Chemistry Read online

  Marley was obviously surprised too. An unusual silence came from her side before she popped up sounding just like my mom, in fact, using her exact words. "Seems to me you still have feelings for Kinsey."

  I needed to back out of this and fast. There were no feelings, I assured myself. "Not feelings for Kinsey as much as dislike for Blackmoor. We worked on one set together, and I wanted to throw my fist at him from day one of filming."

  "Maybe that's because he was dating Kiki at the time," she suggested.

  "Stop with the matchmaker shit. My mom's already got that covered." Orbit grunted and moved his head as I stood up to get a beer from the fridge. Marley sometimes drove me toward drink, even if it was just a beer.

  "Aren't you still engaged to Harlow Newton?" she asked, knowing darn well that if we had split up it would have been all over the internet.

  "We're semi-engaged. I haven't actually asked her yet. She just sort of puts it out there that we are." It was more than a little annoying too. I pulled a cold one out of the fridge and opened it, before walking back to the couch.

  "Well, I told Croft you would never be interested in his movie. Although, it's a shame because Kiki really needs the work."

  "You mean you really need the commission." After nine years of a business relationship, I felt comfortable telling Marley what was what. She couldn't complain too much. After all, Kinsey and I'd solidified her power and standing in the agent industry. She was basically a yellow pages talent agent representing animal actors when we both signed with her. "I think it's pretty fucked up that my decision affects Kiki's career. We aren't joined at the hip."

  Thankfully, a call beeped through on her side. "I've got another call," Marley said. "We need a decision on the alien movie by next Monday. I think it would be a big mistake to pass it up but then what do I know, I'm just a mom who can't even convince her eleven-year-old that he needs to wear shoes to school." With that, she disappeared on to the next call.

  I tossed my phone on the coffee table and dropped back the beer. My phone buzzed with a text from Harlow. "What ya doin'? Thought I'd drop by after my yoga class so you can take me to lunch. I'm starved."

  "That's because of that crazy romaine lettuce and boiled chicken diet you're on. I ate a breakfast burrito from Mickey's Food Truck, so I won't be hungry until dinner."

  She didn't respond. That was her go-to move when she was mad. At least for now. She'd let me know later that she was 'so hurt and disappointed' in something I said or did. Harlow was big on talking things out, listing things that bothered her, reflecting on things we, (mostly meaning me) could do better to keep our relationship strong. But lately, I'd let myself venture into my own form of self-reflection and I'd found myself asking why I was with someone who constantly wanted me to figure out how I could do better to keep her happy. The more I reflected, the more I came to the conclusion that I was just trying to avoid publicity. In the celebrity world, every relationship and breakup was scrutinized and gossiped about, usually resulting in wild rumors that had no basis in reality. That was the kind of shit that broke Kinsey and me up. And it didn't matter when the rumor was total bullshit, once it was out there and being retweeted and liked, it was stuck in cement and there was no way to counter it. So it was easier to not make waves or fire up gossip. It was easier just to stick it out. Every relationship change set off a shit storm, and I just didn't feel like being shit on.

  My gaze dropped to my phone and, briefly, I considered calling Kinsey. We hadn't talked in years, not since a sort of forced, weird encounter at a birthday party. I spent the rest of the night glancing her direction and wishing I could join in on whatever conversation she was having. There was always laughter when Kiki was nearby. She was one of those light of the party types. But Harlow was extra clingy that night, probably because she caught me sneaking peeks at Kinsey. I let the night pass with only the one short, bungling exchange of hellos between us.

  I pushed the idea of the phone call out of my head. She sure as hell didn't want to talk to me. And if Croft was dangling this part over her head, teasing her, only promising it to her if I joined in on his scheme, then she was definitely not going to want to talk.

