Love on the Sound

by Matthews, Jamie

  And, didn’t that just cut straight to her heart. She got up and straddled him, cupped his face with both hands. Up close, the deep blue of his eyes reminded her of the Sound outside her window. “I’m insulted that you don’t think I can have a happy ever after unless I have a man in my life.”

  She smacked him upside the head, but gently. He smiled.

  “I think you can do anything you have a mind to. You’re incredible.” He kissed her, lingered.

  Oh, no. Amy knew that kiss. That tender, “It’s been great, but I’m out of here” kiss. She pulled away and shook him.

  “You’re here now. I want you now. However long this lasts. I hate to break it to you, but I think I can manage to have sex with you without you ruining me for other men.”

  Ben winced. “Ouch.”

  She bent and kissed the spot right behind his ear that made him shiver. “Don’t get all noble on me. Do you want me?”

  Amy pulled back and looked at him.

  “Hell yes.” His grip on her hips tightened.

  “I want you. So…” She arched against him, feeling him harden. “What’s the problem?”

  His hands were already snaking under her shirt to cup her breasts. “I forget.”

  “Good.” She began unbuckling his pants. “Stop talking so much.”

  With a laugh, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He carried her into the bedroom. And, stopped talking.

  Chapter 19

  All of a sudden, there were just not enough hours in the day. Ben could spend all day writing his screenplay, which simmered on the back burner of his brain at all times, then boiled over at unpredictable moments where he chained himself to his computer, only surfacing when the story sputtered out. Other days, he spent hours at the theater, far beyond what was required for rehearsal. At first, he stayed longer to coach Nathan. The boy took his notes and ran with them, his talent blossoming far more than Ben had originally anticipated. Soon enough, Ben noticed Lindsey and some students showing up before rehearsal to paint the set. So, then, he arrived early, too, for the heavy lifting and got caught up in set construction. Parents started to come in early with their kids as well, asking questions about the play, how to help them with lines, or—what made Ben most nervous of all—to tell him about how they hoped the play would help little Johnny or Jane with a behavioral problem, a tough family time or catapult them to Hollywood.

  Then, there was Amy. Ben sat back on his heels after cleaning the deck of his boat. Sexy, feisty, sweet Amy. He’d thought once he’d had her, the wanting would ease. Instead, the more he had her, the more enthralled he became with the way she threw her head back when she orgasmed, exposing the long line of her throat. She took charge, tossing him back on the bed in a way that just rang alllll his bells—but lay stunned and helpless when he took her to peak.

  Beyond the truly amazing sex, he just plain liked spending time with her. It’d been a long time since he’d been with a woman who didn’t treat what they had like a game, one with complex rules and tricks and drama. She didn’t fuss when he walked in on her without her makeup. She said what was on her mind without seeming to give a damn what he thought about it. And, best of all, she didn’t seem to give a shit that he was famous—in fact, maybe even found it a negative.

  If he had those extra hours? Ben finished putting the boat to rights and sat back on his heels, enjoying the gentle sway of the deck. No contest. He’d spend them with Amy.

  Ben considered what to do with the rest of the day. Yesterday he’d flown through scene after scene in his screenplay. By his calculations, he had written nearly half of the movie. It’d been so long since he’d written that he’d assumed he’d be rusty but the words flowed out of him as if it was just yesterday that he’d been cranking out pages and rewrites for Night School. Those were the days, Ben thought, leaning his head back to look up at the sky, the bright blue peeking through puffy white clouds. Scraping by in that tiny apartment, banging out pages late into the night, getting up at the crack of dawn to head back to the studio lot for another episode of Evidence. It’d taken him two years of stealing time here and there, and he probably wouldn’t have finished if it hadn’t been for Artie reading it scene by scene and nagging him to complete it.

  On impulse, Ben took out his phone and scrolled down to Artie’s name. His finger hovered over the screen. What did he want to say? Artie probably didn’t want to hear from him, a washed up former client who’d treated him like shit when he got big. Ben took a deep breath and pressed the dial button.

