Falling for Her, page 8
She finally decided she wasn’t going to get any answers from the water, no matter how long she stared at it. The water only had more questions to throw at her, more on every wave. She started the engine and pulled away from the curb, heading for home before she questioned herself into any more corners.
Chapter Eleven
Kim didn’t get out of bed until noon the next day. Her sleep was disturbed by dreams of Marisa, both erotic and innocent in equal measure. They did nothing to help her state of mind, as she woke frustrated, irritated, and exhausted. A cold shower did nothing for her libido, and a hot shower did nothing to erase her weariness. She finally dressed and went downstairs. She scheduled her departure for a time when she knew the store would be busy, and hurried out before Mabel could flag her down.
She jogged to the gym and spent two hours working out, trying to sweat her way to a clear mind. All it did was make her sore on top of everything else.
On her way home, she stopped by the grocery store to get supplies for the poker game. She didn’t much feel like playing cards, but she’d held Friday night poker games every week for the past ten years. She would shoot herself in the foot before she broke that tradition. At least then she would have something to occupy her mind besides Marisa Larkin. She bought chips, pork rinds, beer and pretzels, and stopped by a tobacco shop to pick up some cigars. She may not smoke anymore, but the guys would riot if she didn’t provide for them.
Kim got home and moved her furniture out of the way. The table went dead center in the middle of the room, giving everyone access to the snacks in the kitchen and a clear path to the bathroom. She put away the things she didn’t want the guys getting into - her scripts, her books and mail - and dropped onto the couch to nap until the first guest arrived. She loved poker nights, but she couldn’t muster up the usual excitement. All she could think about was the long night ahead of her and the clean up afterward.
The players started to show up at a quarter to six, and she pulled herself reluctantly off the couch to let them in. Jonas Barker was the first to arrive, followed by Joshua Lincoln. Barker brought a huge bottle of root beer, while Lincoln had a sub sandwich so massive it required a feat of engineering and all three of the people present to get it up the stairs.
Lincoln and Jonas were both stuntmen she knew from the start of her career. The first time she met them they picked her up and threw her out an open window. Fortunately, cameras were rolling and everything they did was in the script. They had been so reluctant to throw the “frail little girl” out the window that she had been forced to throw herself out first to show them she could handle it. After that, they were so willing to cause damage to her that many directors thought they had a vendetta against her.
Paul “Pluto” Kan, Kim’s capoeira instructor, showed up as Lincoln starting cutting his sandwich. Pluto was a whippet thin Asian man, with hair shaved closed to his scalp. He greeted Kim with a crushing hug and slapped Lincoln’s shoulder hard enough to knock him off balance. Break was the last to arrive, and he greeted his fellow players with “manly hugs,” complete with back patting hard enough to break lesser men’s bones.
“Come on, girls,” Kim said. “Stop feeling each other up and let’s play cards.”
She took her seat by the window, well aware that the setting sun would shine into the window behind her and blind the men across the table. Her house, her rules. She shuffled the cards and said, “All right, boys. Break, you haven’t been with us in a while, but the rules are the same. Five dollar minimum bet. Cash on the barrelhead, no IOUs, no cars or wristwatches as collateral.”
“I don’t know if I’d be comfortable carrying all that cash home, Kim,” Break said. “I’d prefer if you just gave me your Jeep to settle up.”
Kim found the cigar he’d given her earlier in the week and stuck it in her mouth, biting down on the end. “We’ll see, Big Talk.”
“Thought you quit smoking.”
“I’m not going to light it,” Kim said. “I’m just going to keep this big phallic thing in my mouth, run my tongue around it a bit... maybe suck on it a little.” She popped her lips around the end and eyed the guys at the table, all of whom were staring at her mouth. She smiled, raised an eyebrow, and rapped the cards against the table. “Let’s play, boys.”
***
Kim, Break and Jonas were having a standoff, staring each other down over a pot that had grown to fifty bucks in the past ten minutes. Pluto was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and his eyes darting from one player to another as they measured each other. Lincoln eventually got up and went into the kitchen, returning with another part of the sandwich in his hand. He stayed away from the table, lest anyone think he was cheating, and happened to glance down at the coffee table and stopped to pick up a DVD case.
“Hey, I worked on this.”
Kim glanced over and saw he was holding King of Thieves. “Oh, yeah?” she said, feigning disinterest.
“Yeah. Some guy breaks into a house, scares the owner to death, and then screws the daughter. It’s pretty good.”
“What did you do on it?” Jonas asked, still examining his cards.
“All the robbery stuff. Running across this big mansion’s lawn, sneaking through the house in the dark.” He shrugged and sat down. “You should’ve seen the lead actress, though.” He whistled and shook his head. “Hot little nightgown, clinging in all the right places.”
Kim tossed a few more chips onto the pile. She hoped the sound would throw off Lincoln’s train of thought and he would drop the subject. “Check.”
“Call,” Jonas said. “Show ‘em.”
Break lay down his cards, spreading them across the table in a wide fan. “And the money goes... straight to the king.” He smirked.
“Hell,” Jonas said, and dropped his cards.
