Tristan on a Harley (Louisiana Knights Book 3) (3 page)

Trey knew being chosen as an extra wasn’t in the cards for Zeni almost as soon as she did. Not that he was on hand. Though he could have discovered it himself by hanging out at the old exhibition hall, he wanted nothing to do with that scene. Rather, half a dozen people who had been there made a fast exit ahead of the crowd and came by the coffee shop to give him the lowdown.

Relief poured over him at the news. She’d be avoiding the movie crowd now, which was a good thing. More than that, he hadn’t much cared for the look in Zeni’s eyes as she’d put her challenge to him. He’d shifted a bucket load of his responsibilities onto her slender shoulders in the past few months, and figured he was about to be paid back for it.

It was possible she had something a bit more personal in mind, but he doubted it. She’d been wary around him from her first day at work, displaying a hands-off attitude that she reinforced with prickly put-downs. They’d been fairly mild at first, but were getting more snarky every week.

He got a kick out of teasing her until she gave him the sharp edge of her tongue. She made it almost irresistible with her hot reactions, but he knew better than to go too far. Some women had “I’m available” smiles and glances; others had expressions that said “Go away and leave me alone.” With Zeni, he got the message. And since he didn’t want to lose her, liked having her around, plus wasn’t sure how he’d run his different business interests without her, he paid attention.

He was in the back storeroom, at the table that they used for breaks, when she came through the rear door. He didn’t intend to provide a free show for customers, even if he couldn’t wait to crow about her losing the bet she’d proposed. It wasn’t his style, and certainly wasn’t Zeni’s.

“Just a second,” he said, looking up from the legal pad where he’d been scribbling. “I almost have my list of jobs ready for you.”

“I’ll just bet you do.” Zeni hung her shoulder bag on a hook beside the back entrance and took down one of her aprons that hung there, one made of denim to match the skirt she always wore, but dressed up with a huge green velvet flower, ribbons, silver chains and Mardi Gras beads.

“Don’t worry. There’s nothing on it you wouldn’t ask from me.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Good. You won’t mind starting with a massage then, will you?”

“A massage.” The look she gave him should have killed him stone-cold-dead, and might have if he hadn’t been ready for it.

“Full body. With or without clothes,” he said, keeping his face straight with an effort. “I’m not bashful.”

He’d never seen her turn quite that red before. Amazing. Her lips darkened to the color of black raspberries, and her eyes grew as hot and meltingly dark as lava cakes. The golden tan skin of her face looked warm to the touch, and he could see the throb of her pulse in her neck.

The need to put his mouth to that gentle pulsing gave him a starving feeling inside, and the urge to turn her into dessert then and there was so strong he felt his eyes water.

“Well, I am!” she snapped, and headed past him, jerking the door into the coffee shop open so hard and fast it flew out of her hand and slammed into the wall.

“Or you could start by polishing my boots!” he called after her. “I ran through a big puddle on my last ride, and they’re muddy!”

Zeni didn’t answer, which was probably best. She could say things that cut to the bone when she wanted, and he’d come close to being sliced and diced there for a second. Probably the only thing that kept him from it was that she knew she’d walked into this deal with her eyes open.

He’d figured she’d be disappointed after being passed over by the actor guy when even Granny Chauvin had been picked for a street scene. His intention was to distract her, make her irritated enough she’d forget about it, even if her anger was directed at him.

Big mistake. Now he had to fix it.

Trey glanced down at his list that actually had things on it such as going out to dinner with him, making him a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, and helping him take photos of the antiques in his granddad’s old place so they could be appraised for insurance. As mad as she was just now, he might have to hide the knives until she cooled down. With a quick shake of his head, he uncoiled from his chair and moved after her.

The main room of the Watering Hole was packed, not unusual when anything special was happening in town. Folks gravitated there to wind down with coffee and a piece of one of Zeni’s amazing pies with the sky-high meringue on top. The fillings varied according to some plan Trey had never quite been able to make out, but thought probably had more to do with her mood than the ingredients in the store room. Today, the choices were chocolate, coconut and lemon custard, the best he remembered.

The part-time help, Gloria—young and on track for an advanced degree through online classes—had been behind the counter earlier. Now she’d been sent out to wait on customers and man the cash register while Zeni took over as short-order cook. Trey lifted a brow at the sight of his mad female manager cutting pies into even slices with a chef’s knife the size of a machete, but kept his doubts and opinions to himself.

“Trey! Over here!”

He changed directions at that hail, wending his way through the tables to the corner where his two cousins, Lance and Beau, sat. He saw at a glance that they had coffee and pie in front of them. He pulled out a chair and joined them, but not before removing the sheriff’s Stetson from the tabletop to safety on the extra seat.

