The Unidentified Redhead
Page 20
“Humph. Whatever. Come on, O’Connell,” I huffed, taking my coffee and the chip on my shoulder outside. He followed with a twinkle in his eye and a wink at Holly. I saw them both.
Once outside, I turned on him.
“So, let’s get this out now and then not speak of it again, shall we?”
“Fair enough. Why don’t you start by telling me why you’re so pissed about something that happened so many years ago?” he asked, sitting in a lawn chair.
I took the seat next to him.
“I don’t know. To be honest, I didn’t know I was still so pissed. But when I saw you yesterday, it brought all that rejection back and it just slammed into me,” I answered, feeling good to finally be able to unload this on him.
“Rejection? What are you talking about? Is that was this is about? I watched you date countless guys, most of them jerks, all through school. And then you jump me at a party, I foolishly tell you how I’d felt about you all those years, and then when I don’t instantly propose the next morning, you go back to treating me like your little buddy.”
“My little buddy? You were out the door before I even had the sleep wiped out of my eyes! And then you were such a dick to me the rest of that summer!” I yelled, angrily brushing a piece of hair away from my eyes.
“Grace, did it ever occur to you that when I woke up that morning, after wanting to be there like that with you for three years, that I panicked? I mean, come on, you’re Grace Sheridan! The fact that you were even interested in me was beyond the realm of possibility! And then when you invited me back to your apartment … oh man, Grace. That night was, well, amazing.” He sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in a way that was so familiar to me.
It was like ten years faded away instantly and we were sitting on the campus quad, arguing about Brecht and Stanislavski like the pretentious theater brats we were. Or arguing about whether to use the fifteen dollars we had between us to buy the new Toad the Wet Sprocket album or keep us in pitchers and chicken wings for two nights.
“If you felt like that, why did you leave? And why did things get so weird for us?” I asked, feeling a wave of nostalgia pass over me that was so strong I could almost smell the Drakkar.
“Because I was twenty-one. Because you were twenty-one. Who knows, who remembers? Because we were idiots.” He laughed, and I felt myself begin to relax.
We stared at each other and I saw him, really saw him. I saw the boy I remembered, and now I saw the man he had become. The face was the same, but different somehow. More full, and the facial structure was stronger. His face was a little careworn and the laugh lines that were there, even in college, were etched a little more deeply. His hair was still curly and the eyes full of mischief.
He was still the funniest guy I had ever known.
I thought about what he said. Did I treat him like a “little buddy” after we had sex? Maybe, out of self-preservation. And our friendship had cooled so quickly after that.
“Revisionist history … ” I muttered.
“What? I didn’t catch that.”
“Revisionist history. One event, two sides, and over the years it changes and twists into what we need it to be,” I said, looking at my old friend.
“And it is history, Grace. It really is.” He smiled, taking my hand. I was quiet for a moment, taking it all in.
“You know, it really is great to see you,” I said shyly, remembering how much fun we all had together.
“You too.” He smiled again. “Oh, come here,” he said and pulled me into a big bear hug.
I heard the French door open.
“Grace?” It was Jack, standing there in jeans, once again bare chest and barefoot.
I removed my arms from around Michael’s neck.
“Good morning, Hamilton.”
After Michael went back inside to talk to Holly, I pulled Jack to me for a close hug. He still smelled like sleep, warm and toasty. But his eyes were chilly.
He returned my hug, although it felt perfunctory.
“Did you get my note? You must have, you haven’t showered yet,” I teased, making a show of sniffing his underarm. He gave me a compulsory smile.
“Yes, I got it, and no I didn’t yet. Who’s the guy?” he asked. Wow, he went right for it.
“His name is Michael, and he’s an old college friend. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“A friend, a college friend. OK.” He nodded, his face relaxing just a touch.
“And, he’s also a writer. In fact, he wrote the show that I had the meeting about yesterday, and I—”
“Oh, hell, Grace. I wanted to ask you about it last night, but you were so sleepy.
How’d it go?” His face was animated again as he asked me about my audition.
“Well, it went well. Very well, in fact. I … I got the part,” I answered quietly, looking at him with hesitance. His face broke into a huge grin.
“Grace, that’s brilliant! Well done!” he shouted, sweeping me up and swinging me around in a circle. “Oh, love, that’s fantastic! I am so proud of you!” he exclaimed, laughing while he twirled me. Then, he stopped, and without setting me down, crushed his lips to mine.
Love? Pride?
I smiled into his kiss, my legs kicking in the air. He finally set me down, hands settled firmly on my ass.
