Bohemia Chills

by Lucy Lakestone

  He quoted a figure that would cover my part of the rent this month and a couple of pizzas besides. As pissed as I was at the oblivious goofball, I couldn’t say no.

  And he wanted it when? “Did you say Friday at noon? I have to shoot it and edit it, but I guess I can get it done. Who did you have in mind as your dater?”

  “We don’t have enough time to schedule one of our alpha testers. You know people, right? Anyone will do. Only make it interesting, OK? If they’re boring, then make shit up. Oh, and they shouldn’t break the camera, if you know what I mean. Ugly doesn’t sell. Ha ha. We’re emailing you the title templates now. Let Maria know when you’ve sent it to the FTP, all right? Thanks.”

  And he hung up.

  “Bastard!” I exclaimed. I looked around to see a guy emptying trash cans who gave me a sour look. I waved at him meekly and got to my car as quickly as possible, slipped inside and shut the door. “Fucking bastard!” I screamed in the relative privacy of the sedan. The dude wanted me to turn the video around in a day and didn’t even have a victim for me? “MALE PRIVILEGED ASSHAT!”

  I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Now I felt better.

  I needed a plan. I needed to interview an interesting single person for this video. And fuck Rick for judging people for their looks, but he wanted someone attractive, too? Where was I supposed to find this unicorn at such short notice? I had friends here now, but not one of the annoyingly lovey-dovey dopes was single.

  Except maybe one.

  Chapter 16

  “You want me to do what?” Landon asked later that afternoon, squinting slightly in the glare of the battery-powered work light. He looked down at me from the top of the ladder, where he’d been dusting off the chandelier in the foyer of Milkweed Mansion. We’d decided that while the cobwebs and dust were definitely scary, they were also gross, and a more elegant approach to our haunted house might be appreciated here.

  “I need to film someone for a dating video in their natural environment. I have to capture them doing stuff they love to do and ask some questions. It’s supposed to capture the real person and make them look attractive for this dating app.”

  He shook his head, and his brow creased. The one-sided light brought out the strong lines of his face and threw a long, film-noir-worthy shadow that extended up and behind him. “I don’t need to be on a dating app.”

  “I’m not saying you do. This isn’t actually going to be used on the dating app. It’s like a prototype thing they can show to investors and prospective customers and get them excited about paying for a high-end video profile.”

  Landon crossed his arms over his filthy “Trust me I’m a Jedi” T-shirt and lounged at the top of the ladder — something only he could possibly do — while obviously trying not to laugh. “Who the hell would pay for that?”

  “I don’t know. Egomaniacs? Lonely people? I’m not here to judge. But I need the money, Landon. I really, really need the money. And can you get down here? I’m getting a crick in my neck.”

  He sighed, put down the cleaning rag next to the bucket at the tippy-top of the ladder, and made his way down.

  “What do you want, Kayla?” he asked in a low voice when he reached the floor and stood in front of me. Here, he was only a little taller than I was. Only now, his eyes bored into mine, and his tone carried all kinds of suggestiveness that wasn’t there a minute before.

  So he hadn’t forgotten last night.

  God knows I hadn’t.

  I swallowed and tried to sound confident. “They gave me an impossible deadline.” I glanced at his Star Wars T-shirt. “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

  He guffawed. “OK, but only if it doesn’t take more than an hour. I have to wrangle the electrician and the plumbers tomorrow.”

  “A half hour. I swear. We can do a couple of shots at the apartment with your golf clubs, and then — ”

  “I hate golf.” His voice was harder now, and he crossed his arms.

  “Um — yeah. Sorry. Maybe with your glove, tossing a softball in the air, looking cute? Because you’re on your company’s softball team, right?”

  “Nice of you to notice.” His voice had softened again, and his dark eyes danced. “And you think I’m cute?”

  “I — oh, hell. I mean, my friends think you’re cute.”

  He took a step closer, smelling of sweat and cedar and lime, and I tried not to faint.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “Landon. Landon. I’m asking you this as a professional.” Oh, God. I wanted to lick him. “We can do a quick shot at the apartment in the morning, and I’ll film you working here now. And then tomorrow here at the mansion we’ll do the interview. Twenty minutes, OK?”

  “You’re not answering my question.” His voice was deep and low and sent a sizzle through my veins. “If I have to answer your questions, you have to answer mine.”

  I looked up into those eyes. “Y-y-yes?”

  He hit me with the Fireworks. “Yes what?”

  “You’re cute?”

  “Is that a question?”

  “No. I mean, I’m answering your question. So you agree?”

  “That I’m cute? I prefer dashing, sexy … ”

  “Landon!” Hell, yes, he was all those things.

  “Have you considered getting an investor? Then you won’t have to do ridiculous video jobs.”

  “I’m still thinking about it.” I huffed in frustration. “Will you do it? Fifteen minutes tomorrow. Just fifteen minutes on camera, and then we’re back to the grind.”

  “Grind.” He took another step closer, letting his hands fall to his sides so his chest almost touched mine. “Interesting choice of words.”

  I blinked up at him like a vole who’d been pulled from its hole. “Are you fucking with me?”

