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Chapter One

I was striding through the lobby of the downtown Glasgow hotel at which I was consulting, flanked on either side by the Reservations Manager, Carol and the Conference & Banqueting Manager, Rod.  It was 8 pm and we were on our way to yet another meeting in a rough week of computer fun.  My job as a computer software trainer always puts me in interesting situations and this was no exception.  I had been sent to this site to put out a fire started by inefficiency in our offices and theirs, not that they were accepting any of the blame.  My mind was a million miles away, focused on what I could do to resolve the issue, so I didn’t immediately notice the disturbance starting in the far corner of the lobby.

“Just fuck off, would ya?!” an irate voice echoed into my consciousness.

“Bloody queer, what’s wrong with you?  Wearin’ lipstick just like a fairy princess,” returned a Scottish drawl laced with a bit too much Scotch.

“Look, mate, I don’t want a problem, I’m just trying to get to my room and get some sleep, so would you just go away” this from the first man.  I looked over to see two men near the open elevator: one about my height with blond, spiky hair had his hand holding the elevator door with his back to me and the other was about 6’ and had a handful of the other man’s leather jacket with a death grip that suggested he either wanted to start something or he was gonna fall over if he let go.

Voices were raised and heads were turning in the lobby, which would never do.  I looked to Carol and Rod but both of them seem to be frozen.  Innate hospitality genes leapt to life, and I went over to smooth out the situation.  Quickly I grabbed Rod by the hand and drug him along with me.

With my free hand, I reached out and grabbed the taller man’s hand.  He was so shocked that he let go of the leather coat.  I wedged myself between him and the Leather Coat Guy.

“That’s him!” I said to Rod,” that’s the guy that was trying to get into my room.  Now I want to know what you plan to do about it!”

While Rod stuttered and stumbled for a coherent sentence, I let go of him with my left hand and subtly pushed Leather Coat Guy into the elevator.  Then I returned my attention to the two men in front of me.  Unfortunately, lack of attention turned into lack of balance as Drunk Guy decided it was time I let go of him.

“Get off, you bitch,” he screeched as he pushed me away.  Original phrase choice, I thought as I fell backwards.  I landed in the elevator just as the doors began to shut.  I just barely pulled my legs into the car in time.

“Are you alright?” the other man asked me in the absolutely yummy London accent I was becoming accustomed to in my short stay in the UK.

“Yes, yes.  Just push a button before the doors reopen and we both get beaten to a pulp!”

Laughing, he pushed the button to the 9^th floor, and then reached over to help me out of the graceful heap I had created on the elevator floor.  I brushed myself off – 4 star hotel my ass, could they not vacuum the floor once in a while – and turned to introduce myself to my new leather-clad friend.  I looked up to my first frontal view and met the clearest, deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen.  Eyes lined with kohl and accented with lavender eye shadow.  Eyes I recognized.

Eddie Izzard stood there looking back at me.  I stood there trying to think of a cool, logical, intelligent thing to say.

“Sooooooo” was what I came up with.  Luckily Eddie started at the same time as well with,” So that guy was bothering you as well?”

“Um, actually no,” I replied, “I made that up.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, a ruckus was startin’ and no one seemed to be doing anything about it, so I thought I would…”I trailed off.

“Take matters into your own hands,” Eddie finished for me. “Well, I appreciate it but you could have gotten hurt.  That idiot was stone drunk.”

“That’s why I brought Rod along with me; he’s the DM tonight.  I figured he could help me move it out of the lobby if it came to that.”

“Well I’m sure your employer wouldn’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way to avoid… what was that word you used?”

“A ruckus,” I said, blushing.  “Sorry, my Missouri’s showing again.”

He laughed and started to speak again.  The elevator door interrupted us and he started to get out.  I stayed in the car, ready to go back down to the lobby and face the music.  He turned around and reached for my hand.  Pulling me out of the elevator, he explained,” Come on, better wait ‘til the coast is clear downstairs.”

We walked down the hall about halfway before he stopped and put the key in a door on the left.  He motioned for me to go on in, so I walked through, thinking, “Oh my god, I am in Eddie Izzard’s hotel room!”

Chanting a “calm, cool, collected” mantra to myself, I walked over to the window and looked out.

“Oh, you have a great view of the city, Mr. Izzard,” I exclaimed.

He shot me a smirk and replied, “So you do recognize me?  I had just assumed that you were a recent American transplant and …”

He trailed off, sort of flustered as if he wasn’t sure how he could finish the sentence and not sound like an ass.

“We do get a bit of news over in the colonies, ya know, “ I grinned back at him. “I’ve got HBO.”

“So you know my name; what’s yours?”

“Oh, how rude of me.  I’m Grace. Grace Kallum.”

“Well, I’ll forgive your rudeness since you got me out of a potentially embarrassing situation down there,” he replied. “You won’t get in trouble for it, will you?”

“Since I don’t actually work here, I don’t think there’s much they can do to me,” I replied.

Glancing quizzically at me, Eddie said, “Oh, I just assumed… I mean you brought the manager…”

“I’m here doing some consulting work for the hotel,” I explained. “But the whole guest services, manager-ish gene is too strong and I couldn’t ignore it.”

“So it wasn’t a “get the tranny out of the lobby” move, then?” he asked with a slightly bitter note.

Aghast, I defended, “No, no, of course not.  I didn’t even realize who you were until we were in the elevator. That guy was just being a drunken lout and I wanted to… I don’t know… shut him up, I suppose.”

“Really?” he brightened.  “That’s really groovy, then.  My knight in shining armor.”

“Odd twist of phrase… the Brothers Grimm must be rotating in their graves.” I replied.  “Well I should get out of here and get back to my meeting.”

“At this time of night?  You’re still working?” he exclaimed incredulously.

“Yup… no rest for the wicked.  Suffice it to say, I’ve had better weeks. In fact, suffice it to say I’ve had better bouts of ‘flu.”

“What exactly do you do?” he asked. “When you aren’t rescuing strangers from intoxicated idiots?”

I went through my standard explanation: computer software trainer, on loan from the States to our London office, over to install and train PMS interfaces for a national chain.

“PMS interfaces?” he asked with the same half grin I get from every man I’ve ever explained my work to.  Adolescent humor never goes away; case in point, try using the word “erection” in conversation without smiling.  Can’t do it, can you?

“That would be Property Management System, or in layman’s terms, the reservations computers,” I explained. “Unfortunate acronym, I know.  My company makes a sales office computer system and we’re trying to get them to play nice with each other.  Unfortunately, we’re speaking English and they seem to be speaking Chinese so it ain’t goin’ well.”

“And you get to travel all over the world?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested.

“Mhmm, yeah, not as glamorous as it sounds, I promise.  It’s mostly just in the States,” I replied. “But I love coming over here and I do it whenever they’ll let me.”

I paused, torn by the desire to stay where I was forever, talking to Eddie and staring at that amazing face, and by the duty that was biting at my conscience.  Sadly, duty won out.

“Well, I really should get going,” I stated reluctantly.

He walked me to the door.

“It was great to meet you, “I stammered, falling back on an old standby celebrity-encounter statement and stuck out my hand for the traditional hand-squeezy greeting.

He smiled as he took my hand and leaned over, kissing me on both cheeks in the European manner that I have always found so charming.

“Thanks again,” he said.

I smiled and walked away.  When I heard the resounding click of the hotel door, I paused, turned, and stared at the door.   Had that really just happened?  Had I just had a personal encounter with a comedy god?  I grinned, turned and floated to the elevator, prepared to take my lumps for my intervention.  Whatever happened, it was worth it; I would have walked over hot coals for that meeting.

Chapter Two

The next morning was Friday, my last day in Glasgow.  The rest of my evening had been rather anticlimactic; Rod and Carol, far from being upset at my audaciousness, had applauded my quick thinking.  I had had an epiphany and figured out how to translate Chinese to English, computer-wise, and got my interface up and running.  I finished training around 3 pm and grabbed my bags to catch a flight back to London.  I stopped at Reception to drop off my key and get that ever-important receipt for my expense report.  The clerk smiled and handed me an envelope along with my guest folio.

“What’s this, Anna?” I asked, perplexed.

She smiled and said, “A note from your special guest.”

Typically, word of the previous night’s escapade had spread through the hotel like wildfire.  If you’ve ever wondered what hotel employees do after you walk away, rest assured they are talking about you.

I wished her well and said my goodbyes to the other staff members who had become my temporary colleagues throughout the week.

