Departure from the Script Page 4
“It’s just an offer,” Michelle said when Amanda kept hesitating. “I can drive you to your car now if you want, but it might not be a bad idea to let the residual alcohol wear off and give the Tylenol some time to kick in.”
Finally, Amanda shrugged. “Sure, why not?” She hadn’t seen her grandmother’s movies in a while, and if she were at home now, she wouldn’t do much beyond hanging out on the couch either.
“Which one?”
“How about Spur of the Moment?”
“Good choice. It’s my favorite. Nothing beats a feisty woman taking on a bunch of unscrupulous land speculators.” Michelle got up, picked a DVD out of the shelf without having to search for it, and headed over to the large flat-screen TV in the corner. On the way back from the DVD player, she hesitated in front of the recliner but then returned to the couch and sat next to Amanda again. “Want to do the honors?” Bowing as if she were handing over a scepter, she held out the remote control.
“Thank you, kind…um…lady.” Their fingers brushed as Amanda reached for the remote control. She bit her lip and started the movie.
When the closing credits rolled across the TV screen, Amanda realized that her headache was now just a dull pressure instead of a constant throbbing. She had kicked off her shoes and curled her legs under her, surprising herself with how comfortable she felt in Michelle’s living room. Their shoulders were touching—and probably had been during half of the movie.
Michelle moved a few inches to the right, away from Amanda, as if she only now realized it too. She turned her head and trailed her gaze over every inch of Amanda’s face. “I wasn’t imagining things. You look a lot like your grandmother.”
Amanda blinked. “Yeah?” She liked to think so, but most people thought she was a carbon copy of her mother, who looked nothing like Grandma. “You really think so?”
“Of course. You have this…” Michelle reached out as if to touch Amanda’s cheek with one fingertip. At the last moment, she withdrew her hand. “Um, the curve of your cheekbones is exactly like hers. And your smile.”
They stared at each other.
Amanda’s skin seemed to heat beneath Michelle’s intense gaze.
Then Michelle looked away and cleared her throat. “How’s your head?”
A little confused. But, of course, that wasn’t what Michelle was asking. “I’m fine,” Amanda said. She gulped down the remainder of her water.
“All right. Then let’s go.” Michelle turned off the TV, and they headed for the door.
Amanda smirked. At least one stereotype was true—Michelle’s means of transportation was an SUV.
“So why doesn’t the promising grandchild of the grande dame of romantic movies believe in love?” Michelle asked as she unlocked the car and held the passenger-side door open for Amanda.
Amanda waited until Michelle got in on her side and started the SUV before she answered, “Who said I don’t believe in love?”
Michelle waited for another car to pass and pulled out of the driveway. While she expertly navigated the winding roads of the Hollywood Hills, she spared a quick glance over at Amanda. “You do?”
Was there a hopeful tone in her voice?
Amanda mentally shook her head. No, they had established once and for all that they weren’t interested in each other. “Well, there was this week when my girlfriend left me for a double-D bimbo from a Brazilian telenovela, but other than that, sure, I believe in love.”
“Then why did you attend the Anti-Valentine’s Day party?”
Michelle’s hands resting on the steering wheel looked sure and strong. For some reason, Amanda kept studying them, taking in the long fingers and the tendons playing in the back of her hands. Resolutely, she directed her gaze at the taillights of the car in front of them. “I don’t believe in the commercialized version of love. Two friends of mine set me up with the only other lesbian they know, just because they thought I’d find eternal love on Valentine’s Day. Needless to say it was a disaster.”
“Ah.” Michelle nodded as if she had been through dates like that too. “I’ll never get why people think two lesbians will inevitably fall in love just because they’re both gay.”
“Me neither.” Even Val, who had seemed like just her type, hadn’t turned out to be a good match for her. “And you? What brought you to the Anti-Valentine’s Day party?” Amanda asked, finally allowing herself to look over at Michelle again.
“All those sexy photos at work made me feel like I’m the only single woman on earth,” Michelle said. “The party seemed like a good remedy.”
Amanda quirked her eyebrows. Sexy photos at work? What the hell did she do for a living?
Michelle slowed when they reached Sunset Boulevard, where traffic seemed to crawl. She glanced at Amanda and then back at the street. “Don’t look at me like that.” She chuckled. “I’m not some pervert who reads Playboy at work when the boss isn’t looking. I’m a photographer. A lot of customers came in this week to take erotic photos for their significant other.”
“Ah. So all the photos in your house are yours? I mean, you took them?”
“Yes, they’re mine. Well, except for the one I’m in. One of my employees took that one.”
The images of the growling tiger and the age-spotted hands cradling a baby were still vivid in Amanda’s memory. She whistled quietly. “Wow, you’re good.”
Michelle took one hand off the steering wheel and brushed her fingernails over her T-shirt. “Thank you. That’s what all the women say after spending the night with me.”
Snorting, Amanda nudged her with an elbow. “Show-off.”
Michelle nudged her back and grinned. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“Well, I did try it…or at least I started to.” Amanda smirked and shrugged. “Seems it wasn’t very memorable.”
