In Development

by Rachel Spangler

  “The part where I get a ten percent commission.” He tried to get out of bed, but Mimi caught his arm.

  “Nope. Don’t pretend you’re not invested in this. You’re clearly hung up on something the rest of the world isn’t getting. Come on. Tell me what you see there.”

  He rolled his eyes but relented and slid the little video progress bar almost to the end, right as Cobie began to bound down the stairs. “There. How would you describe Cobie’s smile?”

  “Triumphant. Look how confident she seems right there.” She squeezed his arm. “She nailed it, and she knows it.”

  He nodded, not sharing her exuberance. “Now look at Lila.”

  Mimi leaned closer to the screen and stared at her own client for a few seconds, “She’s . . . she’s impressed. Oh, my God, Lila is watching her go like she’s a little proud of her too.”

  He clicked play, and the expression quickly vanished from Lila’s face. Her smile grew dreamy as she leaned against the doorjamb.

  “She finished on the right note. That dreamy thing, she does it really well. She picked that up in her early music videos.”

  “I know. I’ve seen her do it a million times. It’s one of her signature moves.”

  “But the other look, the one she gave right after Cobie broke completely away, wasn’t planned or practiced,” Mimi added. “That’s new.”

  “A new trick or a new emotion?” Stan asked seriously.

  Mimi rubbed her palms together and grinned. “I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.”

  • • •

  “Yoo-hoo, Lila.”

  She looked up from her notepad to see Felipe waving a pair of maroon skinny jeans. “Sorry, for who?”

  “Um, you,” he said. “Cobie can’t pull this off.”

  “Then yes,” Lila said. “I like it. Put them with the caramel short-waisted pea coat.”

  “And a hat?” Felipe asked. “It’ll be cold when you’re outside.”

  “What about a maroon open-knit beret?”

  He frowned, and his high, thin eyebrows drew closer together. “Too much.”

  “Too much maroon or too much, period?”

  “Both.”

  She sighed. “Just pick something.”

  He hooked the pants hanger back over the rolling rack and joined her on the large, circular ottoman. “Okay, sister, time to spill.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re my stylist. Style me.”

  He clucked and opened his arms. “Girl, you don’t need a stylist. You need a hug.”

  She laughed and pushed him away. “You’re crazy. I’m trying to write.”

  He made a dramatic show of looking at the wide, blank space on her page. “Yeah, you’re killing it.”

  “I said ‘trying.’” Lila tossed the pad to the floor and lay back on the ottoman, running her fingers through the faux fur finish. “Trying fruitlessly is still trying.”

  “Still searching for the ballad?” Felipe asked.

  “I can’t start recording until I have one.”

  He shrugged. “Then write one.”

  “Did you miss the part where I’m trying? It’s not happening.”

  “’Cause you aren’t in love?”

  “That’s never stopped me before.” Lila stared at the ceiling. “I didn’t have any trouble writing them for the last four albums, and I wasn’t in love then either.”

  “But you had people who were in love with you at least.”

  The truth of the statement hit her with unexpected force, causing a little rush of breath to hitch in her throat.

  The effects must have shown somehow, because Felipe’s mocha skin paled immediately. “I’m sorry. You know what I meant. Tons of people are in love with you, not just one specific one.”

  “Right,” she said dryly.

  “Well, I mean, I for one am madly in love with you.”

  She rolled her eyes just as Malik shuffled into the room in his ginormous bunny slippers and Daffy Duck pajama bottoms.

  “Malik is too,” Felipe said.

  “I’m what?” he asked, setting a carafe of coffee on a small glass table.

  “In love with Lila.”

  “Madly,” he said emphatically. “I only sleep with you because she’s rebuffed me so many times.”

  Lila finally laughed and rolled onto her stomach. “You guys are too quick this morning. You’re having more sex in my house than I have ever had.”

  “I’m sorry, baby girl.” Felipe stroked her hair.

  “Really?”

  “I’m sorry that I’m not sorry. Does that count?”

