Impossibly Tongue-Tied (22 page)

But she didn't. Instead, she stood outside the gate for what seemed like the longest time.

And prayed.

She prayed that he'd have had time to cool down; and that, if and when she got up the nerve to ring the bell, he would actually let her in and give her an opportunity to tell her side of the story before demanding that she leave and to never bother him again, ever.

She was still praying when he came up behind her. Well, when Towser came up behind her, and put his wet, sandy snout in her hand.

She flinched and opened her eyes. Just then a wayward ray from the setting sun found its way onto her face, illuminating it softly.

Lovely
, Sam couldn't help thinking, and doing so made him even angrier.

At her, for being
so damn beautiful
.

At himself, because he couldn't help but be aroused.

“Can we talk?” she whispered.

He paused a moment, then opened the gate, nodding slightly his permission that she should follow him in.

For the longest time, neither of them said anything. She walked toward the big picture window that overlooked the beach and stared out onto the setting sun, almost as if she was afraid to face him, face his anger. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

“I don't have all day,” he muttered. “Just tell me one thing:
Did you do it for the money? Or do you truly enjoy turning on dirty old men who can't get it up any other way?”

The color rose in her cheeks. Good, he thought, she's angry.

God, she is so beautiful when she's mad
.

“Would you say that describes you?” she asked. “Because you know, Sam, you were a pretty regular john yourself!”

A john.
Him?

He found himself right next to her, so close to her, in fact, that he could feel her warm breath on his face. He raised his hand, trying hard to resist the urge to slap her.

She stared at it at first, then she took it lovingly, raising it to her lips, kissing his fingers ever so gently.

But he didn't want to be gentle with her. Roughly, he yanked her close to him. She gasped, not in fear, though, but anticipation. Her open mouth was all the invitation he needed.

Their lips met, finally—

Finally.

They never even made it to the bedroom.

What she remembered afterward was the way he ran his hands over her naked body, softly, worshipfully, as if he'd discovered some precious treasure that would surely dissolve under his touch; and how he paused when he reached her breasts, as if mesmerized. Then, light as a feather, he kissed them, gently, until they hardened. As his tongue circled them hungrily, she let out a moan that stopped him for a moment…but only until she indicated that she longed for him to continue, which she did by grasping his swelling penis firmly in her hand, then guiding it between her legs before wrapping herself around his waist…

…Just like it happened in his fantasy, his thrusts moving in tandem with the lapping waves…

Their orgasm was explosive. They erupted in unison. This he knew because she arched up and moaned ecstatically before convulsing against him, their hearts racing, then, eventually, beating in tempo.

At least, until she whispered in his ear how badly she needed to feel him inside her again.

That time, though, there was no need to rush. Leisurely, he traced every curve, every inch of her, with his tongue, his fingertips…until she groaned with desire.

It was long after the sun had fallen below the horizon before they stood up again, shaky, limp, and aching from the pleasure they'd made.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, kissing her gently on the forehead.

“That depends.” Her answer, so playful, reminded him of O.

O
.

She's still standing between us, he thought.

As if she read his mind, the smile melted from her face.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” she said.

He sighed and nodded. Yes, he was all ears.

 

She started at the beginning: her puppy love for Nathan, and how their immature passion and desire to team their god-given talents took root in what they'd hoped would be a lifelong love.

Then they got to Hollywood, where nothing was permanent.

The daily rejections they faced, coupled with their almost-penniless existence and Jake's imminent birth—those were the
reasons she took on the phone sex job. It was the one way they could survive and buy time until Nathan's big break came along.

“The end justifies the means. Isn't that what they say? It was only when you came into our lives and got Nathan on Hugo's project that I could finally quit! As soon as Nathan's fee was paid and our SAG insurance kicked in, O was going to disappear, just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

He nodded slowly. It wasn't that he didn't believe her; he just couldn't help the fact that his ego was still bruised.

And whether he wanted to admit it or not, there was a part of him that missed O.

Not that he could say that to her.

Sensing his ambivalence, she added, “Remember, you were the one who said that few people deserve to be up on that pedestal in the first place, that no one is perfect, and that everyone should be allowed one slip-up now and then. Well, Sam, my slip-up was in taking that job in the first place.”

She reached up and cradled his face with both her hands, as if willing him to see her point. “Look, I'm not proud of what I did. But I can live with
why
I did it, because it kept us going when we might have called it quits. Then I met you…and he met Kat.”

Sam winced at the mention of Kat's name. It was his time to come clean about his role in Kat's infatuation with Nathan, and he knew it.

“Nina, I didn't arrange for Hugo to audition Nathan solely based on his reel. The truth is that Kat requested it.”

