The Unidentified Redhead (1) (11 page)

I looked up at her, incapable of speech.

I distinctly heard Jack's laughter slice through the night as his car sped away.

“You better not have fucked her up against my front door, Jack!” she called after him.

As his car disappeared around the corner, I heard him yell, “Not yet, Holly!”

Holly shook her finger at me in a tsk-tsk fashion and went back inside. Seconds later she turned the porch light out on me.

You just lost the power of speech.

The_Unidentified_Redhead

Chapter Ten

Though we had only known each other for a few days, that night had marked a turning point in our “relationship”. It was on. I knew that we were stupid attracted to each other. I knew that it made no sense at all that we were even engaging in what was now beyond a mild flirtation. I knew that the nine-year age difference was huge and that whether I wanted to or not, it would eventually be something that I would have to deal with. I knew that he was already Mr. Hot Shit, UK version, and about to blow up into a huge star. I knew that there was little to no chance that we would both make it out of this OK.

I knew that he was going to fuck me like it was his job.

And I knew that I was going to let him.

Even though all of that other stuff was there and would eventually have to be dealt with, I was now beyond the point of being able to resist. I was going to let my body take over and my brain worry about something else. All the mental junk got pushed to the side and placed in a box titled “Grace Will Deal With You Later, She Is Now Being Run By Her Oonie”.

The rest of that week, we talked on the phone, we emailed, we texted and even made Holly act as a go between, much to her consternation. She was forced to relay messages like: “Tell Sheridan I saw a seagull this morning that needed a soft place to land,” and “Tell Hamilton there is a sale on ChapStick if he needs to stock up; that bottom lip is looking a little ragged” and “Tell Sheridan that she should use Bengay if her joints are acting up; that's what my dad uses,” and “Tell Hamilton that the meter reader guy put some on me last night, and it felt gooood.” Eventually Holly refused to continue this telephone game, shouting over the phone in front of famous client who was there to take a meeting, “Would you two just fuck and get it over with!”

We didn't see each other until the following week. I really was behind on work. I was getting ready for the showcase and that night I was finally testing out my two songs at open mike night. Holly and Nick were meeting me at a club off Fairfax. I was a little nervous, but more excited than anything else. I needed to practice and I was just becoming comfortable performing in front of an audience again.

I was also still working my way through the Time series, and this Joshua was one Super Sexy Scientist Guy…who happened to engage in a ravishingly steamy love affair with a different lady in each time period. I was hooked. Was I reading erotica? Time traveling erotica? Perhaps…

I had talked to Jack in the late afternoon. He'd been onset doing re-shoots at a studio in the valley all day and was going to try to make it to the club in time.

“I'm not sure what time I'll be done. They tell me I should be out of here by eight-ish, but that's usually rubbish,” he sighed into the phone.

“Well, if you get here, you get here. If not, no big deal. I might be doing another open mike next week, too,” I answered, picking at a nonexistent piece of lint on my jeans. I really was getting more nervous about tonight than I thought. This was good, though, good energy to have.

“Actually, I'm not sure if I'll be there,” he said. “Holly and I talked today and I'm going to have to start doing some more press. They've got interviews lined up for me all next week and at some point I have to head up to Santa Barbara for a photo shoot.”

“Oh, OK. Well whatever, it's just an open mike night. I understand,” I replied, shocked that this affected me so. I could feel my stomach tightening up as I realized that I had really been looking forward to having him hear me sing.

Grace, this isn't your boyfriend. This is someone who hasn't even seen you naked yet.

Well, he saw me almost naked. That was not for his lack of trying, though. Despite the fact that I had kept him away all week while I was working, he tried almost every night to talk me into coming out, or at least letting him come over. After his front door performance, I was sorely tempted. Nevertheless, I was being an adult and getting my work done first.

Was I maybe also playing a little hard to get? Oh, hell yes.

“Grace, you know I'll be there if I'm in town, right? You're not going to get rid of me that easily,” he assured me, and I could hear someone talking in the background. “Right then, they need me back on set. I'll ring you if I can't make it, otherwise I'll see you soon.”