  I finished the beer and leaned forward to place the empty bottle down and pick up the remote. I stared at my phone again. Then, without another second to talk myself out of it, I picked up the phone and scrolled through my contact list for Kinsey's number. She might have changed it but I didn't let that stop me from trying. I wasn't sure what goal I wanted to accomplish other than to find out what she was thinking about Sawyer's new project. I'd sworn myself off of touchy, emotional movies after the aftermath of Forever Kisses had left me sort of stuck in one kind of role, namely the leading man in touchy, kiss ending movies. The stupid prick side of me decided that wasn't for me. After years of movies that had plenty of action and only lukewarm reception from audiences, I'd started to rethink my earlier career choices. Maybe it was time to shut down the stupid prick side of me and head back to the type of movie that'd made me famous.

  "Hello."

  I was caught off guard when she answered. I was especially thrown off by my own reaction to hearing her slightly husky voice coming through the receiver. A shock of something went through me, which I decided might have been nerves. It wasn't something I experienced often.

  "H—hey, Kinsey," I stuttered. "It's me, Jameson."

  A long pause followed. I figured she'd hung up. I glanced at the phone and the call was still connected. Then I considered hanging up, but I'd already lamely announced myself.

  "Yes, I figured it was you because my phone screen said Jameson, and I only know one other Jameson from my third grade class but I was pretty sure he didn't have my number."

  "How are you?" we both said in unison.

  "You first," she said. "I mean, how are you other than snatching unconscious bodies from midair in the middle of death defying jumps from airplanes."

  I chuckled. "You make that sound way cooler than it actually was. It happens all the time in skydiving. But you know how journalists make everything a big deal if there's a well-known name attached to it." The nerves had left and I was instantly at ease, talking to the girl, (woman now) who used to make me laugh so hard, soda would shoot from my nose. "Besides, I don't think I was the star that day. I saw how you disemboweled Blackmoor. Hats off to you on that. Hope the sweet taste of revenge overpowered any heartbreak." The last line might have been more for me. And it wasn't jealously, I assured myself. (Seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.)

  "It seemed that way at first. Of course, Shelby and I downed enough tequila that night to drown a small village so I was feeling no pain. Literally. I stubbed a toe and didn't even say fuck once. Just laughed it off. But once the alcohol wore off, things were less cheery and far more painful. Funny thing is, most of the hurt had nothing to do with Kent."

  "That's good," I said way too abruptly. "I mean, I'm glad he didn't break your heart."

  She laughed softly. "I guess you want to be the only guy to wear that particular crown, eh?"

  I'd forgotten how sharp and quick witted she was and was instantly feeling like a fool. "No, that's not, no I meant—ah fuck. I'm just sounding more and more like an idiot so let's change subjects. I'm sure you know why I called."

  "Hold on." The sound coming through the phone seemed to be a toaster popping up its contents. "Ouch, ouch, ouch." Kiki's voice was a good distance from the phone. Apparently, she'd put the phone down on the counter to finish making her toast. I heard a lid pop open and a knife drag across toasted bread just before a crunchy bite. She swallowed as she picked up the phone. "Sorry, I had to put the butter on before the toast got cold."

  "Yep, understand completely." I smiled to myself. She hadn't changed a bit, and I was glad as fuck.

  "I guess you called about the part, or I should say double part, in Sawyer's flick. Apparently, we are still a duo, even though it's been nearly a decade." She took another crispy bite, and suddenly I found mysel
f thinking about her licking the butter off her plump bottom lip. Weird fucking mind tangent. Although, not all that weird considering how fucking hot Kinsey was, butter or no butter. I shook the image out of my head.

  "Yeah, I was just talking to Marley. She's on my ass to get a new part, wants me to take this alien apocalypse thing, but to tell the truth, I'm getting tired of shooting aliens and even more tired of trying to stave off the next apocalypse."

  Her soft giggle flirted through the phone, making me smile for the tenth time since I'd started the call. "Well, let me speak for the rest of humanity to say we are grateful that you managed to stave off the last few. You're not actually thinking about taking Sawyer's part, are you? Thought you didn't like those kind of movies."

  "What kind? Do you mean the kind where I actually have to act?" A car horn down below on the street sent Orbit barking to the front window.

  "Oh my gosh, is that Orbit? Ack! I have to talk to him. Put him on. Put him on," she insisted.

  "Really?" I asked.

