The Dimple Strikes Back (24 page)

I scooted closer and nuzzled his cheek.

“Do you still love me?” he asked, his voice small.

“Yes!” His face in my hands, I kissed him. He rolled us over and pressed his warm lips to mine again and again, seeking a reassurance I was happy to give.

I forgot my nightmare in his encompassing arms, his strong body. In the words of love he murmured over my skin. What a glorious mess we made. And how easily we could forget it.

Temporarily.

Chapter Thirteen

I Guess I’ll Eat Some Worms

I paid for my joyous night of hide the salami. The next evening, my agent, publicist and manager chose choice words for me on the matter of my radio silence re Kissgate, but were all equally delighted that my relationship with Daniel Zhang had become international gossip fodder. I’d moved up at least three rungs on the celebrity fuckability scale!

Sam nearly ground his teeth to the gums when surfing the internet, so I took away his access and sent him grocery shopping for us while I dealt with real life. Danny left a voice mail for me that I didn’t return because it would have made me feel guilty to speak with him. But then again, the guilt of not returning the call guilted me in a guilty way. I began to fantasise about going full
Cast Away
, where the only person I could disappoint was a volleyball with a bloody hand print on it. Meanwhile, my stomach churned, churned.

When Sam returned with glorious food, he hustled me to bed again where it seemed he was eager to prove who was the man in my life. Indeed, after his glorious turn in the sack, I honoured him with the Oscar for Best Performance By a Leading Man With Bonus Colin Firth. I’m not even sure what to call what he did to me, except logistically impressive.

With such wicked thoughts in my head, we returned to film the following night. The moment I stepped onto set, I got hustled to a corridor in which stood Danny and our director, an up-and-coming British hotshot named simply JenX. She was the hottest funny lady going, having shot to A-list status when she directed Carrot Top into a Best Supporting Actor Golden Globe nomination in her first feature. If that doesn’t lend credibility, then nothing does. “Hey, S,” JenX said. “So, video. You and D. Hot. Nice. Paparazzi. Awesome. Sex on stone. Cool?”

Danny bit back a smile. I blinked from one to the other and said, “What?”

“Profesh, yeah?”

I nodded and flashed a half smile and shrugged—all the answer JenX ever seemed to require, anyhow. I was getting more used to her way of speaking. When she’d called me to offer the role, the entire conversation consisted of, “You. Jayde. Kill it. Nice.” I’d called my agent afterward to figure out what the hell had happened.

JenX model-stomped away on her platforms, which appeared to be ten inches high. “Translate?” I asked Danny.

He stepped closer. “The producers have decided to capitalise on the video by adding a sex scene for us.”

“What, are we gonna hump on a display case in the middle of the robbery?”

He handed me new script pages. “The Rosetta Stone, namely.”

Sex on stone. Holy shit. “Ah. Well, at least it serves the story in a dignified way.”

Laughing, he pulled me farther away from the whir of crew getting the set ready. I could feel Sam’s eyes boring into my back from the darkness. Danny’s perfect face peering down at me churned, churned my guts. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back,” I told him.

His mouth twitched sadly, and the anxiety in my belly birthed anxiety babies. “I’m sure you were busy.”

Busy learning about how fun the Hitachi Magic Wand Olympics can be. I nodded. He stayed silent, clearly waiting for me to say something. Better to come clean about my being dirty. “I got back together with Sam. Zack!” I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Zack Sam. I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean to lead you on. You are insanely attractive and wonderful, and I feel lucky to have even smooched you in front of millions on the Internet.”

His jaw shifted in annoyance. Maybe this was the first time in his life he’d ever been dumped, or at least thrown over for some dude with no name. He recovered and flashed a confident smile that told me,
somehow
, he’d survive the loss of me. “It was just a kiss. I’m glad you worked it out with…” He shrugged, and I did not gaze at his sexy shoulders. “It does make things a bit awkward in that everyone thinks we’re dating now.”

