The Dimple Strikes Back (25 page)

“Thank you.”

He climbed a few stairs to peer up the square, circular staircase. Squarecular? When satisfied that we were, indeed, alone, he said, “I am waiting for…a thing. Equipment. It will help. But I can’t do anything until the thing arrives from…the place.”

I nodded as if I understood any of the words.

“Look, what is she going to do to you if you miss her deadline? Nothing.” He began to pace. “She can’t touch you while you’re filming.” His eyes focused on mine, then slipped away to stare at the wall. “You’re safe in production.”

Safe. The bald patch on my head tingled. Safe. “What about you?” I asked softly.

He only hesitated for a moment. A second long enough for me to imagine every worst scenario. Belatedly, he laid a reassuring smile on me. “She knows you need me for this.”

“And what about Ellen? And Nicolette? And even horrible Suzie? If anyone is going to end my mother, by great Caesar’s ghost,
it will be me
.”

“Enough.” He closed the few steps between us and swept me into his arms. His kiss brimmed with the kind of desperation usually only found in movies about vampiric teenagers. He pawed my body, pressing it to his own, and we fell against the wall.

“Yeeeeaaaahhhh,” came Shelley’s voice a split second before the metallic screech of a door opening. “They’re in here.”

Thump thump thump
sounded Shelley’s heavy UGG-footed steps. My legs were still wrapped around Sam and his hands helpfully supported my ass, when who should follow Shelley…but Danny.

Sam froze at the sight of Danny, who glared first at me, then at Sam. A wide grin split my lover’s face, and he cocked his head in a pure asshole kind of way. Danny crossed his arms and stared Sam down. “A little help, please?” I asked. When Sam didn’t reply, I helpfully tweaked his nipple.

“
Ow.
” That moved his hands.

I nearly slid to the floor, but Danny lunged in to slow my progress towards a certain bruising. “Thank you, Danny. What a gentleman—”

Sam snipped, “Do not even—”

“What can I do for you, Danny? I’m very sorry about…this.”

Danny narrowed his eyes at Sam, both still too engaged in their dick-measuring contest to respond.

I left. The smack of boots behind me told me that my time apart from Shelley had come to an end, and that of all the people I would want following me, I got her instead. I smoothed my outfit and jumped into makeup for a lipstick refresher—whoops—and ran into JenX. “So, right. Your scene. Running. Danger imminent. Danny. Where?”

Shelley removed her gum. “Yeah. Samantha has a massage now.”

“What?” I will not punch Shelley. I will not punch Shelley. “I have to start work now, Shelley.”

She didn’t immediately reply, but stared at her wadded-up blue goo before depositing it back into her maw. “Yeah. I have to talk to you, and give a massage. I’m your massivity.”

JenX said, “So…schedule, yeah?”

“Yeaaaaaaaaaaah, no. I’m massuring her.”

“Shut up, Shelley!” I stepped between her and my director, who was now disturbed enough that her giant designer headphones were off. If she was forced to remove her sunglasses, I was in deep shit. “Shelley is an idiot. I’m totally ready. Running. Danger. Profesh!” We were set to film a chase—our group running from and foiling security. I smiled, yet JenX did not return her headphones to their usual position.

Danny joined us then, thank goodness. He said, “You sure you don’t need some time to boff your boyfriend? Maybe we could all take lunch while you snog in the stairwell, and Shelley gives you a massage.” Damn. And also ouch. Danny had stepped up to the plate, batting a nasty shot straight over the pitcher’s mound.

I smiled. At least, I grimaced, teeth grinding. “You’re getting funnier, Danny. This comedy thing is rubbing off on you.”

“Speaking of rubbing off…”

There could be no good end to that sentence. When did Danny get so snarky? And since when did horrible Shelley want to ‘talk’ and ‘massivity’ me? The idea of her massaging me struck me right in the cold sweats.

JenX pushed up her aviators and said, “So, focus, right? Mum. Boyfriend. Weird gum girl. What is it?” She dropped the glasses again. “I need hot thieves. I need sexy running. I need box office.”

