“We’ll see.” I give her a tight smile. This isn’t her problem, and she doesn’t need to worry about it. As much as I want Caspian, his signals are all out of whack. I’ve never had issues with not knowing if a guy wanted me or not. They normally all do.
I walk out of the house and put on my sunglasses. A few photographers emerge from the sidewalk as I back out of the private driveway. With all the confusion, they have no idea where Quinn really is. Here? Hospital? Friends? Cars have been coming and going all morning. Housekeepers, friends, and the nurse. Reports swirl about Barrett and me because of his visit, and even say I’ve been hospitalized, but nothing actually happened. I go home and relax. Lucky for me, we don’t start shooting Timelines again until next month, so I have all the time in the world to do nothing. Oh, wait, except that I need to find some work. I may as well be broke.
Back home, I find a few packages sitting on the front porch.
“What are these?” I leaf through them. They’re from my agent so I rip into the first one. There’s a post it note stuck to the front.
Ginger,
Thought you might be interested in this script. It’s a Rom Com and they want you for the role of Hallie. - Robert
I flip through the script, but throw the packages down on the kitchen counter. I’ll worry about that later.
I can’t keep still any longer. I’ve made Caspian wait over twelve hours, and it’s time to answer. I start my laptop and drum my fingers along the counter as I wait. I pull up my email and begin.
Caspian,
It was sweet of you to worry, but I’m fine. Nothing happened. Quinn had her baby at home normally. Never believe the gossip about me. You’re always talking so cryptic, and I never have any idea what to make of it. You want to help me? How? And what do you mean you have been there?
I don’t sign my name or anything; only press send. He’s hot and cold. Flirting with me, and then throwing me away, if only I could figure out his end game. What does he want? Or more importantly, what do I want?
Caspian signs on almost immediately and sends me an instant message.
Caspian: Hey you.
Ginger: Hey.
Caspian: What are you doing?
Ginger: Just got home, resting a bit, and got a stack of scripts to read through. You?
Caspian: Not much. Sounds fun, got a few days off.
Ginger: Sounds fun. Where are you?
Caspian: San Francisco.
What? He’s literally a plane ride of an hour and a half away from me. I kinda sort of want to see him, but rather he bring it up first.
Ginger: Hanging out?
Caspian: Something like that.
There he goes again.
Ginger: So are you going to explain your emails? Because I’ve barely slept in the past two days and am in no mood for mind games. I want the truth.
While I wait for his answer, I pour myself a glass of wine. I was responsible last night and didn’t get hammered off a few beers. I can handle this. I can drink in moderation. I don’t need to get drunk to feel good. My insides tighten as I glance back at my computer. Why does he do this to me?
Caspian: I guess it’s obligatory to tell you that I was with my ex-girlfriend for five years.
Whoa, that came out of nowhere. That explains a lot though. Five years is a long time.
Ginger: And that’s why you’re fighting this friendship?
Caspian: I’m fighting more than a friendship with you.
I drum my fingers along the keys, not sure what to write. He likes me. He just admitted it, I think.
Ginger: And we can’t be together because I’m female?
Caspian: Yes, it may make things difficult, to say the least. She’s not taking it too well and we have to perform together nightly.
I do a double take at the screen. Wait, she is in the band? How come he has never mentioned this before? I don’t remember seeing a female on the stage in Nashville.
Ginger: She’s in your band?
Caspian: Aly, yes.
Ginger: This is shit. I just got out of an almost three-year relationship, and I don’t understand why we can’t at least be friends. I want to be your friend.
Caspian: Well if we are friends, then friends help each other.
Was this some sort of sexual innuendo? No way, Cas wouldn’t be that shallow.
Ginger: …
I can imagine the crickets chirping in the background.
Caspian: You have a sick mind. I just meant, if we are gonna be friends, we need to lay down some ground rules.
Ginger: Such as?
Caspian: No more of this online flirting.
Ginger: Excuse me? I don’t flirt. You flirt.
