Wardrobe Malfunction

by Samantha Towle

  The mention of my name makes my feet stop just before I’m about to round the corner.

  Natasha knows about us? He never told me that.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t mentioned it to her.”

  “You haven’t told her that your sister’s getting married?”

  “No. Why?”

  She laughs. “God, you men are clueless. Do you want to take her with you?”

  I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

  “I don’t take women home.”

  “Yeah, I know that. But I didn’t ask if you took women home. I asked if you wanted to take Charly home with you.”

  There’s a long pause.

  His lack of a response makes my chest ache. I rub a hand to the spot.

  Then, Natasha speaks again, “Well, if you do decide you want to ask her to go with you, don’t leave it much longer because, otherwise, she’ll feel like you just asked her as a last-minute choice.”

  I don’t want to hear any more, so I trace my steps back and go around the back of the van.

  I stop at the other side and paste a smile on my face, shrugging off the hurt I’m feeling.

  Then, I step out. Vaughn’s eyes instantly come to me. He smiles at me. That secret smile he always gives me, one that usually turns me to jelly…not this time though.

  “I need you in wardrobe,” I say to him, fake smile on. Then, my eyes move to Natasha. “Natasha, Logan asked me if I would bring you along, too.”

  “Sure thing,” she says, tossing her coffee in the trash.

  Vaughn follows suit, tossing his coffee.

  And we all walk over to wardrobe, Natasha and Vaughn talking over their upcoming scene while I totally zone out.

  His sister’s getting married, and he didn’t tell me. Okay, that’s not such a massive thing because he’s a man, and men don’t think like women.

  But Mr. I Don’t Take Women Home doesn’t want to take me with him? Well, okay, he didn’t exactly say that. But he didn’t say he wanted to take me either. He didn’t say anything.

  I mean, rationally thinking, he probably hasn’t asked because I pushed to keep us a secret, and if I go to his sister’s wedding, we definitely wouldn’t be a secret…which brings me to the fact that Natasha knows!

  How many other people has he told?

  And why do I feel so weird and bent out of shape about this?

  Why is it bothering me so much that he hasn’t asked me to his sister’s wedding?

  I’m being stupid.

  I must be due for my period. I’m hormonal. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why I’m acting like a wack job.

  Because, honestly, I’m not bothered that he hasn’t asked me.

  I’m not bothered at all.

  Vaughn

  Charly’s acting weird. She’s been weird since last night. It’s like she’s here, but she’s not actually here.

  I’ve asked her countless times if she’s okay, and I get the same answer every time.

  “I’m fine.”

  Like now, we’re in my trailer where she’s stitching up a shirt that got ripped in a fight scene, and I’ve been talking to her, but she’s not actually listening. She’s doing the ums and the ahs in all the right places, but I know she’s not taking in a fucking word I’m saying.

  “So, yeah, I was thinking of asking Natasha about the three of us having a threesome. What do you think, babe?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Or we could have a foursome with her husband. I’ll do Natasha. You do Carter. How does that sound?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  See what I mean?

  I get up from the sofa and walk over to the dining table. Sitting down in front of her, I pull the shirt from her hands.

  “Hey! I nearly stuck myself with the needle then!”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” She pulls the shirt back from my hands.

  “I just suggested having a threesome with Natasha or maybe a foursome with her hubby, and your responses were all hmm and mmhmm.”

  “You want to have a three-way with me and Natasha?” she all but yells at me.

  “No, I don’t want to have a three-way, you fucking tool. That’s my way of proving you haven’t been listening to a word I said, and you haven’t since yesterday.”

  “Did you just call me a fucking tool?” She frowns.

  “What is going on with you? Why are you acting all weird?”

  “I’m not,” she says with shifty eyes. Looking down at the shirt, she carries on with sewing it.

  Jesus! Fucking women!

  I growl with frustration, “That’s it. I’m withholding sex until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Her eyes lift, and she laughs. “Yeah, okay,” she says in a mocking voice.

