Miss Congeniality (5 page)

“Good. I want you to feel me, and know this—” he rocked against her again “—is all for you. I’m not like your other guys. I’m not nice, and it won’t be pretty. But you’ll beg.” He bit her ear lobe softly. She was burning up and about ten seconds away from hopping on the bar and spreading her legs for him before he jerked away from her. Brea stumbled from the loss of contact, embarrassed by her reaction to him, staring into green eyes flashing in anger.

“Listen, Brea, this ain’t a fucking game. You want me? That’s fine. Jealous because you think I took some girl in the back room? I didn’t, by the way, when all I’ve seen for the past three days is you, but I got no problem with that either. But if you want to be a cocktease in the middle of a cocktail party? You better be prepared to follow through with what you’re promising.” How in the hell this man brought her from hot and bothered to pissed and angry in the span of seconds would forever boggle her mind, but she wasn’t about to let him win their current tête-à-tête.

“That’s my damn point, which you continue to ignore. I don’t want you. I want you to leave me the hell alone.”

He scoffed. “You’ve got a hell of a way of showing it.”

“It doesn’t even matter. I’m not like that,” she argued, irritated he continued to ignore what she said. Again.

“You’re not like what? Because the only two times we have really interacted you have been like that. So, who are you? America’s sweetheart or harlot?” She opened her mouth to argue but shut it immediately. She couldn’t say anything; he was right. She had acted like a tease with him. In a bid for time, and ever cognizant of the media, she made sure to look around and make sure they weren’t drawing attention to themselves. For the most part, people were going about their business.

“Look, this just went too far. I apologize if I took it somewhere it shouldn’t have gone.” His eyes softened for a second before he replied.

“I’m not your enemy, but I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want you. I think I’ve made that perfectly clear the two times I’ve seen you and unless I am misreading the signs, I think you feel the same way.”

“I—” the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t force them past the lump which suddenly formed, her eyes stupidly filling with tears. There was no rhyme or reason behind the tears; all she knew was Lance was standing here asking her for something she was unwilling to give. Not now, maybe not ever. Because Brea Richards had promised herself when she passed that dilapidated farmhouse for the last time, she would never allow any man to have power over her the same way her mother had. “I can’t do this,” was all she said, desperate to get away from the stifling heat of the ballroom and the too-wise stare of Lance’s green eyes.

“Y
ou guys ready for tomorrow?” Raquel asked as she bit into her salad at lunch two days later. Shooting started the following day, and all three were expected to come in ready to start. Many people only saw the glamour of celebrity, but behind every successful actress were hundreds of hours of prep time, half of which won’t ever make it in the final cut. Then add in the long days of shooting and months of grueling work with very few breaks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Clare took a long sip of her water.

“Hey, I meant to ask you, how is Jason?” Brea hadn’t seen either one of them since the party, so she had no idea what went on between Clare and Jason afterward.

Clare rolled her eyes. “Dramatic. After he woke up the next day realizing he had acted like an asshole, he got really upset and started begging me not to leave him.” Brea snorted, thinking about Jason on his hands and knees crying. Clare shook her head, laughing at the memory.

“It was ridiculous. Here is this grown-ass man crying in my living room because I don’t want a relationship with him. So, after I got him calmed down—” she gestured wildly with her hands, getting worked up the more she talked about it, “—I told him I was not telling him no but it wasn’t a yes either.”

Raquel stared in disbelief. “Are you serious? Please tell me you are NOT going to continue to see him.”

Clare shrugged her shoulders in frustration. “I don’t know. He’s not a bad guy; he just wants more than I can give.”

“And what happens next time you explain it will only be sex? The kid is going to end up rocking himself in the corner of your room holding a stuffed animal, sucking his thumb, and calling for Mommy.”

Clare chuckled, holding up her hand palm at Raquel. “Stop. I am going to take a couple of days and figure it out.”

Raquel looked confused. “What is there to figure out? Is Jason that good of a lay?” Clare’s face turned red as she started picking at her salad.

Raquel lost it, laughing so hard she had to grip the table lest she fall over. “OH. MY. WORD. Who would’ve thought?” Clare squirmed in her chair, looking at Brea for help, but Brea just shook her head. She was not stepping into this conversation for anything. Raquel was like a damn dog with a bone, and Brea didn’t want to bring any attention to herself.

“Look,” Clare said forcefully, hoping to ward off any additional argument. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I know you won’t leave me alone until I tell you. He does this thing with his tongue which makes me lose my fucking mind. I can’t help it; I may be addicted to sex with him.”

Raquel stared at her like she was an idiot. “Really? That is what you are hanging your hat on? What are you going to tell him? ‘Jason, I think you’re becoming bat-shit crazy, but I am so obsessed with your tongue I can’t seem to let you go?’ Give me a break and cut his ass off.”

“I’ll think about it,” Clare mumbled, still picking at her salad.

Raquel threw her hand up in frustration. “Sure you will.” Raquel turned, looking at Brea. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”

“Me?” Brea squeaked, clearing her throat nervously. “What did I do? You were talking to her.” She pointed at Clare, hoping Raquel latched back onto her instead. Raquel smirked, knowing what she was doing.

