The Unidentified Redhead Page 17

  The phone broke me out of my sad-sackery. It was Holly.

  “Hey, asshead,” I said, sniffing up the last of my tears.

  “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing's wrong, why?”

  “You've got that donkey voice, that's why.”

  “Donkey voice?”

  “Yeah, when you've been crying, you sound like Eeyore.”

  I laughed aloud; I loved her so.

  “Come on, meet me for coffee,” she said.

  “Don't you have to work, Holly?”

  “Eh, all the Scientologists are on vacation. It's been a slow week.”

  ***

  She watched me pull into the Starbucks lot, waving at me while I looked for a spot. While I was putting the top up, I saw two guys check me out and I smiled. I was still not used to attractive men checking me out. Once a fat girl, always a fat girl in your head. Although, I knew I was glowing lately. Must have been the round the clock orgasms I'd been receiving. They always did wonders for a girl's complexion.

  I walked up to the table where Holly was sitting outside, and smiled when I saw she had already ordered for me.

  “Hey, dillweed, nice of you to order for me,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and sinking into the chair across from her.

  “Yes, I thought you could use some caffeine. Are you enjoying the view? You've spent so much time horizontal lately, be careful now.”

  “Who says we were only horizontal?” My face lit up at the thought of him, vertical, horizontal, or otherwise.

  “I see…whore,” she whispered, laughing at me as I sipped my drink.

  “Holly, I have to tell you, with the way it's been already, you better get some earplugs for when we finally do the deed…”

  “What? Wait…he hasn't even fucked you yet?” she asked, or rather yelled, judging by the curious faces of everyone sitting outside at Starbucks. My face burned as brightly as my hair as I looked on apologetically.

  “No. Jesus.”

  “How the hell is that possible? Furthermore, how the hell is that possible? All that screaming and moaning and groaning and grunting and thrashing about that you've subjected me to, not to mention the hole in the wall behind your headboard, and no—”

  “…dick, I know. No actual dick, yet.” I finished her sentence, hiding my face in my hands. Then I looked up with a curious expression. “There's a hole in the wall behind my headboard?” I smiled at the thought.

  “Yes, I noticed there was drywall on the floor of my closet, so I went into your room and saw it. It's being patched next week. Although, now I have a newfound respect for young Mr. Hamilton. All that yelling with no actual penetration, no bang bang?” she cried, her eyes wide. “So, then when is this momentous occasion going to happen?” she asked, still in awe that I had yet to ride the lightening.

  “I don't know. I wanted to wait…and now I'm leaving in less than a week…I…I don't know.”

  “Wanted to wait? Get on the stick woman. Literally. Get. On. That. Stick!” she yelled.

  “Dammit, Holly, I know. It's not like I don't want to. I just wanted it to be special, OK!” I sank back into the chair, looking miserable.

  “Who are you? Blossom? Grace, you have a twenty-four-year-old man in your bed every single night and you are not letting him into the sanctuary? A man, by the way, that women all over the country are lining up to fuck the brains out of?”

  “Believe me, he'll be let into the sanctuary! And thanks for reminding me about all those other women. That's a great visual for me to have when I'm walking around Manhattan. Can we please talk about something else?” I begged her to change the subject.

  “Yes. Why were you crying earlier?” she asked, switching topics quickly. I grimaced and took a long pull on my Iced Mocha.

  “I don't know. It has just been a whirlwind the last week and there are many different things banging around in my head. I'm so jazzed about this show, and you know I've always wanted to live in New York, even temporarily. And my house, I'm leaving it right as I was going to get to move in!”

  “And?” she pushed me.

  “And I backed out of the showcase. I feel terrible about that.”

  “And?”

  “And, I will miss you, of course…you're like my Dirty Martini Bitch,” I said, my eyes flashing warmly to her.

  “And?” She smiled gently.

  “Oh, God, and I don't want to leave my Brit…I mean, I really don't want to,” I sighed heavily, my hands coming up to my hair and running through it.

  “And why would that be exactly…” she asked one last time. I was quiet, chewing on my lip. Then my face broke out into a huge grin.

