Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ELODIE
“You suck, you know that, right?”
Pierre looked up from his sandwich, the wild expression on his face making it clear he was—frustratingly—confused by my declaration.
“You gonna tell me what I did?”
I huffed, crossing my arms as I finally took a seat on the low loveseat across from his desk. “It’s not what you did—it’s what you’re not doing.”
His expression shifted then, from baffled to amused. “El, I’ve already explained to you—I can’t tell you what you should do. That shit is up to you—and Shaw. That’s who you should be talking to.”
“I’m trying to figure out if I should talk to him about it,” I explained—for what felt like the tenth time. “Are you even listening?”
“Well, I was trying to have a working lunch, and then you stormed in here demanding my attention. So…barely?”
“ Ughhh! ” I groaned, standing again, to slide the wax paper holding his sandwich away from him. “I’m trying to be serious, here.”
“Me too,” he countered, pulling it back. “And I’m seriously not getting involved between you two. Especially after you didn’t listen to me before, and look where that landed you—broken up with.”
My mouth dropped open. “Wow. Wow. That’s cold.”
“Ain’t nothing cold about it,” he defended, talking around a mouthful of food. “I told you, Shaw wasn’t that type of dude. He didn’t have those kinds of red flags to be dogging you. I even put eyes on it so it wouldn’t just be a hunch—never any kind of proof, never any hints that he was on that. But you wouldn’t let it go—you decided you were right, and we were all wrong.”
“Yeah, and then I went to therapy,” I reminded him.
He wasn’t wrong, not at all.
I was.
And now, I was starting to get an inkling that maybe things between Shaw and I weren’t as dead as I’d previously thought, but I was not trying to make a fool of myself if I was wrong.
Again.
So I was asking the person who’d been right —my brother.
“You really think a year is enough to make a difference?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and striking up a casual back-and-forth sway.
“I…think I’m still learning, and maturing,” I admitted. “But I definitely think I’m in a better place. And I don’t want to sit around waiting while someone else decides he’s a catch and makes their move.”
Pierre hiked an eyebrow. “Ohhh, so is that what it really is? You’re scared somebody is gonna get him first—scared Stella is gonna spin the block?”
“Fuck Stella,” was my immediate response, accompanied by an eyeroll. Instead of letting the shit rest, she’d still been making little shady posts all over social media, but Chloe had been in my ass about responding.
Keeping me from responding.
“ When you join in on a clown’s performance, what does that make you? ”
Ugh.
“You say that, but does Shaw feel the same?” Pierre asked, and it was easy for me to counter with a nod.
“He hates this kind of thing. The pettiness and drama. He’s a lowkey guy. He just wants…peace.”
Pierre snorted. “And you think you’re ready to be that, instead of a problem?”
“I’m ready to try—as long as he’s doing the same,” I added, to which Pierre sucked his teeth.
“That was never really the issue in the first place though, was it?”
I flopped back down into a seat. “ Nooo ,” I had to admit. “I mean…honestly, he could probably be better at communicating and all that, but…I’m woman enough now to admit… I was the drama.”
“That’s big.” Pierre nodded. “I think that does a long way toward your supposed ‘readiness’ to give things another shot, but honestly, El…it’s either gonna work or it’s not.” He shrugged. “If you want to try it again…just try.”
“But what if he doesn’t want to?”
“Then he doesn’t, and you’ll have to be okay with that. And you will be okay with that. It’ll probably sting, yeah, but…shit happens. Might not want to approach it until after the show is done though,” he advised. “’Cause that would be awkward.”
An understatement, probably.
It was weird enough trying to manage my bodily reactions in intimate scenes now that we were on good terms—I couldn’t even imagine trying to perform with him fresh off a rejection . So, it was easy to take Pierre’s advice to heart—not necessarily bottling my feelings, but certainly not broaching the topic with Shaw.
Not even on late-night phone calls when he said things like anything for you, Ellie.
Like.
How was I supposed to take that?
Ugh.
Pierre was right.
It made more sense to focus on just being in a good place again, and whatever else came…we’d roll with it.
“Hey—what does that look like to you?” Shaw asked, with a subtle head nod toward where Vanessa and Alec were standing very close, speaking very animatedly about something.
I glanced around, taking in my other co-stars, plus the staff and crew for Kinfolk . This little celebration was very casual, everybody lowkey, exhausted from the day of shooting. Those two definitely looked more involved in a much deeper conversation than anybody else.
I turned to Shaw with a grin. “I don’t know…it looks like caking to me.”
Shaw sucked his teeth. “Nah, Alec can’t handle Vanity . That’s my boy, but…that’s Vanity .”
“He can maybe work with Vanessa though.” I laughed. “Especially when you factor in his character. Jude could definitely pull Vanity and Vanessa any day.”
“Really now?” Shaw grinned. “So you still like ‘em a little rough around the edges, huh?”
“I said he could pull her , not me .”
“So the blogs are all wrong about y’all, huh?”
“Oh my God, don’t do that!”
The news cycle had just turned over enough that nobody was talking about my parking lot incident anymore. And my imagined romance with Alec had run its course in record time—Stella’s little rant, and the subsequent speculation over whether it was because of Shaw, had overshadowed it. Aside from the little I said about it on Arnez and Arizona , I hadn’t spoken another word about it, and of course neither had Shaw. She was still yapping here and there, but Chloe had my Twitter fingers on lockdown.