  “Arnetts.” Melinda’s gravelly voice catapulted him back in time, and Ben could picture her bright blonde hair, those spiky rainbow hued nails, the way she and Artie would bicker back and forth through his open door.

  “Mellie, it’s Ben. Ben Morrison.”

  Silence stretched across the line for a moment.

  “Hiya, Ben. Long time.” Melinda’s voice held none of the warmth she’d usually reserved for him, but she didn’t sound hostile, either. “You calling to talk to Artie?”

  “Yeah. If he’s got time.” If he’d been standing, Ben would have shuffled his feet. As it was, he looked down at the deck of his boat and found himself holding his breath.

  “I’ll check.”

  Ben waited, watched the seagulls swoop down, skim the waves, then arc back up. He’d about given up hope when Artie’s voice boomed through the phone.

  “Ben. You in trouble?”

  And, there it was. Despite the years, the way Ben had dropped him like a hot potato, Ben had no doubt if he said yes, Artie would be on the first plane up. His throat tight with regret and anger at his own stupidity, Ben couldn’t answer for a second.

  “Ben? What’s going on?” Ben heard a creaking sound and knew that Artie was now up and pacing.

  “I’m okay, Artie. Really.”

  There was a pause. “Shit, don’t tell me I’m your step 9.”

  It took Ben a moment, and then he laughed. “Hell, no, Artie. You know better than to believe the tabloids. I’m not in rehab or AA. I swear.”

  “Just stupid, then.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, that about covers it.” Ben got up to do some pacing of his own. “Actually, I guess I am calling to make amends. I was an asshole, Artie.”

  “Yeah. You crawling back to me now that Carson won’t have you?” Resignation coated Artie’s voice.

  “No! I fired him, not the other way around. God, that guy’s such a dick.”

  “Told you.”

  “You told me a lot of things. I should have listened. I’m not calling to ask you to take me back. I’m calling to apologize. You believed in me when no one else did, but I didn’t believe in you. Hiring Carson…that was the start of it all. The start of my career going down the toilet. And…” Ben paused, looked out across the Sound. “I don’t know if I can even regret that now. I don’t want it back. Any of it. But, I shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

  The silence that followed was long enough that Ben began to wonder if Artie had hung up.

  “Well.” Artie followed the single word with a grunt, and Ben pictured him sitting back down on his chair, sliding his feet up on to his desk like he’d done so many times. “I appreciate the apology. Normally, I’d say, forget about it, because this town’s just that way—we all blow wherever the wind takes us that day. I don’t take it personal. But, for some reason, I did with you. Even though you were a moronic asshole.”

  Ben winced. It hurt, but it was reassuring at the same time, to know that Artie remained the same as ever.

  “So.” It was amusement now that Ben heard in Artie’s voice. “You say you don’t want it back. What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m at Lopez Island, in the San Juans.”

  “Where the hell is that?”

  “You know, the San Juan Islands, up north in Washington.”

  “Never heard of it. What the fuck are you doing there?”

  “I’m sailing a lot.
Kayaking. Relaxing. I met a woman.”

  Artie snorted. “Of course you did.”

  “It’s not like that. It’s…” Ben trailed off, not quite sure how to describe Amy. “You should come up, see for yourself.”

  “That’s me, Mr. Rustic Outdoorsman.” Artie barked out a laugh. “But, thanks, son, for the invite. So, why else did you call?”

  “Jesus, Artie.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. I can hear it. Don’t know why actors, of all people, are so goddamn transparent.”

  Ben sighed. “All right, all right. I’m writing.”

  “Really? Writing what? Love sonnets to your new flavor of the month?”

  Ben felt a sudden and visceral urge to reach through the phone line and punch Artie right in the mouth. “She’s not—” He stopped and took a deep breath, shaking his head. Where the hell had that come from?

  “I’m writing a screenplay.” Ben gave Artie a quick synopsis. “You’re the only honest person in Hollywood, Artie. Are you interested in reading it, or does it sound like shit?”

  “Nah, I’m interested. For sure. Send me what you got. I’ll give it to you straight. I’ll give you something else straight, too.”