As I got into my taxi, I ripped open the envelope and shook out its contents:

Hmm, the plot thickens, I thought.  I flipped the card over and indeed said mobile number was there.  I tucked the card into my PDA for safekeeping as the cabbie pulled into the departures area to drop me off.

* * * * * * * * * *

That night, after an appropriate welcome home pint with friends at their local pub, I sat in my Kensington hotel room and re-examined Eddie’s note.  Should I call?  Was he just being polite?  Ok, face facts… I am going to call.   I vowed to wait until Sunday, in a not-bugging-you-just-seeing-if-you-were-serious type theme.  That way if he was serious, I was in London for the next two weeks and could be flexible and if he sounded uninterested, I could pretend I had to leave that night and he could just say he couldn’t make it.

Perfect plan put into action, I headed off to bed.

The next day, I took a stroll through Notting Hill, taking in the sidewalk market and hitting a few used bookstores.  I finally found an interesting selection, and after a stop at Pret-a-Manger, headed off for an afternoon in the park.  I found a quiet place on a bench not far from the duck pond and ate my lunch, people-watching as roller-bladers whizzed by on the warm mid-August afternoon and kids and dogs wrestled each other in the grass.  As the afternoon wore on, I moved under a tree and read my new book.  I was about halfway through when I got that specific, hair-raising feeling that I was being watched.  I lifted my eyes from my book to find Eddie standing on the grass, five feet away, directly in front of me.  He smiled, and I smiled back as he walked over.

“What’s this? Practicing your ESP?”I joked.

“No, just enjoying a picture of perfect concentration,” he returned.  “Good book?”

“Mmm, just fair,” I said, watching as he plopped down on the grass next to me.  I put the book aside, and gave him my full attention.  He was in full “bloke” mode that day, wearing a tight black shirt and jeans and sporting a day’s beard.  The only hint of TV was the dark nail varnish covering his fingernails as he ran his hand through his hair, giving it a cute, disheveled look.

“So,” he said, picking up my small backpack and turning it to the side pocket.  “This is broken?”

I gave him a bewildered look as he dangled my mobile phone in his hand. “No, not so far as I know.  Why?”

“Well, you’re in London and my phone hasn’t rung, so I assumed…”he teased.

“I’ve only been home for twelve hours,” was my feeble response.  He gave me a clear, direct blue gaze that made me feel like I’d been walking on my mama’s clean floor with muddy boots.  He wasn’t buying my excuse.  “Alright, alright.  I didn’t want to bug you.  I thought I’d wait a couple of days.”

“I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t mean it,” he said.  “Look, I’ll level with you.  I just thought you’d be a fun and groovy person to hang out with.  Not everyone would put themselves on the line for a stranger the way you did and I wanted to get to know you better. That’s all.”

“Ok, fair enough,” I conceded.  “So is that pint offer still good?”

“Of course,” he smiled. Then frowned and added, “Oh, damn.  I’ve got plans tonight, group thing with my girlfriend and some mates.  Can I give you a raincheck?”

“Sure,” I breezed back, thinking that settles that, the rumors are true. Mr. Izzard is off the market.  Ah, well, best that question’s settled early and after all, I’m not exactly in his league.  I’m cute but not movie star/famous comedian level.  “Tell you what.  I’m in town for the next couple of weeks.  Let me give you my mobile number and you can call me when you’re free.”

I watched in amazement as my new friend Eddie Izzard programmed my phone number into his mobile:  Grace, 020 1293 1092.  Pretty damn groovy for a girl from Missouri, if I do say so myself.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three days later

I was sitting in a cramped room in the back of the hotel, going through a stack of reports with a colleague when my phone went off.  Without looking up from my papers, I grabbed it and bit off a terse, “This is Grace.”

I was met with a sexy, smoky laugh and the comment, “Sounds more grumpy than grace.”

“Eddie! How are you?”

We exchanged general pleasantries for a few minutes before he introduced the proposition he’d called to make, “So you want to get that drink tonight?”

“Sure,” I agreed,” Just name a time and a place.  And directions that even the American tourist can follow.”

He laughed and offered to pick me up.  I gave him the address of my hotel and we agreed to meet at 8 that evening.

That night, Eddie and I cemented our friendship over fine whiskey. We swapped stories of growing up, school, families, and life in general.  By the time we staggered back to my hotel, we were fast friends.

“S’listen,” Eddie slurred at me as I attempted to insert my key card into the lock that, damn the thing, kept moving on me. “A bunch of us are going out on Saturday, you should come.”

“ ’k, what y’all doin’?” I mumbled as I leaned against the now open doorframe for support.

“Ah, the usual mayhem:  drinking, dancing, et cetera.”

“Sounds like a plan.”  I agreed to meet up with his crew at the Slug and Lettuce pub in the West End on Saturday.

* * * * * * * * * *

Saturday

I stood in front of my mirror, critically examining my third outfit of the evening.  Packing light is great when you are hauling your luggage through the eighth train station of the day, but really limits your options when you want to look nice.  Adding to my dilemma, I hadn’t really asked Eddie what kind of evening out we were having or who was going.  So I was stuck trying to find an ensemble neither too casual nor too dressy.  I settled on a lavender blouse with my blue and lavender miniskirt, going for the “so what if I’m dressed up, I have great legs” look.  Hair flipped, highlights touched up, makeup in place, and I was ready to hit the town.

A short tube ride later, I found myself in front of the Slug and Lettuce pub.  What a horrific name, I thought, as I willed myself to go in.  It’s a weird thing I have, this shyness issue.  Especially when you consider that what I do for a living involves getting up in front of people and chattering away literally for days.  But stick me in a social situation where I don’t know anyone and I get completely freaked out.  It’s hell on a girl’s social life, let me tell you!

I took a deep breath, tried to think courageous thoughts, and started to walk in.  Just as I grabbed the door handle of the glass door, Eddie pushed it out.

“Oh, sorry!” I stammered as he tripped forward, catching himself on the door before he fell.

“Hey, no problem.  I was just wondering if you were coming in or changing your mind out here.” He grinned.

“Oh, crud, you noticed?” I replied, blushing to the roots of my hair (damn that fair skin, gives you away every time!).

“Just a few seconds ago,” Eddie replied, his face becoming serious. “You weren’t really going to change your mind and leave, were you?”

“No, no,” I assured him.  “It’s just… well, I get nervous sometimes when I’m about to meet new people.  It’s a self-esteem thing.  My therapist has leaflets on it if you’d like to learn more.” Always end on a joke, that’s my philosophy!

“Oh, sweetheart, you should have said,” he rebuked gently.  “I’d have arranged for us to meet somewhere more private.”

“No, really it’s not a big deal.  I’m just working on getting over it so you are officially part of the healing process,” I smiled.  “We should go in before your friends figure out that I have severe mental issues.”

He laughed and held the door open for me.  We walked over to a table inhabited by about seven people, a mix of men and women.  I was relieved to find out that I had dressed appropriately; most of the women had on skirts, while Eddie himself had sided with the blokes tonight and worn pants.  He introduced me around to everyone.

“There’s no name-matching test later, is there?” I joked as he got around to about the fifth person, and got a nice laugh, which always puts me at ease.

“And this is Grace, live-saver and bully-fighter extraordinaire,” he finished.

“Eddie was just telling us about the Glasgow exploits, Grace,” this from Jeremy, a barrister friend of Eddie’s.

And Eddie was off, finishing our tale.  I jumped in every now and again, filling in bits he left out and making fun of his embellishments.  By the end of the story, the whole table was in tears and I felt right at home.

We stayed there for about an hour, drinking and chatting.  Jeremy, the cute lawyer, attached himself to my side and put himself in charge of my beverage needs, which I thought was right neighborly of him.  Hey, if you can’t have Eddie… as the song says, “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”

Eddie’s girlfriend, Emma, sat at the other end of the table.  She seemed friendly enough and warmed to me after she figured out that I was there as a new friend and not just another fan.  It amused me she would even be worried, as she was very pretty.

“So what’s the most important historical event you have witnessed in your life?” One of the guys, Steve, threw out on the conversational table.

“In living color or on TV?” I asked.

“Either,” he clarified.

Everyone started throwing out things like “Reagan assassination attempt, Princess Di’s death, Watergate, Olympic bombing in Beirut.”  One of the women had left Tokyo the day before the chemical attack on the subway.

“Landing on the moon,” was Eddie’s submission. “What about you, Grace?”

“Hmm, well on TV, I’d say the space shuttle explosion.  Real-life, President Clinton’s second inauguration.”

“You’d put that above the first moon landing?” he said disbelievingly.

