Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Fifteen minutes late despite having left her parents’ place twenty minutes early, Bryn pulled her van up to a gatehouse. So much for first impressions. She was late, flustered, sweaty, and in skinny jeans. Old skinny jeans she hadn’t seen since college.
The guard at the gate, a guy her age with Danny emblazoned on his polo, gave her a double take that would’ve been funny if it didn’t highlight how out of place Bryn was.
Mortification flashed like hot lava over Bryn’s skin and she hoped Danny would mistake it for borderline heatstroke. “Oh, I’m not—I’m here on non-plant related business,” she tried to joke, but her mouth was so freaking dry.
He furrowed his dark brows. “A social visit?”
“Well, not exactly, but the African violets come in peace.” She lifted the small potted plant from her cupholder.
Danny looked like he’d almost given her a pity chuckle. “What’s your name?”
“Bryn Garbo,” she replied like she wasn’t sure and instantly wished for a do-over. She was a professional, damn it. She belonged here.
He tapped on his screen. A moment later, his eyes widened in surprise. “Bryn Garbo,” he repeated, like he couldn’t believe she wasn’t lying. “You’re on Ms. del Castillo’s list.”
“You say that as if you expected me to be a covert paparazzo.” She relaxed her shoulders, realizing for the first time that she hadn’t really expected to get through the gate. Like it had all been a cruel joke.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” He took her driver’s license and ran it through a reader. “Plenty of fake florists have tried to come through here.”
“So what am I in for?” Bryn asked when he handed back her ID. “Any advice before I storm the castle?”
He gave her an apologetic look and hit a button that opened the heavy gate. “Avoid direct eye contact.”
“What? Like with a bear?” she asked with a nervous laugh.
Danny nodded, expression unsettlingly serious.
More nervous than she’d been all weekend, Bryn drove slowly while searching for 108.
With houses so far apart from each other, it would be impossible to miss her destination, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Relieved when she finally found the house, and grateful that gate was open, Bryn pulled in.
She was thinking about how gates within gates seemed pretty redundant and incredibly claustrophobic when she reached for her bag and enormous water bottle. When she got out of the van, she jumped at the sight of a woman standing next to her.
“Jesus,” Bryn shrieked.
The woman, curly salt and pepper hair blowing in the sweltering breeze, smiled at her instead of outwardly judging her jumpiness.
“Ms. Garbo,” she said in greeting. “My name is Iris. Can I help you bring anything down from your…” She eyed the Plantamonium logo splashed on the side of the van. “Vehicle?”
“No, um, I’ve got it.” Bryn slung her bag over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she added before reaching in to grab the plant. “Oh, and hi.” She kicked the door closed and extended the hand not juggling too many things toward Iris. “Please call me Bryn.”
Iris shook her hand, attention on the plant.
“My mom’s real big on not showing up empty-handed,” Bryn explained as they walked up the massive circular driveway. Instead of going up the steps to the huge front entrance, they took a stone path around the side to yet another gate.
“That’s very thoughtful,” Iris replied, like she wasn’t so sure.
“African violets aren’t a lot of work,” Bryn said but couldn’t help sounding defensive. “They can live up to fifty years as long as Vivian avoids over-watering it and keeps it in the shade.”
Iris opened the code-protected metal door. “Are plants your day job?”
Shame hit Bryn like a fiery meteor. She didn’t want them to know that all her voice acting work didn’t pay enough to live on.
Not when she was walking into a backyard fit for low-level royalty.
A huge pool, outdoor kitchen, sprawling garden, and a-whole-nother house.
The guesthouse wasn’t enormous, but the entirely bonus nature of it still impressed Bryn since she essentially rented a room.
“My family has had the plant nursery for generations,” Bryn explained without exactly answering the question. “My first job at twelve was to prepare the little soil pots for cuttings and seedlings.”
Iris led them around the pool and toward the guesthouse. “That’s very sweet,” she said, sounding like she meant it, and knocked on the door before opening it.
Relieved to be out of the heat, Bryn followed her inside.