“Ouch.” Michelle clutched her chest. “You could seriously harm a girl’s ego, you know?”
“Somehow, I don’t think there’s much danger of that.” Michelle seemed to have a healthy self-confidence, but it didn’t tip over into arrogance, as it did with a lot of the actresses and show business people Amanda knew.
When they reached the now-deserted parking lot of the club, Michelle slowed the SUV. “Where are you parked?”
“Just across the street. You can let me out here.”
Michelle pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine.
Silence filled the car for a few moments.
Amanda fiddled with her seat belt before she managed to strip it off. She struggled to find the right words. “Thank you for rescuing me last night and for not kicking my hungover, bitchy self out this morning.”
“You’re very welcome.” The expression in Michelle’s brown eyes was sincere. “Just try to take better care of yourself next time.”
“I will.” Although the situation had ended up all right, Amanda didn’t plan on a repeat of last night. Okay, everything’s said. Now get your hungover ass home. She reached for the lever that opened the door.
“There’s a way to make sure, you know?”
Amanda turned back around. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, you know how it is,” Michelle said. “As soon as the next Valentine’s Day comes around, your happily partnered friends will start playing Cupid again. They’ll try to make sure you have a date for Valentine’s Day.”
Amanda scrunched up her face. “Maybe I’ll book a cruise in February. I heard Antarctica is nice that time of year.”
“That works too, but there are cheaper ways.”
“Joining a convent?”
Michelle laughed. “Nothing quite so extreme. No, let’s make a deal. If we’re both still single next February, we’ll go out with each other on Valentine’s Day.”
Amanda narrowed her eyes and regarded her. Was she joking, or did she really mean it?
A smile still played around Michelle’s full lips, but her gaze was steady and serious.
“But I don’t date butch wom
en, and you don’t date actresses.”
Michelle shrugged. “Well, maybe we should both broaden our repertoires. Besides, I’m not proposing marriage. One date.” She winked at Amanda. “I even promise to make sure you’re not ordering drinks with names like mind eraser. So what do you say?”
Amanda considered it for a moment. Her date with Val, a feminine woman who seemed just her type, had been a catastrophe. No matter what, going out with Michelle just once couldn’t be worse than that. “All right,” she said. “And I promise not to grope you again.”
“Damn,” Michelle said.
Amanda elbowed her but couldn’t help smiling.
“Um, I meant…deal.”
They shook hands, holding on for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary.
Finally, Amanda let go.
Before she could open the door, Michelle got out of the SUV and did it for her.
“Thanks,” Amanda said.
Michelle reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet. “Here’s my card. Call me, and we can meet to talk about the details of our date.”
“You want to go on a date to plan our date? Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t that make it two dates?”
“Oh, no,” Michelle said, not quite pulling off an innocent expression. “Let’s just call it…rehearsal.”
“Mmhmm.” Amanda decided to let it go. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she would like to see Michelle before next year. It would give her a chance to thank her by paying for dinner. She took the card Michelle held out and studied it. Michelle V. Osinski. Photographer.
“So,” Michelle jingled her keys, “see you soon, then.”
“Yes. Until soon. And thanks again for everything.”
One last nod and a smile, then Michelle rounded the SUV and got in on the driver’s side. She reached out to close the door.
“Michelle,” Amanda called.
Michelle paused and looked up. “Yes?”
“What does the V stand for?”
“Excuse me?”
Amanda lifted the card. “Your middle name.”
“Ah.” Michelle wrinkled her nose as if smelling something bad. “Veronica.”
Not Valentine. Amanda smiled and decided to take it as a good omen.
“Why?” Michelle asked.
“Oh, nothing. Just curious. Drive carefully.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem now that no one’s groping me.” Grinning, Michelle closed the door, put on the seat belt, and turned the key in the ignition.
Amanda waved and watched until the SUV’s taillights disappeared in the distance before she headed to her car. Another flyer advertising the Anti-Valentine’s Day party was stuck behind her windshield wiper. She pulled it free and crumpled it up. Next year, she wouldn’t need it.
CHAPTER 3
A hungry cat and the blinking red light of her answering machine greeted Amanda as she entered her apartment and kicked the door closed with her heel. She scratched Mischief behind one ear and listened to his scolding all the way to the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah, I know I’m a bad mom, and if you had hands instead of paws, you would have called the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.” She put a bowl of cat food on the floor and watched him gobble it up. “Come to think of it, if you had hands, you would have called a restaurant that delivers buffalo wings.”
With one emergency taken care of, she leaned against the kitchen counter and flipped through the stack of junk mail. “Baroness de Rutherford, clairvoyant, will give you the wonderful gift of seeing your future.” She snorted. One hundred dollars an hour wasn’t what she’d call a gift. Besides, she didn’t need a clairvoyant to know who had tried to reach her—very likely, Kathryn had called to tell her that someone else had gotten the lead in the horror movie she had auditioned for.
Sighing, she walked toward the answering machine.