  She sat up and shoved him again. “Get off my ottoman. Pour me some coffee.”

  “Ooh, the rich white lady is being mean to the hired help again.”

  Malik laughed and shook his head. “She’s just lonely. Pimpin’ ain’t easy.”

  “Damn right.” Lila felt infinitely better than she had moments earlier. Not that she’d solved her writer’s block, but it didn’t seem as important as it had earlier. “Men are trifling and tiring. I’m building a damn empire. I don’t have time to properly torture someone for real, and that’s the only way you can truly hold their interest.”

  “Mhmm, girl. I know that.” Felipe snapped his fingers. “I gotta keep that one on a short leash or he’s off gallivanting all over town. And now you go and take him down to the gayborhood. Like he wasn’t flighty enough before.”

  Lila giggled as she glanced at Malik’s folded arms and steady expression of boredom. “He was very well-behaved last night, honest. I never even saw him talking to one of the male waiters. I kept a close eye on him too.”

  “Lies!” Felipe screeched. “I watched that video on TMZ like a bazillion times. You were totally engrossed in Little Miss Lesbo.”

  “I was not.”

  “You can’t fool me. Don’t say that girl didn’t pique your interest.”

  “She kissed her,” Malik said.

  “I know. I just said I watched the video. Keep up, Malik.”

  “No.” He pushed off the wall excitedly. “Before that. I just figured it out. Cobie kissed her behind the bar.”

  “What?” Felipe whirled around to face her. “Is this true?”

  Lila bit her lip.

  “Oh, my God, you made your guilty face. Why in the name of all things sacred am I just now hearing this part?” he asked her, then turned on Malik. “You have had, like, fourteen hours to tell me, and you held out.”

  “We were busy last night.”

  “Fair,” Felipe said. “Your mouth was busy.”

  “Guys!” Lila said. “Too much.”

  “He could’ve told me after,” Felipe pouted.

  “I didn’t put it together until right now when you mentioned keeping your eyes on me. That was the only time of the whole night when I didn’t have a direct line of sight on you. I remember because it made me nervous. I was trying to time how long it would take two women to go to the bathroom together.”

  “And that math was hard for you?” Lila asked.

  “I don’t know what y’all do in there in groups,” he shot back, “but I never actually heard the door open or close, and you were back too soon, and your lipstick was smudged, which I thought you would’ve noticed when you looked in the mirror.”

  “It’s like a mystery,” Felipe proclaimed gleefully. “Was Cobie covered in her lipstick?”

  “I didn’t see. Lila came back in a hurry, and Cobie came kind of skulking behind her with her head down, but I thought it was just to brace against the press, who went berserk as soon as they saw them. Then we were off again, and I had to work.”

  “And then your mouth was busy. The end,” Felipe said before turning back to Lila. “Now you fill in the blanks, or I swear to both of the Holy Madonnas, I will dress you in polka dots and plaids for the next week.”

  “Fine,” Lila said dismissively. “She kissed me.”

  “I’m going to need more. Set the scene, and do it right or I’ll g
ive you uncomfortable shoes.”

  She rolled her eyes and thought for a few seconds. How could she explain the kiss to him when she didn’t fully understand the situation herself? She didn’t even know what emotions to sort through since she’d worked hard all night not to feel anything for fear of what that something might be. Not that she’d phrase her recap to Felipe that way. “She just pulled me behind the bar on the way to the bathroom and said something about my first time kissing a woman. Then she kissed me.”

  He stared at her as if waiting for more. “And?”

  “Then we left.”

  “She was flushed,” Malik said, “and her eyes were like fire.”

  “Traitor,” Lila called.

  Malik shrugged. “The truth hurts.”

  “I was angry she didn’t stick to the agreement.”

  ’Cause she wanted to jump you so bad she couldn’t contain herself?” Felipe asked.

  Lila shook her head. That would have been the easy explanation and the one she’d give if anyone in the press ever found out, but she knew it wasn’t true. Cobie hadn’t seemed pushy or overly eager. If anything, she’d come across as almost sad, but the kiss itself wasn’t sad so much as sweet, with an almost altruistic undercurrent. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Try.” Felipe pleaded.