“What’s up?” That question came from Beau, blond and blue-eyed, the cousin who raised daylilies by the thousands and had made local history back in the summer by being featured in some magazine. “Zeni’s not upset over the thing this morning, is she?”

“Frustrated probably, but not upset,” Trey answered. He could have made a fine joke out of the bet, but kept it to himself. Talking about it didn’t seem right, somehow. “I heard Carla made it,” he went on, speaking of Beau’s wife before turning to Lance. “And Mandy, too.”

“Yeah, next thing we know, they’ll be big stars, flying out to Hollywood.”

Trey gave him a frown. “You don’t mean it.”

“That’s his worry,” Beau said in confiding tones. “He’s so sure Mandy’s star material, he can’t help thinking she’ll be enticed away from him.”

“Bull,” Lance told him with a frown.

“Gospel.” Beau gave him a pitying look. “I know, because the same thing has passed through my mind about Carla.”

Trey shook his head. “Neither of you has anything to worry about. The ladies you married are too smart to go for that phony stuff.”

“You’re right,” Lance said with a slow nod.

“Sure, I’m right.” Privately, Trey thought again that it was a good thing Zeni hadn’t caught that guy Derek’s eye at the morning’s tryout.

“Didn’t you just get back from a bike race?” Lance asked. “How did you make out?”

Trey told them, tacking on a story about the 1965 Electra Glide Harley in candy apple red with a panhead engine that some guy had been showing off as his dream ride.

“Guess one of those will be showing up in your garage with your other toys,” Lance said.

“I’d rather have basic black, but yeah. It would already be there except I need to save my nickels and dimes.”

“Since when?” Irony was strong in the sheriff’s voice.

“Since I got the chance to buy out the shares of my other relatives in the old home place.”

“Finally,” Beau said, sitting back in his chair.

“Finally is right,” he answered, “but it’s all done, signed and sealed. It’s mine.”

The sheriff narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re planning on living out there, are you?”

“Don’t see why not.”

“The front steps are falling down, for starters. Half the doors won’t close, much less lock, and it’s overrun with cats.”

Trey had to laugh at that dire description. “Yeah, you and Mandy spent a night out there a while back, didn’t you?”

“That we did.”

Beau spoke up with curiosity in his voice. “This would be while the two of you were running from the goons that were after her?”

“And I was dumb enough to give her such a hard time that she tried to sleep in the old house instead of in the RV with me.” Lance shook his head before turning to Trey. “The point is, you’ll need to do a lot of work before you can live in the place.”

“I’m on it,” Trey said. In fact, he was looking forward to it, couldn’t wait to get started. “If either of you two feel an urge to lend a hand, I won’t mind.”

They both started to nodded, which was no more than he’d expected. Before they could open their mouths, however, Gloria came to a halt at their table with her notepad in hand.

“Hey there, boss man. Zeni says you need something to sweeten your disposition. She’s cutting you a big slice of lemon pie, but wants to know if you need milk or coffee with that.”

Beau and Lance put their heads down, working on their own pie slices. Trey thought Beau’s shoulders might be shaking with a silent laugh, but couldn’t be sure. What the two of them found so entertaining about his dealings with Zeni, he didn’t know, but thought it had something to do with the fact that they had both married within the last year and a half or so.

He shot a look in Zeni’s direction, but her concentration was on what she was doing. Yeah, more than it had to be.

“You tell her—” he began, but stopped. “Never mind. I’ll tell her.”

It was then that the coffee shop door opened to admit a surge of warm air and a couple of Hollywood types, one of them the man half the town was falling over themselves to know, the actor, Derek Peabody. The man paused, as if making an obligatory entrance. The fluorescent lights overhead flashed on his sunglasses before he ripped them from his face with a flamboyant gesture and handed them to the tall blonde assistant at his side. Rapidly scanning the room, he allowed his gaze to settle on Zeni as she stood behind the counter, chef’s knife upraised in her fist and her expression far from welcoming.

“
There
you are,” Peabody exclaimed as if she had been lost and now he’d found her. “I told my people to see to it you stayed behind when the others had gone, but they failed me. It was necessary to discover who you were and where I might find you.”

“Fine,” Zeni said, not giving an inch. “May I help you?”

“Oh, yes, I should think so, sweetheart. That you are named for Zenobia, the great queen of the desert who appears in
Brief Candles
, is a marvelous omen for the movie’s success. These things are meant to be.”

“But I’m actually Zenia, which comes from the Greek. My mother was studying the language when she and my father met.”

He waved that away with a wide gesture. “Close enough. You will be my Zenobia!”

“You’re saying you want to give me a part?”