“Honey, I wasn’t exactly around when that happened,” I remarked.

“How old are you?” Jeremy queried.

“26, in two weeks,” I replied.

This caused great clamoring from the table as I was lambasted for being the baby of the bunch, which is nothing new for me.  I gave them my standard rebuttal, “Ah, be nice now, some day I may be picking out your nursing home.”

Eddie balled up his cocktail napkin and shot it across the table at me.  “Cheeky brat.”

In an extremely adult moment, I stuck my tongue out at him.

At this point, someone suggested we move on to phase two of the evening, dancing at a club in Soho.  We all made our way through the streets of London, laughing and generally causing a scene.  We spent the next four hours, drinking and dancing.  It took me about an hour and a half of that time to realize that Jeremy was attempting to get me drunk.  Shortly after that discovery, I excused myself from his increasingly amorous clutches and got myself a water to start the sober-up process.  As I was returning to our space on the dance floor, I met Eddie who was headed to the bar for another round.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he smirked at me.  “How’re you doing?”

“I’m holding my own,” I replied.

“Just your own?  Looked like more from my angle,” he mocked.

I laughed and added,” Well, looks can be deceiving.”

“Seriously, watch yourself.  Jeremy’s a nice enough bloke, but…” he trailed off as I started laughing.

“Thanks, Dad.  I’ll have the car home by midnight.”

“Is that your way of telling me to mind my own business?” Eddie queried.

“It’s my way of saying while I appreciate your concern, I can take care of myself, “I said gently, placing my hand on his arm.

“Ok, just be careful…”

He took off for the bar and I returned to the dance floor.  The rest of the evening was whirlwind and didn’t break up until about 4 am.  About half of the party left, including Emma, excused themselves and headed home.  Eddie stayed behind, as did Jeremy.  The remainder of us decided a full English breakfast was in order and went off to find an eating establishment.

After, as the sun was just starting to glint off the Thames, I began making my excuses and rose from the table.  Jeremy started to speak, but Eddie cut him off.

“I’ll walk you out.  I need to get going anyway.”

As we made our way through the restaurant, a few of our fellow early-morning diners were shooting looks of recognition our way.  At the door, Eddie got stopped with an autograph request, which he politely signed and chatted for a brief moment.

As soon as we were on our own again, Eddie said, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“No problem,” I replied.

We walked toward the Embankment station, the nearest to the restaurant.

“Listen, I have to go to L.A. on Monday,” Eddie said. “But why don’t we go out on Friday?”

“Oh, I can’t,” I said. “I fly home on Friday night.”

“Oh, shit!  I wanted to see you before you left,” Eddie exclaimed.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his Palm Pilot.  “I don’t get back ‘til Friday afternoon.”

We looked at both our schedules, but no matter how we tried to juggle it, nothing worked.  So Eddie took down my address, mail and email, and my cell phone in the States.  He promised he would keep in touch.  I still had his mobile number, and he made me swear to call him when I had a chance.

We said our goodbyes as I purchased my tube ticket.  As I walked away, I wondered if I would ever see Eddie again.  I fought the urge to turn around and see if he was watching me leave.  Inexplicably, either answer would have made me cry.

Chapter Three

Six Months Later

I was walking through the Delta baggage claim at Boston’s Logan International when my cell phone started ringing.  I dropped my baggage and started rummaging through my purse for the phone which, despite apparently only weighing four ounces, always manages to sink to the bottom of my bag.

“Hello,” I answered.

“’Allo, lovey,” a Cockney accent chirped back.

“Hi Eddie! How lovely to hear your voice,” I laughed.  “Or at least, whosever voice you were channeling there.”

He laughed, and we started off on yet another of our nonsensical chats as I re-gathered my luggage and made my way to my car.

Over the last six months, Eddie and I had been keeping track of each other via email and phone calls.  They had ranged from the silly (a debate on whether “biscuits” is really the best word to describe a cookie) to the serious (a two hour discussion on the importance of the introduction of the Euro) to the scary (a panicked call from Eddie on September 11^th to find out my whereabouts since I fly out of Boston twice a week), and I had come to depend on hearing from him at least once a week.

“So what’s new with you?” I asked as I drove out of the parking garage.

“Er, not that much,” Eddie hedged, with a slightly wistful note in his voice.

“Meaning?” I questioned.

He sighed heavily, “Oh, I’m bored!”

I could just picture the pout on his face and burst out laughing.

“Ah, kick me while I’m down, beautiful.”

“Why are you bored?  Don’t have eight projects going at once?”

“Ah, you know me too well, “ he laughed.  “My play’s ended.  My next film shoot doesn’t start ‘til April.  All I have to do are these bloody German lessons and they’re driving me nuts!”

“Ah, poor baby!”  I crooned.  “Whatever will you do?”

“Well…” he paused. “I was thinking I might come over to the States for a while.”

“REALLY!  Are you coming to see me?” I squealed. “Please, please, please!”

“You wouldn’t mind?” he asked.

“No, I’d love the chance to show you around Boston.  When are you thinking of coming? How long are you staying?”

“In a couple of weeks, for a couple of weeks.  Would that be alright?”

I checked my calendar and saw that I had my week off from traveling in two weeks.  “Definitely available the first week but I’m in Vegas the second.”

“Vegas?!” I heard a mischievous note in his voice. “Oh, love, just think how much trouble we could get into in Las Vegas.”

I chuckled at the thought.  We began to make plans for his visit.

* * * * * * * * * *

I picked Eddie up from the airport on a typical March day in New England, i.e. rainy, gray, and cold.  I was waiting for him outside Customs.  He emerged looking tired and more than a little annoyed.

“Good God, you’d think I personally had Mad Cow, “he grumbled as he hugged me hello.

“Well, that’s as good an explanation for you as any, I s’pose,” I smirked.  One corner of his mouth lifted in response.

We grabbed his baggage and began the three-mile hike to the parking garage.  He was completely worn out so we headed back to my apartment.  My roommate was out of town so I had gotten his permission to let Eddie stay in his room for the couple of days that we would be in Boston.  It turned out that Eddie could only stay for a week or so, then he had to head to L.A. for meetings regarding his upcoming film shoot.  So we planned to spend a few days in Boston then head to Las Vegas for the Saturday and Sunday.

The next day, Eddie emerged rested and refreshed and in a much better mood so we began our site-seeing extravaganza.  The weather actually cleared into mild, if still chilly, days that allowed us to enjoy the outdoors.  We wandered around the North End, overindulged in fantastic Italian food, and wound our way down the Freedom Trail, all the while with Eddie giving me the British version of the events, slightly different to the American one.  I was in stitches and passersby kept looking at us as if we’d lost it.  We moved on to shopping on Newbury Street, where we tried on vintage clothes and people-watched the posh going by from a street café.  After an evening on Lansdowne Street clubbing, we took it easy the next day by going through the MFA and the Science Museum.  All in all, a nice slice of life in Boston in two days or less.

For our final evening, we decided to stay in so that I could dazzle Eddie with my amazing culinary skills.  From the four dishes I am capable of creating, he chose homemade tacos.  We settled into the carpet picnic I created in front of the TV and flicked on a DVD from my collection.  After much discussion over what to watch, we had turned on “Cool Hand Luke” and it was playing in the background as I brought over the tray of lightly browned corn tortillas.

With a serious look on his face, Eddie started loading his first taco as I sat down.

“It’s not neurosurgery,” I observed.

“Huh?”

“The level of concentration you’re affording that taco is typically expended upon, say, a tightrope walk across a pit of open flames and/or man-eating sharks, “ I explained.

“I worry about your frames of reference sometimes,” he returned.

“No subject changing!  This is not the first time this week that you’ve gone all quiet on me.  I’m starting to take it personally.”

“Oh, no, no,” he reassured.  “It’s not you.  Really it’s… I just…” He trailed off uncomfortably.

“What we have here. . .  is a failure to communicate.”  The TV intoned as our conversation paused.  I met Eddie’s gaze and we both busted up.

“Well, I’d say that sums that up, just about,” I laughed.

“Emma and I called it quits,” Eddie blurted out.

My laughter died in my throat.  “Oh, no!  Are you alright?  Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I mean yes, then no,” he waffled.  “In a slightly clearer version, yes, I’m fine, and no, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“We just didn’t seem to connect anymore,” he continued, obviously not wanting to talk about it.  “It was sort of a mutual thing.”

“Really,” I replied, thinking that in my experience, “a mutual thing” generally starts with one party saying they want to break up and the other person not wanting to look like a pathetic sap by disagreeing.

