Release the Stars (2 page)

The alcohol made Charlie more forthright than she would normally be. “She now shares a bed with Christian Robson.” Apparently three margaritas hadn’t numbed all of Charlie’s pain, because it shot through her as if Jo had only broken up with her the week before, as opposed to months ago when it had actually happened.

“That’s a fact,” Nick said. “But, as you and I both know, because we are both reasonable adults, there are always two sides to every story.”

“Oh, stop playing devil’s advocate, already.” A weight settled in Charlie’s stomach, a weight she’d tried to outrun by moving west and taking up a writer’s position in Hollywood, working on the TV show based on her most successful books. Something she would never have done if Jo hadn’t broken up with her.

“It’s been almost a year, Charlie. It’s time to move on and to stop holding grudges. You’re only hurting yourself. Jo simply wants to know if you’ve settled in okay and how this town is treating you.”

Charlie pushed her half-full glass of margarita to the side. She’d had enough. “This… was not how it was supposed to go, Nickie. Me alone in this city full of fakes and wannabes. We had a good life in New York.”
Until Jo blew it
.

“I moved here, too, sweetie. I know better than anyone that the transition can be hard. But you have me. You’re not alone. And you’re working on the hottest show Hollywood has seen in decades.” Nick apparently wasn’t done with his cosmo, nor with his speech. “And self-pity is so unattractive.”

“It’s easy for you to say. You have Jason. You are adored by millions. You’re even friends with Ava Castaneda, for crying out loud.” Ava Castaneda was the goddess who hosted the popular cooking show
Knives Out
. Charlie’d had a TV crush on her for years.

“I was wondering when you would bring Ava up today.” Nick grinned at her. “I could introduce you, you know? Maybe that would cheer you up.”

Charlie just waved him off. “I’m sorry for becoming such shit company. Hearing about Jo still rubs me the wrong way.”

“I know, but look around you. Don’t tell me that, just because you and your ex-girlfriend broke up nine months ago, there’s no one here you could potentially be interested in. I declare the grieving period officially over here and now.”

Charlie wasn’t sure she’d ever be done grieving the loss of Jo Cook. Perhaps she wasn’t the easiest person to live with, but Jo had stayed with her for seven years, giving the impression that Charlie wasn’t too bad after all, only to do a runner when Charlie had least seen it coming. And with a man. No matter how hard she tried, Charlie couldn’t get over that fact.

“I’m drunk, Nickie,” Charlie said. “I think I’m ready to hit the hay.”

“You lesbians are supposed to drink us under the table.” Nick emptied his drink, then reached for Charlie’s glass. “You’re such a lightweight, Char. I thought I trained you better.” He chugged the rest of Charlie’s margarita. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Home, Charlie thought, where nobody waits for me. She nodded and followed Nick out of the bar.

CHAPTER TWO

“We could use an extra player on our softball team,” Liz said.

They were the only two people left in the writers’ room. Everyone else had gone for a smoke or a coffee.

“You could do the bar scene, of course, if that’s more your style,” Liz continued, “but for lesbians, joining a softball team is
the
best way to meet ‘like-minded’ women.”

Of course, Liz was a married woman herself. Instead of holding that against her, however, Charlie thought she should see it as an example of how things
could
work out in Los Angeles. “I don’t know. I’ve never played before.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’re American. It’s basically in your DNA. You could just come and watch the first time. Have a beer on the sideline. Meet the girls.”

Meet the girls.
Charlie didn’t know why, since arriving here—and since the brutal breakup with Jo—these words scared the hell out of her. She didn’t use to be like this. But being dumped had shattered a great deal of her confidence, and there was also the minor issue of being severely out of practice when it came to chatting up women.

“We have a training session tonight. Why don’t you join Sarah and me for a quick bite, and then we’ll go together?” Liz locked her gaze on Charlie’s, making it pretty clear saying no was not an option. “We’re a really fun bunch, even if I do say so myself.”

“Okay.” Charlie acquiesced. “I’m in. But tonight I’ll just be watching.”

“Excellent.” Liz held up her hand for a high five. Nobody ever high fived in New York. “Besides, I want you to meet someone.”