“Yes.” A PA stopped by and shooed us towards makeup. We promised him we’d be right there and began walking. “Look, we can still hang out. The more we don’t misbehave in public, the crazier they’ll go. They’ll think we’re hiding something.”

“Sure.”

The conversation thankfully ended when a blur of people with brushes attacked our faces.
You are a shitty person,
I told myself. Myself didn’t have any fast comebacks to the contrary. Churn, churn. My stomach ached enough that I skipped the craft services table in favour of resting before my first scene.

I was forced to lock myself in the bedroom of the trailer to get away from Shelley, currently slumping on my couch, smack-smacking away on her third gum piece of the morning. The sound of her saliva squirting might force me to commit evil acts. Like tearing out her stupid hair. My bitterness merged with my vanity and anger to create a brand-new emotion—vitterger. I was so vittergry at that woman I nearly blacked out.

No more than ten minutes later, PA Wayne knocked on my tiny bedroom door. “Hi, Samantha. Can you come out? Um…”

Something told me that this “um” was of the “oh, shit” variety. I scrambled to my feet and opened the front door. Wayne smiled halfheartedly and said, “Your mom is here and talking to JenX.”

I squeezed my fists closed until my fingernails bit my flesh. “Witch!”

Wayne’s eyes goggled, and he backed away. For good reason, for there appeared to be lightning sparking from my ears. I heard nothing but the whistling of my rage and the opening strains to the theme from
Jaws
.

I ran out of the trailer, and Wayne caught me up to lead me to the scene of the accident. I heard the Southern drawl oozing through the galleries before I saw her. “Ah’ve starred in the Las Vegas Players production of
Guys and Dolls
twice now, and—”

And then I died, only to return and haunt this old woman until her botox caused her face to mummify.

“Mom!” I screamed it, and everyone who wasn’t already gaping in glee turned to witness the new goings-on.

Be cool, Samantha. Be the star you know you are. Or at least, the star you might be, someday. Be the kind of cool person who would be a star if they weren’t you.

Oh, to hell with it. I squared my shoulders and glided to my mother’s side. I wedged between her and Diego, who wore a shirt made of mesh that came from an
International Male
catalogue circa 1986. “Mom, hi. How nice of you to visit the set.”

JenX ran a hand over her blue fauxhawk. “So…why?”

I grabbed Suzie by the shoulders and swivelled her towards any direction away from JenX. Suzie being on set was definitely not “profesh, yeah?” “My mom’s a big fan!” I called over my shoulder to JenX. “But she must go now.”

Suzie squeaked and adjusted her silk pink capris. “Don’t you think Jayde should have a mother?” she yelled to all and sundry. “Not that many would believe that I could be a mother to such an old—” I shoved harder. Diego trotted next to us helplessly, his mesh shirt no doubt irritating his razor-burned chest.

We passed Sam on the way outside. “Holy crap,” he said. Suzie’s sequined suit jacket was trimmed in hot pink ostrich.

I bypassed my trailer and continued yanking her by the arm all the way to the parking lot. Every time she wiggled I growled at her and, for once, she seemed to acknowledge my feelings by shutting the hell up.

I stopped on the sidewalk. “How did you get here?”

“Cab.”

Pointing towards the street, I said, “Diego, please take her away.”

“Samantha!” Mom fluffed up her ostrich and descended into full on Scarlett O’Hara. “How dare you embarrass me that way?”

Something inside me snapped. I felt it physically—a flick, a sharp pain, a loosening. My face tingled into numbness, and I took a deep breath. “Embarrass…
you
?”

“Samantha.” Sam, behind me. Whispering and grabbing my arm.

“But I embarrass you all the time, don’t I, Mom?” The echoes of a thousand cutting remarks slithered into my head. “I’m too fat, or too ugly, or too untalented, or too short, or expectedly single, or too poor, or too not-rich-enough, right?”

Suzie’s jaw went slack. Her eyes roamed to a focus somewhere behind me.

“How dare you spend my entire life disparaging me, and then come into my job—my
job
, Mom—and…and try to…”

Sam grabbed my shoulders from behind. “Baby, don’t. You have an audience.”