  "Would I kid about a conversation with Orbit? Put the guy on."

  "Hey, Orbit, get over here. An old friend wants to say hi." My dog pranced over enthusiastically as if he'd understood every word. Which he probably had. I held the phone to his big ear. His first instinct was to turn his nose toward the device to sniff it but then Kinsey called him and he froze and stared at it.

  "Orbit, I miss you. How are things? Doing lots of doggy stuff?" she asked loudly to make sure he picked up every word. Orbit's head tilted side to side.

  I put the phone back to my ear. "He is doing that side to side head tilt. I think he recognizes your voice."

  "Of course he does," she said confidently. "You don't forget loyal friends."

  I wasn't sure if the last sentence was a dig. She'd said it innocently enough but then nothing was ever that innocent with Kinsey. "So, are you going to take the part?" I asked.

  She snuffled a sort of humored snort. "That all depends on you. Sawyer wants us together. I'm reading the book and I have to admit, I love the main character, Cassandra Youngston. I would play her on the big screen in an instant. I haven't gotten to the part with the men in her life yet. I'm not entirely sure how this series of diary entries can become a script, but I'm sure Sawyer has that all worked out."

  "Guess your mind is made up," I noted.

  "Yes but my mind doesn't matter. It's all on your shoulders, buddy. No pressure though."

  "Yeah, thanks." Orbit climbed up next to me on the couch to stare at the small thing in my hand that had been calling to him in a friendly, familiar voice. Up until then, Kinsey and I'd been talking lightly, easy chitchat.

  "Hey, Keezy"—it was the first time I'd said her nickname, the one only I used. I hadn't consciously meant to say it. It just sort of fell out—"I'm not sure about this movie. Do you think we can—I don't know—recreate what we had on Forever Kisses? Sawyer seems to be counting on it, but it's been nine years and we were—"

  "Sex starved teenagers who were overwhelmed and floored and always pinching ourselves about being cast in a movie?"

  "Yep, that pretty much covers it. What if we can't generate those sparks that Sawyer's hoping for?"

  "It wouldn't just be a flop," she said. "It would be a disaster for all of us, probably the end of our careers. Sawyer's too. Not sure why he wants to take such a chance."

  She sounded as uncertain as me. It actually sort of hurt. It seemed she was sure there wouldn't be any sparks between us on camera.

  I took a deep breath. "I'll let you go. I just wanted to see how you were feeling about it. Seems we're both feeling a little uneasy. I'm going to sleep on it."

  "Probably a good idea.” She sounded somewhat deflated. I was really going to lay into Croft for putting me in a situation where my decision affected Kinsey.

  "Hey, Keezy,"

  She laughed quietly. "Been a long time since I've been called that."

  "It better have been because that was my own personal nickname for you. If anyone else tries to use it—you tell them to fuck off," I said with a laugh, then pushed it away. "Keezy, I just wanted to say—I never set out to hurt you. You're the last person in the world—"

  "It's all right, Jameson. It's all—as they say—water under the bridge. Hug Orbit for me." She hung up before I could say anything else. Orbit was still sitting up like one of those stone sentry dog statues people put in gardens. I reached over and put my arm around his shoulder and squeezed him. "That's from Keezy. Lucky fucking dog."

  Eleven

  Kinsey

  I was pacing and chewing nails, double anxiety whammy, when the phone startled me and yanked me out of synch. I tripped on the end of the rug as I lunged for the phone. The last unexpected phone call had left me on edge. I was relieved to see Shelby's name on the screen.

  "What took you so long to call back?" I asked as I resumed my pacing. I'd have to leave the nail biting for after the conversation because Shelby would know I was doing it and then she'd drop into a lecture about it.

  "You called me ten minutes ago. Pardon me for taking the time to finish my salad first. Unlike you, I prefer not to chew into the phone while I'm talking. What's up? And are you hiking a hill or something? You're panting like you're out of breath."

  "I'm pacing my hallway. Shit, does it sound like I'm hiking? I've got to get back to the gym," I muttered as I spun around at the end of the hallway and headed back toward my bedroom.