“What?” Inwardly, she told herself to relax. But she’d been telling herself that since the day she’d arrived in LA. It hadn’t worked thus far.

“Just kidding.” Liz shot her one of her goofiest smiles. “I think I know what you’re like by now. A writers’ room is a pretty intimate environment.”

“Tell me about it.” Charlie had worked alone in a quiet office for the better part of her writing career. It was her natural habitat—one she missed terribly. Stepping into a writers’ room for the first time had been an extremely stressful enterprise, and it had taken a few weeks before she’d gotten used to the interaction and the energy of working with fellow writers on a TV show. As far as stepping out of her comfort zone went, Charlie believed she’d done plenty of that already, what with moving west and changing her day-to-day life so drastically.

“Have I told you lately that this show is going to be awesome? I was so stoked to get hired for this. You have no idea.”

Charlie had more than an idea. From the very beginning, Liz had come out as her biggest fan. Good thing she had a wicked sense of humor and made Charlie laugh—a highly needed activity—on a daily basis, otherwise Charlie might have had to quit working on the show altogether.

When she initially met with her agent and some studio executives to discuss the TV rights to
Underground
—with Jo still firmly by her side—it was the endless fawning that had irritated her most. Not because she was averse to praise, but because, coming from a certain type of person, it sounded insincere. She knew when a person was going through the motions, putting on a show meant to charm her. Charlie was allergic to that giggly, high-pitched tone of voice even the most robust men adopted when trying to slither their way into a signed contract with her.

“Don’t stop now, Liz.” Charlie had started to think of Liz as another good friend in Tinseltown. “Tell me more.”

“I really want to show you off to my softball buddies. My popularity has grown exponentially since I started working on this show.”

“Okay. Okay. Enough.” Charlie evaluated Liz, who had big, round eyes and
always
wore a blazer.

“Thank goodness. I need to use the ladies’ room before we continue.”

Charlie walked out with Liz, leaned against a wall, and checked her phone. Nick had posted a picture of him and his dog, Annie, on Instagram, and Charlie clicked
like
. The next picture in her stream was one posted by Ava Castaneda. Unfortunately, the ultra-sexy TV host hadn’t posted a picture of herself, but of a plate of food she’d cooked. Charlie liked that one as well.

She scrolled through the rest of her feed, before sending a text message to Nick.

I’m playing softball with a bunch of lesbians in WeHo tonight. Want to come?

Charlie sent it more as a joke than anything else. She could easily predict Nick’s reply, which came within the next minute.

Hell no, girl. Have fun. xo

* * *

And Charlie did have fun. Over dinner with Liz and her wife, Sarah, she’d happily accepted two beers, while the others refrained, taking their upcoming practice session very seriously. By the time they arrived at the ball field, Charlie was enjoying a mild buzz that kept her mellow.

Liz introduced her to the team members, who were all very friendly—but not too friendly in the way that Charlie loathed so much. While they warmed up, Charlie sat next to a variety of women as they rotated through the game.

The sun hung low in the sky, and someone had brought a cooler with more beer, and when Charlie tilted her head back to drink, and the sun shed its evening rays on her face, she experienced something that a lesser person, one without Charlie’s acute experience with disappointment, might describe as happiness. Charlie, however, was not the least bit open to that idea.

Still, she had to admit, the weather in Los Angeles was always good. The sun always showed up, and never in that muggy east-coast-summer kind of way that made you long for air-conditioned rooms and winter.

Charlie made small talk with most of the women; the depth of the conversation depended entirely on how long the person remained seated next to her.

“What do you think?” Liz asked when it was her turn on the bench. “Shall I order you a uniform?”

“I might be tempted.” Charlie stared straight ahead. A woman who had introduced herself as Britt earlier missed an easy ball. “I’ll need some practice, though.”

“I’m not saying we—and by
we
I mean
I
—are not competitive, but we mainly do this for fun. Whether you can actually pitch or bat doesn’t really matter. Britt over there couldn’t hit a ball if it were about to smash her in the face, which it has, on numerous occasions.”

Charlie laughed. “How often do you practice?”

“Once a week on Wednesdays, and then we have a league game on the weekend. Usually on Sunday morning.”

“There’s a league?”

