BILL PEERED at the remote in his hand. “What’s this for?”
“How soon do you have to leave?” she whispered, opening the door a little wider.
“Five minutes?”
She smiled, excited at the thoughts searing through her wanton mind. She glanced over his shoulder, not seeing anyone for several hundred feet, either on the walkway or the beach. With Bill blocking her, no one could see her…and if she saw anyone, she could quickly duck back inside.
She lifted the end of her T-shirt, brushed her fingers across the elastic over her hip, leading his eyes down to the object positioned over her sex.
He looked down, paused. “God, you’re so pretty,” he murmured. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes.”
Raising his gaze, he held up the object. “And this is…”
“A remote.”
“Well, well, well…” He held it inside the door to read the buttons. “Aren’t you the electronic-age wonder.”
“I’d invite you inside,” she whispered, “but selfishly, I’d like to stand right here….”
His eyes glistened with lust. “I wanted to make love the first time, not just…”
She stealthily rubbed her thighs together in anticipation. “Let’s call this an appetizer before the main meal.”
He leaned forward, his breath warm against her neck. “Appetizer, yes…I like that.” Fastening his lips on her neck, he lightly nibbled and kissed, causing her to writhe pleasurably.
Then he pulled back and looked at her. “I’m selfish, too,” he said, positioning his finger on a button, “because I want to watch.”
He pressed a button that brought Ellie onto her toes, the exquisite tremors zeroing right in on her sex. So intensely enjoyable, all it would take was a few more moments and she’d…
Bill stared at the hem of her T-shirt that fluttered with breezes over the firm, creamy skin of her thighs. She was rising up on her toes, pressing together her lips to suppress the needy mewling noises that lodged in her throat.
It was dark enough on the porch that it’d be difficult for someone to see unless they were standing in his shoes, plus his body blocked her….
“Lift your T-shirt,” he murmured, “I want to see you.”
She reached down and lifted it.
“Ellie…” He pressed another button and she gasped. “I can’t wait to taste you…touch you….”
Panting, she opened her eyes and looked at him, her hips rocking slightly. “More,” she said on a moan. “I want more.”
Ellie felt the vibrations kick up a notch. She gasped as sheer, exacting need pooled hotly between her legs. The pleasure was so intense, so exquisite, she throbbed and ached for release from the soles of her feet to the top of her head as the tension kept building, building….
Her breath caught as her body tightened and trembled. She was hot, wet, wound so tight. Her body needed it, demanded it…so close….
For a singular moment, everything stilled…then her entire being rushed toward the point of no return….
She bit back a groan as wave after wave of release ripped through her until, too shaky to keep standing, she slumped her lax, sated body into Bill’s arms.
He dropped the remote as he held her close, her breaths warm and ragged against his cheek as her body relaxed into his embrace.
Suddenly, she sputtered a soft laugh. “I think I just proved that old saying wrong.”
“What saying?”
“Never come between a man and his remote? Well, I think I just did.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, at 8:00 a.m. sharp, Ellie reported to the assistant casting director, Peter, on the set of Sin on the Beach. She’d met Peter the day before at her audition, so she wasn’t surprised at his whirl of frenetic energy—chain-smoking, drinking coffee, ordering people around, all while talking into his cell.
She stood nearby, waiting for him to end his call. This morning, before getting ready, she’d had coffee with Sara and Candy, but despite their guy-talk tell-all, she’d stayed mum about what had happened last night with Bill. Oh, she’d said she and Bill had kissed, but hadn’t breathed a word about the orgasm-in-the-doorway escapade. They would have loved hearing about Ellie’s crazy-hot encounter, but she liked keeping it private, something shared between her and Bill only.
“You!” Peter pointed at her with his cigarette, the other hand holding his cell to his ear. “I thought I said no black bikinis!”
She started to stutter something, when he cut her off.
“Next time follow directions.” He made a hold-it gesture while barking into the phone, “I don’t care what he says! It’s Thursday or nothing, darling.” He looked up at Ellie, pointing her to a group of people in bikinis and shorts.
