by Katie George
Chapter Thirteen
THE SWEET EMBRACE of a friend after a painfully long time away is something I wish for all. As soon as I made it to my apartment, I cuddled Fiona and felt Jamie fall into the chair beside me with a bowl of popcorn (not surprising).
“So, you look tan.”
“Well, thanks?”
He sighed, throwing a wad of popcorn in the air to catch with his tongue. In the fading light of dusk, he seemed playful and revved up like a caffeine addict discovering the a mine of sugar. He saw me staring, and then he threw some popcorn at my face, which proceeded to fall down my shirt.
“Idiot,” I said, the thrum of heart monitors on the TV distracting me. “You’re watching the Mexican version of Grey’s Anatomy?”
“I’m practicing my skills,” he said, a dimple glowing on his left cheek. “You see, Ella is Afro-Puerto Rican. When we were at the beach yesterday, she was able to communicate fluently with this lady whose car was stolen. There was just something about hearing the Spanish language…”
“Or the woman you’re with…”
“Oh, you sound crabby as always. Emma, you sound like death. Okay, maybe not that bad, but enough so I am allowed to wonder, what happened in Kauai? Sam stopped by on Friday. He wanted to see you, it was clear as day, but he forgot that you were in Hawaii.”
“Oh,” I said, though my heart giddily fluttered. “He wanted to check up on me?”
“I guess. Hey, about what I said, I think I was just momentarily jealous.”
“What did you say?”
“About, you know, how something’s weird with Sam. I was just jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“I’m not used to seeing you with a guy. I mean, in all our time together, you went on a few dates, but to see you hang off Sam and stuff, it just got my testosterone up or something. Forgive me?”
I bit my tongue, brought back to the moment with Tyron. Was it possible I was in love with Jamie? No freaking way. Taking a leap of faith, and heightened by some sort of desire to prove that Australian wrong, I leaned in and touched my lips to my best friend’s. My eyes were closed, yet I sensed his were open in confusion. Slowly, he calmed down and deepened the kiss, our tongues exploring like they never had before. Something in me hummed like a drum, but shame was just around the corner like a rolling rogue wave.
He pulled back suddenly like he had been electrocuted. His eyes were aflame, goosebumps on his arms, and he instinctively moved a few inches away. “Emma?” He roared, his question on fire.
“I…I don’t know, Jamie,” I said, my nerves at an all-time high. What had I just done? “I just wanted to see…”
“Emma, we’ve done this before. You know… Well, I think I know that…”
“We’re not for each other. Never going to happen. The like—which is all still…true?” The question I posed was not meant to be a question, but the shock between us was as palpable as the fact that we were human beings. We stared at our feet, unable to look at each other, realizing the border we’d crossed, from Mexico to the United States.
“I’m with Ella,” he said. I admired his bravado, the respect for his girlfriend, but I wanted him to say something else.
I jumped up, unable to take more of my spontaneous decision. “I’m sorry, James. You see, I met a man in Hawaii. When I mentioned your name, he thought that I was in love with you. I guess I just wanted to see if it were possible, that you and I…”
“Emma,” Jamie whispered, a serious tone invading our normal ease. James Stewart had never looked so distraught.
“I know…”
“I’m with Ella,” he repeated, though I sensed a want in his own eyes.
“I’m sorry. Okay, I’m going to bed. Maybe the jet lag contributed, or…”
“Good night.”
I hurried to my bedroom, shaking from the kiss—and shocked from the issue that it was actually good. Better than good—more like great. Yet there was the fact Jamie was with Ella; there was no shot of our being a couple. We were the best of friends, inseparable. Why would we ruin what we had? What remained was a giant elephant in the room, a rivulet that riveted me to the core: I was possibly attracted to my best friend.
I wasn’t sure if I would be able to get over it, either. I needed to shove that thought into a trash can.
WHEN I SHOWED up to work the next day, my brain was in a complete firestorm. Jamie hadn’t been in the apartment that morning, but he’d left a note saying he was going to be at the studio and probably wouldn’t be home for our usual dinner together. I understood: He was avoiding me. Honestly, I would have avoided myself—if I could. Yet, since I was kinda glued to my own body, there was no point in feeling pity for myself. I had caused this strain.
Baylee had been kind to me, sensing my frustration the moment I walked into her office with two coffees, one for her with three sugars, two creams like she wanted. She fingered the desk like it was a drum, asking, “Who’d you have sex with?”
“Bay!”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re twenty-freaking-two in Los Angeles. Don’t tell me you’re still a virgin!” she hissed at me.
“Baylee,” I said, my voice steady, “I made a commitment to my parents that I would stay a virgin until my wedding day.”