“Of course there is. Our baby, Sharon, tends to show up hungover almost every Sunday, but the rest of us are pretty well-behaved. We have cats to put to bed and all that.”

“At the risk of sounding terribly cliché, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat. I had two back in New York, but my ex got custody when we split. They live with a man now.” Charlie couldn’t help the bitterness coming from her mouth.

“Poor pussies,” Liz said. Charlie had told her all about her messy, painful breakup a few times already.

“I want to be sure I’ll be sticking around first. I don’t want to say goodbye to another pet.”

“Liz, you’re up.” Britt approached the bench. “I’ve had about enough, anyway.” She crashed down next to Charlie. “Hand me a beer, will you?”

Charlie reached into the cooler and grabbed one for herself as well.

“Cheers,” Britt said, then followed up with a sly grin. “Come here often? For the record, I know that pick-up line never works.”

Charlie was too tipsy to get worked up about the mention of a pick-up line. Instead, she smiled back. “It’s my first time,” she said. “I guess that makes me a virgin.”

Britt elbowed her in the bicep gently. “I’m not supposed to say, but some of the girls have a bet out on you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tiff, Josie, and Andrea over there, or The Terrible Three as we like to call them. Just ignore them, though. They’re troublemakers.”

“What sort of bet?” Charlie took a few more sips of beer, wondering what her life would be like without alcohol. Perhaps she’d never leave the house at all.

“Let me put it this way—after this game is done, you can expect some major hitting-on-you to commence.”

“Oh Christ,” Charlie muttered. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Well, you’re single, hot, and you have a steady job. You’re a catch, so…” Britt pulled up her shoulders.

“Who did you bet on?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, I would never.” Britt played coy. “Actually, I bet on none of them—that was the fourth choice. You don’t look like the kind of girl who can be easily picked up on the sidelines of a softball game. I might be wrong, but that’s the impression I get.”

“How about you?” Charlie looked at Britt sideways. A softball outfit never really looked flattering on anyone, but Britt seemed to fill hers out nicely. “Does anyone have any bets out on you?”

“Me? Why would they?”

“Don’t know.” Charlie shrugged. “’Cause you’re kinda hot?” If this could be called flirting, she wasn’t doing the best job.

Britt’s laugh came all the way from the bottom of her belly. “I’m sorry,” she said after her laughter subsided. “I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“Come on, Britney,” Andrea of the Terrible Three shouted. “One more round for you.”

“I’m drinking already,” Britt said, lifting up her can of beer as evidence. “And my name is Britt, with two Ts so less intelligent people like yourself know where it ends.”

“You can’t hear the second T, Britt.” Andrea drew out the Ts. “I’ll finish your beer.”

“Fine.” Britt got up. “But just so you don’t waste your breath, I told Charlie about the bet.” With that, Britt ran onto the field. Charlie thought she detected a spring in her step that hadn’t been there earlier.

“To clear up any misunderstanding,” Andrea said, “Tiff, Josie, and I are not disrespectful women with only one thing on our mind. It was only a bit of a joke between us. I hope you’re not offended.”

“Of course not.” Charlie emptied her third can of beer. The mild buzz she’d walked onto the field with had transformed into severe giddiness. “If anything, I’m flattered.”

“Are you coming for a drink with us after? We go to a bar around the corner. You live in WeHo, right?”

If Andrea was even the tiniest bit of a player, the way she was rambling masked it expertly. Or maybe it was part of her game. Charlie just enjoyed the attention. Liz had been right. Attending a softball game was much more effective than bar crawling.

“Sure. I’d love to.” Charlie smiled widely at Andrea just to toy with her a bit.

“I’m sure you get this a lot, but your novel
Crying Rivers
meant so much to me when it came out. I re-read it every year.”

“Thank y—” Charlie started to say, but was cut off as the rest of the team rushed off the field. It looked as though practice had ended.

Half of the players high fived each other, while the other half didn’t seem too bothered by the goings-on.

“Drinks are on you, losers,” Josie said to the group of women huddled around Liz.

Of the Terrible Three, Charlie thought Josie to be most her type. She was Asian-American and had the sharpest cheekbones Charlie had seen in LA, and this being LA, she had seen quite a few.