Caspian: You flirt.
Ginger: Whatever, what else?
Caspian: Friends help each other, so I want to help you.
Ginger: Okay…how?
Caspian: Your drinking problem.
Ginger: I don’t have a drinking problem, but like you have room to talk, what about your smoking problem?
Caspian: I don’t have a smoking problem.
Ginger: It’s nasty. I’m gonna help you quit.
Caspian: I said I don’t have a fuckin’ smoking problem.
Ginger: And a cursing problem. You say asshole and fuckin’ way too much.
Caspian: That’s a fuckin’ lie you asshole.
A laugh escapes from my mouth, and my cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling. All the smiling that he causes.
Ginger: I don’t have a problem and you don’t have a problem, my friend.
My friend. It sounds like something he would say. He’s rubbing off on me.
He doesn’t reply. My phone beeps alerting me to a message from Jo wanting to pick me up for a party. Why the hell not? I am bored, so bored.
Me: Pick me up at six.
He still hasn’t messaged back, and his icon has turned red to show that he is no longer there. I mentally call him about fifty curse words. Things such as shit head, cracker freak, and ass licker among them. Words I never use. Words that I’ve never even heard before now. He’s so confusing.
Disappearing without goodbyes. I should add that to the long list of annoyances by Caspian Norwood. I huddle on my back deck with a few scripts and begin to read through them. The roles are minor, nothing huge. The first one is a horror flick, so not me, but I’ll take what I can get. The others are plain trash, nothing even remotely interesting. I throw them all on the floor and go upstairs to take a shower. By the time six rolls around, I still haven’t heard from Caspian. Did I piss him off? Is he upset again? The worst thing about messaging is that you can’t hear the tone of voice or see the body language. I could be misconstruing this entire conversation. What is it they say? Making mud pies out of mud holes? No, was it mole holes out of…ugh, whatever it is. I could be making a big deal out of nothing. Two short beeps in my driveway alert me to Jo’s presence. I grab my purse and dash out to the driveway.
“Hurry up, slut.” Jo yells out as I jump into her cherry red sports car. How cliché.
There’s a man with a camera in her back seat. Great. He hands me a small wireless mic to pin inside my dress.
I buckle up and check my lipstick in the mirror. “Ready as I’ll ever be. As long as we don’t end up like last time.”
“Hey, you had fun!” She puts the car in drive and speeds off.
“I woke up with a hole in my nose and bright hair. I almost got arrested!”
“Chase dragged you off before any real harm was done. Besides, we all know that Barrett deserved it.”
“That’s true.” I’m reluctant to talk about Barrett in front of the cameras. “Where are we going?”
“Meeting Tucker and some friends at the club.”
I’m not in the mood for loud. “Can’t we go somewhere quieter?”
“Don’t act like that. You’ve not been very fun lately. I suggest we enjoy tonight and party hard.”
“Party hard? What is this 1989?”
&
nbsp; Jo pulls up to the VIP entrance of a popular nightclub called Studio A and gives the keys to a valet.
Tucker and a guy with blond hair stand outside talking. Jo runs up to the stranger and throws her arms around his neck. He spins her around before kissing her neck. I take a deep breath and walk up behind her.
“Ginger, lookin’ good.” Tucker eyes sparkle as he takes in my attire.
“Hello, Tucker.” Turning towards Jo, I nod towards the guy in her arms. “Am I gonna get an introduction?”
“Where are my manners? Ginger, this is Mike. Mike, my friend Ginger.”
Mike holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Ooh he has an Australian accent. My body reacts in every pleasurable way possible. I’m a sucker for accents, especially Pierce Brosnan. Jo gives me a look. Stay away! He’s mine.
Yeah, yeah. I’m not about to get on Jo’s bad side. I roll my eyes back at her. As if I would even go there. I don’t want your sloppy seconds.
My spine straightens as a hand is placed on my lower back.
“How are you?” Tucker whispers in my ear as we go inside the loud club.