Zeni needed to be absolutely certain before she dared allow herself to believe it, or even glance toward where Trey stood. It was exciting if true, but her first thought was for how it might affect the bet with her boss. Some things were just more important.

“Indeed I am,” Peabody answered in brisk tones. “It isn’t exactly a starring role, you understand, but an important scene pivots on it.”

She did look at Trey then; she couldn’t help it. Here was vindication if she’d ever seen it. He didn’t notice, however, but stood scowling at the movie actor with his hands closed into fists. She turned back to Peabody.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite see how an ancient warrior queen like Zenobia fits into a modern comedy-drama.”

He came forward, his smile shaded with surprise as he took a seat on one of the stools at the counter. “How amazing that you realize who Zenobia was, my dear. I’m gratified, as it bodes
well for the movie. But you’re quite right that she would have no place. She only appears in a dream sequence. The set will be grand and mysterious, monumental, even. Picture the kind of thing done for
Cleopatra
.”

Cleopatra
. Right.

That particular movie was before her time and didn’t end too well for the Queen of the Nile, the way Zeni remembered it. “And you’re sure you want me to play Zenobia?”

“You have the striking look I want, plus that air of haughty, damn-your-eyes confidence,” he said with a swirling gesture around his own face. “It will translate well before the camera, I think. I’m seldom wrong about these things.”

Trey made a soft sound that might have been disbelief, but sounded more like disgust. It touched Zeni on the raw. “Well, of course,” she said without taking her gaze from the actor/director, “if you’re sure I’m right for the part, I’ll be happy to give it a try.”

“Excellent!” Peabody slapped the countertop. “You’ll have to do a screen test. And it goes without saying that you’ll need to change your appearance for it.”

“Now wait a minute,” she began.

“Not that you aren’t charmingly unique, up to a point, but you realize your personality must be submerged in that of Queen Zenobia. That will require a more classic look which can then be enhanced with makeup, jewelry and costume, but we do need to see a more simplified you.”

“Oh, but—”

“It will only be for the screen test, you understand. Well, and for the filming if the test goes well. Afterward, you can go back to being yourself, whatever that self may be. That’s if it’s what you want.”

Zeni almost told him to take his part and shove it. She was happy as she was, thank you very much. More than that, she resented the implication that she might be so affected by her experience as a bit player in his film that she might never be the same.

“And of course, I will be available if you have questions.” His smile turned intimate and his voice dropped to a lower register. “The two of us will be working closely on this scene—closely indeed, as I play the lead who intrudes on you, the great queen, during his dream. I would be pleased to give you my opinion on your appearance for the test.”

Trey walked to the counter, looming up behind the actor. “No need for that,” he said. “Zeni has friends who can tell her whatever she needs to know.”

Peabody turned on the stool to give Trey a fast up and down appraisal. “You among them, I suppose?”

“Head of the line,” Trey assured him.

“How very nice for her.” The man stood, deliberately turning his back on Trey without bothering to give his name or ask for one. To Zeni, he said, “My assistant will take your contact information and phone later with the date and location for the screen test. She will also provide a few lines for you to learn and speak on camera. I look forward to seeing how that turns out. Until then?”

Zeni said something in reply, though she wasn’t sure what. She stood with her chef’s knife still upraised in front of her while she watched Peabody and his assistant sweep out the door.

The whole thing had been so surreal, and over so fast, that she wasn’t totally sure it had happened. That was, until Derek Peabody was out of earshot.

Trey swore under his breath, a sound almost drowned out as Lance, Beau and the half a dozen other customers in the shop whooped and cheered.

It was true then. Everyone had heard the offer. She was in.

Zeni put down her knife. Moving in something close to slow motion, she turned to face Trey. A smile curved her mouth as she met the rain-cloud gray of his eyes.

“I won,” she said in dulcet tones.

“Now, Zeni—”

“I did. I won.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “The bet was for getting hired as an extra, not for a bit part.”

“Don’t crawfish. I won fair and square, and you know it. So—about that full-body massage?”

“You’re joking, right?”

She gave a slow shake of her head as she watched the hot color that crept up his neck and into his face. “And I don’t have any muddy boots, but you could paint my toenails. I have this new color called Tantalizing Teal.”

“I wasn’t going to make you do those things, I swear,” he said, perspiration breaking out on his upper lip. “I just couldn’t resist teasing a little.”

“Is that what you call it?” The room was growing quieter as the hubbub died away. She couldn’t spin this out much longer, nor could she embarrass him in front of his friends and neighbors, as tempting as it might be. “Then you won’t mind that I did the same.”

“You mean—” His expression went from panic to relief in a nanosecond. “Whew! I thought you meant it for a minute there.”

She pursed her lips and laid a finger alongside her cheek. “That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting you owe me. There is something you can do.”

