The Unidentified Redhead
Page 9
“Are you kidding me?” I said angrily, rinsing off my razor and attacking my underarm.
Mistake!
“Hey, what did you expect? I told you, he’s getting more and more popular by the day. You should see all the websites devoted to him. This? This is nothing,” she assured me, pulling her phone out of her pocket.
“Who are you calling? Shit,” I moaned, shampoo running in my eye.
“Who do you think? It’s time to call the Brit,” she answered.
“Wait, wait! Don’t call him!” I pleaded, trying to stop the flow of blood from my underarm and the flow of bubbles directly into my eyeball. Not my prettiest moment.
“Too late … Hi, Jack! It’s Holly. Listen, just had to let you know you’re on TMZ again … Yep, I’m looking at it right now. Yep, it’s you and Grace at the beach … No, you’re not rolling in the sand, you’re eating lunch. Wait, when were you rolling in the sand? I didn’t hear about that part.” She moved the phone away from her mouth and yelled, “You didn’t tell me about the rolling in the sand, Grace. I’m hurt you skipped over that. All I heard about was the kiss!” She loved her life right now.
Mortified, I slid down the wall of the shower and let the water beat down on me. I was an unidentified redhead with a bloody armpit and a British addiction.
Moreover, my best friend was delighting in all of it.
“Yeah, she’s right here. She’s in the shower, in fact … Oh, Jack! I told Grace the funniest joke about the British invading her hoo—Wait, what? … Hold on … Grace, Jack would like you to know that he has seen the pictures and he thinks you were pointing that shrimp at him far too aggressively … No, she isn’t acknowledging you. She’s now banging her head against the shower tiles … Oops, now she’s glaring at me … she’s turning off the shower, Jack … she’s coming toward me … she’s na**d, Jack … and angry … she’s na**d and angry, Jack … you would probably love angry, na**d Grace. It’s something to see. She’s hitting me, Jack … I think she’s going to take the phone away from … ” Silence.
I stood over Holly, holding the phone in one hand and the other over her mouth.
“You will be quiet, starting now,” I instructed in a low voice. She nodded her head, her eyes wide. She licked my hand in an attempt to throw me off. I had had enough.
I could hear Jack laughing maniacally over the phone.
“Hi, Jack. Things are under control here now. Can I call you back in a few minutes?” I asked, tightening my grip on Holly’s mouth.
“Are you really na**d? Like, all kinds of na**d?” he asked in between wheezes.
“All kinds of na**d. And wet. Now, that should be enough to tide you over for a few minutes. I’ll call you right back.”
“Jesus, wet? Wait, Sheridan, wait!” I heard him say as I hung up the phone.
“Nice touch with the na**d and wet,” Holly mumbled through my hand.
“Yeah, I thought so, too,” I answered, hitting her in the face with my loofah.
A little while later, with my armpit band-aid firmly in place, I sat on my bed in my robe, looking at my laptop. I had seen the pictures, several times. I looked sassy. I looked sexy.
You looked gooood.
I did look good. I dialed the phone.
“I can’t believe you hung up on me after giving me that kind of visual. You little c**k tease,” he grumbled. His voice was low and thick.
If I could hear Jack Hamilton say one word for the rest of my life, it would be cock.
“I had an ass to kick. I saw the pictures. Sorry about that,” I apologized.
“Why are you apologizing? I should’ve warned you about that. That isn’t the first time this has happened.”
“Yeah, Holly mentioned that things were beginning to get a little crazy for you. You OK with that?” I asked, leaning back onto the pillows. I needed to get ready to go out, but I wanted to talk to him a little.
“It’s not too bad. I mean, meeting people who are fans of the stories is actually cool. It’s weird though, because I’m boring. If they only knew how boring I actually am, they wouldn’t be interested.” He sighed.
“I don’t think you’re boring. I find you quite … stimulating in fact,” I answered, in a low voice.
“Really? What exactly do you find stimulating?” he inquired.
“Well, right now it’s your voice. That damn accent is driving me crazy.” I breathed into the phone. This had gone from innocent to sexpot fast.
“It’s always the accent that drives you American women crazy. I’d no idea you fancied it, too … ” he trailed off.