“Yeah, “ he drew out on an exhale.  “I just thought we should stop now, before we started doing that bitter arguing thing.”

Ah, so that would cast Eddie in the role of “one party” and the lovely Emma in the “other person” arena.  But who knows, maybe there really was such a concept of a mutual break up.

“…coming for a long time,” I snapped my attention back, realizing that Eddie had not stopped talking during my mental musings.

“I guess I’m just, I don’t know, feeling a bit guilty about the whole thing,” he finished.

“Well, it’s natural to feel, um, introspective when a relationship ends,” God, I am so bad at this.  We talked about it for a few minutes, and then he changed the subject.  I got the distinct feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling me, but I didn’t press the issue.

We fell silent as we finished our meal, a pall cast upon both our moods.  After dinner, I began clearing away the dishes and tidying the kitchen.  Eddie jumped up to help me.  Soon we were side by side, doing the dishes - me washing, him drying.  I turned to reach for the last dirty pan when I felt a stinging zap to my hind side.

“You bastard!”  I exclaimed.  I grabbed the sprayer, wheeled and fired a shot off from the hip.  Bulls’ eye!  I watched the wet stain spread across his pale blue t-shirt with a growing satisfaction that was matched by the grin growing across my face.  Unfortunately, whilst I was laughing at him, he was using the glass I had just handed him to scoop the cooling dishwater up and dump it over my head.   And thus began the Great Water Fight of 2002!

Twenty minutes later, drenched from head to toe and looking like the winners of a wet t-shirt contest, Eddie and I surveyed the kitchen in dismay at the inch of standing water.

“Well, at least I won’t have to mop again for a while…” I drawled, as I waded through the water and grabbed the offending household tool.  The mood was sufficiently lightened, and we were both laughing as we headed to bed.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, we caught our flight to Las Vegas.  We were both quiet as we sat in first class.  Eddie seemed lost in his thoughts, so I left him to them and read the trashy novel I had picked up in the airport gift shop.

Somewhere over the Midwest, I looked up to find Eddie watching me intently, his cobalt eyes unreadable.

“Hello,” I smiled.  “Bored?”

“Umm-hmm, “he replied, giving me a crooked, boyish grin.  “Entertain me!”

I laughed, “I think the flight attendants will be upset if I break into song and dance.  Rocking the boat at 32000 feet is generally unacceptable.”

“So read to me,” he invited.

“This?” I indicated the steamy love story I was about a quarter of the way into.   “Oh, no, you wouldn’t like it.”

“Don’t judge.  I might like it.  What’s the story?”

“Well so far, Abby, our loveable heroine, has just found out that someone is trying to murder her because, well she’s not sure exactly why yet, but she thinks it has something to do with the estate that she just inherited from her wily great-aunt.  Now Jackson, who is her wealthy new neighbor, was trying to convince her that she should sell the property to him.  She’s wildly attracted to him – “

“Of course, “Eddie interjected.

“But now she doesn’t know if she can trust him or if he’s the killer.”

“Oh, how suspenseful!” he mocked.

“Isn’t it just?” I responded.

For the next two hours, I read the romance out to him.  He made fun of me when I skipped reading the first explicit scene and then forced me to go back and read it in detail.  He then proceeded to pretend not to understand what the characters were doing and asking me to explain it in detail.  In reply, I bopped him on the head with the book.  As we landed, I marked my place in the book.  Eddie turned to me with a look of true disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“Now I’ll never know how it ends!” he sulked.

I laughed and tucked the book in the side pocket of my travel bag as the “fasten seatbelts” sign went off.  We gathered our belongings and prepared to disembark.  As I passed the flight attendant, the book fell out of my bag.  She leaned down and picked it up.

“Don’t want to lose this!” she chirped at me.  “You and your boyfriend are so cute together!”

“Oh, no,” I stuttered.  “We’re not…”

Eddie reached back and took the book from her.

“Thanks,” he said, putting his arm around me.  “It’s always nice to hear that, isn’t it, honey?”

Before I could say anything, he led me off the plane.  As we walked up the jetway, he slid a sideways glance at me and said, ”Sorry I just couldn’t resist!”

“That’s ok, “ I retorted.  “Just remember that’s how rumors get started!”

We caught a cab to the strip and checked into the hotel that I was training at the next week.  It was nearly 6 PM, so Eddie and I headed to our separate rooms to freshen up.  We had plans to meet some dear friends of mine at 8 at their home in Henderson.  I had lived with John and Rick during my time in Nevada and was looking forward to seeing them again.  After dinner, we would all meet up with some people from my former workplace to go out on the town.

I headed down to the lobby at the appointed time, 7:15, to meet Eddie.  Of course, he was running late so I wandered around the lobby, looking at the artwork on display.  About ten minutes later, I felt a light tap on my shoulder and spun around to see Eddie standing behind me.  He had gone for a more daring look, I suppose getting into the Vegas flair.  He was wearing black shiny PVC trousers and a nearly sheer platinum/black, well, chemise is the best word I can think of to describe it.  He also had on, for the first time since I’d known him, full makeup.  I’d seen him wear a little eye makeup or a hint of foundation, but tonight he had rimmed his eyes with black kohl, touched his lids with platinum eye shadow.  He had on a touch of blush and his lips were lined and colored to a cabernet red.  In a word, he looked hot.  I swallowed an unexpected rush of lust and berated myself internally for forgetting for a moment that he would never think of me in the same fashion.  We were just friends, no more and certainly no less.

“Wow, you look amazing, “ we both said at the same time, and laughed.  I, too, had abandoned my normal casual wear and had donned a figure-hugging black shirt with a red plaid miniskirt.  I had paired this with knee-high black leather boots, which propelled me a few inches higher than my usual 5’6”.

“Thanks, “Eddie said.  “I wasn’t sure how you’d react to the makeup thing.”

“Well,” I reasoned.   “It’s not as if I didn’t know about the whole transvestite concept.”

“Yes but knowing and seeing can be two different things,” he replied.  “And I’ve been in sort of a bloke-y phase since we met.  But my movie starts filming in a few weeks and I won’t have as much opportunity to get…” he trailed off.

“Tarted up?”  I offered helpfully.

“I suppose so,” he laughed.  “What do you think your friends will think?  I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Eddie, nothing about you makes me uncomfortable,” I said firmly.  “John and Rick know your work so this will come as no surprise to them, and as for the rest of them, if they can’t handle it, fuck ‘em!”

Eddie gave me an inscrutable look and said, “You never cease to amaze me.”

“In what way?”

“Every time a situation comes up that could be sticky or that I think is going to be awkward between us, you always find a way to smooth over it that makes me feel silly for worrying in the first place.”

“Well, that’s what friends give us, “ I reasoned.  “Unconditional love.  No matter what.  Besides, we’re in Las Vegas, a place where Elvis continues to roam the streets 30 years after he died.  People may not even notice your lipstick.”

Chuckling, he reached over and gave me a tight, long hug.  I would swear that there were tears in his eyes, but when he pulled away his mascara wasn’t running so I could have been mistaken.  He linked his fingers through mine and off we went to find a cab.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dinner was a great success:  the food was great, the conversation stimulating, and the wine flowing.  I hadn’t seen my friends in over a year and it was lovely to have a chance to catch up with them.  Eddie was charming and outgoing, and fit right in with every conversation.  I always find it nerve-wracking to blend my friend groups; you just never know how the mix will turn out.

John drove us all back to the strip and we went dancing at the Beach, a meat-market type nightclub.  It was, as always, a lot of fun, but Eddie had to rescue me from overzealous dance partners a few times throughout the evening.  We met up with some people from my old job and partied with them for a while.

Taking a break from the madness, Eddie and I found our way upstairs and sat at an empty table.

“Having a good time?” I posed.

“Definitely.  I really like your friends, Grace, “he answered.  “I’m so glad I came to visit you.  I just wish I didn’t have to rush off to L.A. tomorrow night.”

“And you go back to London on Wednesday?” I questioned.

He nodded affirmatively.  Then, shaking himself as if to ward away bad thoughts, he said, “But that’s tomorrow and this is tonight: let’s enjoy ourselves.”

Just then, the DJ started to play the new No Doubt song. “Hey baby, hey baby, hey, boys say, boys say….”

Eddie seized my hand and said, “C’mon!”  And we went back on to the dance floor, the seriousness of the moment lost.

