The Unidentified Redhead (1) (32 page)

“Grace, you seem to be under the impression that I tell women I love them all the time. Can I tell you how often I've said that to anyone other than my family? Twice. That's it, in my entire life, twice. Why would I fuck around on you?” he asked, getting heated.

“Hey, man, people in love fuck around all the time. It happens. It's not that uncommon,” I retorted, leaning up on the chair and out of his arms.

Here comes the shit storm…

“How about the next party you're at, and there's a blonde and a brunette wanting to take you home with them, huh? What do you do?” I continued.

“I tell them about the redhead that I'm in love with, and then I tell them to piss off. Where the hell is this coming from?” he asked, getting angry.

“It's coming from the fact that we're going to be three-thousand miles away from each other, and I'm scared to death about what's going to happen. Maybe I shouldn't be so involved already, but I am. And even though you probably should be, I hate the idea of you with anyone else,” I said angrily, sitting up straight.

“Be with anyone else? Why don't you let me decide who I want to be with? Is this something I need to worry about? You seem awfully defensive. Something you want to tell me, Grace?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me, watching me carefully.

“Oh, please. You're the one that's going to have a pussy parade to choose from as soon as you pop back up on the grid. They'll be falling over with their legs in the air and it can be just like before you started spending your evenings with Ma Kettle,” I snapped.

He glared at me, running his hands manically through his hair as he processed what I'd said.

“Grace, you are bloody insane! Are you hell bent on fucking this up before we really even get going? And a pussy parade? You're really pushing it…truly,” he finished, the warning clear in his voice.

I shoved myself out of the chair and stalked over to the ledge, looking out at the city—the city that I was leaving. The city that I was leaving in two days. Two days. Why the hell was I picking a fight with him now when I was leaving in two mother fucking days?

I spun about fast, seeing him sitting in the chair dejectedly. He looked confused and hurt…and pissed as hell.

Would you quit trying to mess this up?

Dammit.

I walked back over and stood in front of him. He wouldn't look up. “Jack?” I asked, trying to get him to look at me. He didn't answer. I tried again.

“Hey, look at me. Please?” I asked again, his eyes closing at the word 'please'.

“I'm pissed at you, Gracie,” he said darkly, but the use of the name 'Gracie' let me know he was more hurt than pissed.

“I know, I'm pissed at myself right now. Can you understand why I'm nervous though?” I inquired, daring to reach out another hand to his hair, scratching at his scalp. He ducked away from my hand, his eyes piercing. He was not going to let this slide so easily.

“I get why you're nervous to leave, but I don't get why you think I'd do something like that. If this is gonna work, especially when we're apart, there needs to be some pretty basic trust,” he said, finally opening his eyes and looking at me.

Oh man, he was better equipped at twenty-four to deal with this than I was.

“I know, love. You have to understand, I've got thirty-three years worth of crap baggage knocking around behind me, and if you take me, you take the baggage. Old insecurities…they're a bitch.” I laughed spitefully.

“You don't think I'm nervous about this, too? The timing of this whole thing is crap. We're crazy to even try to make this work, but I think it's crazy not to. I don't know what's going to happen. We might be totally fucked.”

“I agree, totally fucked,” I answered, frowning.

“You need to settle down, though. No more pussy parade. That was uncalled for, Grace,” he warned again, his face serious. “And quit blaming our age difference when it's your shit that's making this weird right now.”

I paused, and took in what he said. He was right, this was all my shit. I reached out tentatively with my hand again, approaching the scalp scratch once more. This time, he let me.

“Fucking Nuts Girl,” he sighed, closing his eyes again in acceptance of my hand.

“How about we just take it as it comes and we'll see how we manage the distance thing? We don't need to decide anything tonight…yes?” I continued.

He leaned in and pressed his face against my stomach, embracing me and pulling me into him.

“Yes,” he said, his voice muffled as he hugged me tightly. We were quiet for a minute, as I played with his hair. “Grace?” he asked, still muffled.

“Mmm hmm?”

“You're thirty-three?” he asked my tummy.

“Yep,” I answered truthfully. The jig was up.