“I'll talk you later. Hey, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“If I do see you tonight, you're going to finish what you started,” I teased, remembering what he promised the last time we were together.

He was quiet and I thought he had hung up until he said, almost in a whisper, “Grace, I will focus on nothing else in life until you come. I will start it and I will fucking finish it.”

Oh. My. God. The Brit was a little dirty birdie. I scraped myself off the floor and tried to start breathing again. “Hamilton, I have no words for you.”

“Good, I like you speechless. Now let me go work so I can get to you faster,” he teased and hung up.

Christ on a crutch…

***

I arrived at the club early and waited for my friends. Sitting at the bar, I nursed a hot tea, trying to get my mind off Jack's words. I was getting warm for his form just thinking about him, and I found myself wishing that the night were over so we could be together.

Girl, you got it bad.

Yes, but I was hoping to get it good. As I was sitting there, I felt a pair of hands on my waist and I smiled. I turned around and was not expecting what I saw.

“Bitch, this redhead has been identified!” It was Nick, and he was holding a copy of the TMZ picture from the beach. He was not pleased. “Tell me you are not fucking him. Please, God, tell me you haven't hit this.”

“Why would you assume that just by looking at this picture? Maybe we were just sharing some shrimp, a harmless lunch?” I protested, innocently.

“So, you haven't slept with him? Oh, thank you, Lord. I was going to smash my head through a plate glass window if you stole my British dreamboat before he knew he was secretly gay. I needed some more time to convince him.” He laughed, relaxing his posture.

“No, Nick, I haven't slept with him,” I answered truthfully, wondering how I was going to dodge this particular bullet.

“Not yet she hasn't. I give it another week before actual penetration happens,” Holly piped up, sneaking around me to steal a cherry from behind the bar.

“Dammit, Holly,” I started, watching Nick's face move through all shades of red and on towards purple.

“How could you? My dreamboat, my British hotness, my steak and kidney pie, my, my…” he stuttered, as I struggled not to laugh.

“Nick, I am sorry for your loss, but he's straight, thoroughly, completely straight. If there were a chance that he wasn't, I never would've kissed him. And that's all I've done, just kissed him.”

“He felt you up the other day. Oh, and almost made you scream up against my doorbell,” Holly added, smiling gleefully.

“Not helping,” I seethed through my teeth.

“Well, at least he's putting it to someone I know,” Nick started. “That makes me a little happy. And no one needs it more than you, except maybe you dear,” he said, suddenly turning on Holly. She gulped, swallowing her cherry.

“When did this become about me? I'm fine,” she protested, turning her own deep shade of purple.

“Oh, please, it's been months since you had sex with someone else in the room. And don't try to lie, I am in tune,” he said fiercely, placing his fingertips to his temple in an attempt to divine the last time Holly had gotten some.

I pulled myself away from the conversation, listening to them bicker back and forth. I needed to focus. I once again smoothed down my outfit, picking at nonexistent lint.

That night I had settled on a tight black linen button down, which was fitted, and I had left the top few buttons undone, strategically. I had paired it with black swingy pants, finishing off with The Urban Shoe Myth: Black Patent Leather Mary Janes. My hair was down, and I didn't even pretend to fool myself that I didn't wear it down for Jack. He had told me on the phone one night that he loved my hair, especially when it was curly. I was now analyzing what he said as if I was in junior high—which I was practically in when he was born…oh man.

Grace, settle. You have been over this. Jack is just Jack. Forget the age difference. Focus on the prize. The package is the prize.

The package was indeed the prize. I'd been dying to peek at that very package ever since the day I was straddling him on his bed with a back full of espresso welts. The boy was excited and I had taken notice. Let's just say that he could have had a gun in his pocket and been glad to see me, as well.

I kibitzed with Nick and Holly for a bit, and when performers started taking the stage, I scanned the crowd for Jack. It was almost nine-thirty, and no sign of the Brit. Ah well, I knew he was going to try; re-shoots must have run longer than he'd anticipated.