We stumbled out of the club at 6 AM the next morning, squinting at the sunlight.  We all pondered the quick passage of time, having fallen victim to the Vegas phenomenon of buildings with absolutely no windows so that you can’t ever tell what time it is.  My friends scattered in all directions, headed for home.  Eddie and I, accompanied by John and Rick, strolled toward the parking garage at Barbary Coast Casino where John had parked six hours earlier.  We quietly piled into John’s Civic.  Eddie gave me a weary glance and leaned his head on my shoulder.  He opened his tired sapphire eyes and moaned, “God, woman, you’ve killed me!”

Laughing quietly, I reached over and wiped off the smudge of eyeliner that had started to wind its way down his face.  “Light weight!” I teased.

Twenty minutes later, we were in the elevator of our hotel, whizzing our way up to the 32^nd floor.  Eddie walked me down the long corridor to my room.  As we arrived, Eddie asked if he could borrow “the facilities,” and after only mild teasing about being unable to hold his liquor, I relented.

While he was in the bathroom, I flopped down on one side of the enormous king bed.  I looked at the bedside clock:  6:30 AM.  I heard the toilet flush and sat up.  My feet were killing me so I began to take off the knee-high boots.  I had one off and was rubbing my foot when Eddie reappeared.

“Suffering for fashion?” he inquired.

“As always,” I asserted.

He sat down on the foot of the bed and patted his lap.  “Give me your foot.”

I complied and he began gently but firmly massaging my aching arch.  No fool I, I reached down and unzipped the second boot.  I thrust my other foot up into his lap as well.

“Cheeky bastard,” he grumbled, as he began rubbing the other foot as well.

“I love you way past the sky!” I piped.  “So what do you want to do today?  Other than sleep?”

“We have to do something other than sleep?” he groaned, flinging himself backwards onto the bed and making pretend dying noises.

I poked him in the ribs with my foot.  He rolled onto one side and gave me a devilish grin.  “Let’s do something outside. The weather is so fantastic here.”

“Ok, “ I said, giving it some thought. “Did you bring your trainers?”

He nodded, so I continued, “We could go hiking on Mt. Charleston, just outside of town.  It’s a little tough, but the view from the top is worth it.”

“Well, let’s get some sleep then so my eyes will be open to enjoy it,” he declared.  Then didn’t get up.  “ I can’t move!”

“You can stay here if you want,” I did not just say that out loud, did I? Apparently so, as Eddie gave me a slightly shocked look.  I continued, “As I am way too tired to jump your bones at this juncture.”

“What a delightfully crude phrase, darling!” He recovered, then shrugged.  “I think I’ll take you up on it.”

He sat up and started taking off his own shoes.  I walked over to the bureau and grabbed my pjs.  “Do you need to borrow anything?” I asked politely.

“I’d love to use your makeup remover if you don’t mind.”

I gestured him toward the bathroom.  “Mi baño es su baño.”

Five minutes later he returned with a freshly scrubbed face, and I traded places with him.  When I emerged, newly attired in my pajamas, Eddie was in bed, already asleep.  He had draped his shirt and pants over the chair near the window, I noticed as I went to the window to pull the blinds.  I wondered if he wore boxers or briefs, the Michael Jordan Hanes commercial popping into my head… or women’s underwear?  Making my way back to the bed by the light from the lamp on the nightstand, I pulled the covers back on my side and sat down.  Quietly, I called down and set a wakeup call for 1 PM.  As I hung up, Eddie rolled over onto his stomach, baring his back to me.  As it had the previous night, a surge of wanting shot through me.  Silly girl, I thought, squelching it as best I could.  I turned the light off and slid beneath the cool covers.  My last thought as I slipped into slumber was, “Remember, he is your friend, not your lover.”

Chapter Four

“Jesus, this is bloody gorgeous,” Eddie exclaimed.

We were halfway up the mountain and had taken a break from our trek to enjoy the view of the Las Vegas valley.  Mt. Charleston is like a whole other world from the desert surrounding it.  Surrounded by lush pines and aspens, we were hiking up the trail, headed for Mary Jane Falls.  Sitting on a fallen tree trunk, we watched as families, couples, and groups of friends hiked past us on the path.

Eddie looked over at me, and then reached over and brushed my hair back off my forehead and tucked it behind my ear.  We just sat there, quietly, observing.  After about twenty minutes, a young family walked past, mother, father, and two little boys, one about six and one about eight.  We watched them scamper out of earshot, and then suddenly Eddie was talking.  In a low voice, he began to tell me about his mum and dad, and his brother, and his stepmother, and the whole dynamics of his family.  In turn, I shared bits of mine, about my mom and her depression, and other private things as well, the things I only shared with my closest confidantes.

During the conversation, we had gotten up and started the hike again.  By the time we had finished, we had reached the falls.  We climbed up the rocks and stood behind the waterfall.  Eddie kept threatening to chuck me underneath the stream of melted snow.

I ducked from his grasp and ran out the other side of the falls. Standing on a large boulder, I walked back to where Eddie was standing.  I stood there looking at him through the cascade of ice-cold water.

“Come and get me now,” I taunted, a mischievous gleam in my eyes.

“Don’t make offers you’ve no intention of honoring,” Eddie replied.  But there was a lack of humor in his voice and his face, and it gave me pause.  Sobering, I cast a bewildered look and began to ask what he meant by that when a lightening quick grin split across his face.

“We need to talk.”

“What are “The four most dreaded words in relationship history”? Outside of “I think I’m pregnant”?” I joked. At his puzzled face, I explained.  “Sorry, it was an abrupt subject change and so… welcome to my version of “Jeopardy.”

“In that case, I’d add, “Is that a rash?” to the list, “he rejoined.

“Oh, you so did not just go there!” I groaned.

“Oh, I did, I did,” Eddie grinned evilly.  “One day you will learn the penalty of toying with the master.”

“I’ve already learned I can’t surpass you,” I admitted freely, as I plopped down on the boulder and dangled my legs over the edge.  I smiled at him as he joined me.  “But it’s so fun just trying to keep up! So what did you want to talk about?”

“Well, you know I’m going to L.A. tonight to meet with the director of my next film…”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“Did I tell you what it was about?”

I searched my memory banks, “Something about a suspense with genetic testing involved?”

“More or less,” he affirmed.  “It’s the biggest role I’ve ever gotten in a major US film, lots of pressure.”

”What role is it?” I questioned.

“I’m playing a research doctor, the romantic interest of the female lead character.  She discovers that the lab we both work at may be doing illegal genetic cloning.  She has to gather evidence to turn them in to the government without being found out by the men who run the lab.  Am I helping, am I on their side?  Who knows?”

“Ooooo… enthralling, “I mocked.

“Actually, it could be,” he replied.  “The script is amazing and it’s a Matinberg film.”

“Wow, seriously?” I was shocked.  Even I recognize that name; Bill Matinberg had won the Oscar for Best Director the previous year, and had a film in the running already for this year’s contest, according to those in the know.  “That’s big time Hollywood, then. Are you nervous?”

“Hell, yeah,” He confirmed.  “This is my chance to really break in to the US scene.  I think I’m ready, but I need to be focused.”

He looked off into the distance for a moment, and then continued, “I’m the first to admit, some of the movies I’ve done, and my performance was crap.”

“I don’t know,” I interjected.  “I really liked you in Circus except for the fight scene.  And Shadow of the Vampire was good.”

“I didn’t know you’d seen any of my films!” He seemed both delighted and embarrassed by the news.

I ducked my head shyly, and said,” Well, yeah… after we met… well let’s just say I like to keep apprised of what is important to my friends.”

“What didn’t you like about the fight scene in Circus?” he asked.

“Well, I thought pulling back the camera, away from the close-up, was a mistake.  It showed you pulling your punch and totally killed the believability of the scene.  Plus I thought your character should have reappeared toward the end of the film, for closure.  They resolved all the other conflicts that the Leo character had except the one with your character.”

“Wow, in-depth analysis there,” he seemed impressed.

“What can I say, I like movies,” I said sheepishly.

“Anyway, I’m hoping this one will help me breakthrough the way I wanted All the Queen’s Men to do. “

I tried unsuccessfully to mask a snort.

“I take it you have an opinion about that one too?” he said dryly.

“Well I probably shouldn’t offer it as I haven’t actually seen it yet.”

“But you will anyway.” He stated.

“Well, let’s just put it this way.  Have you seen some of the movies Matt LeBlanc has made?  Ed? Lost in Space?  Not exactly winners.  I’m not saying he’s a bad actor; I love what he does on Friends, but…” I trailed off.  I thought for a moment about what I wanted to say next, then carried on,” But as I say, I’ll reserve final judgment until I actually see it.”

“I’ll try to arrange it, then. But first…” He paused.