“Now, let’s go get some coffee and you can tell me all about it,” he decided, taking my hand and walking me into the kitchen.
Shit.
Once we were in the kitchen, Michael looked at our entwined hands and raised an eyebrow to me. He then walked over to Jack and stuck out his hand.
“Hey, man. I’m Michael O’Connell.”
“Jack, Jack Hamilton, nice to meet you,” he answered, as the two shook hands.
Michael looked him up and down and raised his eyebrows again at the lack of clothing Jack had on. I loved that he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed that he was considerably less dressed than all of us.
“So, are you staying here with the girls?” Michael asked, nodding at Holly and me.
“Well, I stayed with Grace last night. And Holly loves having me here, don’t ya, Holls?” He laughed, ruffling her hair.
“Oh, yes, it’s just one big whorehouse here, and I’m the Madame,” Holly chuckled. “Actually, Jack’s an actor, and I represent him. He has a huge movie about to open this fall.”
“Ah, so you and he work together,” Michael said. “Grace, playing this one a little close to home, aren’t we?” Michael asked, winking at me.
Jack had been in the process of pulling me close to him, wrapping his arm around my waist when he heard Michael. He looked over at him and I felt him tense a little. He pulled me even closer.
“O’Connell, shut up,” I teased, pulling away from Jack and crossing over to where Holly stood by the fridge. We exchanged glances and settled against the counter to watch this unfold.
“So, Michael, was it? You’re a writer?”
“Yep, I’ve written for film and TV for years. This is my first musical, but with Grace as my lead, how can I go wrong?” he answered coolly, smiling at me warmly though.
“Wel , Grace is amazing, that’s for sure,” Jack answered back, winking at me.
This was weird.
“How about I make us all some lunch? Who’s hungry? I’m hungry!” I said, whirling around and looking in the fridge for something to make for lunch.
I made food for the four of us, although it was a little difficult with a Hamilton stuck to my hip. Honestly, he could not have been more obvious if he’d just peed on me.
While I bustled about making sandwiches, Michael, Holly and I talked about old times. It really was nice to talk to him again, and he was reminding me how much fun we all used to have together. He was telling the story about how one night we all got drunk, snuck into the theater, climbed up through the fly system and went out on the roof.
“Grace, when the cops showed up, you were white as a sheet!” he howled with laughter.
“I was white as a sheet because I had just vomited over the side of the building.” I laughed back.
Holly had tears streaming down her face as she remembered. “Oh, God, I forgot about that. You really had trouble holding your liquor then.” She grinned.
“You also had trouble holding on to your clothes. You were in your bra when the cops got there. Wow, all that lace,” Michael sighed, making a face at me when I swatted him with the dishtowel I was holding.
“Shut up. I was not!”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, you were. You tried to convince the cops that it was your costume—that you had just performed in Cabaret and it was really a very tiny corset.” He laughed.
“That’s true, Grace. You were half na**d up there,” Holly agreed.
We all laughed while I finished making lunch, and we settled in to eat.
Jack was quiet most of the time, and as the meal went on, I noticed he was not making as much of an effort to touch me as he was earlier. I grabbed his hand at one point and he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He was watching me and Michael.
When Michael and Holly were getting ready to leave, Jack and I followed them to the front door.
“Grace, I’m really glad we got things straightened out. It will be so great spending time with you again. I can’t wait for you to move to New York.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
I heard Jack’s intake of breath, and I saw Holly’s eyes flash to him. Michael leaned in to hug me goodbye, placing a peck on my cheek. The two of them left through the front door.
I closed it behind them, waiting a little longer than I needed to before turning to face Jack. His face was confused.
“You’re moving to New York?” he asked.
“Temporarily.”
“When?”
“Nine days.”
His face hardened and he spun on his heel, walking upstairs.
When I got up to my room, Jack was standing by the bed, furiously making it. I watched him as he worried the sheets up, trying to make them smooth. I went to the other side and tried to help him, but he jerked them out of my hands.
“Thanks, I’ve got it,” he snapped, darting his eyes up to mine. Since I couldn’t smooth the sheets, I attempted to smooth this.
“Wow, third morning making a bed and you’ve almost got it. Nice, Hamilton. Impressive,” I joked, retrieving a wayward pillow from the floor.
He didn’t smile.
He fussed about for another minute, and then he finally rounded on me.
“Explain to me why you didn’t bother to tell me that this show was in New York?” he asked, frustration showing through.
Is it wrong that I still noticed how hot he was with no shirt on?