When the host called my name, I climbed on stage with my guitar. I had picked two different songs and I was happy with my choices. Watching Holly and Nick applaud for me, I let the familiar feeling that I got from performing take me. It always made me a little high. I closed my eyes, found my center, and when I finished the intro, I opened my mouth to sing.

That's when I saw him. He was by the bar, several feet away from Holly and Nick and he was staring at me, smiling. I sucked back my breath with a whoosh and grinned back at him, feeling my tummy flip. I was so knocked out by this guy, it was seriously twisted how into him I was.

So I began to sing, and I could not tear my eyes away from his. They penetrated me, all the way down to my tingling tiptoes, and it was all I could do to get through the song. I focused on the lyrics, asking with my eyes if he was up for this, for all of it, for all of me. I had chosen “Strong Enough” by Sheryl Crow and the song was perfect for tonight.

His gaze locked on mine through it all, nodding his head along with me, as the words in the song asked him all the questions that it was way too soon for me to actually ask. He stayed with me throughout, and when it was over, he applauded louder and longer than everyone else did, even adding a few wolf whistles. I thanked the audience, handed my mic to the host, and strode purposefully through the crowd. I was taking what I now considered mine and damn the consequences.

“Grace, that was amazing—” I silenced him with my mouth, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his face to mine, forcefully meeting his lips with my own. With my free hand, I grasped his wrist, placed his hand on my ass, and pushed him up against the bar. His eyes were wide with surprise, but quickly mirrored back my own growing need.

I couldn't think, I couldn't hear, I couldn't focus on anything except this man in front of me and the fact that, if I couldn't feel him, and very soon, I would quite literally burst. As I pressed my tongue against his frantically, I felt his hands grow urgent, pulling me closer against him, and I was ready to mount him on the freaking bar. Luckily, there was enough of my brain working and enough of his British manners to prevent this, and as we became aware that the clapping had shifted from my singing to our very public groping, we separated, although reluctantly.

I looked at him, blonde curls messy and sexy, and I nearly lunged again. As it was, I had already started trying to kiss his neck when I felt Holly's hand on me.

“Grace, there's a lot of people watching. And there are at least ten girls that recognize Jack. Settle,” she warned, attempting to step between us. Jack wasn't having any of it and kept me tucked against this side.

“Fuck all that, Holly. I don't care who they recognize,” he said, his hands still roaming across my hips and working their way up and down my back. I heard Holly exhale and I dragged my eyes away from Jack's long enough to look around. She was right, there were at least three groups of girls staring at us, and one was pulling out her phone.

“Shit,” I swore, backing away from him, leaving him alone at the bar. He grimaced and tried to pull me back.

“Hold on just wait a minute, Holly's right,” I started. He tried to interrupt and I placed a finger over his lips. I heard the fangirl posse closest to us collectively hiss.

Holly watched me closely. I removed the offending finger slowly, as to not antagonize the seething posse. I continued. “Holly's right, and I think Holly would also like to remind me at this time that she and Nick are going out for a late dinner, isn't that right Holly?” I turned to look at her, as a slow grin began to creep across the Brit's face.

“We are?” Holly asked, looking confused. Nick just looked happy to be standing so close to Jack and was trying to accidentally-on-purpose touch his elbow with his own. None of this was lost on Jack by the way.

“Yes, I believe you are. And I also believe that you will be gone for at least two hours,” I added.

“Two hours?” Jack interrupted, looking insulted. “A really good, thorough, dinner will take at least three to four hours, maybe even longer. It depends on how hungry you are, how satisfied you want to be. You might even want multiple courses…in fact, I can guarantee, when I have dinner…I usually cannot stop at just one. I practically insist on multiples. Courses, that is,” he finished, surreptitiously snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me back against him. His eyes were on fire as he looked at me and I could no longer feel my legs. What was directly above my legs however, I could feel intensely.

During this last exchange, Nick had begun to breathe rather heavily and was now leaning on the bar fanning himself. Holly's eyes even got a little glazed over listening to Jack, to say nothing of the bartender, who was now leaning across the bar, looking quite beside herself.