“Oooh, fancied it. Say more like that,” I begged, smiling into the pillow.
“Like what, Grace?”
“Talk British to me,” I whispered, only half joking.
“Dustbins.”
“More,” I encouraged.
“Crumpets.”
“More!” I demanded.
“Knickers.”
If I could hear Jack Hamilton say a second word for the rest of my life, it would be knickers.
“Say put another shrimp on the barbie!” I cried.
“Grace, that’s Australian,” he chided.
“Say it!”
“Fine. Put another shrimp on the barbie. Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“Aaaahhhhhhh!” I screamed into the phone. Holly was passing by my room and rolled her eyes. I grinned at her.
“Are you quite finished now?” he asked.
“Oh, my yes. That was great. Thank you for that.” I giggled.
“Anything for my unidentified redhead,” he replied.
His unidentified redhead? Damn skippy.
“So, what do you have planned for the evening?” I asked.
“I’m going to a club opening, somewhere off Robertson,” he said, not sounding that excited about it.
“Well, be careful. And you’re not allowed to sleep with anyone from any reality show on MTV,” I warned.
“Oh, laying claims now, are we?” he teased, making me realize what I had just said.
Too early, Grace.
“Wait, don’t I get to lay any claims tonight?” he protested.
Maybe not too early …
“None of my claims are getting laid tonight, but go ahead.”
“You’re not allowed to sleep with anyone who has ever watched a reality show on MTV,” he continued in a silky voice.
“So there is, like, an after midnight clause?” I teased.
“Don’t tempt me, Grace, or I’ll comb every club in West Hollywood looking for you, starting at the stroke of midnight,” he stated matter-of-factly.
My toes curled. I still needed that second shot of Hamilton.
“Heh heh, you said—” I started.
“Stroke. I know, I said, ‘stroke’. I’m on to you, Sheridan,” he reminded me.
Please be on to me … at least on me.
“OK, Holly’s wearing a hole in the carpet outside my door. I need to get going. I’ll speak to you soon?” I hated to get off the phone, but I couldn’t take much more of this. The next time we bantered, I hoped it was with seriously less clothing on.
“Yes, I need to meet up with my mates. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t put too much sparkle on your boobies. They look great, by the way. Nice robe.” He chuckled.
“Thanks. I, wait, how did you know I’m wearing a—”
“Night, Grace,” he whispered.
I sat for a minute on my bed.
What the fudge?
I heard a snicker and looked toward the door. There was Holly with her camera phone. On the screen was a picture of me just a few minutes ago. My robe had fallen open just enough that you could see the tops of my yahoos, to say nothing of how high it was open on my legs.
The worst part was that she had taken it when I was screaming after he said
“shrimp on the barbie.” I looked like I was in a porno.
She danced away from my lunge and said, “Never throw your loofah at me again. I know where it’s been.”
Bloody hell.
Chapter 9
The night was fun. Holly and I met up with Nick at a club in West Hollywood.
They were having “decades” night, and we danced all night in the eighties room. I didn’t mention to Nick the fact that I had been engaged in a back-and-forth with Jack. First, I knew how big a crush he really did have. Second, he worked in the industry too, and that was just too tempting a rumor.
After the hangover from the other day, I made sure to restrict myself to a two-drink maximum, despite Nick’s best attempts to get me wasted and on stage with a drag queen. It was not going to happen—the getting wasted part.
I did dance on the stage …
I packed my tired ass into bed sometime after three—well past my bed-time—and was asleep almost instantly, although not so instantly that I didn’t spare a thought to the Brit, and wondered whether he was home yet or not.
Only a few hours later, after some much needed power sleeping, I decided to go for another run in Griffith Park. As I drove through the canyons on the way, my phone rang. It was the Brit.
“Hey there,” I said merrily into the phone. I was happier than I wanted to be to talk to him.
“Hey, Nuts Girl. What are you up to?” he asked, his voice deliciously thick.
He sounded like he’d just woken up.
“I’m going for a run. You?”
“I’m still in bed, trying to decide if I can talk the girl at Starbucks into making a home delivery. Is it too pretentious to ask if she’s a Time fan?” he asked, already knowing my answer.