  “I’m serious.” I fold my arms.

  She puts the shirt down. “You’ll last a day, max.”

  “Oh, ye, of little faith. I went dry for three months before I met you.”

  “Okay,” she hums, picking the shirt back up. “We’ll see.”

  “We will.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay then.”

  Well, fuck, that didn’t go as I’d planned, and now, I’ve screwed myself out of sex for God knows how long.

  Nicely played, West.

  My cell starts to ring in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing it’s my mom.

  “Hey, Mom,” I answer.

  I see Charly glance up, but she quickly looks away again.

  “Hey, baby,” my mom says, sounding exhausted. “I need a favor.”

  “Sure, anything,” I tell her.

  “Do you know of any clothes people, like designers, who could fix your sister’s wedding dress?”

  “What’s wrong with Sasha’s dress?”

  I know she was having a local wedding dress designer make one for her.

  “Jester happened.”

  Jester is my mom and dad’s six-month-old golden Labrador. He’s awesome. Just a bundle of energy. He makes me want a dog, but as I’m not home much, it wouldn’t be fair. But, hopefully, one day.

  “Your sister picked up her dress and brought it over to ours, and I hung it up in her old room. I don’t know how, if someone left the door open or what, but Jester got in there.”

  “Oh no!” I laugh.

  “Don’t laugh, Vaughn. It’s not funny. Your sister is freaking out,” my mom says, sounding exasperated.

  “Sorry.” I bite my lip. “How bad is it?”

  “He got it outside. God knows how. That dog, I swear. The dirt, I can get off, but the bottom is all torn.”

  “Shit. Well, tell her that I’ll just buy her a new one. I can probably get her a Vera Wang shipped in.”

  “She doesn’t want anything but this dress, Vaughn. She designed it with the dress designer. She has her heart set on it. It’s all just a mess right now. She said she’s canceling the wedding. Your dad is going mad about the expenses if she cancels, and Greg’s at a loss for what to do. It’s just a nightmare.” She sighs.

  “So, can’t she get the woman who designed her dress to fix it?”

  “She’s in Hawaii.”

  “Oh.”

  “Right.” She sighs again.

  “So, I was hoping you might know some dress designer who could fix it up.”

  I lift my eyes to Charly. “Actually,” I tell my mom, “I have one sitting right in front of me as we speak. She’s really talented.”

  Charly’s eyes flash to mine.

  “You do?” My mom’s voice lifts with hope.

  “Yep. She works on wardrobe here. Charly. She’s an amazing seamstress. I bet she could fix it, no problem.”

  Charly’s brows lift. I fight back a smile.

  “We’ll pay her.”

  “I’ll sort that, Mom.”

  “You’re my star, Vaughn.”

  She’s been saying that to me since I was a kid. It never fails to warm my insides. Because she means it in a whole other way than
the rest of the world does. She has always said that I’m her little star, that I brighten her world. And I might be a grown-ass man, but when your mom says something like that, you revert back to the five-year-old kid who thought she was the only woman in the world you would ever love. Well, that still is true because I haven’t ever been in love.

  My eyes drift back to Charly, a different kind of warmth spreading across my chest.

  “Tell Sasha it’s going to be fine. Take a picture of the dress, the damage, and send it to me. I’ll have Charly take a look and see if it’s fixable. And, if it is, FedEx it to me out here, Charly will fix it, and I’ll bring it back with me.”

  “I’ll take the picture now. Sasha will be over the moon!”

  “Don’t tell her until Charly says for sure if she can fix it.”

  “Okay. I’ll send the pic now and then call me back once Charly’s had a look. And tell her not to worry if she can’t; we appreciate it all the same.”

  “Will do, Mom. Love you.”

  “You, too, baby.”

  We hang up, and I put my cell down on the table.

  “So…from the gist of that, I got that you need me to fix your sister’s wedding dress. I gather it’s for a wedding because of the Vera Wang comment.”