“
Kat?
So, she knew Nathan even
before
the audition?” Nina's face crumpled.

Sam knew what she was thinking: that Nathan's deception had begun prior to the day of Hugo's birthday.

He couldn't let her believe that. No matter what he thought of Nathan, he wasn't going to strip Nina of the last vestige of fondness she had for him.

“No, believe me, he never met her until the audition. She walked into my office while I was watching Nathan's reel and fell in lust with him at first sight.”

“Wow.” She steadied herself onto his couch. Towser laid his head on her knee, and she stroked it absently. “And to think, if I hadn't handed you his reel…well, I guess I promoted Nathan right out of my life.”

“Don't blame yourself. Hell, I've been kicking myself since she sank her claws into him. I should have stopped it somehow, told her anything to keep her away.”

“Yeah, dammit, why
didn't
you?” Nina was suddenly angry. “You could have made something up, said he'd had a shotgun accident—or that—”

“Hey I know—Jeez, why hadn't I thought about it before?
I could have told her that he's gay!
”

Even as he said it, Sam couldn't help but laugh, and neither could Nina. In fact, she was laughing so hard that tears were running down her face.

“Nathan
gay?
Why, he's so homophobic that he thinks giving a baby boy the wrong name will have him playing for the other team!”

Upon hearing that, Sam doubled over with laughter again. He fell over on her, gasping for air.

She held him close. In fact, she wouldn't let him go. That
was okay. If he could, he'd stay at her side forever. There was nowhere else he wanted to be.

“Hey, Sam, be proud of yourself. You kept your mouth shut, for your clients' sake. You didn't even tell O, remember?”

That was true. “If I had told O, how would you have taken it?”

She thought for a moment. “I would have fought for him, of course. But look, Sam, I'm no fool. If it hadn't been Kat, it would have been someone else, right?”

She drew his face toward hers and kissed him fervently. “Then again, if he had stayed, I wouldn't have you.”

That night, she had him as often as she wanted.

 

The next morning, as they opened the front door to go out for a walk on the beach with Towser, they found a battalion of cameras waiting for them.

“Nina, look this way—”

“Nina, is he one of your johns? So you make house calls, too?”

“Hey, Nina, do Nat and Kat know you're screwing their agent?”

That very thought struck Nina and Sam at the same time: Well, they sure would by the time the photos were uplinked to that afternoon's newswires.

The weekly partners' meetings at ICA could be described as part accounting seminar/part pep rally. After going over the dull-as-paste business of monthly fee projections, number crunching, budget allotments, and expense reports, everyone was then given an opportunity to show and tell: to boast about done deals, crow over the successful signing of an established star who had jumped ship from another agency, or beat one's chest about some new fresh-faced talent who had the potential to make it really big.

In other words, lots of tickles, and maybe a couple of farts.

The calling of a special partners' meeting meant that something had gone terribly wrong.

Certainly it could be categorized as a major fart.

Sam's affair with Nina fell in this category.

That was not to say that it was the first time in the town's history that an agent was caught in bed with a client's wife.
Hell, in Hollywood, naughty little affairs were so common, they often went unnoticed.

What did get noticed, and what was frowned upon, was any behavior that might cost the firm business, and Katerina McPherson and Nathan Harte were
big business
to ICA; business that, if pissed off enough at Sam's disloyalty, could justifiably jump ship to another shop.

Already the tom-toms were beating: the very desirable duo had been seen at L'Orangerie with two partners from CAA, dining and (justifiably) whining about their current representation over the
amuse bouche
. So of course Sam's partners felt justified in calling a special partners' meeting to discuss this potential loss of income.

“To boink a client's wife—then to have it plastered all over the gossip rags? Jeez, Sam! Do you know what this has done to the firm's reputation?” His inquisitioner, Randy Zimmerman, was a partner whom Sam was not particularly fond of. Perhaps it had something to do with Randy's poaching come-on, which resembled that of a desperate Sunset Strip tranny hooker's worst line on a rainy Sunday night: “If you need someone to whip, hey, guy, I'm your man…”

Was it any wonder that both Toms had put out a restraining order on him?

“Not a good move, huh, Randy? Tell me, how does it compare to the time that soap actor you represent caught you massaging his wife's breasts? Look, just because you got him on that
CSI
spinoff as a series regular and he was kind enough to forgive and forget doesn't give you the right to be such a sanctimonious pig.”

At that less-than-fond memory, Randy turned the same
burgundy color as his Prada loafers. “They don't compare at all, and you know it! Even if he had jumped ship, what would it have cost the firm? Ten, maybe twenty thou, over the course of three years? Hell, that little piece of ass of yours could cost us several hundred thousand over the same period of time! You know that.”

No one else in the room said a word.
Fucking two-faced cowards,
Sam thought.