“Yes, it is. Don’t you dare,” I chided.
“Where are you going for your run?” he inquired, setting me up. I let him.
“Griffith Park, why?”
“Oh, that’s really close to my place. Pity I don’t know who that unidentified redhead was. I bet she’d get me some coffee.”
“Maybe if you ask really nice and then you kiss on her for awhile, she might consider it,” I teased, loving where this was leading.
“That’s a deal. When I see her, I’ll kiss on her until she tells me to stop.”
“Who says she’ll tell you to stop?” I hinted.
“Well, then you better get your sweet ass over here so I can begin the kissing,” he invited.
You are going to let him touch your boobies, aren’t you?
Maybe. Probably.
“OK, I’m going for my run, and then I’ll be by with your coffee. Did you need a muffin, too? Or am I just your java wench for now?” I sassed back.
“Haha! Just the coffee, but skip the run. I’m lonely.”
“No, I need to run. Besides, that will give you time to clean up your place,” I pushed.
“How do you know if I need to clean up my place or not? You’ve never been here,” he asked.
“You’re twenty-four right? Let’s see, twenty-four. I am going to guess that your boxers are on the coffee table, there are pizza boxes on the floor, and the bong is on the back of the toilet. Yes?”
He was quiet for a minute, and then he burst out laughing. “Go for your run, I’ll see you soon. And the bong isn’t in the bathroom,” he said.
“Kitchen?”
“Maybe.”
“Has it ever been in the bathroom?” I pressed.
“Dammit, yes.”
“I am the master! Text me your order and your address and I’ll be along soon. I’m warning you, though. I will be all hot and sweaty from my run. You may not want to kiss me.”
“Not possible. I’m looking forward to the hot and sweaty. And Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Run fast,” he said.
“No problem. See you soon,” I said.
I ran like my ass was on fire.
I made it to his apartment in less than 60 minutes, forgoing my usual longer run in favor of a more Jack-friendly workout. I had picked up his coffee, grande espresso, and my iced mocha as well. I climbed the stairs to his door and knocked carefully, balancing the two cups.
When he opened the door, my breath drew in with a hiss. He was wearing a white t-shirt, low-slung jeans and was barefoot. The hair was curly perfection, and he hadn’t shaved for a few days. The roughness of his beard accented his jawbones, making him look both virile and angelic at the same time. He was smiling at me while looking devilish. I said hello to him, walked past him into the hallway, and continued into what I assumed was the living room. He said nothing, just followed me in. I could hear the soft slap of his bare feet on the wood floors. I turned around to hand him his coffee and he was right behind me. He took both cups and set them on the table.
“I got it with two sugars, just the way you … ” I was silenced by his stare.
He slid his hands around my waist and pulled me into him. His green eyes were blazing, and his jaw set as his fingers touched the skin between my tank top and my track pants.
“Sorry, I told you I was going to be sweaty, do you want me to—”
“Grace?” he interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Shut the f**k up and enjoy this,” he whispered, as he bent his head to mine.
He’s right, Grace. Shut the f**k up.
His lips touched mine, and though yesterday’s kiss was sweet and amazing, he was serious today. His mouth moved over mine urgently, incessantly. I had been dying to touch his hair since the first day I saw it, and now I dug in. I felt the silk and the soft of every strand as I wound my fingers throughout, drawing him closer to me. I sucked lightly on that damn lower lip, and when his tongue met mine I … thought … I … would explode.
Mistake!
“Hey, what did you expect? I told you, he’s getting more and more popular by the day. You should see all the websites devoted to him. This? This is nothing,” she assured me, pulling her phone out of her pocket.
“Who are you calling? Shit,” I moaned, shampoo running in my eye.
“Who do you think? It’s time to call the Brit,” she answered.
“Wait, wait! Don’t call him!” I pleaded, trying to stop the flow of blood from my underarm and the flow of bubbles directly into my eyeball. Not my prettiest moment.
