate change,” she said between puffs, her eye still moving over the article that was laid on him. “I mean, if half these journalists put their time and effort in to actually taking action rather than just writing about taking action, the problem would be solved, right?”

  “That’s true of a lot of things though, isn’t it?” he asked, moving his hand from under the magazine on his chest to stroke her back probably to soothe her because he knew this was one of the things she got riled about. He’d heard her ranting about it often enough when she was reading articles from the internet aloud to him at home. “It’s easier to comment than to act.”