“Good. You?” I look up into his handsome face. His gray suit fits snugly, and he wears a pair of black rimmed glasses.
Just like Caspian. I’m not doing that again. I push Caspian from my mind and move in closer so that I can talk to Tucker without yelling. He’s cute. We work together and he’s friends with Barrett so this isn’t the smartest idea, but who says a girl can’t have a little fun. I pretend to brush some lint off his coat and point to the dance floor.
“Wanna dance?”
“Sure. In a minute, but first.” He hands me a vodka from the waiter and holds his glass up. “Here’s to being dateless on Valentine’s day.”
I hesitate as I take a drink which causes it to go down the wrong pipe. I cover my mouth as I try not to hack up a lung. “What?”
“Valentine’s day.”
Sure enough, the calendar on my phone reads February 14. “Well, hell,” I mumble. With all the craziness, I’d completely forgotten. I’d normally never forget a day dedicated to happy endings and love at first sight stuff.
“You really have no date?” I ask him with a bit of skepticism.
He shakes his head. “If I take a girl out tonight, she expects a relationship. I’m too young to be tied down.”
I finish off my drink and sit back against the oversized couch in the secluded VIP lounge. The strobe lights flash to the beat of the bass causing me to close my eyes for a little peace.
“You sound just like Barrett,” I tell him.
“I’m nothing like Barrett, babe. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” I open my eyes and stare straight at Tucker. He’s classically handsome, but a total man whore. Too bad. I could use a bit of handsome tonight.
“Who broke your heart?” Someone must have, to cause the bitterness in his voice.
“I don’t wanna talk about it, as I’m sure you feel the same.” He motions to the waiter to bring another drink. We chat for a few minutes over drinks, talking about work, gossip, and the new baby. Before I know it, I’ve thrown back too many vodkas and my entire face is numb beyond belief. I’m having a good time though. I haven’t relaxed like this in weeks.
“This is so depressing. Alone on what’s supposed to be the most romantic day of the year.” I lean into him and attempt to make a heart shape with my hands.
“Sheesh. Romance? That’s a load of crap.” Tucker gives me a revolted expression.
“You mean to tell me that you don’t want to fall in love? You never want to find that one person you can spend the rest of your life with?”
“Eventually, but the girl I want tonight seems to hate me.” He gives me a sad smile and leans in close.
“I’m sorry.” It takes me a minute to understand that he’s talking about me. “Oh? Oh! I see.”
“And that was not the answer I was looking for.” Tucker takes a drink and sits back against the seat.
“You’re cute, Tucker. I don’t hate you. You just get around.”
“Maybe I’m just looking for the girl who will help me settle down.”
The conversation is taking an odd turn towards a road I’m not sure I want to go down. New subject, please. “Where did Jo and Mike go?” I look around, but it’s impossible to decipher the bodies in this place. Everything blends together. Jo normally has two cameras with her, but I hope they are both with her and not watching me.
“I saw them head to the bathroom a few minutes ago.”
Sex or drugs. My nose wrinkles at the thought. When the waiter brings us another drink, I go ahead and ask for another while chugging down the one in my hand. My body itches for relaxation. I finish it quickly and take another. Yes, now I remember why I drink. This feeling is unlimited. It’s bliss to forget and just kick back and relax. Tucker isn’t so bad either. We engage in some harmless flirting and bashing of Barrett before an idea crosses my mind. It’s wrong, naughty in every way possible, but I’m not here to be responsible and fun. I’m here to forget the guy I can’t have.
“I have an idea,” I say, scooting closer to him. “How about we dance and forget this stupid holiday? If things go well, maybe we can do a little celebrating, just you and me?”
His mouth curls up into a sexy grin as he catches my meaning. He throws an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in tight. “Babe, I’d be happy to be your non-date.”
We’ve known each other almost a year, and have never crossed the friend line. In fact, before tonight, I’m not sure I even liked him. He’s a womanizer, the guy that everyone warns you about. Maybe it’s the holiday, maybe it’s the loneliness. Whatever it is. I plan on getting laid tonight. I would have happily flown to San Francisco if asked, but no, Cas had to go and ignore me again. I wipe away the bitter thoughts and focus all my attention on Tucker.
