“Since when have you ever listened to me.” There’s a note of impatience in his voice. “Stop playing around, Aidan, I need her number.”
“I’m not playing around.”
Landon is quiet. “So, you didn’t send a hooker to my apartment.”
“No!” I exclaim, even as my imagination tries to piece a story together. “Let me get this straight. Some girl showed up at your apartment and you had sex with her because you thought I sent you a hooker as a birthday present?”
His response is almost inaudible. “Yes.”
I hoot with laughter, glad to get my mind off the problem I have in a dressing room a few doors away. “I don’t even know if that’s funny or scary. Was she cute? Did you use protection?”
“Oh, shut up,” Landon growls.
I’m making up dramatic scenarios up in my mind now. “She could have been a thief.” I’m still laughing. “Or an assassin. This is precious. Why do you want to find her, anyway?”
He makes a non-committal response before ending the call, and I remind myself to tease him mercilessly when I see him face to face.
There’s a knock on the door and Cruz sticks his head inside. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Come in.”
“Had a drink with the cast,” he tells me. “You should join us sometime.”
I shrug. I’m friendly with my cast, but it’s hard to let loose when one of them makes me feel as if I don’t know myself anymore.
Why is it so hard to ignore her presence? Why can’t I stop thinking about her?
Cruz is still talking. I catch Liz’s name a few times, and I focus my attention away from whatever he’s saying. On top of everything else, I don’t need to hear my stage manager talk about the wonderful princess Liz.
Soon we’re joined by the scenery design team and for the next two hours we go over last-minute changes.
When the meeting ends, it’s late. I tidy my desk and leave the office, closing the door behind me. Outside, the corridor is empty. I pass a few dressing rooms before I reach Liz’s door, which is ajar.
Did she forget to close it when she left?
Is she still around?
Why the fuck do I care?
I tell myself I’m not hoping she is in there, that I just want to check that the room is empty and then shut the door.
I enter the doorway and stop.
In the corner of my mind, I notice that she has added a few personal touches to the small room. Fairy lights twine around the bright bulbs on the dressing mirror, a couple of Chinese lanterns hang from the ceiling, a few motivational quotes hang on the walls along with a framed photo of a beautiful woman on a stage. On one corner of the dressing table, a large teddy is seated, smiling benignly in my direction.
Liz is standing in front of the mirror, in the same clothes she was wearing earlier, thick black tights that cling to her beautiful legs and a sweater that falls off one shoulder exposing the smooth curve.
In my mind, I kiss that shoulder and hear a low moan escape her lips. It feels real enough that I can’t stop the hardening in my groin. I push my hands into my pockets.
She slides the handle of her bag over her shoulder, and looks up, startling as her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
Why does looking at her always make me feel like I’m being punched in the gut? I curse silently as she turns around to face me.
“I was just on my way out,” I tell her.
“And?” Her tone is hostile.
No surprise there.