Late Night with Andres (9 page)

He motioned to the TV. “Sorry.”

She was trapped for a minute in his eyes. She knew they were green. All of a sudden it made sense: the world’s unreasonable devotion. He was really ethereal. The cheekbones, the lips, the way he liked to lick his lips. He was beautiful. But beyond that, looking through the mask of amazing he’d been cursed and blessed with, she saw that this famous thing, it was a burden.

“Damn. You’re alive. Thank God.” She’d be so much stronger knowing Gage was alive and in the world somewhere.

“I wanted the attention. I really did. When I wrote my songs, I wanted to be heard. And now? Well, everything I said is scrutinized. And I think I’ve done it to you. Instead of escaping them, I just gave them a new target. ” He shook his head, clearly frustrated.

“I get why you were tempted. It must have seemed perfect, to play dead for a little while. Did you expect all this?” Milla tried not to stare.

“No, that’s my biggest problem. I never see it all coming, and I always get shocked. Anyway, enough about me. How’s your toe? How’s your head?” He patted her elbow awkwardly.

“My toe? It’s gone. I’ve got a prosthetic baby toe. The bonus is I can take it off and put it on the table when I’m painting my nails. I’m a nineteen-digit wonder. The rest of me is healing just fine. How are you? Were you hurt?” Milla sat up straighter, trying to see if he was injured.

He smiled a bit and shrugged. “I had a little damage. Nothing that won’t heal.”

Milla looked down at the floor. His giant foot was wrapped inside a walking cast. ”Your foot?”

He looked down at his big metal boot and back at her face. Milla swore the oxygen level in the room dropped when he gave her a knowing smile.

“I lost my little toe. And got a few burns, but they won’t need grafts. ”

“You have nine toes now, too?” Milla smiled so big it hurt her cheeks.

“Yup, plus the fake one. We’re freaks together. Imagine that. ” He reached out and touched her hand where it peeked out from under her armpit.

“That’s crazy.” Milla moved her hand so she could properly hold his. She never wanted to let it go. Her hand felt like it was singing a love song. Her heart was uncurling a pair of wings and flying. She checked his eyes. They were sparkling. The TV spoke their names softly. Milla didn’t need to look at the screen to know what they were showing again. The wall kiss had been repeated over and over, as had the disrobing. Here in this room, holding hands seemed far more intimate than the kiss had been. Their smiles glowed with relief. Relief that they had lived, relief that they had found each other. And an immense satisfaction that their connection was still there.

“I’ve to go. I need to go check on Syd.” He didn’t let go of her hand, though, but continued rubbing her palm in comforting circles.

“He’s doing great. Does he know? About you, that is? Because he’s still getting better. You wouldn’t want to scare him.” She shifted so she could touch his other hand as well.

“Oh yeah. I had to tell him. He would’ve burned this place down if he thought I was dead. We’re stupid for each other.” Gage held both her hands. “So did that policeman ask you on a date? Or did your boyfriend have something to say about it?”

Milla looked at him funny. “What the hell? I have a boyfriend now?” Her flying heart beat faster. She loved the way the word
boyfriend
looked on his lips.

“That’s what you said—back when we were in the room—that you had a boyfriend.” He sat back a bit, seeming to want to give her space.

She looked at his handsome face for a while before she replayed the conversation from the room again in her head. “Oh. Wait. My cat’s name is Boyfriend. I don’t have an actual guy that, like, waits for me. And the policeman has stopped by a few times. He just had questions for me.”

“Sure he did. Same questions or did he invent new ones to be around you?” Gage released one of her hands and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s not like that. He’s being professional.” Milla tried to swallow the glee she felt when she realized he was jealous.

“You named your cat Boyfriend?” He looked at her from under his lashes, ready to make fun of her.

“No. The Humane Society named him, you smartass.” Milla tried to pull her other hand away, and he squeezed.

“Don’t be mad. I think it’s sweet that you rescued your kitty.” He bit his goddamn lip hotly.

Milla wanted him to say the word
kitty
a hundred million times. “Yeah?”

Again the TV intruded, the murmuring voice telling the world again of Gage’s recent decline, his inability to write songs.

“I’ve written a few songs,” he said shyly.

“Tell me about them.” She waited.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or the experience or whatever, but it was like there was never enough paper in my recovery room. I wrote on the walls, my arms, the bed sheets. Everything.” He pulled up one of his sleeves to prove it, revealing ink scribbled across his forearm. She brushed her fingers on the marked skin. The word
her
kept reoccurring. She touched it.

“Me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, surprised at her own brazenness.

He blushed deeply. It was obvious even in the inconsistent lighting. “I forgot what this song was about.”

He pulled his sleeve down again. They waited, the TV voice giving way to commercials, happy and demanding no matter what the tone of the program they interrupted. The hospital noises filtered in as well. Soft footsteps by Milla’s door caused them both a moment of panic. When they carried on, Gage took a deep breath.

“I’ve really got to get going.” He made no effort to get up.

“Will you stay hidden forever?” Milla tried to get up the courage to let go of his hand. She couldn’t.

“I don’t think so. I can’t believe it’s gone on this long. I would’ve liked the break a bit more if…” He swallowed.

She didn’t press him, letting him just be here. He was here, visiting her of all people.

“Sorry I was mean to you sometimes in the room.” She decided it was time to be a little nice herself.

“You weren’t mean. Thick-headed and stubborn, but you weren’t mean. I’ll tell you what…” He stopped and covered his mouth.

“What?” She tried to encourage him with her eyes.

“Nah, I shouldn’t.” He looked over his shoulder.

“Listen, from one nine toe-er to another, you can. I promise I won’t bite.” Milla couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say.

“I thought you were really brave. And totally bad ass.” He leaned in a little, like a guy about to kiss a girl.