She headed over to the group of ten or so people, whom she assumed were her fellow extras. The girls all looked like Paris Hilton, the guys like Brad Pitt, which made the older gentleman in red shorts and a T-shirt that read Surfers Stay on Longer stand out.
Probably because she kept staring at him, he approached her with the kind of pickup line that was right up her alley.
“Want a cup of coffee?” he asked.
His long sideburns and handlebar mustache were a throwback to another era. Reminded her of herself, modeling her glam style on stars of yesteryear. The two of them obviously marched to their own stylistic drummers, which put her instantly at ease with him.
“No thanks.” She smiled. “Afraid I’m picky. I run a coffee shop.”
He lit up. “Well, isn’t this a small world. My grandson’s new friend is rooming with someone who runs a coffee shop.”
A few pieces fell into place. “Your grandson wouldn’t happen to run a surf shop, would he?”
“Why, yes!”
“Yes, it’s a very small world.” She held out her hand. “I’m Sara’s friend Ellie, the one who runs a coffee shop.”
He shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Gus.”
They spent the next few minutes chatting about the surf shop, her coffee shop, Gus’s past surfing accomplishments. She didn’t take his flirting seriously. In fact, if he were forty years younger, and she weren’t besotted with Bill, she might’ve said yes…to a coffee date.
“Hey,” said a familiar voice.
Bill.
Her heart shoved into overdrive. “Hey, yourself.”
Gus gave a little salute and wandered off, leaving the two of them alone.
“Should I be jealous?” Bill teased.
Ellie looked over at Gus, who was already flirting with another extra. “No, I’m already a thing in his past.”
Bill grinned. “Gotta get ready for the next take, so can’t stay long, but would you like to have lunch together? Wait, let me clarify that. When the set breaks for lunch, would you like to take a walk on the beach while eating whatever I can get delivered? With my busy schedule, that’s the best I can do.”
“Love to,” she said. “Where?”
“Just come over to my station.” He pointed to an oversize blue-and-white striped umbrella, under which were several canvas-backed chairs, a portable video monitor, a small table on which sat a laptop, some papers.
She smiled. “Sounds great.”
“Bill!” A red-haired kid wearing a Sin on the Beach T-shirt and blue baggy shorts barged in. “Video feed is having problems. Kenny needs to see you ASAP.”
Bill touched her arm. “Gotta go. By the way, you look great.”
“Sorry I wore black,” she said, but he was already walking away. Even as he talked to the red-haired kid, others kept approaching him, vying for his attention. The boy from the hood had certainly come a long way. Even back then, he’d had that cocky, I’m the-man way about him, which a guy had to have to stand up to, and often survive, the life on the streets. She wondered if he’d even have come this far if he hadn’t had that tough background.
And yet, he seemed to despise the past that had nurtured this success. She didn’t get it.
OVER THE NEXT THREE HOURS, what Ellie did get was that the film business was no way as glitzy behind the scenes as it was on the screen. The next several hours consisted of boredom, repetition and more boredom as the same scene—two people having a brief conversation—was shot again and again.
At eleven the assistant director instructed everyone to take thirty minutes for lunch, and she headed over to Bill’s station, which was a mob scene with people demanding his time. She stood outside the umbrella while he argued with a lighting guy, gave instructions to several others, handled a call from Sullivan, all the while watching a playback on the video monitor of the scene they’d just shot.
Seemed it wasn’t just Peter who multiprocessed on this set.
She was debating whether to walk away, when the crowd dispersed and Bill waved her into his inner sanctum.
“Sorry,” he said, standing. “Today’s been one problem after another.” He picked up a sack, nudged his head toward the beach. “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”
Minutes later, they strolled along the shore, their feet sinking into the wet sand. Overhead, seagulls squawked and circled, eager for any offerings.
“It’s one of the worst shoots I’ve ever been on,” Bill muttered, shaking his head. “Just my luck, it’s also the first day with me in the director’s chair proving myself.”