“Right,” I replied, my heart pounding. To hell with all these jackasses. I nodded, lifted my chin, and sailed onto set, ready for work like a responsible actress.

“Not ready for you yet!” hollered a deep male voice.

“Right!” I continued sailing out of the crew’s way like a responsible actress. I hid myself between two giant, warm generator things and ducked when Shelley came wandering around in the lowest-speed chase ever. Danny spied me, but kept his distance and began flirting outrageously with a startled-looking middle-aged makeup artist. I hadn’t meant to lead him on. I’d been dumped, and he was hot, and geez, it was only a little kissing, anyhow. The guy probably got as much action just by setting foot outside his house—that mother of four was ready to jettison her eyeshadow brushes and commit adultery on the spot.

When my actual job began, happiness disrupted the worry smothering my soul. I could deal with drama so long as the magic flowed through me while we filmed, and it did. Even my co-star warmed to me once we began work.

Early the next morning, they were done with me, and instead of dealing with my people like an adult, I ran straight to my trailer, Sam on my heels. He was the only one I wanted to see. Or hear. Or grope. “Come here,” I said, and he obliged me. We made it to the couch, me atop him, his hands everywhere. Sex is the best way to avoid real life—that’s a life lesson for the masses from yours truly.

I sat back on my heels, facing him, and he pulled me deeper into his lap. His fingers played with my zipper pull. “Ah, jumpsuit,” he murmured. “We meet again for the first time.”

I giggled. The jumpsuit jiggled. His dimple flashed. With two fingers, he tugged, the zipper unlocking tooth by tooth. His smile got wider the more cleavage he revealed. He opened his mouth, and my breasts tingled, anticipating his warm, tender assault.

The door opened. “Dammit!” growled Sam, loud, the frustration piercing my eardrum.

“Yeeeeaaaahhhh.”

Sometime before all this was over, I would punch Shelley. Punch her full in her stupid, yeeeeaaaahhhh-ing, gum-popping mouth.

I didn’t move. If she wanted to speak with me, she could talk to my bum. Bum is a fancy British word for ass, which Shelley could also kiss. “Spit it out, Shelley.” I turned. “No, not the gum! Lord love a duck. What do you need to tell me?”

Shelley sat right beside us on the couch. Sam’s hands tightened on my waist, and he stared into my face with crazy eyes. I massaged his shoulders to keep him calm. “Yeah. Valerie says you need to steal the thing already. She doesn’t like, ya know, waiting.”

“Shelley,” I yelled over Sam, who’d started to speak in tones that sounded very much like a rant, “she gave me a week. We need that week to work on our plan. Valerie isn’t going to get the cape if I’m caught stealing it, is she?”

This argument elicited a flicker of understanding in Shelley. Her face rippled with an unusual happening—a thought.

“Now get the hell out. Your shift is over. Valerie can have me watched tomorrow night, but the day belongs to me.”

Shelley shifted to her feet and shuffled towards the door. “Yeah, someone else has day shift. It’s boring, anyhow.” She left. The door clicked closed behind her.

I bit my lip in an effort to keep my swell of emotion at bay. My eyes stung and my stomach churned, churned. Jesus, it was like I was making butter in there.

“Stop, baby.” Sam collected me into his arms and cradled me against him.

“I don’t know what I expected,” I said in a high, breathy voice. “Of course I’m being watched all the time.”

He took my hands and stared me down. “Not for long. I’ll make this right.”

I managed to smile for his benefit. After all, I believed that he believed that. But wasn’t there a saying about good intentions? Ah, yes. The road to hell is paved with short redheads.

Chapter Fourteen

All That Glitters is Not Mold

Ext: The Set Of The Reality Tv Show Thief Island—night.

Angle On:
Samantha Lytton
sits on a stump in the centre of a beach camp. The Fire of Judgment sparks beside her. The other contestants on the show,
Sam, Danny, Valerie, Shelley, Jenx, Suzie
and
Diego
sit on logs in a circle around her.