The coffee shop went quiet so suddenly it seemed it must have a mute button. Trey’s eyes narrowed as he realized, as she did, that they were the focus of every eye in the place. He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple rose and fell in the strong brown column of his throat.

“And that would be?”

“You can spend a day helping me get ready for this bit part, just as you said, making me look like someone who could be Zenobia the Warrior Queen.”

Trey’s eyes narrowed in appraisal as they rested on her, almost as though he’d never really looked at her before. If he was aware that everyone in the coffee shop was waiting for his answer, he gave no sign. The seconds ticked past before he inclined his head in slow and considered agreement.

“Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me, but—when do we start?”

Trey felt more than a little self-conscious as he stood in the living area of the apartment above the coffee shop that Zeni rented. It was the first time he’d been upstairs here since she’d moved into the space. It didn’t look the same at all. In fact, it looked like Zeni, he thought, a weird mixture of the exotic, trendy, and staid.

She’d painted the walls mushroom gray—when had that happened?—and hung a collection of modern art prints with swirls and zigzags in vivid colors. A ceramic owl the size of a small dog sat on the antique mantle that was left over from when the place had been an old stage stop, while next to it was an antique French clock with spindly gilded legs topped by cherubs. A couple of giant seashells rested atop the bookcase in one corner. In front of the gray tweed sofa sat a carved camphor wood chest centered on a sisal rug, while flung over the cushions was what appeared to be a length of sari silk. If he wasn’t mistaken, it had little brass bells sewn along the edge of one end.

The whole place, like the coffee shop’s grill area below when Zeni was in charge, was scrupulously clean. The only thing out of place was a book lying on the chest that served as a coffee table, and the tea cup that sat beside it. She must’ve been up for a while, either out of habit or from being keyed up over the coming screen test.

She was usually down in the coffee shop making biscuits and frying sausage now, at four in the morning. Gloria was busy with that chore at the moment. Trey wasn’t too sure why Zeni wanted to get started on her Zenobia preparation so early, but he’d promised, so here he stood.

She’d let him in, but then disappeared into the bedroom. He wasn’t sure whether she intended to get dressed so they could go somewhere, or just change out of the short kimono she’d had on for a housecoat. It was all the same to him, either way, since his brain was still short-circuited by the sight of her pale thighs and elegantly shaped calves beneath the short hem as she’d walked away from him. His heart was still tapping on his ribs as if playing a xylophone.

It didn’t seem right, somehow, to make himself at home by taking a seat. He wandered to the bookcase and leaned closer to check out the titles; he’d read somewhere that looking at a person’s collection of books was like getting a peep into their minds, and he wouldn’t mind the insight. He lifted a brow as he saw biographies, poetry, philosophy, literary and feminist classics sharing space with romances and mysteries. He didn’t know why he was surprised, however; he’d figured out quite a while ago that Zeni was no dummy.

“What do you think?”

He snapped erect as Zeni spoke behind him. For a second, it was almost as if she’d read his mind. Then he saw that she held a clothes hanger in each hand, both with long evening dresses, and had a questioning look on her face.

“Well,” he began, at something of a loss.

“I looked up Zenobia on the Internet, and she was shown wearing a Roman robe and cloak in one painting and a jeweled gown, a crown and lots of jewelry in another.” She held up a long white dress with her right hand and a sequined number in black and gold with her left.

Trey looked from one to the other before he met her inquiring brown gaze. “Did Peabody say to show up in costume?”

“No. Why?”

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think that’s the way this screen test thing works. They just want to know how your face picks up the light, what its planes and angles look like through the camera lens, maybe what your voice is like. After that, it’s whether you can read a few lines and make them sound natural.”

“It’s a bit part. I doubt I’ll have much to say.”

“Yeah, so it’ll be mostly about your face and hair, and maybe how you move.”

“And you know this how?” Suspicion was strong in her voice.

He shrugged. “I can look up things on the Internet, too.”

“I don’t know,” she said after a moment, still studying the dresses she held. “It seems dressing the part should help.”

“It’s not really about the part, since they can work on that later. It’s about how you come across on film.”

She sighed, and then stepped to the sofa, throwing the two dresses across the arm. “Fine, if you say so.” She dusted her hands as if done with one idea and ready for the next. “Where do we start on that?”

Trey knew better than to answer in words; it would just get him in trouble. Folding his arms over his chest, he cocked his head to one side and studied Zeni with care, studied her for the pleasure of it. He already knew what he wanted to do, since he’d thought of little else for several hours during the night just past.

“Trey—” Nervousness and irritation were strong in her voice.

“Shh. I’m thinking.”

“Well, don’t take too long, or I’m going to tell Derek Peabody to forget the whole thing!”