  "Uh oh, pacing doesn't sound good. Pacing means nervous energy and anxiety. What has you anxious?"

  "You'll never, ever, not in a gazillion years guess who called." I stopped at the end of the hallway and spun back around.

  There was a lull in conversation as Shelby apparently decided to give it a try. "Hmm, let me see. I'm going to assume it wasn't Kent since you blocked all his friends and family, so I can only assume you blocked him as well."

  I gritted my teeth and I spun around again. "Oh my gosh, I didn't literally mean for you to take a gazillion years. It was—"

  "Jameson," she blurted before I could say it.

  "How did you know?" I continued my pacing in the living room for a different view.

  "I didn't. But you're pacing the house and, I can only assume, chewing nails in between steps, so I knew it had to be someone you were totally not expecting. What did he say? I want every detail." I could almost sense her snuggling up to her phone to make sure no words got past her. "And for fucksake stop pacing, you sound like my grandfather when he's climbing the stairs in his house."

  "Fine. I'm pooped anyhow." I plopped on the big chair in the television room. "He mostly called to ask how I was feeling about Sawyer's movie. It actually sounded like he might be thinking about taking the part."

  "That's great," she cheered. "That's what we want, right?"

  "Yeah, I guess." That lingering feeling of dread weighed down on me again. "It's just, what if this whole idea is a colossal, stinky mistake? Sawyer expects some magical chemistry between us, but those days are so far behind us. We've both moved on and grown up. We were innocent newbies to the industry back then. There wasn't any baggage yet. Now we both know how quickly this town can destroy confidence and happiness. All of it sounds daunting."

  "Nonsense. I still say you're perfect for the part. And Jameson will be great as Nate Biggs."

  "Who's that?"

  Shelby's irritated huff came through the receiver. "Nate Biggs is the brother who Cassie secretly loves. Read the damn thing, would ya?"

  "I was but then I was enjoying it so much and that badly made me want to play Cassie in the movie, but a little voice in the back of my head kept scratching at me, telling me it was never going to happen."

  "That's quite the inner dialogue pep talk you had going there. Let's both keep positive thoughts. After all, it sounded as if Jameson might at least be considering it." Sometimes, all I needed was a few minute chat with Shelby and everything seemed better.

  "All right, positive thoughts," I repeated.


  "Great, well I've got to make some calls." She was ready to hang up.

  "Hold on there, lady, one more thing—You never said—How did the Skype sex session go?"

  "Disastrous," she confessed. "It might have scarred me for life."

  I sat up. "Oh my god, what happened?"

  "It was all going very nicely, romantically. We were both stripped down to our undies. Side remark," she added quickly. "Grant is getting so buff that his six pack has a fucking six pack. Anyhow, we were getting into it. I was playing our favorite CD in the background and I'd lit candles on my side. He only had a regulation flashlight, but it didn't really add to the sexy ambience. Things were getting hot, I mean my breaths were coming in such short spurts I sounded like my mom's Schnauzer after a long walk."

  "Oh shit, did you bring up that unflattering analogy in the middle of Skype sex? No wonder it was a disaster."

  "No, silly, and yeah, not the best analogy. Anyhow, we were both reaching that point of no return then—"

  I held my breath waiting for the climax (metaphorically speaking).

  "You know how Grant is on call day and night for surprise training missions?" she continued.

  I sat back. "No."

  "Yep, yep, yep. His phone went off with this loud, annoying buzzer. That's the sound they use to let him know that he is to report to the superior officer pronto for further instructions. Like I said, might have ruined sex for me for life. I'd talk to my therapist about it if it weren't so damn embarrassing."

  "It's not embarrassing but maybe you'll be trained now like a Pavlov dog. Every time you hear a buzzer—it'll be a like a cold shower."

  She paused. "You're so fucking funny. Really, I think you missed your calling doing stand-up. Now, if you're done, I'd like to get back to work." She pretended to be mad but I knew her too well.

  "Sorry, bestie. Next time, I'll be more supportive about your unfinished orgasm."