When her cell phone started ringing to the tones of Madonna’s “Hollywood,” she nearly dropped the stack of junk mail. She lifted the phone to her ear without glancing at the display. “Hi, Kath. I was just about to call you.”
“Where have you been? I called your apartment and your cell all morning, but all I got was your answering machine. Don’t tell me you went home with your date from hell after all!”
“Good afternoon to you too, and thanks for asking how your favorite actress is.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So?” Kathryn stretched out the word as if it had five syllables.
Amanda strolled over to the living room and threw herself down onto the worn leather couch. “No, I didn’t go home with Val.”
There was a moment of silence.
If she were a bloodhound, she’d be sniffing now. For some reason, her agent always seemed to know when there was something Amanda wasn’t telling her.
“But?” Kathryn asked. “Don’t tell me she went home with you.”
“God, no. If I had taken her home with me, we’d be looking for a priest willing to perform a lesbian wedding right about now.”
“Not a good idea. You look awful in white.”
“Thanks. Is there a reason you called other than to give me a hard time?”
“Well, I have good news.”
Amanda sat up. A tingle of anticipation rushed through her. Had she gotten the role in that horror movie after all?
“I also have some bad news,” Kathryn added. “Which do you want first?”
After the night and the morning she’d had, nothing could disturb her anymore. “Let’s get it over with. Give me the bad news first.”
“I got a call from Max Benton first thing this morning. He said it was a close call, but they gave the female lead role to someone else. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
Amanda slumped against the back of the couch, rubbing her forehead as the headache from this morning made a reappearance. “Who got the part?”
Kathryn coughed but didn’t answer for several seconds.
“Don’t tell me. Lizzy, right?” Since they had split up two years ago, her ex made it a point to audition for the same roles as Amanda did. She sighed. Maybe Michelle was right. Dating actresses was a bad idea.
“I’m sorry,” Kathryn said again.
“I’ll get over it. So what’s the good news?”
“They have an opening for a bit part.”
“Let me guess. They want me to play the monster.”
Kathryn chuckled. “Not quite. You’d be a dog walker.”
Great. Amanda had read the script and knew the dog walker wouldn’t survive the first five minutes of the movie. “I told you I wouldn’t work with animals again after that commercial with the camel.” She rubbed the scar that seemed to itch beneath her blouse. An image of showing off that scar to Michelle and half of the club flashed through her mind.
“Come on,” Kathryn said. “It’s a tiny Chihuahua. Didn’t your grandmother once face down a lion in one of her movies? Now that’s star quality!”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “I don’t think being eaten by a giant lizard while chasing after Fifi will catapult me to instant stardom.”
“Probably not, but you do have two lines of dialogue and will be listed in the credits. Maybe some other casting director will notice you.”
“Okay, okay. Tell them I’ll do it. Any other calls?”
“One from Rob,” Kathryn said. “He wanted to know how your date went.”
“Why didn’t he call me?”
“He did, but you didn’t pick up either of your phones.”
Because I was passed out in a stranger’s bedroom. Amanda rubbed her heated cheeks.
“He thinks you didn’t answer because you were busy basking in the afterglow of great sex with Val,” Kathryn said.
Amanda snorted. “Hardly. I was busy basking in the afterglow of half a dozen mind erasers.”
“Mind erasers?”
“It’s a mix of vodka, coffee liqueur, and—”
“I know what it is, but I’ve never known you to drink vodka.”
“One drink? You said half a dozen. Do I have to do any damage control to protect the image of my favorite client?”
Amanda’s memory of last night was still a little fuzzy. Who knew what she would have done if Michelle hadn’t taken her home with her? The more she thought about it, the more grateful she became. “No damage control necessary. The paparazzi aren’t interested in taking embarrassing pictures of wannabe actresses playing lizard fodder in third-rate horror movies.”
“Ooooh. Maybe the paparazzi aren’t, but I am.” Kathryn’s voice vibrated with curiosity. “Come on. Tell me. What did you do?”
“Nothing much.” Amanda studied her nails.
“That’s exactly what the last client I fired said, after being caught urinating in the fountains of the Bellagio and getting into a fistfight with his co-star.”
Amanda frowned. She hadn’t heard about that. “What client was that?”
“Don’t change the topic. Tell me what you did.”
No way out. Kath was as curious as a cat and about as stubborn as one too. She wouldn’t let it go. “I got drunk and went home with a woman.” Hastily, Amanda added, “But nothing happened.” Well, nothing but one pretty hot kiss and some groping on Amanda’s part. By Hollywood standards, that was nothing.
“Sure,” Kathryn said in a sarcastic tone. “That’s what my third ex-husband said too when I caught him with that blonde bimbo.”
“Hey, no cutting remarks about blondes, please. And I swear, nothing happened.”
“Why not? Was she straight or something?”
Amanda chuckled. Not even her grandmother would have mistaken Michelle for straight. “Thanks for your confidence in my seductive powers. No, she’s as gay as they come. She’s just too honorable to sleep with a drunken woman.” Yes, that was a good word to describe Michelle—honorable.
“Good for her,” Kathryn said. “So will you meet her again?”