“It was only an audition at first, and there were so many other actresses up for the same role. I honestly didn’t think I had a shot in hell. And then when I found out I was cast, I didn’t, well, I didn’t know how to tell you.” I looked at the ground, suddenly really sad that I was going to be leaving this man, right when things were getting amazing.
“Grace, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but hell! This was a fairly big piece of information to leave out.” He sighed. I was still thinking about that text from last night, and I almost asked him about it when I noticed him pulling up the duvet, upside down. I smiled in spite of myself.
He was throwing a bit of a tantrum, and I was reminded of his age. He was my little emo, but the fact that he was obviously upset at the thought of me leaving touched me.
I needed to touch him. I climbed onto the bed from my side and crawled across. I sat on my knees in front of him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I laid my head against his chest, and I felt his arms come up around me.
That felt better.
“I know … I’m sorry. Is it that hard to believe that I didn’t want to tell you? I’ll miss you. I’ve kind of gotten used to you. Who will tell me my tits are fabulous?” I mumbled into his chest, feeling his little hairs tickle at my nose. I could tell I’d made him smile, even without looking up.
“Fucking Nuts Girl. Are you real y leaving in nine days?” he asked, his hands skimming along the skin between my tank top and running pants.
“Yep.”
“And how long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. It depends on how well the show does, the response it gets.
I would say at least ten to twelve weeks,” I answered, pressing my face into his skin. He smelled like my bed.
He sighed and was quiet for a moment. He finally bent down and kissed the top of my head. “Right then. Let’s not get all dodgy about this. This is great news for you. I’m happy for you, Grace. You know that right?” he asked seriously, tipping my face up to his.
“Yes, I know. The timing just sucks.”
“I agree. Timing is everything.” We gazed at each other for a moment, then he broke the silence. “Now, I believe you requested some shower time? I have cleared my morning and am ready to attend to your washing up whenever you are so inclined.” He smirked, letting me know this tiny squall had passed.
“Yes, please. I am soooo inclined,” I answered back, kissing his stomach and beginning to move south along his happy trail. His hands came up to my hair and twisted it roughly. I started to pull him back onto the bed, his arms propping himself over me as I struggled to undo his button. I unzipped and …
Hello, commando.
“Hey, I just made this bed, and you’re going to mess it up,” he complained.
I looked around at the pillows haphazardly thrown, the sheet trailing out on the side, the upside down duvet, and smiled. “I love that you tried, but what you are an expert at in this bed has nothing at all to do with making it. Now, get down here,” I teased.
Once outside, I turned on him.
“So, let’s get this out now and then not speak of it again, shall we?”
“Fair enough. Why don’t you start by telling me why you’re so pissed about something that happened so many years ago?” he asked, sitting in a lawn chair.
I took the seat next to him.
“I don’t know. To be honest, I didn’t know I was still so pissed. But when I saw you yesterday, it brought all that rejection back and it just slammed into me,” I answered, feeling good to finally be able to unload this on him.
“Rejection? What are you talking about? Is that was this is about? I watched you date countless guys, most of them jerks, all through school. And then you jump me at a party, I foolishly tell you how I’d felt about you all those years, and then when I don’t instantly propose the next morning, you go back to treating me like your little buddy.”
“My little buddy? You were out the door before I even had the sleep wiped out of my eyes! And then you were such a dick to me the rest of that summer!” I yelled, angrily brushing a piece of hair away from my eyes.
“Grace, did it ever occur to you that when I woke up that morning, after wanting to be there like that with you for three years, that I panicked? I mean, come on, you’re Grace Sheridan! The fact that you were even interested in me was beyond the realm of possibility! And then when you invited me back to your apartment … oh man, Grace. That night was, well, amazing.” He sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in a way that was so familiar to me.
It was like ten years faded away instantly and we were sitting on the campus quad, arguing about Brecht and Stanislavski like the pretentious theater brats we were. Or arguing about whether to use the fifteen dollars we had between us to buy the new Toad the Wet Sprocket album or keep us in pitchers and chicken wings for two nights.
“If you felt like that, why did you leave? And why did things get so weird for us?” I asked, feeling a wave of nostalgia pass over me that was so strong I could almost smell the Drakkar.
“Because I was twenty-one. Because you were twenty-one. Who knows, who remembers? Because we were idiots.” He laughed, and I felt myself begin to relax.
We stared at each other and I saw him, really saw him. I saw the boy I remembered, and now I saw the man he had become. The face was the same, but different somehow. More full, and the facial structure was stronger. His face was a little careworn and the laugh lines that were there, even in college, were etched a little more deeply. His hair was still curly and the eyes full of mischief.
He was still the funniest guy I had ever known.