Kim looked down at her cards, spread them in a wider fan and lay them on the table. “Sorry, your majesty. Queen-high flush.”
“Screw me sideways.” Break tossed his cards down and laced his fingers at the back of his neck. He stretched, grunted, and said, “Well, that about does it for my gambling budget. I think I’m going to have to skip out.”
“Ditto,” Jonas said as he pushed away from the table. “It’s been a very expensive education in how much I still suck at this game.”
Break stood up and nodded at the King of Thieves DVD as he took out his wallet. “We’re working with that actress now. Marisa Larkin, right?”
“Yeah. What’s she doing now?”
“TV show. Neutral Ground. She plays a spy, Kim doubles for her.”
Lincoln said, “Nice. Hopefully it’s on one of the pay channels so she can keep on showing her assets.”
“Hey, Lincoln,” Kim said as she took three twenties from Pluto. “Why don’t you try shutting up?”
Lincoln snorted. “Please. Am I offending your delicate feminine sensibilities? The way you talk about the actresses you work with--”
“I said shut up. All right?” She took a hundred from Break and said, “Marisa’s a friend. I don’t want you talking about her like that.”
Lincoln held his hands out in surrender and nodded at the money in her hand. “I’ll have to settle up with you next week.”
“No problem.”
The men started to file out, leaving Break and Kim alone in the apartment. He offered to help her put the furniture back in place, and she gratefully accepted the offer. As they carried the table toward the kitchen, Break said, “Since when are you and Marisa Larkin friends?”
“What? I don’t know. She, uh, she invited me to some party tomorrow.”
“She invited pretty much everyone on set to that party. It’s not like it’s going to be some intimate dinner with just the two of you. And you know she has a boyfriend, right? They live together. Have for, like, five years.”
“Wow, that’s in-depth, Break. Looks like I’m not the only one obsessed with her.”
“I Google the people I work with. Sue me. You should see some of the pictures on her Instagram.” He whistled and shook his head. “Besides, you were outta line. You can’t get bent out of shape when someone says something you yourself have said in the past.”
Kim sighed. “I know, I know. It’s different with Marisa. I like her.”
“Like her, or like-like her?”
“What is this, fifth grade? I feel protective of her, that’s all.”
Break snickered and said, “All right, fair enough.” He moved her couch back into place and said, “You’re going to give me a chance to win my money back next week. Now that we work together on a regular basis, I’m going to figure out all your tells and then we’ll see who rules this game.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Kim said. “In the meantime, I’ll enjoy spending your money. Thanks for helping me clean up.”
“You gonna eat the rest of Link’s sandwich?”
“No, please. Get it out of here.”
Break went into the kitchen and returned with the remains of the sub wrapped in plastic. “Next week. Go to the ATM, because I don’t take checks.”
She escorted him to the stairs and shut the door behind him. It was late, but she didn’t feel like going to bed just yet. She went to the bedroom and retrieved her laptop, setting up with it in the window seat. She looked down at the street as it booted up. She saw Break on the corner, holding his sandwich under his arm like a newspaper. He stood framed in the streetlight for a moment before hurrying across the street.
She knew Break was right; Lincoln’s comments about Marisa were tame compared to some of the conversations they’d had in the past. Comparing various actresses on “faking it” technique, mocking lackluster love scenes and playing “spot the boob job.” But she couldn’t stand someone doing the same thing to Marisa. She wouldn’t stand for it in her house.
“You’re definitely off the deep end,” she muttered to herself. She took Break’s advice and got online, using Google to search for Marisa. She didn’t even glance at social media. That seemed like a can of worms she was nowhere near ready to open yet. Google alone had over three hundred thousand results, including a few fan sites and biographical entries that she was sure just rehashed the same information over and over. She clicked on the Wikipedia entry.
The picture used for her entry was nothing special; Marisa on some studio back lot, the collar of a coat turned up to her cheeks, smiling into the camera. The wind was blowing her hair across her eyes, and one hand was raised in the process of brushing it aside. Kim smiled at the photo; it was so candid, so real, and so different from the polished glamour shot she expected to find. She finally tore herself away from the picture to read the biographical information.
Irish and Greek heritage, not bad. Explained her dark features. She was actually two years younger than Kim, which she hadn’t expected. Her first role was at the tender age of sixteen in an episode of a science fiction show, where she played a “precocious alien ruler.” After that, she landed two or three roles a year, eventually gaining roles with names. At the bottom of the biographical information was a line that made Kim cringe: “She currently lives with Andrew Close, her boyfriend of several years.”
Kim clicked on the boyfriend’s name and went to his page. He was also an actor, and seemed to have cornered the market on badass roles. Pretty much every locally-filmed cop or crime show of the past eight years was listed on his credits, always assigning him names like Mr. Pierce, Colonel McBride, Marcos, and identifiers like Gunman and Guard. His picture was nothing special; a strong chin, close-set eyes, and brown hair cut extremely short. His eyes were ice blue and seemed to be looking out of the computer straight at Kim, measuring her. His smile was almost condescending. “Sorry, you were a little too late. Better luck next time.”
