4. Avery
I scream.
I’m just sitting down to a relaxing lunch on the patio when someone comes barging out of the bushes. I react by instinct: grabbing the nearest thing to me and hurling it right at them.
Of course, it would be better if that thing was a fearsome weapon and not, you know, my salad bowl.
“Get back!” I yell, waving my arms in what I hope is a threatening defensive stance. “I know Krav Maga!”
The trespasser brushes arugula off his shirt with a growl. “Jesus Christ, woman, you damn near gave me a heart attack.”
It’s Duke. Covered in lemon-shallot dressing, shaking sunflower seeds out of his hair – and glaring at me with pure loathing.
Whoops.
I sag back against a chair. “You’re the one who scared me!” I blurt, my heart still racing from the shock.
“Oh yeah?” he snorts. “Take a look in the mirror, princess. You’re straight out of my worst nightmare.”
A nightmare?
Crap. I realize I’m wearing my infrared light mask. I quickly take it off, and place it carefully on the table. “It’s a top-of-the-line system, it tightens pores, and reduces fine lines,” I tell him archly. “And excuse me for thinking I had some privacy in my own backyard!”
Duke looks me over. “Yeah, it’s clear you weren’t expecting company,” he says, his lips twitching in a smirk as his gaze drifts over my ratty sports bra, athletic shorts, and layers of various moisturizing product smeared all over my skin, hair, and… other places.
I figured I’d take the afternoon at home for some serious beauty treatments, so slathered on my best skincare, body products, and deep conditioning hair mask. Now, I cringe, glad at least that my blushing cheeks are hidden under a thick layer of hyaluronic goop. He’s right, of course, there’s no way I’d let anyone see me like this. If he had been a paparazzi lurking in the brambles…
Well, let’s just say a leaked sex tape would be less damaging to my career than getting caught looking like a monster from the planet Hydrating Goo.
Typical Hollywood: it’s practically a full-time job keeping up the beauty treatments to be camera-ready, but God forbid anyone see the kind of effort it takes. “Oh no,” we all laugh, in magazine profiles. “I just wear a little sunscreen and mascara, that’s all.”
Mascara, my ass.
But I’m guessing Duke isn’t interested in my rants about unattainable beauty standards, so I just fix him with a glare. “It’s called self-care. You might want to try it, you could use a little hydration in the under-eye department.”
I pick up my bowl and fork from the ground, and stalk into the kitchen.
Duke follows.
“I hydrate just fine,” he grumbles. “I don’t need fake hundred-dollar face creams to do it for me.”
“Oh, sweetie,” I give a little laugh. “You think any of this costs a measly hundred bucks?” I strike a pose. Yes, I’m playing up the spoiled princess routine, but I can’t help it. This man is infuriating! “Anyway, you still haven’t told me what you were doing skulking around back there.”
Duke slams his toolbox on the table. “I came to do you a favor and see about that leak.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“Can’t a man do a good deed for someone without the Spanish Inquisition?” Duke scowls right back at me.
“Sure they can,” I agree. “Not you. So again: why?”
Duke huffs a sigh. His gaze slides away from me. “I maybe shouldn’t have left you on the highway,” he mutters, shifting on his feet.
“You feel guilty!” I crow. “So now you’ve come to try and assuage all that guilt with some poxy home repairs.”
“Assuage?” Duke echoes, that smirk of amusement back on his lips.
I tense. Clearly, he thinks I’m a bimbo who can’t string two words together.
“Yes, I read,” I inform him icily. “It’s part of my job. Reading lines, and all.”
He’s still smirking, so I scowl. “What? You can’t imagine a woman being literate?”
“Nah, it’s just hard to take you seriously looking like a blue alien.” Duke sniffs exaggeratedly. “What is that stuff?”
“Sea kelp. But I think that’s you who needs the shower,” I add sweetly. “I made an anchovy dressing, and now it’s all over you.”
Duke recoils, frantically swiping at his shirt. “What in god’s name are you doing putting anchovies in anything?”
“I happen to like them,” I reply airily. “They add umami.”
“They add disgusting, that’s what they add.”
“I’ll remember that, the next time I host you to dinner,” I snap back. I point to the stairs. “Bedroom.”
“Don’t you want to get to know me first?” Duke drawls with a smirk.
I roll my eyes. “The leak’s in the bedroom. Try not to rifle in my underwear drawer while you’re up there.
Duke snorts. “If they’re anything like what you’re wearing now, I’ll be just fine.” He hoists his toolbox and heads upstairs.
I wait until he’s out of sight, and then dash to the powder bathroom.
“Noooo,” I stifle a wail, seeing my reflection in all its smeared, goopy glory.
No wonder Duke couldn’t keep from laughing, I look like a freak!
I quickly scrub and rinse, until I’ve gotten most of the products off me, then I smooth down my wet hair and find a T-shirt to throw on over my sports bra. Not that it matters, I remind myself. He’s the one walking around in scuffed boots and faded flannel. He probably wouldn’t know a pore strip if it gagged him.
Now, there’s a tempting thought…
My phone sounds in the kitchen. I go scoop it up, my heart leaping when I see it’s my agent, Max.
“Hey!” I exclaim hopefully. “Did you talk to the producers about the audition for Madeline? What did they say?”
“Madeline?” Max echoes, sounding confused.
My hopes bump back down to earth. “You know, the director, Madeline Marrone? You were going to find out when she’s casting her next project.”