  “Because I haven't gotten the dick yet?” I asked brightly. She couldn't help but laugh as she let me off the hook.

  “Look, whether you want to say it out loud or not, it's obvious, Grace. And it's obvious to anyone with eyeballs that he feels the same way.”

  I fiddled with my wallet, my way of telling her this discussion was over.

  “One last thing, if I may?”

  “Yes?” I asked warily, looking at her over the rims of my glasses.

  “If you don't want to tell me, at least tell him. You should, you know,” she finished, sipping at her own drink.

  “I am considering all options,” I answered. We were quiet for another moment.

  “So, really, all that with just his hands?” she asked again.

  I smiled proudly. “And his fingers. And his mouth. And his—”

  “Stop it, you're making me blush.”

  We dissolved into giggles to the entertainment of all who had coffee at the Starbucks off La Cienega that afternoon.

  ***

  After coffee with Holly, I headed back to the house. I had gotten a text from Jack about dinner tonight:

  Gracie, I am meeting a friend for coffee after looping, and then running by my place for a bit. Dinner tonight? Wear something sexy, not that this would ever be a problem for you.

  George

  His text made me smile, but I was also feeling a little blue. Which friend was he having coffee with, was it this Marcia?

  You were supposed to stop saying it that way…

  I know, I know.

  I went upstairs and grabbed my iPod and headed out to the terrace. I wanted to soak up as much California weather as I could, although autumn in New York was truly beautiful.

  I settled into a lawn chair and breathed in the sunshine. People said L.A. was smoggy, and it was, but there are parts of Southern California that just plain smell better than anywhere else. I could smell sun, grass, oranges, and honeysuckle. It was late in the day and the warm golden glow of the sun bathed me. I felt wrapped in it. I loved L.A. I would miss it.

  I dozed in and out and finally took out my earbuds when I noticed that the sun was low in the sky. It was later than I thought. I stretched in my chair like a cat and I heard Jack's car pulling into the driveway, the unmistakable putta putta of his silly little car. He called out to me as he came in through the kitchen.

  “Out here, George!” I answered him, bouncing in my seat, waiting to see him for the first time that day like a little schoolgirl. He rounded the corner.

  Wow.

  He was dressed for the evening. White button down, black jacket, black pants. He was clean-shaven, my favorite stubble from the last few days gone. He smiled that super sexy grin and closed the distance between us.

  “Hello,” he said, placing his hands on the lawn chair armrests on either side of me. He leaned down, bringing himself closer.

  “Hello, yourself,” I answered, a little high from the hit of Hamilton that was just blasted at me.

  He leaned in and kissed me slowly. He had hesitated just before his mouth touched mine. He was so near I could feel the energy zapping between us, but he still held his lips there for two agonizing seconds. All I could hear was his breathing…mine had stopped.

  I would never get tired of kissing this man.

  He pulled back wh
en I clutched at him and I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed.

  “Grace, get ready for dinner.”

  “Dinner schminner. Let's stay in…” I purred, parting my legs, trying to pull him between them.

  “Ah ah. I'm taking you out,” he scolded, trying to stay away from my arms and legs as I did my best to ensnare him.

  “Why don't you skip the out, and just take me,” I whispered hungrily in his ear. My talk with Holly today had made me question this whole “special” thing.

  I could see hesitation in his eyes as he looked at me, weighing his options. To further entice him, I placed my hand directly over the noticeable bulge in his pants.

  I squeezed.

  He groaned.

  I was going to win this one.

  He gave in, pulling me up from the chair, snaking his arms around my waist and crushing me to his chest. Jack lifted me straight up off my feet, lips planted firmly to mine, and carried me backwards through the house towards the stairs. My arms wrapped around his neck. He was holding me against him as though he was dancing with me standing on his toes—except my toes barely brushed his knees. I loved how tall he was. We locked eyes like laser beams. There were no words. We both knew where this was going.

  Yeah, let's get after It…

  “Hi, fuckface, I'm home!”

  He stopped dead on the stairs, my feet swinging like a hanged man. He closed his eyes in frustration and I sighed into his shoulder.