Angle On: The charming host of Thief Island,
Captain Taco
, approaches Samantha. He wears a little lavaliere microphone on his collar, and yes, it’s insanely cute.

Captain Taco: Samantha, your fellow campers here on
Thief Island
have chosen you as the worst thief of the episode. You failed to eat the live grubs in the team challenge, and to steal the Mold Cape from the British Museum. In fact, you didn’t even try. You just cracked a couple of stupid ‘mold’ puns and complained a lot.

Samantha: Thanks.

Captain Taco: That’s a bad thing on
Thief Island
.

Valerie: Duh.

Valerie giggles. Sam scoots away from her.

Samantha:
Me
? Nobody wants to vote out Psycho McGhee here? She tried to kill Diego!

Angle On: Diego, grimacing and clutching his crutches.

Captain Taco: Valerie is very annoying, but she smells kinda like catnip, so I’m conflicted.

Angle On: Captain Taco begins to climb off his hosting cat perch towards Valerie, but after a dirty look from Samantha, he licks his butt like he meant to do that all along.

Shelley: Yeeeeaaaahhhh, make her do the thing on the thing.

Captain Taco: Yes! It is time for Samantha to take The Walk of the Civilians.

Angle On: Samantha’s brow creases in worry.

Samantha: What’s The Walk of the Civilians?

Danny: Haven’t you ever watched
Thief Island
before?

He sneers.

Danny: I guess you’re not a
method
thief, like I am.

Angle On: The camera sweeps across the fire pit.

Captain Taco: You, Samantha Lytton, shall walk across the fire, barefoot, and steal the Oscar sitting in the centre of it.

Angle On: The golden statuette standing upon a pedestal in the middle of the fire, which is ten feet across.

Samantha: Fuck no! I’m not walking on fire for you people. And I’m pretty sure that Oscar is about two hundred degrees at this point. It’s starting to list to port.

JenX pushes her headphones off her ears.

JenX: So, fire. Hotness. Flame. Blaze. Heat. Searing. Combustion.

Captain Taco: Thank you, JenX. Lots to think about there.

JenX puts her headphones back on.

Angle On: Samantha stands.

Samantha: Screw this island, I want to get off.

Angle On: The gallery of thieves.

Sam: Damn, baby. In front of all these cameras? Okay.

Sam begins dancing and taking his shirt off, which is distracting for several of the other contestants. Diego shoots Sam a dirty look and begins making his pecs jump. He is already shirtless.

Suzie: She never could win a contest. You should have seen her at the Little Miss Junior Tarheel Competition. They awarded her ‘Worst Use of Vaseline’.

Angle On: Valerie stands and starts towards Samantha with determination.

Valerie: I want to see you burn!

She begins chasing Samantha around the fire.

Samantha: Aaaaaah! Sam, help me!

Angle On: Sam struggles in the sand with limping Diego, who has challenged him to an involuntary wrestling match. Diego pushes Sam’s face in a salty puddle as Suzie cheers.

Samantha: Heeeeeeeeeeelp!

I awoke after yet another anxiety dream, the wisps of it clinging to my mind like kudzu. Sam stirred close by and soon his hand began roaming all over.

At least I wasn’t dreaming that Sam was in cahoots with my enemies anymore.

I swept the sleep from my eyes and poked Sam. “Please tell me what the plan is. I’m sick with it.” I bunched the blanket around me like armour. “I don’t want that cape to be destroyed. I don’t want to steal it.” The tears slipped down my face, and for the first time in a while, I let them. A crying jag can only be kept at bay for so long before it comes roaring out at an inappropriate time, like when you’re naked and post-coitus and ruining everyone’s sleep. “My life finally got good, and now it’s screwed up again.”

Sam sat cross-legged beside me and handed over a tissue. His brows formed an annoyed V while he yawned and checked the time. Two p.m., i.e. the middle of the night. “I can’t have you privy to it. If something goes wrong in the middle, you have to be the innocent patsy who knows nothing.”

“I do know nothing!”

“Then what’s the problem?”