“And now I’m talking to you. What the hell happened at the party after we left?” Raquel leaned forward, giving Brea her undivided attention. Brea wanted to die and could feel her face heating, knowing she was talking about the photographs, which emerged the day after the party. She and Lance were not able to dispel the rumors of a relationship after the picture of him leaned up against her whispering in her ear. A picture was worth a thousand words, and it certainly looked as though they wanted to have sex against the bar.

“Nothing happened.”

“Oh, okay. Raise your hand if you believe her.” Raquel looked around, and true to form, neither Brea nor Clare raised their hand. She smirked at Brea.

Brea narrowed her eyes. “Why do you always have to be so damn sarcastic?”

“It’s all part of my allure. Besides, I didn’t get my reputation by acting like Driving Miss Daisy.”

Brea looked to Clare and pointed at Raquel. “Why are we still friends with her?”

“Comedic relief. Plus, I’m with her. What happened? I need some interesting news after all the shit with Jason.” Brea sighed dramatically—some friends she had.

“Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to believe what the media says?”

“I don’t believe what the media says. I am asking my friend what the hell is going on with her and Lance. You said the other day you hadn’t met the guy, couldn’t stand him, but all of a sudden there are pictures of you guys dry-humping at the promo party.” Brea glanced at Clare, who was staring with rapt attention, and knew there was no way she was getting out of this. She briefly considered lying, but thought better of it.

“I don’t know.”

“What does that mean?” Of course, Raquel would ask that, unsatisfied with Brea’s vague answer.

“I’m not trying to bullshit you or be deliberately vague. I really have no clue what the hell we are doing.”

“When did this start?” asked Clare, who saw her opening to speak.

“The original press conference. It started with that damn wink. When the guy said something, I went to respond and Lance squeezed my leg to stop me.”

“Really? Why am I just now hearing about it?” Raquel looked offended, which only irritated Brea. The whole situation irritated her; Lance’s arrogance, the media shit storm, Raquel and Clare questioning her, and the way her body seemed to betray her whenever she got in his presence.

“Because I thought we had settled it! But, apparently, we haven’t because he still wants me, and I still get wet just thinking about the man!” Brea shouted before realizing what she just said. Clare’s eyes widened while Raquel looked taken aback.

“Um…okay. Wasn’t expecting that one.” Brea was going to kill Raquel, who refused to leave her alone. Now she was talking about how sexually aroused Lance made her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Brea said quietly, turning red at her outburst.

Raquel just wouldn’t let up. “But—”

“No. No!” Brea said more forcefully. “I have no clue what Lance and I are doing and until I know, I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Are you going to have sex with him?” Clare asked quietly, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention since Brea had gotten a little loud.

Brea rubbed her hands through her hair, gripping her neck. “Again, I don’t know and when I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“After Lance,” Raquel piped in, prompting laughs from all three.

“Of course after Lance, I’m not having sex with myself.” Brea rolled her eyes and dug into her salad, the conversation blessedly over.

Brea loved being on set. There was nothing quite like the natural high she received from being around all the hustle and bustle which came with constant shooting. It was so noisy that when they weren’t shooting, she often missed it. Briefly, she wondered if she should try to fill her time with other jobs when they were on their extended breaks. Then she remembered she liked her sleep, and the fourteen-hour days only worked if there was an end date.

“Brea!” Jonah, the very temperamental director, was calling her name. This was his fourth year on the show, and Brea was convinced he was a sadist with all the work he made the cast and crew do in the short time he had them in his grips. She rushed over, not wanting to give him any ammunition by not coming quickly.

“Yes?” she asked breathlessly, so focused on him she didn’t realize who was standing behind him until Jonah pointed. Lance. He stood, feet shoulder-width apart, with his arms crossed and his lips pressed in a thin line.
Yeah,
she thought warily,
guess he’s still upset with me.
She smiled, perking up at the idea she had pissed him off. He had certainly pissed her off enough with his high-handedness and his pathetic attempt at seduction.

“I need to see how you and pretty boy over here shake up,” Jonah said bluntly, ignoring Lance’s cry of protest at being called pretty. “I’ve been reading the papers.” He raised his eyebrow at Brea. “However, you and I both know most of what they report is bullshit. But I need to see how you two connect.” Brea nodded her head; she hated this part of the job. She would be unable to get away from him. They would be ‘dating’ on
Maggie Beach
this season, and so she was forced to get up close and physical with him.

“Do you want me to get ready first?” Brea asked desperately in a bid for time. She knew what he was going to have them do: go through some of their lines, and maybe kiss. She was NOT ready for that, especially after all her unresolved feelings from their kiss the other day.

“No, I want you to get your stuff and go through a couple of scenes while everyone else gets ready.”
All righty then
, Brea thought,
here goes nothing.

Forty-five minutes later and Brea was ready to cry. Or kill Lance. Either one would make her feel better, although the thought of shedding his blood gave her a better feeling of satisfaction. It had been ridiculously awful. Never one to have stage fright, she seemed to forget everything she had rehearsed the last couple of days when she stared into those green eyes. And he knew it, the bastard, and he played right into it. He ran a finger down her cheek, causing her to jerk back, or put his hand on the small of her back at one point, causing her to stiffen. Jonah kept yelling, telling her to loosen up and fucking act, causing her to become more and more agitated. She knew who was to blame, and he was staring at her sympathetically when Jonah ran off talking about working with a bunch of amateurs. He moved toward her, but she refused the gesture, simply shaking her head and walking off to break down alone.