Departure from the Script Page 6

“It used to, especially when women started to scream whenever I entered the showers at my gym. Now I just strip down as soon as I enter the locker room.” Michelle chuckled. “That way, if anyone starts screaming, it’s just because they’re crazy about my abs.”

  A mental image of Michelle’s abs—and the rest of her naked body—flashed through Amanda’s mind, making her flush. She hid her face behind the menu and tried to focus on the listed dishes before peeking back up at Michelle. “What looks good to you?”

  Michelle glanced across the table and let her gaze slide over Amanda in a slow perusal. “You do. You’re pretty cute when you’re blushing. Or are you talking about food again?” she asked, smiling.

  Rolling her eyes, Amanda slapped her hand with the menu. “Of course I am. Don’t pretend you didn’t know.” Despite her complaints, she had to admit that Michelle’s open admiration was flattering.

  “Okay, okay, I—”

  The waiter interrupted as he stepped up to their table with their sparkling water. “May I take your order?”

  That guy was seriously beginning to annoy Amanda. On her date with Val, she’d have wished for a waiter to interrupt them, but not now. “I’d like to have the carne asada with patatas fritas, please,” Amanda said.

  The waiter turned to Michelle.

  “For me, the enchiladas de pollo, please.”

  As soon as the waiter had left, Amanda leaned forward. “You’re not ordering one of the cheapest dishes on the menu because you’re thinking of a starving actress’s budget, are you?”

  “I’m ordering the enchiladas because I had them before and they were fantastic.”

  With the slight wink on Michelle’s face, Amanda couldn’t tell whether it was the complete truth, so she decided to just take her at face value. “You’ve been here before?”

  Michelle nodded. “It’s been a while, though. They used to offer cooking classes, but then the owner changed and they don’t do that anymore.”

  “You really like to cook, don’t you?”

  “I love it,” Michelle said, her lashes lowered as if focusing inward. “The scent, the taste, the textures… It’s such an intimate, sensual experience. And if I cook for someone I love, it’s even more special.” She looked up, and her intense gaze met Amanda’s.

  Amanda trailed one index finger over her fork. “Hmm. I never thought of cooking that way.” She usually just threw a salad together, warmed up some soup, and was done with it.

  “Then you’re not doing it right,” Michelle said, grinning. “I’ll have to cook for you some time.”

  “You mean some time when I’m not hungover and just picking at your toast.”

  Michelle laughed. “That’d be a plus, yes. So, what do you like to do in your spare time?”

  Amanda toyed with her napkin. Usually, she didn’t admit to her dates that she spent most of her free time losing at bridge to a bunch of eighty-year-olds. It made her sound like such a stick-in-the-mud. “Well, between my acting gigs and working at a juice bar, there’s not much time for—”

  Michelle’s hand covering hers stopped her. Michelle just looked at her, encouraging, not accusing.

  After blowing out a breath, Amanda said, “To tell you the truth, I spend most of my free time with my grandmother. Not doing anything special, just helping her around the house, playing cards, keeping her company, you know?”

  “Nothing wrong with that. I loved to hang out with my grandfather too and just watch him repair something,” Michelle said, her voice so low and intimate that Amanda had to lean forward to hear her. “He used to be a mechanic. He could fix anything. People constantly brought him toasters, watches, radios, and other stuff that wasn’t working anymore. I would just sit there and watch his hands. It was like magic.”

  Amanda looked down at the hand that was still covering hers. With its long fingers, Michelle’s hand looked strong and capable too. She turned her hand and softly squeezed Michelle’s fingers. Her skin tingled. Magic.

  Again, the waiter interrupted when he stepped up to the table with their food.

  Okay, it’s official now. No tip for this guy. Amanda pulled her hand back so he could place the plates on the table.

  When they began to eat, she found her attention drawn to Michelle’s hands time and again. “That large photo next to your TV, the age-spotted hands cradling a baby…?”

  Smiling, Michelle nodded. “That’s my grandfather holding my oldest niece.” Her face sobered. “He died before my other nieces and nephews were born.”