“Since they broke apart, it invalidates the commitment. Who even does that, Emma? You’re such a weirdo. Have some fun, would you? You’re one of the most uptight people I know. You want to hear something? Richard and I are nineteen years apart. He’s old enough to be my dad. Yet we knew we were for each other the moment we played house—and it was a good thing, too. I didn’t realize I loved him until we started to work like a married couple, okay? But before that, I was one notorious partier.”
“Baylee. I’m not like you.”
“You don’t have to be…”
Megg knocked on the door, and then Baylee rolled her eyes and huskily breathed, “Dear Zeus.”
Megg stuck a piece of newly dyed honey-blonde hair behind her ear. She looked pretty, so I said quickly, “Your hair looks gorgeous.” She giddily smiled, not used to compliments, to which Baylee confirmed, “She’s right.” Megg almost fell over.
“What do you need, Megg?” Baylee asked, pulling out a nail file.
“I was wondering if I could borrow Emma.” Yes, they had finally learned my correct name. “We need to get started on research for this next project. We’ve got a lot of people to call, especially because it is so important.”
I’d been briefed when I first logged my hours that morning. It was an indie film by an on-the-rise director whose name I’d heard in passing. The movie was going to be about three women pining after one man—who ended up going to prison. It sounded boring to me, but Megg was obviously excited as she ranted about how interesting it would be to cast this one. She’d also requested my help specifically after Becki’s departure.
We spent the first few days contacting agents, scheduling audition times, and making plans to meet with the bigwigs on one crisp afternoon, including the director, producer, and studio representative for a casual lunch at a new place Baylee recommended. We would meet to paint the vision we all wanted for the film’s actors.
So when the day came, Megg and I headed to Pasadena, where we were a little early for our lunch meeting at a new Chinese bar and grille. Megg and I got to talk about life, including her penchant for guinea pigs, and we bonded—especially without Becki Aliato’s grilling eye judging us the whole time.
“So, Emma,” Megg said, her voice laced with wonder, “what’s it like being Baylee Feta’s new pet?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, doing my best not to choke on my water, not liking where this conversation was headed.
She pushed her glasses up. “Well, Baylee usually takes someone under her wing, but she seems to really, really like you. Since I like you, I wanted to warn you. If you get on her bad side, your career is over.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said, though I thought this was inappropriate. I knew Baylee was a bi
t tense, maybe vindictive if she needed to be, but she was Baylee. She had a heart, even if she showed it in peculiar ways.
Soon enough, a group of well-dressed men appeared at our table, and I was face-to-face with a person I recognized quite well. His brown eyes opened as wide as an IMAX movie screen when he saw me in return. Immediately I stood up and hugged him because it was the socially acceptable thing to do. “Luke, it’s such a surprise to see you!”
“Emma,” he whispered, holding me like we hadn’t seen each other in years. Ah. “This is a genuine surprise.”
Megg cocked her head. “You two know each other?” She gave me a wink, suggesting that we knew each other in an uncomfortable way.
“Yeah. We were in a wedding together a few weeks ago.”
Luke quickly took the position of spokesman, introducing us to John George, the producer, and the Ritalea Pictures studio representative, Skye Bowman. Both men were OCD in their movements, but Megg quickly took like a flamboyant bird to answering their work-related questions. Luke pretended to be interested in Megg’s vision, but he talked to me most of the time.
“This complicates things, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Normally, I would cite a personal interference with a coworker as a disturbance, but you’re Emma. I’m a fierce guard of my works, but I think we click, don’t you?”
“Oh, of course. I think we see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.”
Megg was rambling on about a few low A-list and B-list actors she’d asked to audition. I tried to focus—or at least act focused—which I think worked for most of the time. However, I felt like a beacon of light under Luke’s gaze. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being invisible.
After we finished eating, we headed out into the gray day, perfect for June Gloom, and Luke said, “This means we’ll be working close together for a few days, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I said with a smile. Ugh.
John and Skye waited for Luke, so he quickly hugged me good-bye and was off with them to who knows where. Once they were gone, Megg stared me down. “Who was the hunk, and where’d you find him?”
When I realized she was serious, I quit laughing and said, “We can see if he has a brother. Or you can take him. He’s single.”
“No doubt you’re better for him, especially considering you and he were like lovesick buffoons that entire lunch, barely contributing to the task-at-hand.”
“Don’t think it was like that, but okay.”
Megg was always so serious, but a hint of a smile peeked from her face, and I knew she was rooting for my own victory at the indication of this romantic thing, or whatever it even was (yet I didn’t even care about him! I was almost feeling annoyed by the idea of this thing). Jamie’s kiss had already flown out the window by the time Luke reappeared at the restaurant, but it wasn’t because I was magically swooning for someone else. Maybe I did belong to the single club.