  “Holly,” we both said at the same time. He put me down on the step, kissing my forehead.

  “Dinner?” he asked wearily.

  “Give me twenty minutes,” I groaned back, giving him a chaste kiss and hopping up the stairs. He gave my ass a smack and I squealed on the way to my room.

  Twenty-two minutes later, I walked into the kitchen and was greeted with whistles from both Jack and Holly. I had chosen well, apparently. I was wearing a deep green swing dress with tiny straps and an empire waist. The neck dipped low enough that it was sexy, but not slutty, thank you. I wore my hair down. Luckily, I had let it air dry this morning and my natural curls were lazy and soft, exactly the way Jack liked it. I finished off with gold kitten heels and lots of sparkle.

  And my boobies were definitely sparkly.

  I felt gorgeous, and the way Jack was staring at me with a dropped jaw told me I had done well. The green of my dress exactly matched the green of his eyes, something that I didn't realize until I saw him in front of me, his eyes burning as he took me in.

  “Grace, wow, you are…” he stammered in a low voice.

  “Now now, be nice,” I teased, but anxious to hear what he would say.

  “Illegally beautiful,” he finished, brushing my hair back to plant a soft kiss where my neck meets my jaw. My toes, freshly painted with I'm Not Really A Waitress…curled. I literally shook in my heels from that one touch of his lips.

  “Ahem,” I heard Holly say, bringing me back from orbit, although only slightly as Jack was now planting baby kisses from my neck to my collarbone.

  Sweet Sassy Molassey…he is off the charts tonight…

  “Guys, a moment?” she asked, throwing a grape at Jack and hitting him in the mouth.

  “Hey, bitch, don't mess with my Johnny Bite Down. I'll kick some ass,” I snapped, removing the grape and tossing it in my mouth. Jack chuckled and we both turned to her.

  “No messing with the, wait, Johnny Bite Down? Forget it, I don't want to know. What I would like to know is how you are gonna explain this?” she asked, in a serious tone.

  We both turned to her and saw she had her laptop open. Curious, I stepped behind her and looked over her shoulder. Jack stayed where he was.

  TMZ had posted the picture of the two of us at Yamashiro's, with me kissing him on his neck, exactly the same way he had just been kissing me. There was no way to misinterpret the intimacy of this shot, especially the way he was holding my hand. The look on his face as I kissed him implied that there was definitely something between us. The caption read:

  “New star, Jack Hamilton, dines at local L.A. eatery with unidentified redhead.”

  Then, there was another picture of us at FatBurger, I hadn't even seen the cameras that day. “Time hunk Jack Hamilton and mystery redhead.”

  Finally, there was a picture of he and I holding hands again, walking out of Whole Foods. He was laughing, and I was gazing up at him adoringly, with a simpering look on my face. This time there was a paragraph.

  “British heart-throb Jack Hamilton has been photographed all over Los Angeles with a mystery girl. Has this Brit Boy been bitten by the love bug? Or has a cougar gotten her claws into this very single guy?”

  I felt tears prick at my eyes as I read the last part. Cougar.

  As in, what the fuck was I thinking, dating this much younger a man?

  As in, what the fuck was he thinking, hanging out with my ancient ass?

  As in, what the fuck must everyone be thinking when they see us together?

  Cougar. And the stink of it was that I wasn't even, technically, old enough to be a cougar.

  I noticed that Jack still hadn't walked over to look at the pictures. I shook it off, smiling through the fuckery.

  “Hey, you should come see these, Hamilton! You look great, although the redhead next to you clearly needs some neck cream…hi turkey wobble!” I forced a laugh out, glaring at Holly's pained expression.

  “I've seen them,” he said softly. “And Grace, you're insane. I think you look lovely in those pictures.”

  “Well, the insane part is obviously true. Cougar, huh? You dirty boy,” I joked, swallowing hard on the lump in the back of my throat that was rising swiftly.

  He crossed to me and took my hands.

  “Stop it,” he said, brushing his nose to mine and clasping my hands to his chest. I blinked back the tears furiously, bending my head down so he couldn't see them. I could hear Holly typing behind me.