“Oh, yeah, no we didn’t connect just yet. But I have great news,” he continues quickly. “The Motel Nightmare people have upped their offer. They’ll get you shot in three weeks, executive producer credit, all the bells and whistles. Isn’t that great?”
“I said ‘no’,” I answer flatly. “I’m not doing it.”
“At least meet with them,” he urges me, “Hop on a video call. These movies are box office gold, and the director’s a great kid, really visionary. He wants to subvert the usual horror expectations and make something really quality.”
“Oh yes?” I ask, skeptical. “And this subversive vision wouldn’t happen to include me running around in my bra and panties, covered in blood, before some guy brutalizes me with a pickaxe?”
Max coughs. “I, uh, haven’t seen the final script just yet.”
I figured.
“Look, I hate to be blunt, but the market’s tough right now,” Max continues. “Do you want to book a role or not? I know we had a plan, bigger and better things, but this is the only offer we’ve had all month, and everyone else who was interested isn’t returning my calls since…” He trails off, but I know what he’s not saying.
“Since I ran out on my wedding and turned into a tabloid joke.” I finish quietly, feeling a a pang.
Who could have known that saying ”I don’t” would tank my once-promising career?
Max sighs. “Look, if you want to hang tight and wait this out, I’m with you. Maybe it’ll all blow over soon enough and things will swing back around. But you should know, there’s a risk we wait too long. I don’t want you calling me a few months from now, begging to get a meeting with the horror folks, but they’ve already moved on.”
I swallow hard. “We wait,” I tell him, sounding more confident than I feel. “I’m not taking five steps back now, not after how far I’ve come. It’ll all be fine.”
“You’re the boss,” Max agrees, then hangs up, while I stand there in the kitchen with the bitching I overheard at the gas station echoing in my mind again.
She should have married him when she had the chance.
“All set.”
I startle, whirling around. Duke is leaning in the doorway – and he’s stripped off his anchovy-covered flannel, so he’s just wearing a white T-shirt with his jeans.
A soft-looking, threadbare white T-shirt that clings to his thick, muscular torso and stretches to breaking point over his biceps…
“Really? That’s great!” I snap my eyes away and flash a breezy smile.
“Turned out to be a roof tile loose. I patched it up, so you shouldn’t have any problems in the next storm. Not from that, anyway,” Duke takes a dubious look around. “Can’t promise you don’t have dry mold or termites elsewhere though.”
“They can stay the summer, as long as they keep to themselves.” I beam, nonchalant, trying to pull myself together, but Duke just gives me a suspicious look.
“I’ll be going then.”
“Right. Thanks!”
I steer Duke to the front door. He glances at once of the massive splotchy canvases hanging in the hallway, and lets out a low whistle of amusement. “I heard Jacee was on the crazy side, but I’ve never seen it up close.”
I bristle automatically. “She’s not crazy, she’s artistic.”
“You like this stuff?” Duke cocks an eyebrow, looking down at me.
“Sure,” I lie. “It’s… very expressive. And… really conveys a sense of mood… and, um… intention,” I add, grasping for artsy-sounding things to say.
Duke’s smirk grows. “And what, exactly, do you think the artist was intending to convey with this piece?” he asks, gesturing to the canvas.
I take a step back, looking at it properly for the first time. There’s a swirly dark blue background, and a kind of thick peachy column in the middle, looming up with two mounds at the base?—
Oh.
I strangle a laugh. “Anatomy has always been inspiring,” I manage, trying not to break down in giggles. Because hanging there on the wall is what seems to be a massive, jutting, lovingly-painted…
Penis.
It’s a giant cock. Hanging in pride of place in the hallway. The first thing any visitor is lucky enough to see when they walk in the room.
I kind of want to meet this crazy artist now, because I’m guessing she’s got some balls on her. Fleshy, abstract kind of balls.
“Inspiring, huh?” Duke looks just as amused.
My cheeks ache, trying to keep a straight face. “Sure! I mean, think of Rodin’s statues, the classic Greeks…”
“Real classic,” Duke grins.
“Let me guess, your idea of art is a nice Bob Ross print?”
Duke’s smile disappears. “Damn, I ain’t been to the big city to see them fancy artist shows.”
I wince. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Yeah, you did,” Duke gives a low chuckle. “You think I’m some dumb blue-collar townie.”
“Just like you think I’m some vapid Hollywood bitch who can’t string, like, two words together,” I shoot back, chirping in a Valley girl voice.
“So, we’re agreed then.” Duke scowls at me, our brief moment of art-loving truce well and truly over.
“Yup. Thanks for the help,” I say, pointedly opening the door and standing back for him to leave. “If I have any more problems with the roof… I won’t call you.”
“Good.”
“Good,” I echo, folding my arms.
Duke stands there in the doorway, annoyance flashing clearly in his eyes. Then his gaze slips to my mouth. His jaw tightens. My breath catches in my throat, and for the craziest moment, I could swear he’s about to lean in and kiss me…
Then he stomps past and out of the house without a backwards glance.
I exhale in a whoosh, sinking back against the wall.
Kiss Duke?!
I try to ignore the way my pulse is suddenly racing. From shock and disgust at the idea, I’m sure.
Kiss him? Ha! I’m more likely to slap the man right in that insolent mouth of his.
And clearly, the feeling is mutual.