  “My parents’ puppy went to town on my sister’s wedding dress.”

  “Crap,” she says.

  “Yeah, Sasha’s apparently freaking out.”

  “Well, I’ll take a look and see what I can do.”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  She stares at me. “Don’t be stupid, West. I don’t want your money. I’m happy to help your sister.”

  I reach across the table and take ahold of her hand. “You’re the best.” I lean down and kiss her hand.

  “I know.” She grins, and I smile.

  “And I’m totally lifting the sex ban for this, Pins.”

  “That lasted all of five minutes!” She laughs. “I knew you’d cave before I did!”

  “I did not cave.” I frown. “I’m being generous, you know, because you’re being so generous with fixing my sister’s dress.”

  “If I can,” she says.

  “You’ll be able to.”

  “You have a lot of faith in me.”

  “Because I know how amazing you are.”

  Her eyes soften at my words.

  “So…now that the sex ban is lifted, you wanna go and break the bed with me?”

  She laughs, bright and loud, making me smile. “You’re one of a kind, Vaughn West.”

  “So are you, Charly Michaels.”

  And she is. My one of a kind.

  “Isn’t your mom sending over the picture for me to look at to see if I can fix the dress?”

  “Oh, yeah. We’ll wait till she sends it over, and you’ve had a look. Then, we can go fuck.”

  “God, you’re romantic, West.”

  “I know.” I shrug, grinning. “You’re a lucky, lucky woman, Pins.”

  Truth is, I’m the lucky one to have her in my life.

  Charly

  Vaughn leaves for his sister Sasha’s wedding in two days.

  I fixed the dress. It was a bigger job than I had initially thought from the look of the pictures. There were some really fine tears within the lace of the bodice, and some crystals were missing, but I managed to get ahold of some that were almost identical from a store in Vegas. I finally finished fixing the dress late last night, and I did an amazing job, if I do say so myself.

  I text a picture of the now-fixed dress to Sasha. I’ve been keeping her updated with my progress on it. She’s been so grateful, constantly offering to pay me money for doing it, but I keep refusing. Honestly, I enjoyed working on it, and it kept my mind off my silly feelings of rejection over Vaughn not wanting to take me to the wedding with him.

  Because I am being silly.

  We might be more than just sleeping together now, but that doesn’t mean he wants to take me home to meet his family. And, of course, it would expose our relationship, which I don’t want.

  So, the dress is safely inside its garment bag in Vaughn’s hotel room, where I am right now, and it’s ready to go with him to Oregon.

  We finished filming at six p.m. Vaughn and I were starving, so he had Alex order room service for when we got back, and we had dinner together in his room.

  We’re now lying on the bed, watching an episode of Julian’s show Dead Cop. I’ll admit, I’m totally addicted. Logan and I are always talking about it at work, but because Logan’s ahead of me, he’s careful not to spoil it for me. But the one thing we do agree on is that we want Julian’s character, Mason Banks, to get it on with his costar character Meredith Castle. And I also want them together in real life. But Logan reckons that Julian is gay. He said his gaydar was flashing loud and bright when he met Julian.

  I don’t think Julian is gay, and I think he and Sara Parks, who plays Meredith, would be perfect together.

  I keep meaning to ask Vaughn if Julian is gay. I guess now would be as good a time as any.

  “Vaughn?”

  “Mmhmm?”

  “Is Julian gay?”

  His eyes flick to mine. “What made you ask that?”

  “Because Logan thinks he is. He said Julian set his gaydar off when they met. But I think he’s straight.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t. I just really want him and Sara to get married and have babies.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “Sadly, Julian won’t be having babies with Sara.”

  “So, he’s gay?”

  “Yes. But that has to stay between you and me, as Julian’s in the closet.”

  “Why?” I frown.