Hand in hand, we head out to the dance floor. As the music flows through my body, I grind up on him. My hips sway as the music takes control. I draw energy from the crowd around us. My head spins as I feel the vodka work its way through my newly relaxed body. I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck.
“I never noticed how adorable you are,” I whisper in his ear.
“What?” he yells over the music.
“You are fuckin’ adorable!”
“What? I smell horrible?”
I cover a giggle and shake my head. “No, I said you are adorable.”
“Horrible? What did I do?” I wave my hand in an attempt to give up. It may be better if we just don’t talk. Tucker spins me around a few times and leans in to start trailing kisses down my neck. My blood begins to tingle, traveling through my arms and legs, and meeting in between my legs. This boy has moves on the dance floor; I wonder what he’s like in bed. He has to be decent.
“Mmm…”
His hands travel up and down my back before settling on my ass.
“I’ve wanted you for a long time, Ginger. But you’ve always been off limits because of Barrett.”
“Don’t talk about that jerk.”
He looks up at the ceiling. “God, Barrett is gonna kill me if we hook up, but I want you. I need to feel you, taste you, hold you.”
“You promise to keep this a secret?” I ask, my fingers walk up his chest as my lips wet in anticipation.
“Yes.” He moves closer. I should stop, run, and be responsible, but it’s simple. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care, and it’s the greatest feeling in the world! His lips are mere inches away from mine, but I pull away.
“Not here.”
He nods, and we tear apart. “We can’t be seen leaving together. I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you in 30 minutes back at my place. Better yet, a hotel room might be more suitable. There’s a hotel one block down, get a room and text me the number.”
I make my way through the crowd, pushing and shoving until I come upon the ladies’ room. I send a quick text to Jo, telling her that I’m bailing out early
and going home.
Jo: Whatever. I saw you and Tucker practically dry humping on the dance floor. Just wrap it up! We don’t want another Crawley incident.
I‘m covered in sweat so I do a quick wipe down with a paper towel. I check my legs for stubble, and rinse my mouth out before popping in a piece of gum. After I’m satisfied with my bodily odors, I calmly walk out of the club to the nearby hotel. My hands shake as I wait for Tucker’s text so I shake them out a few times in front of my body. Oh crap, the mic. I pull out the wireless microphone hidden in the front of my dress and toss it in a trashcan. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this. Bzzzzzz. I take a deep breath before looking at the phone.
Tucker: Room 203
Ginger: Be there in a minute.
Bad idea, I’m an idiot.
No, Ginger. You need to have some fun. You’re not hurting anyone. You are a single fun-loving gal.
As I mentally fight with myself over my decision to hook up with Tucker, I stumble in my heels and fly forward onto the ground. I’m drunker than I thought. I’ve skinned my knee, but I still dust off my humiliation and stand. It’s dark outside and no one is even paying attention to me. I hobble inside the hotel and up to the room.
My hand hesitates before I knock. Caspian comes to mind. I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of what I’m about to do. He would blame the vodka and tell me I have issues, but I would do this even if I weren’t drunk, I think.
“Go away,” I hiss at the image in my mind. The door flies open to reveal a shirtless Tucker with a beer in his hand.
“Who you talking to, babe?”
Tucker looks good, I’ll admit it any day. His dark hair is slicked back against his head as if he’s just gotten out of the shower. Oh, what the hell! I launch my body forward and press my lips right up to his. Our tongues dance together as he picks me up in his arms. Somehow, I kick the door shut behind me with my heel. I throw my bag on the floor and kick off my shoes. I pull back from him and give him a seductive smile. When I go straight for his jeans, he grabs my hands.
“Are you sure?”
“I want you.”
He lets go of my hands, and I continue unzipping and pulling down his pants.
The One Thing Page 12