  “Oh, no.” Ben laughed.

  “Not like that.” Humor tinged Artie’s voice. “You said you threw your career down the toilet. I’d disagree with that. You dropped some turds on it, for sure.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Please, let’s not continue with this analogy.”

  “You messed up, big time. I mean, what a fucking idiot.”

  “Go ahead, I can tell you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “But.” Artie stopped, paused for effect. “Everyone loves the comeback kid. You’re talented. Our conversation today makes me think that perhaps you are maybe—and I mean maybe—less of an idiot and an asshole than you were. You change your mind and want it back, then come talk to me.”

  Ben frowned. “Do you think I shouldn’t have given it up?”

  “How the hell should I know? It’s your life, and you’re the one who’s gottalive it. Listen, kid, I gotta go. I appreciate the apology. Send me your screenplay; I’ll look it over.”

  Ben ended the call, a weight lifted off of his shoulders. Still, restlessness seized him. What would Artie say about his screenplay? If he said it was shit…Ben clenched his hands. The story, the characters, had become real to him. He thought it might even be his best work. And, was it possible he could have it all back? The idea held some allure, even while it tied knots in his stomach.

  Before he could change his mind, he pulled his phone out and dropped a quick e-mail to Artie with a link to the screenplay. He decided to walk around town before driving back to On the Sound. Once outside Hannah’s, he debated over going in for a muffin and coffee, when Nell came out.

  “Well, well. Mr. Hollywood.” She laughed when Ben frowned at her. “I thought you and Amy were joined at the hip.”

  “She unchains me once in a while,” he said, deadpan.

  “Not too often, what with the multiple orgasms and all.”

  Unembarrassed, Ben grinned at her. “And, who could blame her?”

  Nell laughed and cocked her hip. “You got your car here?” Her eyes took on a predatory gleam. With her close-cropped black hair, olive skin and lean, muscular build, she reminded Ben of a sleek, deadly panther.

  “You can’t drive it,” he said.

  She pouted, shooting him a glance through long lashes, her dark brown eyes liquid in the sun. He imagined she left a trail of brokenhearted men in her wake.

  “How about we trade? Have you been up for a tour yet?”

  “Up?” Ben asked.

  She pointed to the sky. “I could take you up in the plane. Perfect day for it. You can’t leave the Islands without seeing them from the sky.”

  “I’m noticing in this ‘trade’ that you’re the one in control of both the car and the plane,” he said wryly.

  “That’s the way I like it.”

  Ben shrugged. What the hell. “All right. Show me a good time—but be gentle, ok?”

  “Honey,” she patted him on the arm. “I’m never gentle.”

  He laughed, appreciating her. When they got to his car, she made humming noises and ran her hands over the body as if it was a lover.

  “Oh, baby, I can’t wait to take you out and open you up,” she crooned.

  Ben handed her the keys. “You pay for the ticket.”

  Once in the driver’s seat, she adjusted the seat, tilted the mirror and revved the engine. “Oh yeah,” she sighed, as the car vibrated with power.

  “It’s pretty fantastic,” Ben admitted.

  She shot the car off like a rocket down the deserted country lane. But, she handled the car with such ease and confidence that Ben just rolled down his window and enjoyed the ride.

  “So, I’m not much for small talk,” she said, shifting gears. “Some say I’m insensitive. Even a bitch.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Blunt, maybe.” Ben thought of Artie, and wondered if today he had a sign on his forehead that said, Tell me what you really think. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “Good, then I’ll just come out and say I’m glad you’ve put stars in our Amy’s eyes. She’s having fun, and it’s about time.”

  “Is this where you ask me about my intentions?”

  She gave a quick laugh. “I know your intentions. You’re having a good time, and then you’ll leave, back to Hollywood. I’m just asking you to be gentle when you’re done playing with her, that’s all.”

  “I’m not an asshole.” Ben twisted in his seat to frown at her. “And, Amy’s an adult.”