  He whispered back, “Only if you want me to.”

  I stepped back and took a deep breath, shaking off his spell. “Forget it. I’ll find someone else. Penelope probably knows some — ”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll do it,” he said, his voice retreating from Ludicrous Sexy and returning to Everyday Hot. “Ten minutes?”

  “Fifteen, max. Please?”

  He smiled, showing the dimples. Holy shit. “OK.” He started back up the ladder, then called back down to me. “Can you clean up around the kitchen sink so the plumbers can get in there? And make sure they can get to the bathroom plumbing, too?”

  “I can do that,” I said. But first I got my camera out of its case — I’d grabbed it when I went home to change into my grubby clothes — and got a few shots of him swabbing the crystals in the chandelier. Gently, he washed away the grime on each crystal to reveal their almost liquid shimmer under the bright work light.

  I probably filmed him longer than I should have. With the camera as a shield, it was one way of staring at him without actually gawking. Watching him touching each prism, his fingers deft, his attention focused.

  Remembering how his hands felt as they slid along my skin.

  You’d think two people who ended up at the same work site each day would go in the same car, but we never did. Landon had his errands to run, and I had mine. Plus, we had another, unstated reason for not car-pooling. If anything, the tension between us had grown to excruciating levels as he’d transformed from annoying roommate to skilled helper to project partner to the object of my drooling lust.

  Mostly, I hid the drooling.

  In the morning, we met for the interview out by the concrete bench we’d excavated during the garden cleanup.

  “So where were you last night?” Landon asked as I set up my tripod, camera and a battery-powered fill light under one of the oak trees with the mansion in the background.

  Interesting. Landon wondered where I was for a change.

  “I had to meet with Cali and Thea about the website, so I got in late. It has to be ready by Friday.”

  Was that relief I saw in his eyes?
“Friday!”

  “That’s when the press release goes out. Marla’s got it all planned. And it’ll be ready, though it’s putting a lot of pressure on my friends, especially to get the ticket sales set up. They’re going to be sold in time blocks, with the VIP tickets separate — two hundred fifty bucks a pop. Is that crazy?”

  “Not much for rich people, especially with drinks by the Bohemia Bartenders, Ez’s band playing and Jace doing tours. Do you have food planned?”

  “Millie says she knows a new caterer who wants to get her name out there and is willing to work for half price.” More money out of my pocket, but hopefully advance ticket sales would take care of that and more.

  Behind me, the sound of hammering and a boom box filled the air as a crew built the forms for concrete footers for the new gazebo. Look at me, learning terms like “footers.” Though I left all the technical stuff to Landon. “I guess I’m going to have to ask them to stop, huh?”

  A few minutes later, at my request, the construction crew had jumped in their truck and left on a breakfast run. I’d just clipped the microphone to Landon’s collar — I let him run it up under his shirt from the battery pack, though I was dying to do it myself — and I was making last-minute adjustments to the focus.

  I slipped on my headphones and eyeballed Landon. He wore jeans, a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a skinny black tie, along with black high-tops. I’d asked him to wear something different from his usual work clothes and nearly fainted in pleasure when he appeared in this getup.

  I was trying to keep it professional. Really. “Put your foot up on the bench and look casual.”

  “What am I, a J.C. Penney model?”

  “It’s better than having you just stand there.”

  He put his foot up on the bench. Oh dear God, he did look like a model. The move made his jeans cling beautifully to his ass, and his crisp shirt caressed his pecs.

  I swallowed more drool. “Say a few words so I can check the sound level.”

  “A few words.”

  “Smart-ass. More words than that.”

  He looked around and assumed a sportscaster voice. “We’re standing here outside Milkweed Mansion, about to interview the infamous Landon Putter, well known for his love of chocolate chip cookies.”

  I laughed and tweaked up his mike’s volume. “OK, you sound good. Start out by introducing yourself — your first name and one memorable thing about you. Like for me, it might be, ‘Hi, I’m Kayla, and I see the world as one big, beautiful movie.’”

  “Do you really?”

  “Well, sometimes I see it as more of a Quentin Tarantino movie, but yeah, it’s a movie.”

  He smiled. “Neat. I go to the movies a lot.”

  “You do?” Another explanation for why he never used to be home much.

  “Yeah. We should go sometime. OK. Are you ready?”

  I tried not to think about a movie date with Landon and zoomed in, going for a head-and-shoulders shot for the introduction. “OK, go.”

  His eyes locked on the lens, and I pictured a million women swooning. I was one of them. He was looking at me. That was the idea. Every single woman looking at him would think the same thing.

  He’s looking at me.

  “Hi,” he said, a hint of a smile playing about his lips. His voice had gone lower and more intimate. Damn. It was like warm butterscotch drizzled over brownies spiked with pheromones. “I’m Landon, and the one thing I want out of life is true love.”

  Chapter 17

  Landon’s gaze smoldered for a few more seconds into the lens, and then he looked up at me. “Well?”

  “Mmm … mmhmm,” I managed, feeling hot all over. “Yes. That was great. Was that a real answer?”