Randy, fully aware he had his partners' backing, threw out his trump. “Look, Sam, if it comes down to losing you or Kat, everyone here is in agreement that you don't make the cut. Having another Oscar nominee on the roster means added prestige for this agency, not to mention that she's one of the top three actresses at the box office. And with the press he's getting, Nathan is nothing but potential, too.” Randy leaned in for the kill. “Hey, you still have a chance to pull one out. Believe it or not, Kat and Nat are both willing to stay put—
with you
—under one condition.”

“Oh yeah? What's that?”

“You've got to dump Nina. If you're willing to do so, they feel that we can all put this behind us and move on.”

Dump Nina, for more fun and games with Kat and Nat?

Not in a million years
.

“Fuck that. Sorry. I'm sticking by Nina,” was Sam's response. “I can make up the billing with other clients.”

“Not at this agency, you can't. We're siding with them. In fact, we guessed you might feel that way, and we offered them an alternative: If Katerina and Nathan are agreeable, they can transfer their representation to any other ICA agent they prefer.”

“How convenient. If you're asking my permission, you've got it. The three of you deserve each other. The subject is closed.” Sam started out the door.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sam, but quite frankly, I wasn't asking your opinion. Not that I didn't put that very same suggestion out there to Kat. I don't know why, but for some reason, she said she'd pass. Go figure.”

It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to say that the thought of Randy's hands on Kat's breasts was possibly the deal breaker, but then he remembered that they were talking about Katerina McPherson, queen of the A-list mactresses, so that wouldn't have been the case. Kat loved knowing she was a turn-on, to anyone and everyone.

Hell, she'd even come on to Sam on more than one occasion.

Not that he'd ever let Randy know that. It would only give the agency's resident manwhore more ammo to use against him.

“Wow, you mean she turned down the opportunity to have you handle her? Gee, now that's a surprise. Well, I guess CAA bags another one.”

“Not necessarily. Now that you've officially tendered your resignation, it's made room for one of our junior associates to make the leap to partnership—that is, if he's able to keep the loving couple happy. The partners all feel that Riley McNaught just might be the person to do that.”

“
Riley?
” Sam couldn't believe his ears. Suddenly, it all made sense. So it was Riley who had provided Baxter and Serenity their scoops! He'd probably given the stalkarazzi the heads-up to watch Nina's apartment, too.

And unknowingly, she had led them right to Sam's doorstep.

Sam started laughing. “Sure, Riley will be perfect for the job.”

“Huh. We're glad you agree.” It was obvious in Randy's tone that he was disappointed at Sam's positive reaction. Still, he couldn't resist getting in one more jibe. “Well, anyway, Katerina certainly thought he'd fit the bill. In fact, she implied that he might have been doing the job all along.”

Randy's condescension was too much for Sam. This time, when he reached the door, he didn't look back. If Riley had indeed been doing her bidding all along, he'd now have the corner office to prove it.

 

That morning, when Nina got to the employees' lounge at Tommaso's, she noticed that there was a padlock on her locker. A Post-it note slapped on it instructed her to see Tori
immediately
.

She found Tori blessing out the produce manager for the lackluster condition of his fruit, a daily ritual that accomplished nothing other than to make the poor, hardworking sap's life a living hell, which was why the other store employees likened his gig to that of the boatman Charon on the River Styx. Upon seeing her, Tori motioned for Nina to follow her into her office, where the Person-Formerly-Known-As-Tony then proceeded to avoid eye contact, choosing to fidget instead with the French tips on her long, tapered nails.

Finally, Nina couldn't stand the suspense any longer. “Tori, what's the deal? Why can't I get into my locker?”

“Because you don't work here anymore.” A couple of tears formed in Tori's heavily mascaraed eyes. Reaching up to wipe them away, she accidentally stuck a nail in her eye. “Damn hormone pills! Damn fake nails! This fucking acrylic polish
stings!
”

“Fired? Why? Has a client complained about something—”

“No, are you kidding? Everyone loves you.” The tears started falling again. This time Tori knew better than to put her talons anywhere near her face. She wiped her tears with a monogrammed hanky instead. “It's management, hon. They've heard about your little, um, ‘side job,' and they're now worried that you were using our client list to solicit your—do you call them johns?”

“No. In fact, I don't call them at all. They call
me
.” Nina wanted to cry, but held her head up high. “You know I'd never, in a million years—”

“I know, Nina. Believe me, I personally think they're making a
huge
mistake—but I can certainly understand why they feel they have to do it. They don't want this place to become a carny sideshow.” Coming from the first ever six-foot-three-inch transsexual store manager the chain ever had, that was quite a statement. “You're the best employee this store has. And you know I don't pass out compliments to just anyone.”