“I need you to do something for me, to help me with the film.”

“Anything I can do, “ I said sincerely.

His cerulean eyes bored into my brown ones as he requested, “Run away with me.”

Chapter Five

“Huh – you… What?!” I stuttered, shock reverberating through every nerve ending in my body.

He laughed at my dumbfounded expression.  I struggled to regain my composure and tried English again, “You want me to do exactly what now?”

“God, the look on your face,” he smirked.  Then he continued, “My management wants me to completely focus on the role, as I said.  To that end, they want me to have a personal assistant while I’m filming, maybe even permanently.  What I’d like is for you to come be my PA.”

“But I don’t know anything about the film industry!” I protested.

“You don’t have to, that’s not what I need.”

“What do you need then, precisely?”

“Someone to keep track of my schedule, my personal appearances, my mail, my life, basically, and only filter the really important stuff to me.  Someone I can trust to take care of my interests, as well as to keep me geared up for the role.  Maybe help me learn my lines, that sort of thing.”

“Can’t your management company provide you with a professional personal assistant?” I wondered.

“Of course, but I don’t want that.  I don’t want some strange person meddling with my personal business.  And what if we didn’t get on?  Then I’d have the added stress of dealing with someone I can’t stand while trying to concentrate on my performance.  It could be disastrous.”

“But I already have a job,” I said inanely.  As if he didn’t know that!  After all, we were in Las Vegas because I was working here the next week.

“I know.  I know I’m asking a lot from you and I understand if you have to say no,” he said sadly.  “But just promise me you’ll think it over.”

“When would you need me?”

“Filming start in 3 weeks in L.A.”

I stared at him, speechless.

“It’s soon, I realize, and very last minute to spring this on you.”

“How long would the job be for? Where would I live? What happens after the movie is over?”   I fired the questions at him like a machine gun with a stuck trigger.

“Well, we have a four week shoot in California, then three weeks on location… somewhere in Washington or Oregon, I think… you could either stay with me at the rental property my manager is securing for me or you could get your own place, if you want privacy, though I’d love to have you with me.  And then, afterwards, well I guess that depends…”

“On what?”

“On if you want the job to be permanent.”

“Do you need a permanent PA or not?” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” he grinned.  “I’ve never had one.  Maybe I won’t want to give you up.”

We sat quietly as the enormity of what he’d asked of me sunk in.  I’d have to give up my job, my apartment, move to England, and Heaven knew what else.  Could I do that?

“I’ve freaked you out, haven’t I?

“Well, YEAH!” I acknowledged, smiling.

The sun was getting perilously low in the sky.  I looked at my watch and discovered it was quarter to five.

“We should head back to town.  Your flight leaves at nine?”

He nodded and hauled himself up off the rock.  He reached his right hand down and helped me up.  Hand in hand, we made our way back down the mountain, getting to the car just as the sun was setting.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rick and John picked us up from the hotel again, this time to take Eddie back to McCarran Airport.  We were uncharacteristically quiet in the back seat, leaving the small talk up to the fellas in the front seat.  When we pulled up to the Departures area, John offered to circle the airport while I saw Eddie off.  Casting him a grateful look, I climbed out of the car behind Eddie and waited on the curb as he removed his luggage from the trunk.  He looked at me, standing eye to eye as he had on high boots.  He gave me a half smile and we turned to walk into the airport check in.

There was no one waiting in the First Class line, so Eddie got his boarding pass quickly.  We took the escalator to the second floor and made our way to the security check point.  All without saying more than ten words to each other.

Eddie broke the uncomfortable silence, “I didn’t mean for this to upset you, gorgeous.”

“Flattery gets you everywhere,” I joked, but it fell flat.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you into this, “ he said gravely.  “Just take some time, think about it, and let me know.  Either way, still friends.”

His voice lifted a little on the end, giving the phrase a questioning feel.

“Still friends,” I confirmed.

He leaned down and gently kissed me, first on one cheek, then the other.  And then he walked away.

* * * * * * * * * *

He touched my face, his fingertips soft as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.  His velvety tongue slipped between my lips as he ran his hands down my arms and pulled me toward him.  Suddenly, he grabbed me tightly and we were touching from bare shoulders downward.  I wrapped one leg around his waist as he pushed me back toward the wall, his caresses losing their gentleness in the urgency that was racing through us both.  His mouth worked its magic down the side of my neck to the pulse point and lingered as he slid one hand up my skirt.  Melting, sweet hot, all the sensations running together, I reached down to undo the snaps of his jeans, anxious to remove all barriers between us.  I felt his fingers slip under the elastic of my lace pants, and then….

I jerked awake, drenched in sweat.  Gasping for air, I wrenched my way out of the tangle over covers and got out of bed.  The alarm screamed the hour at me:  3 AM!

I walked out to the sliding door that led to the balcony of Rick and John’s apartment.  I had opted to stay the night with them, even though it wasn’t convenient for any of us really.  I just couldn’t face being alone right now.  At supper, I had explained to them Eddie’s offer and we had discussed the pros and cons, finding the list nearly even.  What an opportunity, but I love my job.  I make more money now, but it would be nice to be in one place for a while.  And the list went on, a positive for every negative and vice versa.  What was I going to do?

“What are you going to do?” John mirrored my thoughts.  I muffled a scream and nearly fell over.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that!” I hissed.

“Sorry, sorry,” he tried so hard not to laugh, yet failed. “I said your name first, I thought you heard me.”

I slumped back against the wall.

“This is really tearing you up, isn’t it?” he smiled.

“Thanks for enjoying my misery, “ I rejoined sarcastically.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” he commiserated.  “It’s just nice to see you feeling strongly about something again.  The last time you were here, you seemed too tired to care about anything or anyone.”

I mulled the statement over in my brain.  John continued, “What’s your real objection to taking the job with Eddie?  And don’t say your job now, because we both know you aren’t afraid of change.”

“I am sort of the queen of change, aren’t I?” I chuckled.  Four states in five years, three different jobs; change had become routine to me.

“So what is it about this that scares you, Grace?”

Damn John for being so perceptive!  I looked at the man who had been a dear friend for many years, a man I trusted with my life and with all my secrets.

“I… I think I want him,” I said starkly.  “And not in a friendly way.”

John tipped his head back and laughed.  “Honey, who wouldn’t?”

“But I can’t take a job and work with him every day whilst thinking impure thoughts about him as I hand him coffee and answer his mail!” I practically screeched.

“Whoa, whoa, unwind there!” John tried to calm me.  “Just because you have a case of the lusts doesn’t mean you have to turn down a fab job.  It is just lust, isn’t it?”

“I think so, “ I said uncertainly.

“Well, there’s no harm then.  And who knows?” he trailed off suggestively.

“Yeah right,” I laughed and punched his arm lightly.

He grabbed my chin and said seriously, “Hey, don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart.  Any man, including a movie star, would be lucky to have you.  Now go to bed!  I need my beauty sleep.”

“Alright, already,” I hugged him.  “Thanks for the pep talk.”

I walked back to my room, knowing even as I went what my decision was, what it had to be.

Chapter Six

“But genetic testing is illegal, Jack.  Congress has passed laws…”

“Those short-sighted fools? What do they know?  With this research, we could cure all the diseases of the world!  Think about it, no more AIDS, no more smallpox, no more…”

“Hasn’t smallpox already been eradicated?” Eddie interrupted his own soliloquy.

“I thought so,” I said, lowering my copy of the script and looking over at him, stretched out on the couch in his trailer.  Wearing worn jeans, a tight black t-shirt, and sporting a day’s beard, he looked nothing like the slick doctor I had observed over the last two weeks.  Some days, I still couldn’t believe I was here.  In L.A. On a movie set.  And of course, with Eddie.    In the end, the decision had been quite simple.  How could something I wanted to do so badly be the wrong choice?

“Make a note of that,” he interrupted my reverie.  “I want to discuss it with Bill before we do the scene.”

“Of course,” I jotted it down.  “Plus you still sound way English when you say it.”

“Damn!”

“Everything else sounds completely American,” I reassured him.  “Just that one word.”

“Mmmm,” he murmured, sitting up and rubbing his neck.  He looked completely knackered, I thought.  Gorgeous, but tired.  A smudge of darkness had appeared under each of his beautiful eyes, and to my estimate, he had lost at least five pounds since the filming began.  I walked over behind him and started to rub the back of his neck.

“Ohhhhhhh, God, that feels incredible!” he moaned.

“Just call me Your Girl Friday, “ I joked.  “Just like Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn.  Or was that the one with Deborah Kerr?”

