“Sandy!” he called over his shoulder. “Sandy, come meet Layla. She was my... well, hell. She was my very first costar!”
I laughed as Sandy came into the room saying, “We’ve met already, Trip.” I guessed since I was obviously a friend, Sandy allowed herself to drop the formal address. She shot me a conspiratorial look and added, “But she didn’t tell me you two already knew each other.” She shook my hand again, as if I were a brand new person for her to meet, which, I guess, under the circumstances, I was.
Trip still hadn’t taken his eyes off me, grinning ear to ear like it was Christmas, blinding me with his perfect white teeth.
Sandy was the first of the three of us to remember that we were all gathered in that room for more than just a friendly reunion. She started her schpiel about sitting in during the interview, and about the ground rules regarding acceptable topics for questioning, and godonlyknows knows what else. I couldn’t hear much of anything with Trip looking at me the way he was. It had been years since we’d seen one another. And Jesus. Suddenly, there he was, standing right there two feet away from me.
Trip cut her speech off with, “Hey Sandy. Can we bump the next interview back so I can grab something to eat?” His palm slid down my arm, then he took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. He was looking into my eyes, but his words were directed toward his publicist. “This is the girl that got away, Sandy. I’m going to need more than just a few minutes with this one.”
I deciphered that “grab something to eat” was obviously their code for when Trip required privacy. I knew he was only teasing, but the fact that he and his publicist/assistant had obviously worked out some long-standing arrangement in order to perpetuate his sexual appetite was mildly unsettling.
I shook my head laughing at him, but directed my commentary toward Sandy. “Actually, I happen to know from firsthand experience that he won’t need more than a few minutes.”
Sandy slapped a hand to her mouth, poorly concealing a choking smirk as Trip’s jaw hit the floor and he laughed out, “Ouch! You’re breaking my heart all over again, sweetheart.”
Sandy had to fight her laughter as she excused herself from the room, assuring Trip that she’d take care of the scheduling conflict.
I smiled back at him, registered his teasing. I was still in awe that I was right there looking into those deadly blue eyes after so many years and thought, Oh, my sweet, handsome, beautiful Trip. Your heart was never mine to break.
And that’s when he leaned down to kiss me.
Acknowledgements:
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank some very important people who, whether they know it or not, helped to turn the mere idea of this book into a reality.
To my parents, thanks for always encouraging me (and for not weirding out over the more graphic scenes in this story!). I am the person I am today because of you. I hope that’s a compliment.
To my sister, who, after reading one of my short stories years ago, stunned me with her flattery by saying, “Wow. You need to find something to write about and write.” Welp. I finally did it. Here ya go.
To my high school girls: I am amazed that we still tolerate each other after all these years. The teenaged characters in this story are compiled entirely from little bits of each and every one of you.
To my high school guys: Ditto.
Lastly, I of course want to thank my boys for their enduring patience. I love you bunches. Now that the computer has finally been surgically removed from my lap, let’s go play.
To Michael, my super understanding, rock star husband: That goes double for you. ;)