Chapter 21 The escape hatch is this way.
The escape hatch is this way.
Josie
IT’S WEDNESDAY BEFORE I see Sean again. He’s been off filming action scenes in the green screen studio, but today, the main cast is back, there are no aliens needed, and I have the rare pleasure of having him on my makeup schedule.
Jason Connor slides into Li Jing’s chair. “You ready, Mr. Connor?” they ask.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good morning, Mr. O’Sullivan,” I say, attempting to imitate their polite demeanor.
Sean side-eyes me as he takes his seat. “That’s so weird. Promise me you’ll never do that again.”
“Yes, because professionalism is so early 2000s.”
“Calling me Sean is still professional. You just can’t use my sexy names. Seanilicious. Captain Underpants. Mayor Satisfaction of Lovetown.”
“There are other people in the room!” Jason calls from his seat.
“Sit still, Mr. Mayor,” I say, “and stop moving your mouth, if that’s possible.”
I sweep the blond lock of hair off his forehead and secure it with a clip. He closes his eyes as I brush a cotton ball with micellar water across his cheeks.
“How is controlling the narrative going?” he murmurs.
“I guess not moving your mouth isn’t possible.”
“I bought three of your Sean-osie paintings, by the way.” One eye pops open. “Guess which ones.”
Oh no! He knows I’ve been painting us. And some of that art is steamy. “I don’t think I want to.”
“I thought you wanted people to forget about you. Did you change your mind?”
It’s a fair question. “More like pivoted. No matter how hard I tried to get people to hate me, they just… wouldn’t.
But they were happy to buy my art. And they asked for paintings of you and me, so I gave them what they wanted.
” It’s the truth. I’ve been painting like a madwoman this past week, and my Etsy store is hopping, my bank account along with it.
“Capitalism for the win, I guess.”
“Don’t judge. If people see me as an artist, they aren’t tempted to see me as anything else. In that way, I’m controlling the narrative.”
Eyes closed, he holds a fist out for a bump. “I’m proud of you.”
I bump it. “Thanks.”
“Does that mean you’re coming to Da’s party with me tomorrow night?”
I hesitate. I’ve thought about this—a lot. “I can’t, Sean. Things are going really well, but I’m sure a big part of that is because we haven’t been seen together for a week, and Emmy’s been policing Peyton’s social media.”
He squints at me. “So, you’re reneging on our deal?”
“The deal was that people had to forget about me. They haven’t.”
“Only because you’re turning them into customers!”
“I’m sorry, Sean. I took your advice, and this is the way it unfolded. If things quiet down, I’ll go with you, pinkie promise. Now hold still so I can do your makeup.”
I can tell he’s not happy by the way he’s got a frown on even when he’s supposedly relaxing his facial muscles.
I feel bad. I do. I would love to attend a swanky party in Vegas with him.
I’d love to be on his arm, have him catch my eye and smile, let our hands touch like they did that night in his car, and give him that kiss he keeps asking for.
Maybe more. But we can’t always get what we what.
I squirt a moisturizing primer onto my bare fingertips and begin to massage it into his skin.
His eyes are closed, so it’s easy for me to study all the details.
He has a strong brow with just a few subtle worry lines, but they give him the look of a leader.
His nose has the tiniest hook shape—captainly.
His skin is the skin of a person who takes care of it.
His facial hair is perfectly trimmed, the shave around it close with just the faintest bit of razor burn at the neckline, but I’ll cover that up.
His lips naturally pucker, even when at rest, like he’s in a perpetual state of having just bitten into a peach, sucking the juice to keep it from running down his chin.
I adjust the angle of his head. He lets me do it. Doesn’t fight, doesn’t try to help, just lets me do whatever I want. It’s more arousing than it should be.
I dip my sponge into the foundation and dab it onto the tip of his nose, his cheeks and chin, and across his forehead.
Then I blend. As I do, my traitorous brain imagines it’s my lips working their way across these places instead of my sponge, and he’s just lying here, eyes closed, letting me do it.
When I get to his mouth, I hesitate. He doesn’t need base on his lips, but for the purposes of this fantasy, I brush the sponge across them.
His eyelids flutter, and I feel myself suck in a breath.
For the love of God, Josie, be professional! Is it really that hard?
I turn to my tools. Nice, safe, unsexy tools.
“Can I get your help with something?” Sean asks.
“Of course.” My voice comes out way too husky. It’s a wonder the whole room can’t smell the pheromones I’m giving off.
“Kennerman reached out to that studio with the Mexican sci-fi show, and now I have to learn some lines in Spanish.”