“No, Deborah Kerr was in “An Affair to Remember,” he answered, meeting my eyes in the mirror on the wall in front of him.

“Oh, how could I forget?” I punned.  He shot me a sarcastic look.

I finished the massage, and then slapped him lightly on the back.  “Time to go to makeup!”

Ten hours later, I was driving us both through the streets of the southern Californian town.  Eddie was asleep in the passenger seat, his head bobbing up and down like one of those plastic dogs.  Struggling not to laugh, I drove through the Chinese restaurant that had become a favorite and headed for the villa the studio had rented for Eddie.

It was almost 9 PM when I pulled the car in front of the circle drive of the oceanfront home and lightly shook Eddie’s shoulder.

“Honey, we’re home,” I said in my best singsong voice.

He climbed out of the car, almost catatonic, with his eyes still closed.  He slumped back onto the car.  Laughing, I came around and grabbed his hand to lead him into the house.

“Nice try, but I’m not buying it.”

“Ah, come on.  Where’s your sympathy, woman?”

“It died three days ago, when we had to get you on set by four AM to catch the right light, “ I groused.

“Yeah, that was a rough day, “ he agreed.  We were at the door, and Eddie reached over with his free hand and took the Chinese food from me so I could unlock the door.

“I do want to say you’ve done a smash up job,” he continued as he followed me into the open living room.  “You’ve really been a lifesaver.”

“It’s been fun,” I insisted. “I admit I wasn’t sure about it in the beginning, I thought there might not be enough to keep me busy.  But that hasn’t been a problem!”

“Um, no,” he concurred.  As we continued to chat about the progress of the movie, we polished off both the Chinese food and the wine.  It was 10:30 when I looked over at Eddie and saw that he’d dozed off again.  I was sitting on the floor and he was lying on the couch.  I reached over and shook his foot.  “Get up and go to bed!” I scolded.

“Yuhh, mnn, uhuh,” he gurgled.

Sighing, I rose and shook him a little harder.  I finally roused him and got him to get ready for bed while I cleaned up the remains of our Asian feast.

I walked back to the bedroom to say goodnight.  He was lying on the bed, with his feet hanging off the edge of the bed, sound asleep.  He had made it into pajamas bottoms, thankfully.  I carefully lifted his feet and slid them under the covers he had tugged back half-heartedly.  Then I pulled the covers up and tucked him in.  He looked so innocent, just lying there, that I couldn’t resist brushing the hair off his brow.  I bent down and kissed him lightly on the forehead and turned off the light.

If I’d turned around as I walked out of the room, I would have been mortified to see him open his eyes.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, I was lounging by the pool, working on my freckle-tan, the curse of the light-skinned.  It was Sunday, our day of rest from filming and thus my day off.  Not that the job was overly stressful.  Eddie was always super professional toward his work and I had yet to witness any tantrum-like behavior from any of the cast.  Mostly my duties consisted of helping him learn his lines, keeping him on schedule, opening his mail, answering his phone calls, and liaising with his management team in London.  I’d had worse gigs, no doubt.

As I lay there, soaking up the sun, in my new black swimsuit, my mind began to wander back over the last month.  Giving up my apartment, putting everything in storage, quitting my job.  It had all happened so fast.  My parents thought I’d lost my mind, but it felt right.  I was having so much fun!  And if an occasional amorous intention toward Eddie crossed my brain, well I could control it.  I stretched out on the lawn furniture, rolled onto my back, and closed my eyes.  Within minutes, I was in that marvelous place between sleep and wake….

I felt his presence only seconds before his fingers traced their way up my bare thigh.  I opened my eyes to see him perched on the edge of my lawn chair.  I propped myself up on my elbows as he leaned over and kissed me.  His hands tangled in my hair as he ravenously devoured my lips.  His hands cupped my breasts, first through the swimsuit, and then he slipped the straps off my shoulders and pushed the suit down to my waist.  He ran one thumb across my nipple, and I moaned with the ecstasy of it.  He broke the kiss to smile at me, staring at me so long I thought I’d drown in the blue pools of his eyes.  Then he began a southward journey, kissing and licking all the way down my neck.  I ran my hands down his smooth back and closed my eyes as his captivating lips reached my breasts.  I smiled, a sound of satisfaction gurgling out of my throat.  And then he shook my shoulder…

He shook my shoulder?!

I opened my eyes to see Eddie standing over me, a bemused expression on his face.

“Better roll over, Grace my luv, or you’ll roast,” he said, smiling.  “What’s put that smile on your face, Sleeping Beauty?  Sweet dreams?”

Oh, if only you knew, I thought, flushing as I furiously tried to think up a pithy reply.  Giving up, I settled for a shrug and struggled to sit up.

Eddie turned and flopped down on his stomach on the chair next to me.  I swept a longing glance over his prostrate pose and decided I’d better go for a dip in the pool to cool myself off.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two weeks later

It was our seventh day on location in Seattle, and we were six days behind schedule.  Tension was high, and the director looked ready to kill anyone who breathed wrong.  The infamous Seattle weather had reared its head and it had rained to beat the band for the first five days we were ensconced in the city to get the outdoor frames needed to complete the film.  Yesterday, miraculously, the downpour had ceased and a few weak rays of sunshine had fought their way through the clouds.  Everyone on set had scurried to get everything into position for filming.  I had even been recruited to haul things around, cables and boxes.  I also got my moment on film, as an extra in a crowd scene milling around the base of the Space Needle, for the shots just before the motion picture’s apparently thrilling end.  For me, I had totally lost the whole storyline, having watched it be deconstructed bit by bit, non-sequentially.  But somehow they had gotten nearly back on schedule the day before, having filmed for nearly sixteen hours.  And today we were back at six AM, still running.   Bill Matinberg finished his films on budget, on time, if it killed us all, apparently.

Eddie was walking out of makeup, deep in conversation with Mr. Matinberg.  He caught my eye, and quirked his eyebrow up at me.  This was our secret signal for “Bring me a cup of coffee before my brains rush out of my head into a pile of goo at my feet.”  We’d had a fun afternoon the day before filming had started working them all out, including one for “Help, this person’s just admitted to being a mass murderer and I’m his next victim” which included eye rolling and tongue wagging and one for “I’m being slowly tortured by stories of someone’s dog/child/vacation/surgery, save me!” involving dancing the can-can.  Smiling, I grabbed the coffee, his fifth of the morning.  I also selected some wheat toast and buttered it lightly, thinking he’d need something else if he wanted to avoid the caffeine jitters.

I walked over to the area where filming was being set up.  Eddie was waiting behind the arena of cameras, watching intently as the grips and gaffers scrambled to get everything in just the right spot.  Silently I handed him the coffee and toast.  He gave me a cool look and nodded, before going back to staring at the scene laid out in front of us.  I knew the procedure well enough by now to know that he was going through the filming process, judging the spots to make his moves and utter his lines.

People started milling around us, and I recognized the beginnings of a run-through.  I left the environs of filming behind and went to Eddie’s trailer to sort through the packet of mail that had arrived that morning from the management company.  It held the usual assortment:  a couple of scripts to read through, some papers that needed to be signed and couriered back ASAP (was there any other way?), and some special fan mail that the London office thought Eddie would want to deal with personally.  Oh, a letter from his dad, I noted delightedly, knowing how that would brighten his day.  I organized the mail, typing letters to the fans and attaching pictures for Eddie to sign, then placed the business papers on top of those.  The scripts I tucked into a manila envelope and labeled for later perusal.  The last thing Eddie needed today was to think about a script other than the one currently being imprinted on celluloid.

Just then a loud crack of lightening broke my concentration.  Oh no, I thought as I looked up at the threatening clouds that had moved into the early June sky while I was sorting.  I grabbed my huge umbrella and dashed out the door of the trailer to the filming zone.  About half way there, the skies opened and the flood began.  I struggled to get the umbrella up and continued on my way.  As I crested the small rise that led to the area they were using, I took in the mass hysteria that seemed to have broken loose.  People were scrambling to cover all the expensive equipment.  The rain was puddling in the grass and I saw one man slip and slide while carrying a huge box on his shoulder.  He somehow managed to maintain his load and carry on.  In the midst of all the activity, Eddie stood with the female lead, Jillian, listening somberly as the director was shouting something at the pair.  Even with the distance separating us, I could tell he wasn’t shouting to be heard over the rain; he was livid.  Throwing what must have been a parting shot over his shoulder, he left the two actors standing in the rain looking miserable.  Jillian suddenly burst into tears and started to run up the rain-soaked hill.  Eddie said something to her but she just waved him off.  As she ran by, I stopped her and handed her the umbrella.  She took it wordlessly and continued her flight to her trailer.

