The Do It List (The Do It List #1) (38 page)

 
“I’ll do the tailgate party spot for presentation. But if we win this business we’re casting…” I retreated from the room, “…actors.”

Sarah and I spent the afternoon with Derek and Mark brainstorming ideas for the tailgate party spots. We were going into the pitch of our lives with one idea executed on a huge multi-level scale—from the edgy sexy Sunday Afternoon to the fresh outrageous humor of the tailgate party interviews.
 

By late in the evening, everything began to fall into place. Corey Allen, an acquaintance of Mark’s and a talented improv actor, would conduct the tailgate party interviews. He even dropped by the agency for a quick preproduction meeting.
 

We settled on the product scent test for Bradley and I and saved the portable shower sniff test for a character actor.

“I’ve got just the guy,“ Corey enthused. “An old Groundling Theater buddy. Balding. Does a great nebbishy single guy. We cast a line-up of fabulous babes—fucking hilarious.”
 

While Corey dialed his friend’s number, Sarah went over the schedule. “We’ve secured a location. A parking lot two blocks from here. The rush permits are costing a fortune, but we’ll have them by tomorrow. That gives us two days to cast, prop and dress the set. We shoot Friday.”
 

I pictured Derek and Sarah working all weekend to get everything ready for the client presentation. I shook my head. “I’m flying out of here Thursday evening.”
 

They all stared at me.
 

“Mother’s premiere—the Tarantino film?”
 

 
“Quentin Tarantino?” Corey asked.
 

“My mother has a supporting role in his new film,” I explained. “It’s her big comeback. I kinda have to be there.”
 

Sarah didn’t seem worried. “We’ve got the location for three days. We dress and prop tomorrow afternoon—you can help, Gracie. We shoot Thursday, anyone have a problem with that?”
 

“Thursday is actually better for me, we can shoot a long day.” Corey offered.
 

 
“We keep the camera angles tight.” Mark thought out loud. “A couple of cars and pickup trucks, some out of focus extras. Add a barbecue grill, a few coolers—rig the shower and we’re good to go.”

Sarah rolled her eyes.
 

Corey smiled at her. “Seriously, how hard can it be to dress a parking lot?”

Derek looked up from a stack of head sheets. “No worries, Gracie. We’ll shoot you and Bradley first.”

“YOU’RE MAKING A TV commercial tomorrow?”
 

I nodded absently, completely not present for Hannah, who was actually making an effort to be conversational.

Noodles on 19th just wasn’t the same without him.

Hannah eyed me suspiciously as she suctioned up a noodle. “Are you and Bradley going to break up?”
 

I thought about how much truth-telling a nine-year-old needed to hear and concluded not much.

“We’re taking a break, that doesn’t mean we’re breaking up. Finish your smoothie, you’ve got spelling sentences to finish and I need to pack for L.A.”

 
Hannah slumped back in her chair—chin out, arms folded.
 

I almost smiled. My capricious petulant niece was back. “And yes, we’re shooting a few test spots. DWD is pitching a big account. Hopefully, these spots will put us over the top.”
 

“Any parts for kids?”

Hannah’s theatrical ambitions mostly involved a get out of school free card.

 
I shook my head. “Grown ups only—sorry.” I checked the time on my phone. “I’ve also got a super early call time tomorrow. Come—I’ll buy you a bag of Skittles.”

I helped Hannah with her homework and Mitch picked her up at 9:30. I walked them downstairs.

“Tell Grandma Gwen break a leg.” Hannah hung onto me, reluctant to let go.

“You two cover the next premier.” I gave her a hug.

“I promise we’ll visit this summer.” Mitch reached for her hand.
 

Hannah smiled up at him. “We’re going to go surfing.”
 

 
I waved good-bye and headed back inside the building.
 

At the top of the basement stairs, I flipped the light switch. Each apartment had a locker the size of a walk-in closet, and I needed the larger of two carry-on bags I owned.

The basement wasn’t my favorite spot in the building at night, but the laundry room was reasonably well-lit.