I thought about what he said. Did I treat him like a “little buddy” after we had sex? Maybe, out of self-preservation. And our friendship had cooled so quickly after that.
“Revisionist history … ” I muttered.
“What? I didn’t catch that.”
“Revisionist history. One event, two sides, and over the years it changes and twists into what we need it to be,” I said, looking at my old friend.
“And it is history, Grace. It really is.” He smiled, taking my hand. I was quiet for a moment, taking it all in.
“You know, it really is great to see you,” I said shyly, remembering how much fun we all had together.
“You too.” He smiled again. “Oh, come here,” he said and pulled me into a big bear hug.
I heard the French door open.
“Grace?” It was Jack, standing there in jeans, once again bare chest and barefoot.
I removed my arms from around Michael’s neck.
“Good morning, Hamilton.”
After Michael went back inside to talk to Holly, I pulled Jack to me for a close hug. He still smelled like sleep, warm and toasty. But his eyes were chilly.
He returned my hug, although it felt perfunctory.
“Did you get my note? You must have, you haven’t showered yet,” I teased, making a show of sniffing his underarm. He gave me a compulsory smile.
“Yes, I got it, and no I didn’t yet. Who’s the guy?” he asked. Wow, he went right for it.
“His name is Michael, and he’s an old college friend. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“A friend, a college friend. OK.” He nodded, his face relaxing just a touch.
“And, he’s also a writer. In fact, he wrote the show that I had the meeting about yesterday, and I—”
“Oh, hell, Grace. I wanted to ask you about it last night, but you were so sleepy.
How’d it go?” His face was animated again as he asked me about my audition.
“Well, it went well. Very well, in fact. I … I got the part,” I answered quietly, looking at him with hesitance. His face broke into a huge grin.
“Grace, that’s brilliant! Well done!” he shouted, sweeping me up and swinging me around in a circle. “Oh, love, that’s fantastic! I am so proud of you!” he exclaimed, laughing while he twirled me. Then, he stopped, and without setting me down, crushed his lips to mine.
Love? Pride?
I smiled into his kiss, my legs kicking in the air. He finally set me down, hands settled firmly on my ass.
“Now, let’s go get some coffee and you can tell me all about it,” he decided, taking my hand and walking me into the kitchen.
Shit.
Once we were in the kitchen, Michael looked at our entwined hands and raised an eyebrow to me. He then walked over to Jack and stuck out his hand.
“Hey, man. I’m Michael O’Connell.”
“Jack, Jack Hamilton, nice to meet you,” he answered, as the two shook hands.
Michael looked him up and down and raised his eyebrows again at the lack of clothing Jack had on. I loved that he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed that he was considerably less dressed than all of us.
“So, are you staying here with the girls?” Michael asked, nodding at Holly and me.
“Well, I stayed with Grace last night. And Holly loves having me here, don’t ya, Holls?” He laughed, ruffling her hair.
“Oh, yes, it’s just one big whorehouse here, and I’m the Madame,” Holly chuckled. “Actually, Jack’s an actor, and I represent him. He has a huge movie about to open this fall.”
“Ah, so you and he work together,” Michael said. “Grace, playing this one a little close to home, aren’t we?” Michael asked, winking at me.
Jack had been in the process of pulling me close to him, wrapping his arm around my waist when he heard Michael. He looked over at him and I felt him tense a little. He pulled me even closer.
“O’Connell, shut up,” I teased, pulling away from Jack and crossing over to where Holly stood by the fridge. We exchanged glances and settled against the counter to watch this unfold.
“So, Michael, was it? You’re a writer?”
“Yep, I’ve written for film and TV for years. This is my first musical, but with Grace as my lead, how can I go wrong?” he answered coolly, smiling at me warmly though.
“Wel , Grace is amazing, that’s for sure,” Jack answered back, winking at me.
This was weird.
“How about I make us all some lunch? Who’s hungry? I’m hungry!” I said, whirling around and looking in the fridge for something to make for lunch.
I made food for the four of us, although it was a little difficult with a Hamilton stuck to my hip. Honestly, he could not have been more obvious if he’d just peed on me.
While I bustled about making sandwiches, Michael, Holly and I talked about old times. It really was nice to talk to him again, and he was reminding me how much fun we all used to have together. He was telling the story about how one night we all got drunk, snuck into the theater, climbed up through the fly system and went out on the roof.
“Grace, when the cops showed up, you were white as a sheet!” he howled with laughter.
“I was white as a sheet because I had just vomited over the side of the building.” I laughed back.