“Fuck, you're old,” he said, holding me tighter. He knew to restrain me.

“Hating you right now, Hamilton,” I seethed.

“Loving you right now, Sheridan.” He laughed.

Shit storm over…or was this just a shit squall?

I managed to get out of his grip and backed away from him. I walked over to where the hot tub was and slowly slipped out of my tank top and shorts. He watched me as I removed my bra and panties and slipped underneath the water.

“You can't love me from over there. Now, get your ass in here and make this thirty-three-year-old scream,” I instructed, leaning back against the rim with my arms spread out across the back, making sure my breasts bobbed just above the surface.

He was in the tub in thirty-seven seconds.

And that was the night I found out Jack Hamilton could hold his breath underwater for an obscenely long time.

***

We slept deeply that night, exhausted, but pleasantly so. Curled up with his hands on my breasts, I slept the sleep of the solidly fucked. And that can be taken several ways.

The next morning dawned clear and sunny; classic California for my last full day in L.A. And I would be spending it mostly alone. Jack was up early and I watched from the bed as he changed. He had interviews all day and was taking a lunch meeting with Holly and a new director for a movie he was hoping to do in the spring. He had essentially quit working once Time was finished shooting, devoting his time to the upcoming media blitz that would take him half way around the world and back again.

I stayed in bed as he got dressed and sighed happily at the sight of my Jack, walking around sleepily dressed only in his jeans and no shirt. His hair was extra curly this morning, and he looked adorable. He smiled when he caught me staring and asked what I had planned for today.

“Well, I'm finishing up some last minute packing and then I'm having lunch with Nick to say goodbye to him. I've gotta go over to my house late this afternoon to sign the last few work orders and then I'm officially moved in, just to move back out,” I answered, tossing him his shirt that was on the floor next to my bed. I couldn't resist giving it a quick sniff.

Mmm, S'mores and Sex.

“Grace, did you just sniff my shirt?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yep, I did. What of it? And after you leave, I'll probably lay on your side for a while because the pillow smells like you. I'm ridiculous when I'm in love. We're talking Hallmark over here.” I giggled, now hugging his pillow to my chest and taking deep breaths in, flaring my nostrils and widening my eyes.

“Wow, that's not attractive.” He laughed, taking in my display. I curled up on his side anyway and continued to watch him putter about.

“What time are you heading over to your house?” he asked. “Maybe I'll meet you there. I need to take a look at that master bathroom before I start sledge hammering to make way for the steam shower!” he shouted, suddenly, landing like a pro wrestler on the bed next to me, wrapping my neck in a choke hold.

“Like you know how to install a steam shower, pretty boy,” I teased, enduring an old school noogie smack down.

“Well, I would supervise, obviously. I can't allow these hands to get too dirty,” he said seriously, admiring his hands. I rolled my eyes and he went back to scrubbing the top of my head with his knuckles.

“I'm meeting Chad there at five.”

“Perfect timing. I should be finishing up with my last interview about then. I'll swing by,” he said, finally releasing me and rising from the bed.

He finished getting ready and purposefully avoided my eyes when I saw him sneak the ball cap into his back pocket. But, he didn't put it on, so he was still honoring the agreement. Downstairs in the kitchen, I made him toast quickly, slightly burned with lots of marmalade (he really was like my own Paddington Bear…he was Hamilton Bear) and wrapped it in paper towels so he could eat it in the car. I put a travel mug of coffee next to his bag while he gathered up the rest of his things. He wasn't exactly packing up, but I did notice that there were things on their way out, like his cell charger that had been plugged in next to mine for the last few weeks.

Grace…you don't have time to panic.

He smiled when he saw the coffee ready to go for him. “Love you, Nuts Girl.”

“Love you more, Sweet Nuts,” I answered back, shaking my boobies at him. He raised an eyebrow and then left, blowing a kiss over his shoulder.

“See you at five!” he shouted, and then moments later I heard a squeal and the sounds of his car pulling away.

Then I was alone. I went up to my room to finish packing. I looked around, starting to feel blue again.

