Mr. 365 (27 page)

“I’ve decided the Internet is the porthole to hell for anyone with an obsession.” Disgusted, Lindsey closes another window on her computer.

“And you just figured this out?” Paul asks in a mock surprised voice. “We all work in reality TV, thanks to the Internet. It’s six degrees of separation for anything deviant or obsessive.”

“We could probably do a show where we try to figure what people are into based on their Google search history,” Lindsey says.

“Yeah, it could be a game show. Instead of
What’s My Line?
it could be
What’s My Obsession?
as we go through their hard drives.”

“They’d nail me first round.” Lindsey rolls her eyes.

“Really? Do tell!” Paul says enthusiastically.

“It’s too embarrassing! I’m not going to tell you.”

“I know, you have a large My Little Pony collection,” Paul teases.

“Yeah right. I know for a fact that you do though.”

“That’s old news. So what is yours then?”

Lindsey folds her arms over her chest, and shakes her head defiantly.

Ah, come on. I’ll tell you my other obsession, if you tell me yours.” He grins.

“We already all know your other obsession is porn. You tell us all the time.”

“True, I’m too transparent. But keep in mind… it’s not lowbrow shit with no production value.”

“No, of course not. I’m sure the stuff you like is shot in black and white with lots of artsy set up shots.” Lindsey scoffs.

“Damn straight, sister,” he says with a huff.

Someone clears a throat, and Lindsey and Paul turn. Rachel leans against the wall behind them. Apparently, she’s been listening to their conversation. Her arms are folded over her chest and her eyebrows are knitted together, making her look very stern.

“What?” Paul raises his arms dramatically.

“It’s awe inspiring to witness the sheer depth of the people that work here,” Rachel says.

“Depth? Our noble leader speaks of depth. This from the woman who buys Louis Vuitton fake handbags at one of those knockoff shops downtown,” Paul says.

Rachel gives him an irritated look.

“I never said there was depth here. There’s no doubt that we’re swimming in the shallow end, here at the truest bluest of entertainment studios,” Paul says.

“Paul!” Lindsey exclaims, surprised he’s being extra feisty with his boss.

“On that happy note, Paul, why don’t you join me in my office for a minute,” Rachel says.

He glumly follows her to her office and closes the door.

“Yes?” he asks.

“I wanted to make sure you have everything set for the in-studio stuff next week while Sophia is in Georgia working with Luis and the team on the Easter segment.”

“You’re worried?” he asks.

“Well, Sophia’s still hung-up on that Christmas fellow. I’m thinking if she knew what tone the show is going to have, she would choose to protect him, rather than make her job the priority.”

He nods. “She’s more than hung-up on him. They’re doing the wild thing. I would venture to say she’s in
lurve
,” he says, rolling his tongue. He bats his eyelashes dramatically.

“Shit, it’s worse than I thought,” Rachel says, shaking her head. “Not that I can blame her. He’s tempting.”

“Yes, he is, although they did have a falling out over the location screw-up with the neighbors. I’m not sure he’s hung-up on her anymore—that poor delicate buttercup. She was quite broken up about it.”

“Well, what happened was pretty horrible. All right, that tells me my instincts are right. I want her kept as far away from postproduction as possible. I’ll keep her overloaded with other stuff until the show airs.”

Paul nods. “Got it. I do feel rather decadent about it, knowing him and how he will take it… not that it matters. We’re too far down the road to turn around now.”

“Exactly. Full steam ahead.”

“If only he was wearing that reindeer T-shirt. He’s just too good-looking—like an actor playing the part of a holiday nut.” Paul leans closer to the screen in the postproduction bay to watch the footage again a week later.

“I was going to ask. You have to have an impressive ability to suspend your disbelief to accept that this guy is behind it all,” Alex says, waving to the longer shot of the lavishly decorated living room as she edits.

“Have you gotten the footage from our studio shots with Helena? Her behavior analysis is jarring.” Paul widens his eyes as he says
jarring
.

“I just got it, and yes, it is. I’m doing the same layout we do on the baby beauty pageants—shots of them doing their stuff before cutting to the analysis or contrast comments.”

“Exactly.”

“He’s going to look really bad. Does he understand what’s coming?” she asks.

“Of course not.”

“I never minded doing manipulative editing to those mentally unstable pageant moms using their daughters to achieve their own unfulfilled dreams. They’re asking for it. But I have to admit, I feel bad making this guy come across as an unbalanced loser. He’s really a good guy.”

Paul sighs. “Ah, what we must sacrifice in the noble responsibility of providing entertainment to the masses.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Alex rolls her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re the unstable one.”

“Why else would I work here?”

A
s I get ready for Steph’s birthday party, I feel a combination of a sinking fear mixed with a bubbly thrill. I’m like a girl going to my first dance. Will is going, and I wonder if he will return from his time away inspired to see me, or resolved that he’s done with our relationship. I put on my cutest dress and kitten heels to sway him in case he’s on the fence.

When I arrive at Steph’s place, people are scattered through the house and in the backyard. Between Steph and her three roommates, there are a lot of people jammed into not a lot of space. After pouring myself a plastic cup of wine in the kitchen, I wander through the crowd until I find Lindsey and Luis, the director for the Georgia shoot.

“Hey, girl,” Lindsey says as I join them in the backyard.

“Hi.” I smile and turn to the director. “Hi, Luis. I’m looking forward to working with you on the shoot in Georgia.”

“Likewise.” He studies me as he takes a sip from his beer bottle.

“Luis was telling me about some great places we can eat at while we’re in Georgia. I love soul food! Everything’s fried,” Lindsey adds.

I scrunch up my nose in disgust. “Everything?”