  “Didn’t say you were. Didn’t say she wasn’t.” Nell took a turn without letting up on the speed and grinned. “But, well, takes one to know one. I do a lot of playing of my own. I like you, Ben.” She took her eyes briefly off the road and smiled at him, warm and full. “Be kind to our girl when it’s time to leave. She’s not used to flings.”

  Just like that, Ben’s temper diffused, and he sat back in his seat.

  “I like you too, Nell.” He considered her. “You’re more of a softie than you let on.”

  She snorted. “Oh, please.”

  “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I care about Amy. I won’t hurt her.” But even as he said it, he wondered. The thought of leaving put more knots in his stomach.

  Nell stopped the car with a showy screech. “Damn. That was fantastic.”

  Ben looked up from his thoughts and realized they were at an airport, albeit the smallest airport he’d ever seen. A lone runway stretched through a field, weeds growing at the edges of the pavement. On it rested a two-seater plane painted a cheerful yellow and red. Painted in black letters by the tail was simply, “Nell’s.”

  Ben eyed Nell. “Am I going to die?”

  She laughed, a big, throaty laugh that drew a smile from him in return. “I haven’t killed anyone yet. Are you afraid of flying?”

  Ben considered the tiny plane. “I’m used to a lot more…plane.”

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. If you get up high enough and crash, you’ll die no matter how big the plane is.”

  “How reassuring.”

  She sent him a cocky grin. “Don’t worry. I’m a kick ass pilot.”

  Nell showed Ben how to climb up into the front seat of the open cockpit and gave him a leather helmet with goggles. Amused, he fastened the helmet and goggles while Nell, all efficiency, ran through a take off checklist. Once on board, she handed Ben a headset to go with his helmet and clicked it on.

  “Does everyone wear this get up, or do you just want to play Red Baron?” asked Ben.

  She laughed, her voice tinny over the headset. “That way your hair won’t get messed up by the wind, Hollywood.”

  With that, she turned on the engine with a roar, and the propellers spun faster and faster.

  After a few moments, the little plane taxied down the runway, picking up speed but staying
level until Ben was sure they were going to just keep going past the runway into the field. But, at the last minute, Nell throttled it, and Ben was slammed into his seat as the plane lifted off into the air.

  At first, the rush of wind, which Nell informed him was whistling past his face at around 100 miles per hour, distracted him. The noise of the engine roared in his ears, and vibrations shook his seat. But, once they were out over the ocean, and she dipped the wings, he caught his breath. The yellow wings against the bright blue ocean, the puffy clouds seemingly close enough to touch, and the mountains, green with fir trees—sheer beauty waited everywhere he looked.

  Nell pointed out Orcas Island, cars moving along the roads, boats sliding into the harbor. Ben saw the roofs of houses, fields filled with cows or alpaca or both. Out over the water, the sun sparkled like diamonds in the waves. Nell flew him over all the islands, narrating facts along the way. As they made their way back to Lopez, she wiggled the wings, did a few dips and twirls, drawing a huge grin from Ben. He pumped his fists in the air, daring her to keep going, and she obliged with a loop de loop that made him grab onto his seat and squeal like a girl.

  Ben watched Lopez come into view. When he squinted he could make out On the Sound, perched on the slight rise above the Sound. In all his travels, he’d never seen any place more beautiful. The lush green, the rugged mountains, the water…he let out a sigh, envying the people he saw puttering along the roads in their cars or out in the gardens. He drank it in as they drew closer to the island, Nell gradually decreasing the altitude so that every tree came into clear focus.

  Maybe he just wouldn’t leave.

  The thought crept into his mind, and Ben frowned. That was crazy. Wasn’t it? He had a life back in Hollywood. A house. No career, but according to Artie, that wasn’t a problem.

  And, he hated all of it. Ben watched the runway come rising up to meet them and held on as Nell touched down for a gentle landing. He loved this place, he realized with a jolt as she laid on the brakes, and the plane rushed down the runway. Leaving, well, wouldn’t that be the crazy thing?

  He climbed out of the plane and unhooked the helmet and headpiece, peeled off the goggles. Nell jumped down with fluid grace, her cheeks flushed from the wind.