“Too late … Hi, Jack! It’s Holly. Listen, just had to let you know you’re on TMZ again … Yep, I’m looking at it right now. Yep, it’s you and Grace at the beach … No, you’re not rolling in the sand, you’re eating lunch. Wait, when were you rolling in the sand? I didn’t hear about that part.” She moved the phone away from her mouth and yelled, “You didn’t tell me about the rolling in the sand, Grace. I’m hurt you skipped over that. All I heard about was the kiss!” She loved her life right now.
Mortified, I slid down the wall of the shower and let the water beat down on me. I was an unidentified redhead with a bloody armpit and a British addiction.
Moreover, my best friend was delighting in all of it.
“Yeah, she’s right here. She’s in the shower, in fact … Oh, Jack! I told Grace the funniest joke about the British invading her hoo—Wait, what? … Hold on … Grace, Jack would like you to know that he has seen the pictures and he thinks you were pointing that shrimp at him far too aggressively … No, she isn’t acknowledging you. She’s now banging her head against the shower tiles … Oops, now she’s glaring at me … she’s turning off the shower, Jack … she’s coming toward me … she’s na**d, Jack … and angry … she’s na**d and angry, Jack … you would probably love angry, na**d Grace. It’s something to see. She’s hitting me, Jack … I think she’s going to take the phone away from … ” Silence.
I stood over Holly, holding the phone in one hand and the other over her mouth.
“You will be quiet, starting now,” I instructed in a low voice. She nodded her head, her eyes wide. She licked my hand in an attempt to throw me off. I had had enough.
I could hear Jack laughing maniacally over the phone.
“Hi, Jack. Things are under control here now. Can I call you back in a few minutes?” I asked, tightening my grip on Holly’s mouth.
“Are you really na**d? Like, all kinds of na**d?” he asked in between wheezes.
“All kinds of na**d. And wet. Now, that should be enough to tide you over for a few minutes. I’ll call you right back.”
“Jesus, wet? Wait, Sheridan, wait!” I heard him say as I hung up the phone.
“Nice touch with the na**d and wet,” Holly mumbled through my hand.
“Yeah, I thought so, too,” I answered, hitting her in the face with my loofah.
A little while later, with my armpit band-aid firmly in place, I sat on my bed in my robe, looking at my laptop. I had seen the pictures, several times. I looked sassy. I looked sexy.
You looked gooood.
I did look good. I dialed the phone.
“I can’t believe you hung up on me after giving me that kind of visual. You little c**k tease,” he grumbled. His voice was low and thick.
If I could hear Jack Hamilton say one word for the rest of my life, it would be cock.
“I had an ass to kick. I saw the pictures. Sorry about that,” I apologized.
“Why are you apologizing? I should’ve warned you about that. That isn’t the first time this has happened.”
“Yeah, Holly mentioned that things were beginning to get a little crazy for you. You OK with that?” I asked, leaning back onto the pillows. I needed to get ready to go out, but I wanted to talk to him a little.
“It’s not too bad. I mean, meeting people who are fans of the stories is actually cool. It’s weird though, because I’m boring. If they only knew how boring I actually am, they wouldn’t be interested.” He sighed.
“I don’t think you’re boring. I find you quite … stimulating in fact,” I answered, in a low voice.
“Really? What exactly do you find stimulating?” he inquired.
“Well, right now it’s your voice. That damn accent is driving me crazy.” I breathed into the phone. This had gone from innocent to sexpot fast.
“It’s always the accent that drives you American women crazy. I’d no idea you fancied it, too … ” he trailed off.
“Oooh, fancied it. Say more like that,” I begged, smiling into the pillow.
“Like what, Grace?”
“Talk British to me,” I whispered, only half joking.
“Dustbins.”
“More,” I encouraged.
“Crumpets.”
“More!” I demanded.
“Knickers.”
If I could hear Jack Hamilton say a second word for the rest of my life, it would be knickers.
“Say put another shrimp on the barbie!” I cried.
“Grace, that’s Australian,” he chided.
“Say it!”
“Fine. Put another shrimp on the barbie. Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“Aaaahhhhhhh!” I screamed into the phone. Holly was passing by my room and rolled her eyes. I grinned at her.
“Are you quite finished now?” he asked.
“Oh, my yes. That was great. Thank you for that.” I giggled.