  “Because he has a hell of a lot of female fans who watch the show because of him and his pretty-boy looks. Coming out could damage the ratings, as his female fan base could drop when they realize that he’s not fishing in their gender pool, and the network doesn’t want that.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “That’s reality, babe. Women like to see the men they watch on-screen as available.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like they’re ever really going to get with them.”

  “You landed me, didn’t you?” He shrugs.

  “Ass!” I poke him in his side.

  “Hey! No need to go crazy and start attacking!” He holds his hands up in surrender.

  “Drama king.”

  “No, babe, your King.”

  “God, you’re so arrogant.” I roll my eyes.

  “Just the way you like me.” He chuckles.

  Shaking my head, laughing, I settle back down beside him and start watching the show again.

  “Anyway, it’s only like you and me,” he says.

  “What is?”

  “Julian in the closet. We’re in the closet, albeit together. People don’t know about us.”

  “For a completely different reason.” I can feel my insides starting to tense.

  “Yeah. But whatever the reason, we’re still hiding. Just like Julian.”

  I don’t say anything because…what can I say?

  I’m partly doing it for him—the movie and keeping his reputation clean, not attracting attention to his love life again—but I’m also nervous about us going public, which is the truth but not for the reason he thinks.

  I feel like I’m deceiving him.

  I am deceiving him, and I hate it.

  I just don’t know quite what to do about it yet. Well, I do know what to do, but at the end of the day, even when that’s done, I’ll still have to tell him the truth. I’m just not sure what version of the truth to tell him.

  “So, I’ve been wanting to ask…” He pauses the show and shuffles down the bed.

  He turns on his side to face me, so I do the same.

  “Sounds ominous. It doesn’t involve something kinky and dirty, does it?”

  “No, but it can if you’d like?” His eyes flash at me.

  “I’m not averse to kinky and d
irty, but let’s put a pin in that for later, so you can ask me what you wanted to ask me.”

  “Will you come to Sasha’s wedding with me?”

  He’s asking me to the wedding?

  My heart soars.

  “I mean, I know the dress is fixed, but I thought she might need you there, just in case, you know.”

  And then it drops like a rock in water.

  “You want me to come to help with the dress?” My voice is stilted. I know it is. I can hear it, but I can’t seem to help it. “The dress is fine. Sasha won’t need my help.” I sit up and start to get off the bed.

  “Hey, where are you going?” He tries to tug me back to lie down, but I resist.

  “Back to my hotel.”

  He moves across the bed, so he’s sitting beside me. “Why?”

  “No reason.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Charly.” His voice is tense. “Don’t play games. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

  I turn my eyes to him. He looks irritated.

  So, I tell him the truth, “I overheard you talking to Natasha on set last week.”

  His brows pull together. “About?”

  “Sasha’s wedding. You hadn’t even told me, which was fine because you didn’t have to.”

  “Clearly, it’s not fine.” His tone is resolute.

  “Well…it just would’ve been nice if you’d mentioned it, considering all the time we spend together.”

  “It wasn’t a conspiracy to keep it from you, Charly. I’m a guy. I don’t think of shit like that.”

  “Natasha knew. And she knows about us. I thought we weren’t telling anyone.”

  His eyes flash anger at me. “I didn’t tell her about you and me. She guessed I liked you back in the beginning when I yelled at you on set. And I trust Natasha. She’s not a gossip; she’s good people. And, as for Sasha’s wedding, Natasha already knew that, too. I’ve known her for a long time. She knew when my sister got engaged, hence her knowing about the wedding.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “What else?”

  “Who says there’s more?” I frown at him.

  “Your body language.” He gestures at me, and I realize I’m pointing my body away from him.

  “Fine. I heard Natasha ask if you wanted to invite me, and you didn’t answer. You didn’t say anything.” I stare at the carpet beneath my feet. “And I know I’m not getting paid for doing Sasha’s dress because I don’t want to get paid,” I quickly add. “But, even still, I don’t want to go to your family’s home, feeling like the hired help.” And I don’t want you to take me when you really don’t want to.