“Ah, that may have been a slight exaggeration,” he admits. “Do you like to dance, Sophia? I know of a really cool place not far from the shoot. I think it was a barn, but you wouldn’t believe the music. I heard the guy who DJ’s is originally from New York but wanted to bring the vibe back to his home town.”

“Sounds great. I
love
to dance,” Lindsey says, her voice more animated that usual as she tries to turn his attention back to her.

“Me too,” I add for good measure.

“Good. It sounds like we’re all going to have a fun time.”

I take a drink of my wine and nervously scan the crowd for the twentieth time, checking if Will’s arrived yet.

“Sophia, did you hear me?” Luis says, leaning in close.

I startle and step back, not realizing he had spoken to me.
How long was I daydreaming?

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if I could get you more wine? I’m getting another beer for Lindsey and me.”

“Oh sure, that would be great. Thanks, Luis.”

I lean against the stucco wall of the garage and try to focus on what Lindsey is saying—something about the hot new intern with all the tattoos when I suddenly feel like my heart is being tightened in a vice.

About twenty feet away, some adorable young blonde pulls Will into the backyard as he laughs in mock protest. My breath catches, trapped somewhere in my throat since I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

He’s so perfectly handsome.
I sigh heavily.
Is he already with someone else?

It feels like someone’s hit me. Judging from the way I collapse inwardly, I’m pretty sure I just got slammed in the stomach with a sledgehammer. My hand is quivering so I set my plastic cup on a patio table. I look down at my party outfit. It reminds me of the sharp contrasts of this fateful evening: how very fine I felt when I put it on earlier and how completely foolish I feel now.

The girl drags Will over to a circle of people that includes Steph. He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt that shows off his physique. I almost turn away as I remember running my hands over every inch of the bronze skin and sinewy muscle under that shirt. When my gaze drifts to his worn jeans, I realize he’s wearing the pair I pushed off him in the living room the night I claimed him for my own.

He’s moved on.

He’s moved on.

The chant thunders in my head to the pounding rhythm of a tribal beat.

The blonde vixen, who’s dressed like Liesl from
The Sound of Music
and probably dressed that way to throw competition like me off her trail, has her hand on Will’s chest, the chest my hand should be on, and he laughs at something she’s said.

NO!
An inner scream howls in my head. I die a thousand deaths and imagine a future of saying prayers in the abbey among my sisters of the Broken Heart Order, trying to remember what life was like when I had the Internet, sexy lingerie, and Will.

I shake my head.
Dramatic much? Holy hell, woman, get a grip.
I bite on my thumbnail and take one final look at the man who now will forever personify “the one who got away” before getting the hell out of this party.

I slowly peek out from under my lashes, and blink several times when Steph points my way. Will stares at me, wide-eyed. He seems thrown by my outfit, kitten heels and all, but at least his gaze is on me and not hot Liesl Von
trap-my-man.

He takes a step in my direction when I feel a finger trace along the skin of my arm.

“Here you go,” Luis says with a smile as he hands me the glass of wine and leans against the wall next to me before passing Lindsey her beer.

“You okay, Sophia? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says.

I smile and lie. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for the wine.”

“No problem.”

I glance at Will. He’s turned back to his group, and judging from the frown on his face, he doesn’t look happy.

I manage to gulp three large sips of wine before Lindsey tries to take my cup away.

“Slow down, cowgirl. How are you going to meet a cute guy if you’re all drunk and sloppy?” she asks.

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Luis says with a laugh.

Over the next half hour, Luis does his best to engage me in their conversation as I sullenly drink my wine. Will glances over periodically with an undefined expression on his face. I’m grateful Luis filled my glass generously. I can get a good buzz without having to peel myself off the stucco wall for a refill. But eventually Luis and Lindsey move off to talk to other people and I wave them on, insisting I’ve spotted someone I want to say hi to.

For a moment I try to gather the courage to go at least say hi to Will, but as I step forward a mysterious cowardly force pushes me toward the house instead. I convince myself it would probably be better to talk to him when I’m not about to have an emotional breakdown.

I wander through one of the darkened bedrooms, groping for a light switch or lamp so I can find my purse and jacket. The feeling that I’m not alone alerts me to someone’s presence in the room. I spin around and gasp when I see Will leaning against the door.

“What are you looking for?” he asks in a low, studied voice.

“My stuff,” I say, pushing my hair off my face.

“Stuff?” he asks, his eyes narrow with a suspicious look.

“My purse and jacket,” I explain, exasperated at the complete failure of the night.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yup.” I move some of the stuff around on the bed but still can’t find my stuff.

“With that guy?” His voice is tight, his gaze penetrating even in the low light of the room.

I stop moving the jackets around and stand straight up, surprised.

“Guy? You mean, Luis? Hardly.” I huff at the ridiculous idea.

He relaxes his arms and slips his hands into his back pockets.

“What about you and Liesl? I’m sure she’s willing to climb the Alps with you.”

He tilts his head to the side with a look that reminds me of Romeo, and I almost implode with how unaware he is of his off-the-chart adorableness.

“Liesl?” he asks.

“Von Trapp… the ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’ hussy that kept touching you.”
And there he is with the tilted head again. If he does it once more, I’ll fall to my knees.
“You know, the blonde you came to the party with.”

“You thought I was trying to make
you
jealous? Steph told me you weren’t at the party yet. Then when she spotted you, I was going to go right over until I saw you with a man already.”

“Luis,” I say remembering the frown on Will’s face when he saw us.

“The name of the girl I was with is Dawn. She was Steph’s sorority sister. Her car is in the shop and she lives near me, so Steph asked me to give her a ride.”