Eddie was now standing alone in the circle left by the departing crew, his shoulders slumping.  His hair was plastered to his scalp, and he looked absolutely miserable.  My heart went out to him.  He stared up the hill and saw me standing there.  Slowly, as if his feet were made of lead, he pulled himself up the hill and in my direction.

“Do you have the car keys?” He asked as he came level to me.

“Yeah, they’re – “

“Let’s get the hell out of here, “he spat.  His eyes were grim and his mouth was drawn in a straight line.  I could tell his temper was barely reigned in as he strode past, shedding the suit coat, tie, and once-crisp white shirt that composed his costume for the day’s filming.  I whirled around and had to practically run to keep up.  I jumped into the driver’s seat just as Eddie slammed the passenger door.

All the way back to the hotel, he didn’t utter a peep.  I pulled into the circle drive at the Sorrento.  Eddie was out the door before I could stop the car completely.  Jamming the car into park, I threw the keys at the valet and scrambled after the angry man.  I skidded into the elevator, my wet sneakers sliding on the marble floor.  Eddie gripped my arm to steady me as he punched the elevator button.   The elevator zipped up to his floor, and with his firm grasp on my arm, we both exited the elevator.  He whipped out the key to his room and we were inside, my mind still struggling with the impression that he actually had his key with him.  Keeping up with them was usually my job.  He marched across the room and ripped open the curtains.  And was met with a vista drenched in gray, cool rain.  The obscenities started low, but kept coming, louder and louder.  I turned to shut the heavy wooden door to stop the curses from echoing down the hall.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he growled.  Suddenly realizing he was dripping wet, he reached down and grabbed one of his shoes and wrenched it off.  He glared at the stream of water that poured out of it.  “Fuck!”

He threw the shoe and it bounced off the wall, leaving a muddy footprint smeared down the wall.  The second shoe followed it seconds later, and then he slumped on the chaise lounge.  He ran his hands through his hair, slicking his hair back off his face.  He just sat there, staring at the ceiling with opaque eyes.

“What happened?” I asked tremulously, not wanting to cause his anger to shoot in my direction.  I’ve never dealt well with others’ rage.

“I bloody fucked up, that’s what happened.”

“How?”

“I missed my mark. Twice.”

“Oh.”

“And then just when we almost had it, Jillian flubbed her line.  Then the deluge began.  And the rest is cinematic history,” he ended bitterly.

He got up and began pacing the room as if the seat of his pants was on fire.  I stood there helplessly, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“I’m sure this happens all the time, “ I attempted reason.  “After all, he chose Seattle, a place where it rains 300 days out of the year.”

As he went past, I reached out and put my hand on his bare forearm, a gesture meant both to comfort and to stop him from wearing a tread in the carpet.

He jerked to a stop and started to turn to look at me, but anger and momentum were pushing him forward.  He lost his balance and grabbed me for support.  I put my arms around his waist and caught him against me, stabilizing him before we both fell.  For a moment, we were touching from chest to toe in an intimate embrace.

I started to make a joke, to lighten the situation, as was my habit.  But as I looked into his expressive indigo eyes, and any attempt at humor fled my mind.

The anger had taken a backseat to a new emotion, and he crushed his lips to mine.  He pulled me closer and it felt like he was trying to devour my soul via my mouth.  I could feel the sense of urgency quivering through him as we broke away, gasping for air.  I looked at his face and saw raw desire engraved on his features.  With one hand, he ripped open my shirt and buried his face in my collarbone, running his lips downward as his hands engulfed my breasts, sending ripples of both pain and desire down my spine.  As he freed me from both shirt and bra, his lips never stopping their fierce exploration of my torso, I entangled both hands in his damp, streaky blond hair.  He looked up at me, then stood suddenly and reclaimed my lips.  He shoved me back against the wall and pinned me there, writhing against him as he plundered my mouth.  His hand slipped between my thighs and cupped me intimately through the rough denim of my jeans.  A moan escaped my throat and it seemed to drive him completely over the edge.  He slid both hands round my bottom and lifted me up.  Of their own volition, my legs wrapped themselves around his waist.  He spun me around and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the bed.   Eddie disposed of my shoes, throwing them over his shoulders and then my jeans and suddenly it was only me.  Nothing to hide behind now.  He stood there, looking down at me with eyes hooded with desire.  He reached to the edge of his t-shirt and whipped it over his head.  Tossing it aside, he undid the snap and zip of the suit pants he still had on and pulled them down, one leg at a time.  That left only the briefs to go, and in an instant, they were just that, gone.  Just he and I.  As he lowered himself to the bed, I thought he looked like an angel.  An angel with the devil in his eyes.

That was the last thought I had for a good long while.

* * * * * * * * * *

The rain was still coming down, but the light had long since given up.  I didn’t know how long I had slept after Eddie and I had satisfied our passions.  I lay there with my head on his chest and my eyes closed, contemplating what might happen when I opened them.  I knew he was awake; I could hear him breathing and I knew.   It was a mantra in my brain:  I knew we had crossed a line, I knew I was in love with him, and I knew he was awake.

I felt the bed shift slightly, and then felt him gently slide out from under me.  I opened my eyes just slightly, only enough to see what I had felt in my heart.

It wasn’t the way he got out of bed that shattered my heart; no, it was the expression on his face as he looked down at me, before heading to the bathroom, the unmistakable regret etched on his face.

I couldn’t be there when he came back, I realized numbly.  I couldn’t look at his face and watch while he told me that he was sorry, that he never meant it to go that far and couldn’t we still be friends.  I heard the shower kick on and my active imagination conjured him scrubbing every trace of me off of him.  Huge crocodile tears began to work their way down my face as I threw back the heavy duvet and began snatching up my clothes.  Jerking my way back into wet jeans while trying to choke down the sobs that threatened to explode from the now-empty chasm in my chest was not the easiest of tasks, but I managed somehow.  I wrapped my torn maroon shirt around me, hugging myself so it wouldn’t gape open as its buttons were scattered all over the room.

I paused at the door, and looked back at the bed.  Images of the afternoon ran through my brain like still frames.  Unable to hold it together any longer, I began to weep in earnest as I ran from the room.

Chapter Seven

Six months later

I stepped out of my car into the cold January night.  I stepped gingerly across the parking lot that led to the Portland hotel I was working.  The brisk New England wind cut through me, feeling like knives in my lungs as I inhaled.  I was working the night shift at the hotel, and had been for the last three months.  I liked it, the nights were quiet and there was no one around to ask me personal questions I didn’t want to answer.

I had a little bit of a melt down after I left Seattle.  That day, I had somehow managed to get to my room, change clothes, and grab my purse.  Less than thirty minutes after I left Eddie’s bed, I was in a taxi on my way to the airport.

I wanted to disappear, and I never wanted to have to face Eddie again.  I contemplated my choices and found them slim:  I couldn’t go to Las Vegas – or Boston – or to my family in Missouri.  Eddie knew about all those places.   He knew that my best friend lived in Maine, so I ruled that out.  I booked a flight to San Francisco – it was close and cheap, and stayed there for a few days, holed up in a hotel room.  I cried and slept, and then cried some more.  Then I took a flight to Dallas and stayed with a friend who was kind enough not to ask questions when I showed up on her doorstep, looking as hollow as I felt.  It was from her house that I called John and Rick.

“WHERE ARE YOU?” John shouted down the phone line as soon as he heard my voice.  “No, don’t tell me.  He’ll come back and I’ll cave.  You don’t want him to find you, I’m assuming?”

“He called you?” I breathed shakily.

“Called?  No, we rated a personal visit.  He just left twenty minutes ago.”

I fell silent, fighting the waves of relief, longing, and nausea that washed over me.  Relief that he was in Las Vegas instead of Texas, as my mind irrationally feared.  Longing for those moments right after when he had stroked my face and kissed me gently.  And nausea at the realization that whatever friendship Eddie and I shared

was over.

“What happened?” John asked softly.

“You remember when I told you I was taking the job with Eddie, and I said, ‘Hey, what’s the worst that could happen?’” I asked.  “Well, it happened.”

“You made a pass at him and he turned you down?” Rick joined in from the extension.

“No, worse, I slept with him,” I burst into tears, and then the whole story came tumbling out of me.  Well, not tumbling exactly.  More like jerking, gasping for breath between sobs.

“Come out and let us take care of you,” John urged when I was done with my sad ta