In fact, they both knew that she'd never complimented anyone.

“But—but I need the insurance! What about Jake's asthma?”

“If they yank it, you might have to file a grievance. But they feel they have a pretty strong case against anything beyond a couple of weeks' severance.”

That was it? For five years of loyalty, she'd be walking out of there with less than half a month's rent!

Numbly, Nina stumbled toward the door. Tori followed her out to her car, then asked Nina not to drive off until she cut
her severance check. Fifteen minutes later Tori was back beside the car. Not only did she have a check, but she had a cartful of groceries with her, too.

“Here,” she said, shoving bag after bag into the backseat of Nina's Civic. “Consider it a going-away present.”

“Tori, I can't take this! They'll accuse me of stealing it! Or you may get fired!” Nina reached across the backseat and gave her ex-manager a kiss.

“Hey, watch the lipstick!” Tori muttered, but Nina knew she was touched. “I chipped in for the wine, but the groceries were a gift. You've got an admirer in the company.”

“Huh? Who?” At Tommaso's? She had never even been introduced to any of the brusque, dark-suited men who showed up periodically for the unscheduled walkthroughs that always terrorized the store employees and usually put Tori in a dither for the following twenty-four hours.

“Some bigwig on Tommaso's board. Seems he shops here often and has always been impressed with your customer service skills. Anyway, he owns a large amount of Tommaso's stock, but apparently it wasn't a big enough chunk to get the majority of the board to go along with his suggestion that you be given a reprieve. Do you remember that really old guy, Herbert Cahill?”

Herbie!
What a doll. The next time he called, she'd have to do something extra special to thank him. Better yet, Fraulein Von Berens would give that “bad boy” a tongue-lashing in German that he'd remember for some time to come.

 

According to Mrs. McGillicutty, Nina wouldn't be speaking to any of her clients in German, or English either, for that mat
ter, until things cooled down a bit: Most of her regulars were now scared to call O.

“Face it, doll, you're just too hot to handle right now, particularly for those Hollywood studio executive types who like to come off pure as driven snow.”

Well, there goes the other half of the rent money, thought Nina. “Maybe I could change my phone name. If I do, will you still send calls my way?”

“To be honest with you, hon, even if you did, I wouldn't be able to keep you on right now. Or any of my girls, for that matter. A friend in high places tipped me off that my phone lines are hot right now with the Feds.”

“Omigod! Mrs. McGillicutty, I certainly didn't mean to ruin your business for you!”

“Well, it was fun while it lasted. In the past twenty-four hours, the number of calls to the service have increased by four hundred percent! Your regulars may be hiding out, but everyone else is looking for you, kiddo. Although I suspect that half of those guys are reporters.”

Nina sighed. She had no doubt that the dispatcher was right. That was another reason to stay off the phone until things cooled down.

Mrs. McGillicutty continued, “Look, kid, don't worry about me. Hell, as soon as I find the right guy to pay off, I'll be back in business, so be thinking of another nickname you can use when this crap gets straightened out.”

“I don't know. I may just find another line of work altogether. If I don't starve in the meantime.”

The dispatcher gave one of her foghorn guffaws. “You
won't, not with that voice of yours. Keep in touch, O…or whomever. I'd hate to lose you to another service.”

 

When Nina went to pick up Jake at school, Mr. Pickering was waiting curbside with him. It was obvious that the little boy had been crying.

“Jake, what's wrong?” cried Nina as she jumped out of the car and knelt down to give her son a hug.

“I was just explaining to Jake that, just because he has to leave the school, it doesn't mean he'll never see any of his little friends. That is, if their parents don't mind.”

“Leave? But, of course, he'll be back tomorrow—”

“No, he won't be coming back,
Nina
—you don't mind if I call you Nina, do you? Seems that everyone else is being so—
informal
—with you these days.” Nina looked up at him, surprised. On school grounds, parents and staff weren't allowed to call one another by anything other than their surnames, preceded by Mr. or Ms. The last person she expected to lift the sacred veil was Pickering—until he added, with a dirty smirk: “Or would you prefer if I call you
O?
”

Nina stood up. Blowing her bangs out of her eyes, she patted Jake on the head and nudged him toward the car. “Go ahead and buckle up, Jake.”

The little boy knew that tone in his mother's voice, and rushed to do as he was told. He was so glad it was directed at the headmaster, and not at him. Perhaps Plum was right, and Mommy was going to give Mean Mr. Prick Ring that spanking after all!

“Are you telling me that my son is no longer welcome at Sage Oak Academy?”

“Well, since you put it so bluntly, yes.” He leaned in toward her—too close for comfort, for sure. “Bluntness is a specialty of yours, I've heard.”