  “Her kiss caught me off guard. It wasn’t rushed or too hard.”

  “Oh, you rhymed. Maybe you should write a song about Cobie kissing you. Was there tongue?”

  “No,” Lila said quickly.

  “Good, ’cause ‘tongue’ is hard to rhyme. If she were a guy, you could rhyme it with ‘well-hung,’ but it doesn’t work here.”

  “I would never use the term ‘well-hung’ in one of my songs. Can you even imagine all the teenage girls singing along?”

  He snickered in a way that suggested he could.

  “Besides. The kiss wasn’t the stuff of love songs. It was slow and sweet and almost protective. She acted like she was worried about my feelings or my honor or something puritanical. She told some story about her first kiss being in front of an audience, and she said I deserved better.”

  Felipe and Malik shared a side-eyed glance.

  “What?”

  Malik let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

  “You might be in trouble, honey,” Felipe added.

  “Why?”

  “Has it occurred to you that this girl might be for real?”

  She scoffed. “She’s an actress. None of them are real.”

  The guys said nothing.

  “She signed up for a fauxmance. She wants a movie part. She’s not even into me. Trust me, I know when someone’s angling to bed me. She’s not. She was just being . . . ” Lila searched for the right word, but it didn’t come. What had Cobie’s true motive been? “She was just being . . . ”

  “Nice?” Felipe asked.

  “Genuine?” Malik offered.

  “Sincere?”

  “Kind?”

  “Considerate?”

  “Genuine?”

  “Stop.” She shook her head and stood up. “You said ‘genuine’ twice. When did you two get such an extensive vocabulary?”

  “Probably from listening to you read poetry in sixth grade,” Felipe shot back.

  Lila tried to pout, but she cracked and giggled just a little. “Low blow, Felipe.”

  “Come on, you’re talking about no one being real. Those poems were all the feels.”

  She grimaced, remembering not just her early attempts to write in rhyme, but also all the events that had inspired her to seek such an outlet in the first place. She didn’t find the connection quite so amusing anymore, but she tried to keep her tone light as she said, “Just for that, you have to take the check to Selena this month.”

  “No.” Felipe immediately backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it. Please, can’t you mail it?”

  “She’ll say she didn’t get it and ask for another, then cash both,” Lila said without a hint of annoyance. “It’s got to be done.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” Felipe said. “You could cut that cord.”

  Lila shook her head. The statement might be true, at least in a vacuum, but none of them lived in a vacuum, except Selena, and that could end the minute the money ran out. “Just do it while I’m out with Cobie this weekend, okay?”

  Felipe pretended to pout about the chore, but she could tell he did so only to cover his sadness. “Fine. But not because you made me, because I love you and you will owe me your undying gratitude and you will give me all the gossip the minute you come home from your super adorable lesbian hipster date.”

  “Fair trade. Now you two go canoodle or something. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  Malik nudged Felipe, who eyed her for a few seconds before saying, “All right. I need to get Cobie’s stuff sent over to her anyway.”

  Then he wheeled his rack of clothes out the door.

  She waited until she could no longer hear them before flopping all the way across the ottoman once more, trying not to marvel at how fast the conversation had shifted from Cobie to Selena. The two were nothing alike. Not in looks, not in temperament, and certainly not in their relationship to her. And yet the lesson of one would undoubtedly shape her interactions with the other. She tried to remind herself that was a good thing. She’d learned her lessons. She’d grown and matured. Maybe if she’d met Cobie at a different time in her life, she would have seen her differently, but she hadn’t, and Lila didn’t believe in looking back. She couldn’t control the past. She could only control the future.

  • • •

  “Thanks for coming here today.” Cobie extended her hand to her personal trainer, Janna McKinley.