She munched her sandwich, listening.
“But let’s not ruin our lunch by discussing it anymore, okay?”
“It’s great being on the beach,” she said, watching the distant waves tumble and crash.
“Yeah, except the majestic Pacific is starting to look like the damn show to me, but you’re right. It’s great out here. Hey, it was also great to see your brother again last night. What’s he doing these days?”
“Vice president at a software company.”
Bill nodded approvingly. “Not surprised one bit. He was always a go-getter.” He took a swig of his soda.
“How about your brothers and sisters?”
Bill felt that familiar nagging discomfort when people started talking about families. “They’re all right.”
His cell phone rang. Juggling his sandwich and drink, he retrieved it from his shirt pocket, checked the caller ID. “It can wait,” he muttered, dropping the phone back into his pocket. “So where were we?”
“I was asking about your family.”
He paused. “You know something, Ellie? Even though we laughed and talked about Olvera Street yesterday, the truth is, I hate East L.A. I know, you love it. Or at least like it. Why, I’ll never understand, but you do.” He took a bite of his sandwich, stared off at the ocean as he chewed.
“Sorry,” she said softly.
He took another swig of soda, taking his time to swallow the cold, fizzy liquid. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I meant what I said—I don’t understand—but I could’ve been a nice guy and not a…”
She lightly touched his arm, her kindness making him feel even more like a jerk.
“Jasmine works in a hair salon,” he started out, “has two kids, still lives in the hood. The next oldest, Sabrina, dropped out her sophomore year. Tried to talk her out of it, but…” He shrugged. “She’s divorced, several kids, living with Mom in a condo a few blocks over from our old hood.
“My brother Jasper,” he continued, staring down the beach at a couple of kids flying a bright blue and yellow kite, “is a firefighter in Eugene, Oregon.”
“That’s a beautiful town. Summer after high school, my girlfriends and I did a road trip to Washington state. We stopped in Eugene on the way back.”
“Yeah, I visited Jasper while on a shoot there. He’s happily married, four kids. Wife’s getting her master’s in psychology.” He finished the last bite of his sandwich.
“And your youngest brother?”
Suddenly the breezy summer air grew hotter, thicker. The glare of the sun on water hurt his eyes. This was the tough one, the one he never discussed.
“Wasn’t his name Randall?” she asked.
“Reginald.” He paused, picked up a shell embedded in the wet sand. “We called him Reggie.”
“Right! Reggie.” She smiled. “Once he came over to show off a mitt that’d been signed by—”
“Fernando Valenzuela. Dodgers’ pitcher.” Bill tossed the shell into the ocean, watched it disappear into the swirl of water and foam. “When he was eleven, all he talked about was being the next Fernando.”
“What is he doing now?”
Bill watched where the shell had dropped, wondering if it had sunk to the bottom or was drifting out to sea.
“He died,” he said matter-of-factly. “Gang shooting. Drive-by. Bloods and Crips, same old trash, what can I say.”
He looked over at Ellie, wondering about the expression in her eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses. Did she feel pity for him? Sadness? Definitely not forgiveness because if he couldn’t feel that for himself, neither could anybody else.
He looked back at the set. “We need to go. I bet twenty people are looking for me, ready to pound me with questions and problems.”
“Wait a minute, Bill,” she murmured, moving closer. He automatically braced himself as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He didn’t want this. Didn’t want her touching him, feeling bad for him, saying empty words that would never bring Reggie back.
But even as he thought those things, he reached for her, his hand trailing down the jut of her hip, onto the soft material of her bikini. Her warmth, her caring, even her screwed-on-wrong beliefs awakened something in him that made him want to feel again.
He held her close, feeling her soft body against his, needing that softness, craving it. The weight he’d carried for so long suddenly felt too heavy, too much to endure alone. He lowered his head, letting it sink against the cushion of her perfumed hair. He was so tired of keeping it all together, so tired of holding back.
“Ellie,” he whispered hoarsely, “it’s my fault he died.”