  “So, anything else on there I should see? Ashton and Demi make any appearances this week?” I asked, turning away from him and going back over to Holly. I heard Jack grumble behind me. I was getting some control back. I was squishing it back down.

  “Nope, that's it,” she said, closing her laptop. “Look guys, no one's happier than me about this weird little thing you guys got going on. Truly, I think it's great. In fact, I think it's pretty fucking fantastic.”

  “Holly, listen, I know that—” I started, and she held up her finger.

  “That being said, I have to play the part of manipulative manager and say that being photographed like this, all over town, not a good idea,” she said quietly, pain in her face to say it. She looked at me apologetically. I nodded my head to her to show her that I understood, which I did.

  “Holly,” Jack began, “I'm not going to change what I do in my personal life just because it's more media savvy. We should get that straight right now,” he said, coming to me again and slipping an arm around my waist. I leaned into him instinctively, not realizing that we looked like we were presenting a united front on this one. However, I did agree with Holly.

  “You know what? I think we should go to dinner and we can figure all this out later,” I cut in, attempting to smooth this over. Jack was not upset, but I could see his jaw begin to set. Besides, I was leaving in just a few days. This would be a problem we didn't even have to begin to deal with. It would soon be a non-issue. Holly looked at the two of us and sighed heavily.

  “Jack, you know I think you're a great guy. And I obviously love my girl more than anything. But trust me when I say, this is the worst time in your career for you to be perceived as unavailable. That's all I'm going to say for tonight. You guys enjoy yourselves.” She smiled, kissing Jack on the cheek, and turning to me.

  “And for fuck's sake, Grace, just keep your hands off him in public and all is well,” she cried, smacking me lightly on the face.

  “I hate you, fucko,” I sneered.

  “I hate you more. Now scoot.” She giggled, leaving the ki
tchen. And me alone with my Brit.

  There was an awkward silence, a first for us.

  “So, should we go?” I asked, speaking first. I couldn't stand the silence anymore.

  “Yes, let's go,” he said, smiling at me and catching my hand as we walked towards the door.

  He stopped me right before we went outside.

  “Are we cool, Gracie?” he asked, his eyes worried. I smoothed his hair back, his eyes relaxing with my touch. I traced my fingers down over his furrowed brow, down his cheek, and pressed my fingers into his lips, which formed into a pucker.

  “We're cool, George, we're cool,” I answered, smiling at him.

  Liar.

  This was going to break my heart.

  The_Unidentified_Redhead

  Chapter Nineteen

  We were quiet as we drove, both of us lost in thought. I didn't want the night to be about the earlier conversation, but all I kept seeing when I closed my eyes were those pictures and the word COUGAR emblazoned across the inside of my eyelids. I knew the age thing was going to come back to bite me in the ass sometime, I was just hoping that it wouldn't have happened so fast and in full view of his fans. I usually never felt old; thirty-three wasn't old for Christ's sake. However, if you were dating an actor that was twenty-four and the object of young girls' affection…thirty-three was decrepit. But God, those pictures, those pictures!

  If you took all the implications away…the pictures were sweet. They had captured what we were: happy and content, funny and fresh, Jack and Grace. I loved these pictures, especially the one at our blessed FatBurger. We were in line at the counter, waiting to order. He had me tucked into his side and we were both looking up at the menu. And his hand, well, his hand was on my ass. Lovingly. Like when you were fourteen and you went to the amusement park and your boyfriend parked his hand on your butt while you walked around, looking for that one slow boat ride where you could make out in the dark in front of the animatronics, hands all fumbling and frantic.

  It was sweet.

  And the picture of us coming out of Whole Foods? Hell, I would frame it and put it on my mantle it was so cute. Our hands were swinging between us as we walked out to my car, having just been caught by the manager kissing in the frozen food aisle. I smiled, remembering what had triggered that particular grope fest. It had been the bags of organic frozen corn. In the picture, he was holding our bags full of food that I had later cooked for him for dinner, and I was brushing his hair out of his face with the hand that wasn't tangled with his.