  “Of course.” I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. “Isn’t true love what every red-blooded guy wants?”

  He was totally teasing. Wasn’t he? This was going to be a lot harder than I thought. But I’d promised him this would only take fifteen minutes. I could survive fifteen minutes of Landon wooing the theoretical girl on the other side of the camera, right?

  “Fine,” I said. “Can you talk about some of the things you do and like to do? Like your job and hobbies and stuff? You can keep it brief.”

  “That’s good, since my hobby is work.”

  “And softball. And the Sport That Shall Not Be Named for which you need a putter.”

  “Touché.” I zoomed out a little so every delicious inch of him was visible. This time, he addressed the camera in a slightly less sexy tone. “Though I like to play softball, go to the movies and shoot pool with my friends, I’m a builder for a living. I love to renovate old houses and make them feel new again. I believe every house needs TLC to become a home, and every home should be a unique space that’s perfect for the people who live in it. Kind of the way everyone needs someone who’s perfect for them.”

  “Holy bucking seahorses,” I mumbled.

  “What?”

  “That’s fantastic,” I said more loudly. We couldn’t let this dating video get out. Every woman in Florida would want to bang Landon’s hammer. “Can you talk about the kind of dates you like to go on?”

  He nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment as I zoomed in a bit. “I like dates that are either comfortable or adventurous. It’s fun to do something your date really loves to do and see her in an environment where she’s relaxed and happy. And after you get to know each other a little bit, it’s a thrill to take an adventure with her. That doesn’t mean jumping out of a plane, though it could. It really means trying something new. An adventure of discovery. If you’re compatible with someone, you’re happy doing a cozy night at home or an adventure. The important thing is that you’re with someone you care about.”

  I was now thoroughly jealous of anyone who’d ever gone on a date with Landon.

  “That was really good.” Understatement of the year. “Let’s just do one more question. What are you looking for in a life partner?”

  “This is assuming I want a life partner,” he joked.

  “Humor me. It’s for the video.”

  “Can I put my leg down now?”

  “Why don’t you sit on the bench? I’ll get a close-up shot for this one.”

  He lowered his leg, did a couple of quick stretches and sat on the bench, leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees. He clasped his hands in front of him, looking as earnest as I’d ever seen him. I was starting to think Landon had missed his calling. He should’ve been an actor or a pitchman.

  “Will this work?” he asked.

  “Definitely. Let me adjust a few things here.” I lowered the tripod a little and zoomed in so the camera was framed on his face, like it was having an intimate conversation with him.

  “What was the question again?” he asked.

  “Very funny. The question is: What are you looking for in a life partner?”

  The subtlest of smiles touched his lips as he gazed into the camera. “It’s hard to think about forever in today’s world, but I think it’s possible to find the right person and make forever happen. For me, she’s smart. She thinks about things, but she also likes to have fun. She doesn’t take everything seriously. She understands what it means to live in the moment. She takes risks, but not stupid ones. She’s a good friend as much as she’s sexy — with the total understanding that sexy is something that is as much a part of that light inside her as it is her smile or the confident way she carries herself. She supports my plans but has her own dreams and ideas, and I love her for it. That’s the woman I want forever.”

  For a moment, I let the video roll as he looked into the lens. I almost forgot the camera was there. With him talking right into my ears through the headphones, speaking to me — thanks to the beautiful illusion of the camera — I was completely lost. Finally, I dimly registered the sound of the wind and distant cars and reluctantly hit the stop button. I pulled off my headphones. “How do you do that?”

  “What?”


  “Just ‘turn on’ for the camera. It’s a gift.”

  “I took a public speaking class once, and one tip I took away is that it helps sometimes to pick out an audience of one. Talk to that person, and whatever you’re saying will feel natural.” His dark eyes seemed to sparkle in the dappled sunlight, but he wasn’t joking this time. “I was talking to you.”

  I was transfixed. Speechless. He was talking to me? And then a blast of salsa music and the crunching of tires on the driveway heralded the return of the construction crew.

  “Thanks,” was all I eked out before he grinned, pulled off his tie and microphone, handed me the gear and wandered over to see where the crew stood. The cement truck was coming that afternoon.

  In my head, I was going over what he’d said. I was talking to you. Of course, he meant I was a safe audience, that audience of one he imagined to keep from being nervous on camera. Not that I was thoughtful and smart and sexy and confident and a good friend, too …

  Was I? Could I be?

  Maybe I didn’t think the jerk in Orlando would be mine forever, but I’d been open to the idea — probably because I was completely naive, imagining us growing from the lame kids’ show to a Hollywood power couple, making great TV and movies. From the very first time he blew off one of my ideas, I should have known he’d never respect me, that he was only using me. But sometimes it takes a while to admit you’re wrong, to realize that all those feelings that come with sex might have nothing to do with love. And then you crawl back home and get a crappy job and wonder how you can ever feel fresh and smart and alive again. How you can ever take the “closed” sign off your heart.

  As I packed up the camera gear, I snuck glances over at Landon chatting with the guys. In Spanish. He had more layers than an onion.

  The thing is, no matter how sweet they are, onions can make you cry.

  Chapter 18