“His Spanish is terrible,” Jason calls from Li Jing’s chair. “Help him. Please!”
A tiny thrill sparks inside me. They took my advice and called Juan Ernesto! His show is getting noticed by Hollywood. “Don’t they give you a coach for that?” I ask, keeping my voice level.
“Yeah, but—”
“Yeah, but he sucks so bad the language coach isn’t enough,” Jason answers.
“Shut up, Hard-On,” Sean grumbles.
“I’d be happy to help you.” I check my sketches. He’s getting a white star on his face today. Very ABBA. “Any news on Seamus?”
“He gets in tomorrow.”
“The day of your dad’s party?”
“Yep.”
“Are you taking him?”
“He’s not invited.”
“Híjole,” I say.
“What?”
“Híjole. It’s like saying whoa or wow in Mexico. So, he’s just going to stay at your place while the rest of your family is celebrating your dad’s birthday in Vegas?”
“I feel terrible about it, but my da doesn’t want him there.” Sean shrugs in his seat in a way that doesn’t make his head move. “They don’t even want him to know it’s happening.”
I’m gentle with the black eyeliner around his eyes, but he’s used to this and doesn’t flinch or squint. “Are you worried about him being alone in your house?”
“Rory will be there to keep an eye on him most of the time.”
I start lining the gems around the perimeter of the star. I don’t know how Sean manages to make this look manly, but somehow, he does.
“Mm, your breath smells like mint,” he says.
“I ate a tube of toothpaste for breakfast.”
As if on cue, Yesenia pops her head in. “Breakfast, anybody?”
I smile at her in greeting. “Dos tacos de papa, por favor, m’amiga.” I look at Sean. “You want anything?”
He repeats my order in a clunky accent, but Yesenia smiles. “I’ll do his the way you like yours,” she tells me in Spanish.
“What did she say?” Sean asks.
“She said she’s going to give you brain tacos instead.”
“That’s not a thing,” Sean says.
“It’s a thing,” Jason and Li Jing reply in unison.
He shakes his head. “Would it kill you to give me a straight answer?”
I suppress a smile. Teasing him is so fun.
“Hey, you’re in luck,” I say, changing the subject.
“You have a native Spanish speaker right here who might be willing to give you an opinion on your accent.” I look to Yesenia, and she nods her approval.
“Why don’t you go ahead and read her one of your lines? ”
Sean dutifully lifts his script in front of his face where he can read it without looking down. “La escotilla de escape está por aquí.”
Yesenia giggles and shrugs. “It’s okay.”
But she’s just being polite. He butchered it. I repeat the sentence correctly for him and explain, “It’s escotilla like tortilla, not escotilla like Godzilla.”
“I knew that.”
“And you pronounce all the es in escape. Es-CA-pay.”
His shoulders rise as he blinks hard and gets into character. His green eyes burn at Yesenia from inside the copious amount of black eyeliner I just applied. “?La escotilla de escape está por aquí!”
“?órale, capitán!” Yesenia replies.
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Well done. I think she’s gonna safely make it to the escape hatch.”
I wink at Yesenia, who bites her lip to stanch a big grin.
Just then Jason Ramirez appears behind her like a mountain rising out of the sea.
Startled, she shrieks, jumps, and practically crumples to the ground.
Ramirez catches her, apologizing profusely in Spanish.
When she finally gets to her feet again, she’s beet red.
I guess we all know who her celebrity crush is now.
“Almost ready in here?” Ramirez asks. “Hair is waiting.”
“Ready.” I whip the hair clip off Sean.
“Ready,” Li Jing echoes.
Sean and Jason launch from their chairs, and I can’t help but smile.
With these three superhunks bustling for the door, it does kind of feel like we’re hapless space travelers about to be saved by raw sex appeal and dance moves.
As he clears the door, Sean shouts, “!La escotilla de escape está por aquí!” He botches it again, but not as badly.
My phone chimes. It’s a message from Miguel.
Miguel: Hey, guess what? Juan Ernesto got a phone call from some Hollywood bigwigs about Más Allá de las Estrellas. I can’t say anything yet, but things are happening, and they’re good!
Warmth spreads across my chest. First, Sean mentioned a collaboration and now Miguel has confirmed it. If I could have a hand in helping my stepdad’s studio and my friends’ careers, it’ll be a tiny bit of recompense for blowing everything up twelve years ago. I type a quick reply.
Savannah: That’s great news! Keep me posted, will you? I don’t want to miss a thing.