“Really? Because I was half out of my mind. I don’t know if I did anything right and then, when you died, I was convinced I did everything wrong and then I…” His lips were too close to continue talking, so Milla just concentrated on breathing.

His voice was just a whisper. “Yeah, really.” He looked from her lips to her eyes and back.

Milla tried to see her own lips and then gave up. He was so close, and sort of hovering there.

He whispered, “I wrote songs about your kiss. I wrote, like, ten songs just about that.” His breath was hot, and his lips curved a bit. Milla gave up respecting his distance and leaned forward with her eyes open and her lips puckered. She kissed him just long enough that he could register she’d done it before pulling away and touching her own lips. He never opened his half-closed eyes, quickly moving her hand out of the way and finishing the kiss she started. Soon she was moaning. When they finally stopped kissing, they sat close, his forehead touching hers.

“I could really use you in my life.” He looked at her, their eyes blurring with the closeness.

“You come with a lot of baggage.” It was out before she could stop it, words that caused him to look like he was slapped.

“You’re right about that.” He stood to leave and held his hand out for his wig. He still looked hurt.

“No, let me finish.” Milla shook her head and reached under her to get a good grip on the wig.

He braced his arms on either side of her. “Give it to me. I’m out.”

Milla proceeded without his consent. “You have a lot of baggage, and I’m not afraid of that. But before this gets started, you have to know I don’t do shit half-assed. And you’re under attack, like, all the time. You heard me in that room—I’m not going to say the right thing all the time. I just don’t want to hurt you with my own stupidity.”

He’d started reaching under her to get the wig, and she had had to fight him to deliver her impromptu speech. Now he stilled.

“I think you say the right thing.” They were close again, and he looked at her like she was someone to be cherished.

“What now?” Milla wanted more kissing.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin, and then her mouth. “I come back from the dead, and we go on a real date.”

“How will I know you’ll see me again?” Milla wanted to be playful, but it was a real concern.

“I’ve got a great idea.” He reached down and came back holding a very real-looking manly toe with a bit of hair on it. “May I?” He pointed to her foot.

She nodded. Gage gently removed her sock and replaced her delicate prosthetic toe with his own. He took her girly hammertoe and tucked in into his boot. “Now we have to see each other again to get our right toes back.” He winked at her.

“I love that idea. All of it.” Milla wrinkled her nose and refused to give him back the wig when he motioned for it. His grateful smile turned playful, and he tickled her. Her laugher and the commotion caught the attention of the night duty nurse. Milla slapped the wig on Gage’s head as the lights flipped on.

“Everything all right?” The nurse looked surly. Gage looked at his feet and mumbled in a high-pitched voice, “Fine. Just getting her stats.”

The nurse shook her head. “And what were they?”

Milla covered her mouth and tried not to laugh. Gage did his best, but didn’t look up. “Her BP is four hundred over twenty.”

The nurse did not laugh. “So being that she’s dead, you better call the morgue.” She addressed Milla. “Listen, young lady, if you’re well enough to sneak a man in here, you’re well enough to go home.”

Gage bolted from the room while the nurse ignored him. She then proceeded to check Milla.

“So that’s a nice surprise. He’s not dead after all. He’s horrible at disguises.” She felt for Milla’s pulse.

“Yeah, it’s a great surprise. Best news I’ve had since…since ever.” She smiled at the empty door, wondering when she would get to see him again.

Chapter 14

The First Date

S
HE
W
AS
A
BOUT
A
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EADY
for the media attention as Bambi was for his new legs. After Milla got out of the hospital, she was followed like a superstar, and it was just infuriating. Her parents were in and out of her apartment with food and rented romantic comedies while she stayed put. Boyfriend spoiled her with lots of love, his butt always in her face. The paparazzi were a combination of fruit flies and cockroaches, except they could talk with their evil mouths. Milla kept waiting for the big reveal, waiting to hear the amazing news that Gage Daxson was still alive, but there was nothing.

She couldn’t even wear his big, hairy man toe. It was too long for her winter shoes. For a while she slept with it like a teddy bear. Then she woke up at night and screamed when she saw it lying next to her mouth. Now, the toe stayed in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box. Her Internet column had been picked up by two dozen newspapers. Luckily she had a huge folder of past work to deal out, because she certainly didn’t feel like writing. She was too busy waiting and doing nothing.

She did hear from Gage Daxson’s manager. That had made her heart leap, but he acted like he didn’t know Gage was alive. He interrupted Milla anytime she started to ask questions, loudly. The manager had offered to deal with the news outlets and talk show hosts wanting to score her for an interview. But Milla turned them all down. And the learned the reason she hadn’t witnessed any funeral coverage was because there hadn’t been one.

Entertainment Tonight
was the first to question the death. Next Donald Trump voiced his opinion, demanding Gage Daxson’s death certificate and autopsy results. Eventually as another week passed, the public decided it was not even a question: Gage Daxson wasn’t dead, and it was their job to find him. Milla selfishly just wanted her date. And then maybe the erection he’d once promised her. But she felt a tinge of sympathy when every social network had Gage Photoshopped in a
Where’s Waldo
striped shirt on their page somewhere.

One morning as Milla practiced the exercises the physical therapist had shown her, her answering machine picked up the phone she never answered. After her half-hearted greeting and a beep, a man’s voice filled the room.

“Hello, Milla Kierce, I’m sure you recognize my voice. I’m Andres, and you were due to visit my show,
Late Night with Andres
, when we met up with a slight inconvenience in the dressing room. I’ll have you know that my legal troubles are over, and my show will be recommencing. I’ve spoken with the network’s attorneys, and it turns out the contract you signed is still valid, and we need you to reschedule your appearance or you will be in breach. Please call my secretary, Peter, here at this number.”