“The contract is for me to clean twice a week.” She slides on her gloves. “April said the owner of your cabin specified an extra day in the housekeeping contract. April’s my boss. Gracious lady. Very good to her employees.”
I think it’s cute how Rachel rambles. I wonder secretly if I make her nervous. Her defiant little nose scrunches up the longer I stare at her. I like staring at her.
“That won’t do,” I tell her. And it won’t. I need things right now. Like a toothbrush. When I left LA, I was in no mood to pack, and I realize that was stupid of me to leave without grabbing the essentials.
She shrugs. “Well, I guess I could go after…” She stops talking when I step closer.
“Can we just go together now?”
“Together? As in you and me?”
I nod. “That’s what together means.”
“Don’t you Hollywood types usually have people to shop for you?”
“I do my own shopping. I’m a B-list, wait, a D-list celebrity.”
She scoffs. “That’s not true.”
“No one knew who I was before Trinity made me famous. Or should I say infamous?”
She looks very put out by my statement, as if I’ve offended her, snapping up her coat and shoving her arms in it. “I knew who you were before you ever started dating Trinity.”
She did? “Really?”
“I’m a huge fan of SharkQuake.”
I raise a brow. “You are?” I didn’t know SharkQuake had any huge fans. I didn’t realize we had any fans at all, if I’m being honest.
“Yes, my little sister, Joanie, and I watch all the movies. I have to say out of all the ridiculous shark movies, yours is the best.”
“Ridiculous?”
She blinks. “Well, um, yes. I don’t mean any disrespect to you. You’re a great actor. But you must know the plot is—”
“Ridiculous?”
“Yeah, but that’s what makes them amazing. I mean, sharks coming up from a crack in the earth during an earthquake? Shark movies have a cult following.”
I’m flabbergasted by her enthusiasm. I knew SharkQuake was a pile of shit, but I didn’t think a huge fan would say this. Let’s be real here. Rachel and Joanie are probably our only fans.
She laughs, and it’s the sweetest sound, soft yet sensual. “There’s a group on Facebook.”
“A group? For what?”
“It’s a cult film appreciation group for people who love low-budget shark movies. We all agree, SharkQuake is the best.”
“In that case, I’m sure they’d tell you to take me to the store.”
Her lips twist with hesitation and she’s silent for a few seconds before she finally speaks. “What would Trinity say?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re no longer together.”
Trinity shouldn’t factor into anything I do with another woman. I can be around another woman all I want, right?
“I mean, would she be ok with me helping the no-good son-of-a-bitch?”
“I think she would be ok with it.” I give Rachel my best Hollywood smile. The one I’d like to think landed me the role of Robbie in SharkQuake.
“We can go to the store outside of town. That way no one should spot you.”
“Thank you.” I snag my jacket and gloves before she can change her mind. “Let’s go.”
I lock the door behind us, and we make our way to her Jeep parked in the driveway. It’s colder than the North Pole, and I secretly wonder if we’ll run into Santa Claus out here.
She starts the engine once we’re huddled inside and turns the heat on high.
“How can anyone live here?” I ask.
She shrugs. “It’s not as bad as you think. Besides, the summers are gorgeous.”
“How long is summer here? A month?”
She laughs as she backs out of the driveway. “About three weeks.”
“I thought so. What do people here do for fun?”
“You don’t want to know.” She cuts her eyes to me, then back to the road.
Now I’m intrigued. “Of course, I do.”
“Many people, not me, but a considerable amount of people spend the winters, well…” Her cheeks turn pink, and I wonder what on earth she’s going to say.
“They do what?”
“You know…” She trails off, gripping the steering wheel, and won’t look at me.
“No, I don’t.” But I have an idea and now I want to hear her say it. “Tell me.”
What she says is the last thing I expect, “Shove the clown in the cannon.”
Four
Rachel
* * *
I can’t believe I just said that out loud. Yes, it’s a euphemism for sex. I’m twenty-six, not a child, but I can’t bring myself to say it in front of him. Fender doesn’t say a word, and he’s back to laser-focusing his gaze on me.
The silence is deafening as I try to drive in a straight line down the narrow lane toward town. I flip on the music to drown out the silence, but a Trinity song blares into the cab of my Jeep.
Our hands brush as we both reach for the radio.
Even though my hand is tingling from the brief contact, I win the race to the dial and click it off quickly. “Sorry about that.”