I was right on the cusp of the supposed beef not being hot news anymore and couldn’t risk anything new happening or it would be right back on front street.
Which was so, so massively annoying to me.
I did not want or need the drama—a ledge Shaw among other people had already talked me down from, and I was cool now, but the fact remained.
I just wanted to make a good show.
And, we were well on our way—a sentiment the folks in charge clearly agreed with, since they were hosting this little get-together to celebrate as we were heading into premiere.
We’d reached the threshold Charlotte had been buzzing about—five episodes through filming and editing. The premiere date was already set— Nolan had set it, and publicized it—but she’d made it clear that if the schedule wasn’t right, there would not be a premiere.
We hit it though.
Which meant, as long as we stayed on trend, a new episode could be released every week, without having to do the breaks watchers hated so much. It was common with shows like ours that were still being filmed as new episodes came out—shit happened.
But not on a Charlotte Fox show.
Between her and Nolan, things were kept in great order—which was why we could celebrate now.
And we most certainly did.
Not overdoing it, but I didn’t feel bad allowing myself to let loose and indulge in the laughter and lightheartedness of the night.
And…the liquor.
Again, not overdoing it, not doing too damn much—I’d aged out of that, or at least, I liked to believe so. As such, I stopped myself when that little faint buzz of dizziness hit—but of course, not soon enough to not loosen my tongue.
Which was why, despite knowing better, I said, “If only the blogs knew how right they were about other things though…”
Shaw raised an eyebrow. “Things like what?”
“You know exactly what,” I countered, taking another sip from the icy plastic cup in my hand.
“Nah, be explicit.” He stepped in closer, smelling like fresh laundry and leather, wearing the very smirk that had gotten him into my panties that very first time, years ago. “What do they have right?”
“Me and you.”
“There’s a me and you?”
“There used to be—and they figured that out ‘cause of your little girlfriend,” I answered, pushing the hair back from my face—more out of nerves than anything else.
“It was never like that, I told you.”
“She sure came for me as if was like that,” I countered. “So I know for sure you were doing something to have her out here acting silly. A woman doesn’t do that for nothing. That’s another thing the blogs got right.” I laughed, thinking about the headlines that had bothered him so much.
The ones about his bedroom prowess.
“You say that like I did something wrong.”
“No, I’m saying it like I know exactly how right the dick is—so honestly…I understand where sis was coming from. I was pressed when I wasn’t getting it anymore too.”
Shaw’s mouth dropped open, head tipped to the side as even I processed what had just left my mouth.
“Whew. Um…I think I’m going to hit Tamra up and let her know I’m ready to go. Clearly , I’ve had a little too much to drink.”
I was already reaching into my pocket to get my cell phone when Shaw reached out, stopping me.
“I can take you,” he offered, then raised his cup in my direction. “I haven’t been partaking tonight.”
“Of course you haven’t, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes,” I teased, and he laughed.
“Nah, it ain’t that—I’ve got a couple shirtless scenes coming up, got to make sure it’s all tight and right,” he said playfully, patting himself on the non-existent gut.
I smirked. “I’m pretty sure I’m in those shirtless scenes with you and I will not be tight and right. I will be soft and fluffy.”
“Ain’t shit wrong with that,” he drawled, making me blush. “After you left here…what were you planning to get into?”
There it was, again.
The introduction to this dance we’d been doing over and over through the weeks—I kept myself busy on purpose to keep the noise, the drama, at a minimum. So my answer, when he asked, was always some time-passing thing or another.
Hanging out with my family.
My friends.
Running through lines.
Stuff he always respected.
Not this time though.
“Not a damn thing,” I answered, meeting his gaze. “What about you?”
That was always the other part of it—I wasn’t the only one with a life, of course; he had one too.
Very serious about his work, his rest, all that.
“Same as you—so we can take the long way and talk.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We talk all the time.”
“So? You don’t like talking to me?”
I shook my head. “Don’t even start. Let me say my goodbyes, and then…we can go?”
Why was I so damn nervous?
Anxiety gnawed at me as I made my way around the room, letting the appropriate people know I was heading out. A few minutes later—lightning speed, it felt like—I was tucked comfortably in the passenger seat of Shaw’s SUV.
Low radio.
Only the streetlights for illumination.
Quiet conversation between us.
Was this all he meant when he said he wanted to talk?
Somehow, that made me even more nervous.
He wasn’t playing about taking the long way, but he did eventually get me safely into the gate of my new apartment complex. I couldn’t hop out fast enough when he pulled into a visitor spot, but that should’ve been my clue that he planned to walk me up.
Which, you guessed it.
More nerves.
“Damn, I must be boring the shit outta you,” he drawled from behind me, on the way down my hall.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, turning to face him at my door.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You were hella quiet all the way here, and now you just seem…I don’t know. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“That feels like a lie, Ellie,” he said, pushing hands into his pockets.
Shit.
Even that was obscenely attractive.
“I just…I don’t want to say the wrong thing,” I said.
“What kinda thing could that even be?”
Immediately, my face grew hot with possibilities, but the one I landed on made me take a step away from him, pressing my back to the door. “I don’t know…but…we definitely should call it a night.”
He poked his lip out a little, nodded. “You’re probably right.”
“We’re still cool though?”
His eyebrow lifted. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Just…making sure.”