WE DID NOT bring in any actors until the next Monday so that there would be a clean slate and a rested mind to make our full suggestions, concerns, and callbacks. Today’s runner, a college student named Paige, was hurriedly bringing our panel water bottles, bunches of fruit, and anything anyone asked for. Luke made sure to switch his seat to be next to me, which went against his whole argument of not associating with people he knew while lurking behind the scenes of his next project. Yet I did not complain because it was just so awkward.
Megg was to my right, already furiously writing in her journal marked THE THREE MUSKET TEARS. Apparently, it was a reference to an item she’d casted before I came along. So I sat waiting for Paige to bring in the first actress, a woman named Noelle. She spent her first twenty seconds thanking us, which seemed a bit overbearing, and then the rest of her minute monologue was grimy at best. Finally, when she read for the role of Sarah Berkfeldt, Megg gave John George a tantalizing smirk. I sensed some tension between the two, but what did I know about that thing called love? Nada.
“Thank you, Noelle,” Megg said, ending the audition.
We went through forty-two people that day. Around four, with only an hour or so of auditions to skim through, Luke tapped the desk before me. “Want to grab a bite to eat after?”
“Uh, sure,” I said hurriedly. Jamie and I were still sort of avoiding each other, though we’d had a sit-down talk to pore through what happened that night. In fact, we’d both said our apologies, with Jamie making it very clear that while he still believed Ella was a fling, he was happy with her and would not jeopardize their relationship. Especially not for me. Therefore, I would take any opportunity not to make it back to the apartment for dinner. Or, maybe more honestly, I didn’t want to offend Luke.
Once we were finished for the day, Luke and I headed out into the fading glow. The sound of brakes was apparent, along with the belch of a few car horns, and then the smell of gasoline permeated the air. “You know,” I said, “I really did not think we would reconnect like this.”
“Me neither,” he said. “Let’s take my car. I know a place near here we can go.”
I followed him to the Subaru, which confirmed my opinion that he was a safety-proponent, at least more than the average human being. He even opened the door for me, which was surprisingly strange, due to the fact that it had never happened to me before. I distinctly remembered my world religions teachers explaining her first date: When he didn’t open the car door for me on our first date, I walked right back to my front door and slammed it in his face.
“So, what did you really think about the actors we auditioned today?”
Luke backed out of the space with the precision of a professional. He stretched out his chin. “Honestly, a few extras. There was one who might be able to be a supporting role, but none of the main stars were there today. No Sarahs, if that’s what you mean. What I said in the panel is true. It will be extremely difficult to bring actors in for my standards—and Ritalea.”
“We’ll find them. They’re out there somewhere,” I said, feeling a bit wistful. We drove down the road, heading south to the Pacific. From our position, there were no mountains to be seen, due to the immense popularization of buildings in the metropolis.
Luke eventually pulled into a small steakhouse which I’d read about in little LA wine-and-dine magazines Jamie brought home every so often. It was a four-star dining experience, especially due to its heightened locale and brave seasoned tri-tip choices. My heart soared when he parked the car. “Ta-da.”
“You’re joking. Reservations?”
“My mom owns this place, Emma. No—please don’t think I’m introducing the two of y’all. That’s not what I’m doing. But I have leeway here; I’ll get us a table. Have faith, okay?”
I smiled, following him into the dimly lit lobby. Smooth rainforest music streamed from the radios, but mesmerizing blue, stringed lights caught my attention. The place oozed professional, but also something more sensual. My mouth watered when I saw a waiter hurry by with four ribeyes.
“Are you serious right now?” I squealed. “I haven’t had steak in ages, which is terrible.”
“A true Texan. I would have fallen over if you were vegan. It would be a direct shot to the heart for my mom.”
He pulled some strings with the hostess, who batted her eyelashes at him in a playful way. Next thing I knew, we were sitting by a cozy fireplace, the lights casting a blue tint to Luke’s inky hair. He didn’t bother looking at the menu, instead watching me. “The sirloins are to die for.”
“I’ll get whatever you suggest.” I didn’t meet his eye.
“Please don’t feel…”
“It is my feminist right to eat whatever you suggest I should eat.” I closed the menu, spellbound by the polished ether. The entire encounter was heavenly, except for Luke himself. He was so kind, so nice, and here I was, an evil villain for not enjoying myself fully.
We received our sirloins at the speed of light, and then the next thing I knew, we were leaving the table. Being with Luke had gone nippily, thank goodness. Most of our time together
was spent in smiles and merriment, but what if he took this the wrong way?
When he dropped me back off at my car at the work building, the sky was dark, and he said, “You know, I’m glad we’re going to get to see each other more.”
“Me too.”
He leaned in and kissed my lips, a quick little peck, but something that twisted my heart. When we drew apart, I felt my body freeze with absolute loss. “That was nice,” I said dishonestly. It wasn’t like the passionate Jamie kiss, or the sentimental Tyron kiss.
“Drive safely. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” He squeezed my hand, and here I was, yet again, in a sticky situation.