I opened several cardboard boxes before I found the canvas bag with the leather details. And this weekender featured wheels, a giant plus when schlepping luggage through airport terminals.
 

I lifted the bag out of the box and checked for cobwebs and crawly things.

“Gracie?”
 

I jumped at least a foot in the air.
 

All I caught was a dark shape—a glimpse of someone standing at the base of the stairs.

I blinked. “Who’s there?
 

I often ran into Patrick or Luke doing laundry late at night. Arching back, I peered over several washing machines.

Hurried footsteps thudded on stair steps.

I took refuge in the shadow of my locker. Someone had just run up the stairs, but who?
 

Fuck me—shallow breaths, racing heart—I didn’t dare check my pulse. Anything skippy and rapid would cause a panic attack. I bit my lip and chastised myself. Most likely whoever it was had forgotten their detergent.

Inhale—exhale, Gracie

I couldn’t quite get the ghost-like figure out of my head. Nor could I forget that Ethan Royce had just been released from prison.
 

A door opened or closed overhead.
 

I silently cursed both Troy and Bradley for planting the crazy-ex-convict-bent-on-revenge idea in my head. I reached for the suitcase. Not much of a weapon, but sturdy and defensive.
 

Footsteps again, this time descending the stairs. “Ms. Taylor-Scott?”
 

“Who’s asking?”

“Moondog.”
 

I peeked around the edge of my locker door.

The security man stood in the laundry room. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I had two bodyguards who switched off—night shift/day shift. Proud of their noms de guerre, Moondog and Spyder were retired Navy SEALS out of the same unit.

I exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.

Moondog helped me lock up and even carried the empty carry-on bag.

“Why did you come looking for me?” I asked.

“When you didn’t return to your apartment, I got twitchy.”
 

I stopped on a stair step. “How do you know these things? Do you have a sensor on my door?”

 
“You really don’t want to know how much I know.” He shot me one of those smug security guy looks.
 

“Actually, I would like to know.”

We reached the third floor landing, and I took the suitcase from him. “You’re not going to tell me…” I almost gave up mid-sentence. “…are you?”

The man actually had the nerve to grin.

I wanted to pivot in a huff and disappear into my not-so-private apartment, but I had to ask: “Did you happen to see anyone come or go as you entered the building?”
 

Piercing eyes narrowed as he searched my face. “You saw something?”
 

“I heard someone say my name. When I looked up all I could make out was a dark shape and a blur.”
 

“Did the voice sound familiar? Male or female?”

I shrugged. “Not really, it was definitely a male voice.
 

“You’re sure that wasn’t me? I called out to you.”

“No, you used Taylor-Scott. This man used my first name. I remembered a timid disembodied voice. “He said, ‘Gracie?’”
 

“Sounds like he wasn’t sure it was you.”
 

I nodded.

“It’s possible that whoever it was heard me coming. I can assure you no one got past me.”

I turned, then stopped. “There’s a rear exit no one ever uses—it backs straight up to a parking garage.”

“I’ll check the locks.”
 

“Thanks.”
 

I threw the dead bolt on my door, something I rarely did unless it was bedtime, and started packing.

One zip-lock bag filled with toiletries. Check.

I filled another with makeup.
 

I opened drawers and tossed in tees and a pair of shorts.

I remembered to text Mom:
Arrive LAX 9 PM tomorrow. Home by 10:30.

Mom texted:
Pack light. I’ve hired a stylist who has a rack of gowns ready for me, you and Carly.

I returned:
Great!

I was still going to pack my one and only—never worn—floor length gown—the whole point of getting the larger suitcase out of storage.

Mom texted:
So excited, Gracie. Can’t wait to meet Bradley.

I stared at her message for the longest time before typing out:
Bradley won’t be coming with me.

Seconds later, my phone rang.
 

“What’s up baby—talk fast, I’ve got ten minutes before yoga.”
 

Mom was making time for us—a rarity for her—so I did a quick retelling of the dinner party, my secret meeting with Troy and discovery by Bradley. The entire gut-wrenching drama in brief.

“Your father called wanting to know when you’d be here—apparently he’s concerned about this character—the one that just got out of prison.”
 