  A big lump formed in Amanda’s throat, making it impossible to say anything or swallow the piece of grilled beef in her mouth.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood,” Michelle said after a few seconds of silence. “My grandfather had a good, long life, and he certainly wouldn’t want us to sit around moping on our first date.”

  “First date?” Amanda shook her head. “This isn’t a date, remember? You called it a rehearsal.”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” Michelle scratched her head and looked across the table with a twinkle in her eyes. “Does that mean I won’t get to kiss you goodnight later?”

  The thought of kissing Michelle sent a flash of heat through Amanda. She reached for her water and took two big gulps, as if that would help her cool off. “Sorry to tell you, but there’s no kissing at rehearsals.”

  “Unless you’re shooting porn,” Michelle said, grinning.

  Amanda nearly choked on another sip of water. “I’m not doing that.”

  “Good for you,” Michelle said, this time in a more serious tone. “So tell me more about yourself. Did you grow up in California?”

  How different this evening was turning out to be. Usually, her dates didn’t ask so many questions about her. Most blabbed on and on about themselves. Well, this isn’t a date, remember? She picked up a piece of fried potato and chewed it before answering, “Do you really want to hear the sad story of my life?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise. But if you’d rather not tell me…”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s just…” She pierced a square of meat with her fork but instead of eating, she just studied it.

  “Not pleasant memories?” Michelle asked.

  “Some of them are—up until I came out to my parents at sixteen and told them I wanted to become an actress. Hard to say what they hate more, me being an actress or me being a lesbian.”

  Without hesitation, Michelle reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “But your grandmother was fine with both?”

  “Oh, yeah. She was my champion. She took me in when living with my parents became unbearable.”

  “And you’ve been an actress ever since?”

  “Not quite,” Amanda said. “I got a degree in social work first. My parents insisted on it, just in case my ‘harebrained idea’ of becoming an actress didn’t work out. After finishing my degree and saving up some money, I decided to give myself five years. If I didn’t have a big break by then, I’d go back to social work.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Four years, three months, and about ten days—not that I’m counting or anything.” Amanda deftly cut off another piece of steak and chewed it.

  With her fork hovering over her enchilada, Michelle looked at her. “Don’t give up your dreams. When I first started out, a lot of people told me the last thing LA needs is another photographer, but fortunately, I was too stubborn to listen. The first few years, I had to take a lot of photos of screaming toddlers, spoiled celebrities, and overweight housewives trying to look sexy in teddies two sizes too small. I still do a few of those, but for the most part, I can now pretty much do whatever I want to.”

  “Which is?”

  “Art photography. Photos like the ones you saw in my house.”

  Even though she had been hungover at the time, Amanda vividly remembered the large black-and-white prints in Michelle’s house, a close-up of a growling tiger, a daisy growing out of a crack in the sidewalk, and the weathered fa
ce of an old man squinting into the sun. “I don’t know much about photography, but even I can tell that they’re great.”

  “Thanks,” Michelle said with obvious delight.

  “Are you showing your work in galleries?”

  Michelle nodded. “I’m not Annie Leibovitz, but I sell quite well in some of the smaller galleries. You’ll get to that point in your career too. Just promise me one thing.”

  Amanda set down her fork. “What?”

  “That you’ll still go out on a date with me when you’re a famous film star.”

  “This is not a date,” Amanda reminded her, but she couldn’t help smiling at Michelle’s insistence.

  Michelle shrugged. “Yeah, well, even big-time actresses have to have rehearsal partners, right?”

  “Right,” Amanda said and dug into her patatas fritas.

  There were definite advantages to going out with someone who wasn’t an actress or involved in the entertainment industry, Amanda decided as she shared a cheesecake flan and a piece of boca negra with Michelle.

  Most of her previous dates carefully counted every calorie and didn’t order dessert, or they complained with every bite about how much time they’d have to spend in the gym to make up for it.