  “No problem,” Janna said with a toothy smile and an overly tight handshake. “Sometimes it’s easier to take an ass kicking in your own home than in a gym.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’d only considered what a hassle it’d be for everyone else at the gym for me to go there right now,” Cobie said with a grimace. “But I guess the press getting shots of me sweaty and doubled over in pain wouldn’t do much to bolster my newfound, suave image either.”

  “Probably not.” Janna grabbed a duffle bag full of aerobic torture devices and tucked a rolled yoga mat under her arm. “But wait until they get a glimpse of your oblique muscles. Every camera in America will zoom in on your midriff.”

  She found the idea horrifying but managed to smile and nod. She’d perfected the “everything’s copacetic” expression over the last week, along with the ability to push past her discomfort and focus on the person in front of her despite the fears swirling around inside her head. “I certainly feel my abs trying to make their presence known.” Which was a tactful way of saying her sides felt like Janna had kicked her repeatedly until they developed a self-preservation mechanism that involved never unclenching again.

  “You’re only at about the midway point of the transformation. It’ll get better.”

  Cobie assumed by “better,” Janna meant “harder.” It took every ounce of politeness her parents had drilled into her not to tell Janna to fuck off. Instead, she said, “Same time and place tomorrow?”

  “Works for me. We’ll do more to get your whole ab complex firing together,” Janna said, cheerfully oblivious to the murderous fantasies her comments inspired in Cobie.

  “See you then.”

  Just as Janna opened the door, a young man appeared in the hallway outside the suite holding a large black garment bag.

  “Your dry cleaning’s here,” Janna called with undue enthusiasm and then jogged away, because apparently super-fit people must do everything at speeds that intimidate normal people.

  “Whoa,” the bellboy said. “What did she have in her coffee?”

  “Steroids of some sort,” Cobie mumbled, then remembered she hadn’t sent out any dry cleaning. “Are you sure you’ve got the right room?”

  The boy glanced at the tag on the garment bag and nervously said, “
Yes, ma’am.”

  She frowned. Had she lost track of something in the press-induced chaos of the last few days? “I don’t remember sending anything to be laundered.”

  “I don’t think you did.” He blushed. “I didn’t try to read your stuff or anything, but it just says right here on the tag that it’s a gift from Ms. Wilder.”

  Cobie rolled her eyes before she could stop herself and grabbed the hanger out of his hand. She turned it over and, sure enough, printed right on the front, big enough for the world to see, was a plain white card with a handwritten note saying, “I got you a little something special to wear tonight. XOXO — Lila.”

  She sighed and fished some bills from the pocket of her track pants. Without looking at how much was there, she handed them to the kid. “Thanks.”

  “Oh no, thank you,” he gushed, staring at the money, then added, “I won’t tell anybody.”

  “Great.” She believed him, but she wondered how many other people had handled the delivery over the last hour. Delivery people, drivers, hotel security and staff. Surely one of them would leak, and that’s no doubt what Lila wanted.

  She carried the bag back through the living room and into her expansive bedroom, tossing it onto the king-sized bed. Part of her wanted to leave it there and go soak in an Epsom-salt bath, but she’d spend the whole time wondering what waited for her inside. She might as well see what she was in for now.

  She bent over just enough to reach the zipper and every muscle in her back and shoulders screamed. Wincing, she unsheathed the clothes and stared at the ensemble.

  “Really?” she asked aloud despite being alone. Lila had sent over a pair of dark low-cut jeans, a plain black V-neck T-shirt, and a button-down denim shirt, with a pair of Timberland hiking boots. That’s what the woman with her own fashion line had come up with? Cobie would look like an emo lumberjack. A butch one. Not that emo lumberjacks ever really presented as femmes, but was Lila playing off some lesbian stereotype manual? She had a flash of annoyance bordering on anger and straightened up abruptly only to double back over as every stabilizer down her sides burned fast and hot.

  To add insult to injury, her phone rang from somewhere back across the living room. Not the hotel phone, but her personal cell. She forced herself upright and went to find it. Each ring felt like she was playing the hot-and-cold game until on the fifth ring she managed to locate it between the couch cushions.