I closed my eyes and sagged against him. My adrenaline rushed so hard, I heard little but a whirring noise.

“Suzie, leave.” Sam did my talking for me. “Do not come back here. You two can discuss this later.”

A few moments’ silence. No one moved. “Discuss what?” said Suzie, light as air, before clicking away on her kitten booties. Diego shuffled off to Buffalo right after without meeting my eye. At least one of them was experiencing shame.

My eyes squeezed shut, I turned around and pressed my face to Sam’s chest, peeping Toms be damned. I forced out every thought but the balming scent of his shirt. He held me for a moment before grabbing my hand and leading me away. I didn’t even see where. Or care.

When I peeled my eyelids open, we were in a deserted stairwell on the first floor. “Do you think I’m fired?” I whispered. My hushed words bounced off the steel surrounding us.

“No.” He rubbed my shoulders. “No, she’d only just got to speak with JenX. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you’re imagining.”

“Oh, so I overreacted?”

“Whoa.” He took a step back and leant down more on my eye level to stare me directly in the face. “I said nothing of the sort. I’m telling you I watched the whole thing—I sent the PA to get you—and you have not lost your job, okay?”

My hands began to shake. My body was Vesuvius, and I was ready to reign terror upon the poor citizens of Pompeii. Right now, Sam was the only poor bastard in front of me. I clenched my teeth closed to avoid saying something I oughtn’t, and that he didn’t deserve.

Only one thing to do, if I couldn’t erupt poisonously.

I grabbed his shirt front, slammed him into the wall and stood on my tip-toes to kiss him. No, I didn’t kiss him—I devoured his mouth with mine, biting, sucking, tugging. He offered no resistance, but grabbed my face and leapt into the fray. The first yelp of pain came from me. My sore, throbbing bottom lip hurt damn good, and I pressed my hips into his so he would abuse me further. My hand inched downward to cup his hard-on through his jeans. His ragged moan reverberated in the tiny space. I teased his zipper downward.

His hand caught mine. “Samantha.” His voice blended in an ego-boosting combination of shocked censure and aroused fascination. “We can’t screw on the stairs.”

I grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him down to my mouth. “I wasn’t going to fuck you. I was going to suck your cock.”

“Jesus.” In a flurry, he removed my hands from his hot, bulging places. He whipped his phone out of his pocket and said, “You need to be on set in ten minutes.”

“Ugh.” I paced away a few steps and turned to face him from too far away to grope. “Are you actually being my assistant right now?”

“Shameful, I know.” He grinned, and the dimple told me that it, at least, was completely pro-blow-job. “You are so hot right now, and I can’t begin to tell you how that dirty little jumpsuit with its dirty, long zipper has invaded my personal fantasy time, but”—he took a deep breath and moved his cock into a less obvious place—“rain check. Or not, but I don’t want to get you fired for real. Someone needs to support the family when I’m forced to walk the straight and narrow.”

Sam acting high and noble and correct should have sobered me…yet, all I wanted was to toss him on the cold ground. Especially when he threw around the word “family” willy nilly. I pictured a quiet night at home—him, me, Taco—watching old episodes of
The Dick Van Dyke Show
and then showering together. Maybe not the cat for that last part. It was the horniest, homiest thought I’d ever thunk…and it filled me with bemused bliss. My muscles began to ease. “I love you,” I told him.

He melted me with his eyes, already a melty shade of chocolate. “You only love me for my body.”

“The body is only seventy-eight per cent of it. Your evil mind and admiration for my butt also contribute.” He smiled and made wiggly eyebrows in my butt’s direction.

I licked my lips and took a steadying breath. We were alone, and I couldn’t not ask the question anymore. It haunted my brain like the spectre of unflattering pictures on the Internet. “What is the plan, Sam? We only have four, five days until V—her deadline. We can’t just—yank the thing out of the…thing. Because I’ll bet there are things that will…counteract…when things are thinged.”

He gave me a thumbs-up. “Good code wording there.”