  Michelle, however, didn’t seem to have any regrets. A sensual moan drifted across the table. Michelle’s eyes closed as her lips wrapped around a forkful of chocolate cake. Her tongue flicked over her full bottom lip to remove a crumb from the corner of her mouth.

  Amanda shifted in her chair. When Michelle opened her eyes, Amanda quickly wrenched her gaze away and busied herself dipping a spoonful of flan into the pecan cream sauce. The flavors of vanilla, lemon, and nuts exploded on her taste buds, and now it was her turn to moan.

  When she looked up, about to offer Michelle a bite, Michelle’s eyes, normally the color of the chocolate cake, had gone black, and she stared at Amanda’s lips.

  Slowly, her gaze still on Michelle, Amanda swallowed her bite of flan.

  Desserts forgotten, they stared at each other.

  The ringing of a cell phone interrupted the silence.

  Dazed, Amanda needed a moment to figure out that it was hers. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to turn it off.”

  “Go ahead and take the call. Could be Hollywood calling, right?” Michelle smiled, but it didn’t look as if she was mocking her.

  Amanda glanced at the display. Unknown caller. “I don’t think so, but you never know. Are you sure?”

  Michelle nodded.

  Amanda accepted the call and lifted the cell phone to her ear. “Yes?”

  “Hi, sweetheart. I know you’re busy, and that’s why you didn’t call. So I thought I’d call and see when I should pick you up for our next date.”

  Just her luck. Instead of the call of her dreams, she had to get the call of her nightmares while she was having dinner with Michelle. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Listen, Val.” She opened her mouth, about to make an excuse about how busy she was and that she had no time to date if she wanted to make it in Hollywood, but then decided to be honest. In the end, it would be less painful to make things clear once and for all. “You’re a nice person and a good-looking woman, but there just wasn’t any chemistry between us.”

  “How can you say that? There was plenty of—”

  “Not for me. I’m sorry, Val, but there just wasn’t.”

  “But maybe there will be if you give this…give us a chance. We’re meant to be; can’t you see that?”

  “No,” Amanda said gently, but firmly. “I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t work.”

  After a moment of sniffling, Val said, “Is there someone else?”

  Amanda glanced over at Michelle, who was keeping her gaze focused on her plate in a futile attempt not to listen in. “Well, I’m having dinner with someone right now, but—”

  “You’re cheating on me?” Valentine screeched.

  Amanda covered her eyes with her free hand. “Please, calm down. I’m not cheating on you.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I’m not cheating on you, because we were never in a relationship. We had one date. One date that I cut short because—” She stopped herself. No. Don’t be mean. “Because I had to go comfort my agent when her husband broke up with her. I’m sorry, Val, but I’m not the soul mate you’re looking for. I’m sure you’ll find her eventually. Best of luck.” She ended the call before Val could try to talk her out of it.

  Michelle looked over at her. “Not that it’s any of my business, but…what was that?”

  “That was the reason I got smashed on Valentine’s Day. Please don’t think that I make a habit of—”

  Amanda’s phone started ringing again.

  “Jesus. I’m so sorry, Michelle.”

  Michelle gave her a commiserating smile. “Some lesbians just don’t get it, do they?”

  “Let me just shut this thing off.” As she fumbled with the phone, Amanda’s gaze fell on the display. Her heart started beating faster, this time with worry. “I need to take this. It’s my grandmother. She wouldn’t call if it weren’t important.”

  “Of course. Go ahead.”

  Amanda quickly pressed the button. “Are you okay, Grandma?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’m fine, but this darned TV isn’t.”

  Amanda blew out a breath. “You really scared me. I thought it was an emergency.”

  “Well, it is,” her grandmother said. “There’s no sound on my TV, and I’m not a lip-reader. Are you still on your date?”

  Glancing over at Michelle, who had stopped eating, she said, “It’s not a date, but yes, we’re still at the restaurant.”