There was a note on my pillow…I didn't even see him leave it. I smiled and opened it.

Quit pouting and get your packing done…

and you look damn good for 48 years old. Tee hee?

My laughter broke through the stillness of the house.

The_Unidentified_Redhead

Chapter Twenty-Four

So that was it. I packed my last box, packed my last suitcase. FedEx picked up the things that I was shipping to New York. They would be delivered to the hotel, which had agreed to hold them until my new sublet was ready. Holly's friend had found me a great one bedroom on the Upper West Side in the 60's, and it was relatively close to the theater district. Not knowing how long I would be in New York, it seemed easier to pick a nice central location, in a good neighborhood, and then I was close to everything I needed.

I had briefly considered moving to New York right after college, but since Holly and I knew more people in L.A. and thought it would be a better career move, we both ended up on the West Coast. But secretly, I always regretted not having lived in Manhattan and I was grateful for the opportunity to live there, even if just for a few months, to experience the city as resident and not merely a visitor. I had traveled to the city frequently for work and I always loved spending time there.

Now that I was less than twenty-four hours from actually being there…I was losing some of the nerves.

My semi-argument with Jack yesterday had cleared the air a bit, given voice to some of my concerns. While I still felt that things would probably not be easy, as he seemed to think it would be, I felt better. When he told me he loved me, there was a feeling inside of me that was hard to describe. It was like a tugging in my stomach and a rush through my skin, hot and cold at the same time. I felt giddy and silly and thrilled when I heard him say those words. And to watch his eyes light up when I said it to him, it was enthralling.

The day passed by quickly, and before I knew it, I was headed over to my house on Laurel Canyon, the late afternoon sun through Italian Cypress trees casting dappled light across the winding road. The top was down, as always, music loud and my smile big as I enjoyed the ending of this day. I would miss my friends desperately, but Holly had already made plans to fly out for a weekend at the end of the month. Jack's schedule was getting increasingly tight, but I knew he would come as soon as he could. There would be plenty of movie related visits in the upcoming months.

I pulled into my driveway just after five, but didn't see Chad's truck. I was hoping that I hadn't missed him; maybe I had beaten him here. I unlocked the front door, pausing to take in the smell of new construction mixing with the potted lemon trees that were placed just outside the front door. It was strange that a house I had never spent a night in already felt more like a home than I had ever had before. I loved staying with Holly, but when I got back from New York, I would be glad to have my own home.

I set my keys down on the table that I'd placed in the entryway, and I listened to my feet click clack on the smooth tile as I walked towards the living room.

As soon as I rounded the corner, I heard, “Surprise!”

Holy shit.

“Holy shit!” I screamed, as people came pouring out of rooms, from behind couches and in from the patio.

All of my friends were there, some of Holly's other clients, even Lane and Rebecca, and of course, the two ringleaders. Holly and Jack were standing in front of the fireplace, looking incredibly proud of themselves and smiling at me.

I approached them, pushing my way through the wall of people offering up congratulations and goodbyes. Someone put a glass of champagne in my hand and I noticed the sign hung over the archway that said, BON VOYAGE ASSHEAD!

Jesus.

“Nice touch with the asshead.” I smirked at Holly, knowing that was all her. She just smiled and raised her own glass to me.

“I thought you would like that.” She laughed and clinked her glass to mine.

I turned to smile at Jack but his mouth was already on his way to my neck. He kissed me quickly, moving his lips up my ear.

“Are you surprised?” he asked, sucking my earlobe into his mouth and kissing it softly.

The butterflies were back in my tummy, I loved when he did that.

“I was surprised. This is nice,” I answered, leaning into him a little, feeling his lips as they moved down my neck and towards my collarbone.

“That's nice, too…” I added, my words trailing off as he reached my shoulder, kissing it lightly. His hands slipped around my waist and he moved me in front of him, resting his chin on my shoulder.

This all took place in less than a minute, but the intimacy he showed me was all-encompassing. The sweet way he manipulated my body, the way he claimed me so publicly and so privately at the same time was endearing. I clutched his hands tighter into my tummy, hugging him to me as we stood, one behind the other.