The entire space appeared to be one giant room apart from what she guessed was a bathroom.
A living room with built-in bookshelves was across from the kitchen.
What she reasoned had once been a small dining area was now a celebration of Vivian’s accolades and achievements.
Awards and framed photos and clippings lined the walls.
Curiosity was pulling Bryn toward them when, behind her, the sound booth door popped open and out stepped Vivian del Castillo.
Bryn’s lungs failed her first. After doing it pretty regularly for the last twenty-nine years, breathing suddenly became a manual activity. Her brain short-circuited next, and she forgot she was holding a potted plant. Forgot until her grip slipped and she fumbled not to drop it.
Bryn had known Vivian was attractive. She had Google…and eyeballs. But photos didn’t do the woman justice. Tall, golden, and unforgivingly beautiful, Vivian moved toward her like embodiment of elegance.
Vivian’s blonde hair, a cascade of soft, honey-gold waves that fell just past her shoulders, seemed to catch the light and hold it captive.
It gave Bryn the sense that she was in the presence of a fairytale princess who had saved herself.
Who was all grown up and trying to live among the commoners.
But her hair was too reminiscent of a spun-gold crown.
It framed a face that was all sharp, elegant angles and regal contempt.
“You must be Bryn,” Vivian said, voice low and smooth and sliding straight down Bryn’s spine.
All Bryn had to do was stare a stunning, statuesque blonde in the face and say hello. That’s it. Just say hello and not look like an orangutan learning how to use a fork.
“Hi,” she managed, sounding like a fucking clarinet. “Nice to meet you. I brought a plant.”
Yup. Nailed it.
Dark eyes swept over Bryn, slowly and painfully unreadable. Vivian looked at her like she was skimming a menu at a restaurant she didn’t choose and wasn’t planning to enjoy.
“You’re late,” Vivian said like she was barely interested in being disappointed.
“Sorry, yeah.” Bryn shifted the bag on her shoulder.
Why the hell had she brought her mother’s ancient laptop?
Oh, right. Because the tablet she used for recording was in her damn tented house.
“I, uh, it won’t happen again.” She couldn’t possibly explain the termites.
Couldn’t stand to have Vivian associate her with vermin. Were termites vermin?
“It won’t,” Vivian agreed with complete confidence.
Iris mercifully broke the silence that bloomed between them like a mushroom cloud of awkwardness. “I can take that.” She gestured for Bryn to give her the plant that now looked so incredibly stupid in Vivian’s place.
Deciding it was probably weirder to insist on taking the damn thing back, Bryn gave Iris the bright purple violets. She set her bag down on the banquette by the door, leaving the laptop inside. She wouldn’t subject Vivian to the ancient Gateway.
The moment Iris was gone, Bryn half-wished she could go with her.
Had it been delusional to think she could rise to Vivian’s level?
Vivian with her extensive acting training and years of award-winning narration work.
Vivian who definitely didn’t earn extra money by moaning good girl for horny strangers on the internet.
Bryn stopped herself. She wasn’t ashamed of the audio erotica she created under a pseudonym. Over the last few years, she’d helped sapphics of all stripes connect to their sexuality. She had hundreds of emails and messages to prove it. She didn’t need a bunch of frames on the wall for validation.
Experience and talent weren’t the same thing.
And someone had listened to her audition and decided she was the best person for the job.
Probably many someones. She couldn’t let herself get in her head just because Vivian was talented and beautiful and a little terrifying in an excruciatingly sexy way.
“So…how do you want to do this?” Bryn asked, wrestling back control over her nerves. “Like, should we get to know each other a little first? Or we can discuss our takes on Maggie and Jo. I think—”
“We don’t need to know each other.”
Bryn blinked. “Oh. Cool. Totally. I mean, yeah. Who needs chemistry when you—”
“This isn’t a date. You don’t need to know me,” Vivian repeated before turning toward the booth. “You just need to sound like you want me.”
Bryn swallowed, but somehow it made her mouth drier.
“Cool,” she said, still sounding unsettlingly similar to a woodwind. “I can do that.”