  “Oh, well. I wanted to watch the Ellen episode I taped this afternoon before I went to bed, but I guess it can wait till tomorrow. I’m sorry for interrupting. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  “Wait,” Amanda said before her grandmother could hang up. “I’ll come over and see if I can fix the TV after my…uh…”

  “Your date that is not a date.” Her grandmother chuckled.

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “I’ll be there in less than an hour, okay?”

  “All right. Please drive carefully.”

  “I will.” After ending the call, Amanda sent Michelle an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry. My grandmother usually doesn’t call me while I’m on a…while I’m having dinner with someone, but it was an emergency. Kind of.”

  “Is she okay?” Michelle asked. Her forehead wrinkled in concern.

  “She’s fine, just a bit upset that she can’t get her daily Ellen fix because the TV isn’t working.”

  The wrinkles in Michelle’s forehead smoothed, and new lines formed around her eyes as she laughed. “Your grandmother watches The Ellen DeGeneres Show? How cool is that?”

  “A few years back, when Ellen hosted the Oscars for the first time, Grandma even cut her hair short, the way Ellen wears it, as a sign of her support.”

  They both laughed about that.

  “I’m sorry to do this, but would you mind taking a cab home?” Amanda asked. “I need to go over to my grandmother’s.”

  “You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you?” Michelle smiled, but her tone was serious and shadows of hurt lurked in her eyes. “I mean, it’s the oldest trick in the book, right? You have someone call, just in case the date is not going well, and pretend there’s an emergency. Sounds like that’s exactly how you got rid of that woman you went out with on Valentine’s Day.”

  Amanda opened her mouth to assure her it wasn’t like that, but Michelle shook her head.

  “You don’t need to do that with me,” Michelle said. “If you want to leave, just—”

  “No!” Amanda said so loudly that the people at the table next to theirs were starting to look over. Blushing, she ducked her head. “No, I swear that’s not what’s going on. I admit I used that trick to get rid of my date the evening we met, but this is different.” She hadn’t felt as if she needed rescuing at any time tonight. “Th
ere really is a problem with my grandmother’s TV. I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but for her, it is. Since my grandfather died four years ago, she always has the TV on. She says it helps her not to miss his voice so much. So I’d really like to see if I can fix it tonight.”

  Michelle studied her for a moment, her dark eyes probing into Amanda’s.

  Amanda didn’t avert her gaze.

  Finally, Michelle nodded. “All right. How about I come with you? Maybe I can help.”

  “I can’t ask that of you.”

  “You’re not asking—I’m offering. Now stop being so stubborn and say yes.” Michelle reached across the table and nudged her. “Come on.” She lowered her voice to a seductive purr. “You know you want it.”

  Amanda’s cheeks heated, but she chose to ignore it. “Do you know how to fix a TV?”

  “I watched my grandfather do it about a hundred times.” Michelle wolfed down the rest of her chocolate cake and raised her hand to summon the waiter. “Come on. Let’s go rescue a damsel in distress.”

  Amanda knew something fishy was going on as soon as her grandmother opened the door, dressed in the skirt and blouse she wore on bridge nights, even though it wasn’t Tuesday. Grandma usually changed into her nightgown and robe after dinner if she wasn’t expecting company. Had she dressed up, just in case she’d bring Michelle along?

  “Hi, Grandma.” She bent to kiss her grandmother’s soft cheek and then stepped aside to let Michelle enter. “Grandma, this is Michelle Osinski. Michelle, this is my grandmother, Josephine—”

  “Mabry. I know. It’s an honor to meet you. I’m a big fan.” Michelle stepped past Amanda and gently held Grandma’s hand between both of hers. For a moment, she looked as if she was about to kiss it.

  “I heard quite a lot about you too,” Grandma said.

  Michelle lifted one brow. “Oh, really? Is that so?” She sent Amanda a curious glance.

  Amanda blushed. “Grandma, hush. Don’t listen to her, Michelle. I didn’t tell her a thing.”

  Her grandmother took Michelle’s arm and tugged her toward the living room. “True, and that speaks volumes. So, tell me, dear, how did the two of you meet?”