Holly had tears streaming down her face as she remembered. “Oh, God, I forgot about that. You really had trouble holding your liquor then.” She grinned.
“You also had trouble holding on to your clothes. You were in your bra when the cops got there. Wow, all that lace,” Michael sighed, making a face at me when I swatted him with the dishtowel I was holding.
“Shut up. I was not!”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, you were. You tried to convince the cops that it was your costume—that you had just performed in Cabaret and it was really a very tiny corset.” He laughed.
“That’s true, Grace. You were half na**d up there,” Holly agreed.
We all laughed while I finished making lunch, and we settled in to eat.
Jack was quiet most of the time, and as the meal went on, I noticed he was not making as much of an effort to touch me as he was earlier. I grabbed his hand at one point and he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He was watching me and Michael.
When Michael and Holly were getting ready to leave, Jack and I followed them to the front door.
“Grace, I’m really glad we got things straightened out. It will be so great spending time with you again. I can’t wait for you to move to New York.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
I heard Jack’s intake of breath, and I saw Holly’s eyes flash to him. Michael leaned in to hug me goodbye, placing a peck on my cheek. The two of them left through the front door.
I closed it behind them, waiting a little longer than I needed to before turning to face Jack. His face was confused.
“You’re moving to New York?” he asked.
“Temporarily.”
“When?”
“Nine days.”
His face hardened and he spun on his heel, walking upstairs.
When I got up to my room, Jack was standing by the bed, furiously making it. I watched him as he worried the sheets up, trying to make them smooth. I went to the other side and tried to help him, but he jerked them out of my hands.
“Thanks, I’ve got it,” he snapped, darting his eyes up to mine. Since I couldn’t smooth the sheets, I attempted to smooth this.
“Wow, third morning making a bed and you’ve almost got it. Nice, Hamilton. Impressive,” I joked, retrieving a wayward pillow from the floor.
He didn’t smile.
He fussed about for another minute, and then he finally rounded on me.
“Explain to me why you didn’t bother to tell me that this show was in New York?” he asked, frustration showing through.
Is it wrong that I still noticed how hot he was with no shirt on?
“It was only an audition at first, and there were so many other actresses up for the same role. I honestly didn’t think I had a shot in hell. And then when I found out I was cast, I didn’t, well, I didn’t know how to tell you.” I looked at the ground, suddenly really sad that I was going to be leaving this man, right when things were getting amazing.
“Grace, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but hell! This was a fairly big piece of information to leave out.” He sighed. I was still thinking about that text from last night, and I almost asked him about it when I noticed him pulling up the duvet, upside down. I smiled in spite of myself.
He was throwing a bit of a tantrum, and I was reminded of his age. He was my little emo, but the fact that he was obviously upset at the thought of me leaving touched me.
I needed to touch him. I climbed onto the bed from my side and crawled across. I sat on my knees in front of him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I laid my head against his chest, and I felt his arms come up around me.
That felt better.
“I know … I’m sorry. Is it that hard to believe that I didn’t want to tell you? I’ll miss you. I’ve kind of gotten used to you. Who will tell me my tits are fabulous?” I mumbled into his chest, feeling his little hairs tickle at my nose. I could tell I’d made him smile, even without looking up.
“Fucking Nuts Girl. Are you real y leaving in nine days?” he asked, his hands skimming along the skin between my tank top and running pants.
“Yep.”
“And how long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. It depends on how well the show does, the response it gets.
I would say at least ten to twelve weeks,” I answered, pressing my face into his skin. He smelled like my bed.
He sighed and was quiet for a moment. He finally bent down and kissed the top of my head. “Right then. Let’s not get all dodgy about this. This is great news for you. I’m happy for you, Grace. You know that right?” he asked seriously, tipping my face up to his.
“Yes, I know. The timing just sucks.”
“I agree. Timing is everything.” We gazed at each other for a moment, then he broke the silence. “Now, I believe you requested some shower time? I have cleared my morning and am ready to attend to your washing up whenever you are so inclined.” He smirked, letting me know this tiny squall had passed.
“Yes, please. I am soooo inclined,” I answered back, kissing his stomach and beginning to move south along his happy trail. His hands came up to my hair and twisted it roughly. I started to pull him back onto the bed, his arms propping himself over me as I struggled to undo his button. I unzipped and …
Hello, commando.
“Hey, I just made this bed, and you’re going to mess it up,” he complained.
I looked around at the pillows haphazardly thrown, the sheet trailing out on the side, the upside down duvet, and smiled. “I love that you tried, but what you are an expert at in this bed has nothing at all to do with making it. Now, get down here,” I teased.