“Ethan Royce.” I thought about all the people who wanted to protect me—even Moondog and Spyder. “I know Dad means well, as does Bradley. I’ve never had a boyfriend get involved like this.” I sucked in air. “He’s so perfect and so amazing—” I stopped myself mid-sentence.
 

“Gracie, are you afraid of finding love?”

I bit my lip and chewed. “My attraction to him is off the charts. My need for him—his warmth, his friendship—super scary. It’s just that our flaws are so similar, and that scares me more than anything.” I tossed clean underwear into a side pocket of the suitcase. “We’re both possessive, and insecure, only Bradley is like—a control freak. He takes charge of everything. He hired the security guys, arranged for our plane tickets—even the rental car.”

“Baby, you’re so used to taking care of yourself and doing for others you don’t know what it feels like to have a real man in your life. Someone who wants to take care of you—share the load.”

Mom sighed. “I blame myself for this.”

“This isn’t your fault. You didn’t cheat, Dad did.”

“But you witnessed a lot of unhappiness.”

“You think I’m pushing him away.”

“Not saying, just saying, Gracie.”

I rummaged around in a drawer for my swimsuit bottom. Maybe she was right. I was used to doing for myself and pretty much as I pleased.
 

I also withheld things. I didn’t mean to be secretive, I just didn’t trust any man completely. That had to change with Bradley. We had super-charged our sexual relationship, but we both needed to get to work on our trust issues.

“Gotta go, baby—we’ll talk this out when you get here—fly safe.”
 

“See you soon, Mom—love you.”

MY CALL TIME was 5:15 AM.
 

My watch read 5:15.

I dashed down the steps and spotted the black SUV parked across the street. The tinted window powered down.
 

“Good morning, Ms. Taylor-Scott.” My bodyguard du jour smiled. Attractive in a buzz cut, boo-yah way.

“Good morning, Spyder.”
 

Unbelievable really, but my bodyguards had actually grown on me. Last night as I readied for bed, I peeked out my window. The SUV’s parking lights had flashed a good night wink that I found oddly reassuring.
 

“I’m late. Can I get a ride to Seventeenth and Avenue of the Americas?”
 

 
“Thought you’d never ask.” His grin lasted about a second before he turned all business.

At this hour in the morning, we made great time. Spyder pulled up alongside trailers and grip trucks and double-parked. “Stay where I can see you today.”

Derek and Sarah had turned a small, unassuming city parking lot into a tailgate party wonderland. The sidewalk bustled with crew and a few curious onlookers. A young woman holding a clipboard materialized in front of me. “Talent?”

“Taylor-Scott.”

 
She pointed down the sidewalk. “Third trailer on this side of the street.“
 

The SUV followed me in reverse, as I jogged down the pavement. A cardboard sign duck taped to the vehicle door read: Sexy Couple.

Sarah stuck her head out of the trailer. “Gracie, get in here.”

A portable heater warmed the interior. Bradley was down to his boxer briefs, pulling on black jeans. Sarah took off my coat and showed me several outfits “Try this.” The low cut tank revealed a bit of lace bra. Sarah added a leather jacket and frowned. “Too biker chick.”

As instructed, Bradley and I tried on different outfits. The lack of privacy was uncomfortable, especially when Sarah unhooked my bra to try on a red flower-print bustier with cute, contrasting straps.

I stood in the middle of the trailer, cupping my breasts.

“What?” Her eyes rolled upward. “It‘s not like he hasn’t seen them before.” Bradley pulled a tee shirt over his head with a snort. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
 

Sarah unbuttoned a cornflower blue cropped cardigan and layered the sweater over the bustier.

I looked up. “This is darling. Too much boob?”

“Perfect.” She smiled. “A little more Guess than Gap.” She had me try on a swingy bias cut skirt, which revealed a hint of midriff skin. “Sexy-flirty and adorable.”
 

Bradley’s hungry gaze took it all in. From the bustier and demure little cardigan, down to the open-toed platform sandals. “Good thing the Super Bowl is in Arizona this year,” he grunted.