She did another Google search, this time for Marisa and Andrew together. She found a handful of pictures from movie openings and award shows. Marisa was dynamite, every dress accentuating her many fine features, done up like a princess and smiling as the flashbulbs blinded her. Andrew was always with her, always standing to one side while his lovely partner was adored. He generally wore black suits, fashionably cut, never the same one twice. Marisa was almost always holding his hand.
Hand holding was nothing. And in a lot of the pictures, Andrew had two fingers hooked around Marisa’s thumb as she was half-turned away from him. But still, the intimacy of their hands linked that way was hard to look at.
She finally shut down the computer without succumbing to the desire to look for the other pictures Break mentioned. She put the laptop away and turned out the lights, stuck her winnings in a cookie jar to fund next week’s game, and went to bed early.
Chapter Twelve
On Saturday morning, a messenger delivered the script for the next episode of Neutral Ground and Kim spent most of the afternoon going over it. No matter how hard she tried to distract herself, however, she kept glancing at the clock and counting down the minutes until the party. The second episode of the series would be relatively stunt-light. The terrorist leader Trujillo had been caught, and the majority of the episode was spent with Lethe and Temple debating who would have the honor of taking custody of him. Their agreement to work together apparently didn’t extend to their bosses.
The only big stunt came when Trujillo attempted to escape CIA custody. Lethe and a bevy of soldiers would attempt to cut him off, and Lethe would be blown off her feet by a grenade blast. Kim made some notes in the margin, trying to decide how she would pull it off. It all depended on the director, and how big he wanted the explosion to be. She checked the cover and saw that the second episode would be directed by Solomon Thomas. He was a famous “dialogue” director, and his productions didn’t have much in the way of action. Made sense, considering the content of the story.
She leaned back and stretched, looking at the script. Depending on how big they went, she could just walk Marisa through the stunt and let her do it herself. It would probably be a one day job, in and out. She would have to see if anyone else needed a stunt person over the next week, just to fill up her day. Directors were always on the lookout for extras they could throw to the sharks.
An hour before the party was set to begin Kim abandoned work for a quick shower and examined the items in her closet. She wasn’t sure how formal the party was going to be, but it was her first party at a celebrity’s house. She felt the need to dress up a little. She finally chose a black dress and a long white blouse, leaving the top two buttons undone. She put on her mother’s emerald necklace, and actually applied just a touch of makeup.
She refused to do anything fancy with her hair, but she left it down around her shoulders for a change. She stepped back and examined herself, rolling the sleeves of her blouse up to the elbows and decided she looked decent enough to pass for a celebrity. She picked up the DVD of King of Thieves on her way out the door and went to the counter to turn it in. Mabel glanced up from the computer as Kim approached, finished what she was doing, and held out her hand for the movie.
“Hey, Mabel. Listen... the other day...”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have been pressuring you so much. Served me right.” She took Kim’s hand and patted the back of it. “You’re such a pretty girl. And oh, so pretty today! Do you maybe finally have a date?”
“Uh, no. Just a party tonight. But hey, maybe I’ll meet someone.”
Mabel kissed her fingers and flicked them at the ceiling. “From your lips, honey, to His ears! You have a good time tonight. Don’t even worry about coming in late. I won’t make a peep about it.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Mabel. Have a good night.”
“You too,” Mabel called, using the fingers of both hands to wave goodbye as Kim left the store. The party was set to begin at six; she had twenty five minutes to get across town and locate Marisa’s house. Of course, she didn’t want to be the first person to arrive; that would just look desperate. First, she drove to the bookstores she passed on her jogging route. Something Marisa had said stuck in her mind, and she wanted to check it out.
The bookstore was somber and well-lit, with a myriad of workers in bright blue shirts moving around the shelves like worker bees. She flagged one down and said, “I’m looking for... I think it’s a series of books. They would be about a, um, CIA agent named Lethe working with an FBI agent named Templeton...”
“The Temple series.” The kid turned and pointed. “They’re shelved under K, for Rebecca Kenny. Let me know if you need anything else.” He then hurried off and disappeared down another aisle.
Kim found the Kenny books, and was surprised to see how many there were. They all incorporated the word “Temple” into their titles. She hoped the die-hard fans didn’t mind their hero sharing time with a permanent partner. She scanned the titles and picked one of the books at random. The Body Temple had a nice ring to it; the cover showed a stretch of desolate tundra, an all-terrain vehicle parked on a slope. The truck’s windscreen was shattered by what looked to be a bullet hole, and blood was pooled on the snow next to the driver’s door. She flipped the book open and scanned a few pages, her eyes catching on a specific scene near the beginning.
“I told you in Vienna,” Simone said, eyes on the road, jaw tight. “It’s not my fault you didn’t pay attention. Or maybe you just blocked it.”
“I didn’t block it,” Temple said. “I just thought you were teasing me.”
There was a hint of a smile on Simone’s lips, but she said nothing.
Temple looked at the woman sleeping in the backseat. “So how long were the two of you together?”
“We weren’t exactly together. It was more of an informal arrangement we had.” She looked in the rearview mirror as she merged.
“So when did the ‘informal arrangement’ begin?”
“From the time we first slept together, until the time she went MIA, it was about seven years.”