“Anything for my unidentified redhead,” he replied.
His unidentified redhead? Damn skippy.
“So, what do you have planned for the evening?” I asked.
“I’m going to a club opening, somewhere off Robertson,” he said, not sounding that excited about it.
“Well, be careful. And you’re not allowed to sleep with anyone from any reality show on MTV,” I warned.
“Oh, laying claims now, are we?” he teased, making me realize what I had just said.
Too early, Grace.
“Wait, don’t I get to lay any claims tonight?” he protested.
Maybe not too early …
“None of my claims are getting laid tonight, but go ahead.”
“You’re not allowed to sleep with anyone who has ever watched a reality show on MTV,” he continued in a silky voice.
“So there is, like, an after midnight clause?” I teased.
“Don’t tempt me, Grace, or I’ll comb every club in West Hollywood looking for you, starting at the stroke of midnight,” he stated matter-of-factly.
My toes curled. I still needed that second shot of Hamilton.
“Heh heh, you said—” I started.
“Stroke. I know, I said, ‘stroke’. I’m on to you, Sheridan,” he reminded me.
Please be on to me … at least on me.
“OK, Holly’s wearing a hole in the carpet outside my door. I need to get going. I’ll speak to you soon?” I hated to get off the phone, but I couldn’t take much more of this. The next time we bantered, I hoped it was with seriously less clothing on.
“Yes, I need to meet up with my mates. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t put too much sparkle on your boobies. They look great, by the way. Nice robe.” He chuckled.
“Thanks. I, wait, how did you know I’m wearing a—”
“Night, Grace,” he whispered.
I sat for a minute on my bed.
What the fudge?
I heard a snicker and looked toward the door. There was Holly with her camera phone. On the screen was a picture of me just a few minutes ago. My robe had fallen open just enough that you could see the tops of my yahoos, to say nothing of how high it was open on my legs.
The worst part was that she had taken it when I was screaming after he said
“shrimp on the barbie.” I looked like I was in a porno.
She danced away from my lunge and said, “Never throw your loofah at me again. I know where it’s been.”
Bloody hell.
Chapter 9
The night was fun. Holly and I met up with Nick at a club in West Hollywood.
They were having “decades” night, and we danced all night in the eighties room. I didn’t mention to Nick the fact that I had been engaged in a back-and-forth with Jack. First, I knew how big a crush he really did have. Second, he worked in the industry too, and that was just too tempting a rumor.
After the hangover from the other day, I made sure to restrict myself to a two-drink maximum, despite Nick’s best attempts to get me wasted and on stage with a drag queen. It was not going to happen—the getting wasted part.
I did dance on the stage …
I packed my tired ass into bed sometime after three—well past my bed-time—and was asleep almost instantly, although not so instantly that I didn’t spare a thought to the Brit, and wondered whether he was home yet or not.
Only a few hours later, after some much needed power sleeping, I decided to go for another run in Griffith Park. As I drove through the canyons on the way, my phone rang. It was the Brit.
“Hey there,” I said merrily into the phone. I was happier than I wanted to be to talk to him.
“Hey, Nuts Girl. What are you up to?” he asked, his voice deliciously thick.
He sounded like he’d just woken up.
“I’m going for a run. You?”
“I’m still in bed, trying to decide if I can talk the girl at Starbucks into making a home delivery. Is it too pretentious to ask if she’s a Time fan?” he asked, already knowing my answer.
“Yes, it is. Don’t you dare,” I chided.
“Where are you going for your run?” he inquired, setting me up. I let him.
“Griffith Park, why?”
“Oh, that’s really close to my place. Pity I don’t know who that unidentified redhead was. I bet she’d get me some coffee.”
“Maybe if you ask really nice and then you kiss on her for awhile, she might consider it,” I teased, loving where this was leading.
“That’s a deal. When I see her, I’ll kiss on her until she tells me to stop.”
“Who says she’ll tell you to stop?” I hinted.
“Well, then you better get your sweet ass over here so I can begin the kissing,” he invited.
You are going to let him touch your boobies, aren’t you?
Maybe. Probably.
“OK, I’m going for my run, and then I’ll be by with your coffee. Did you need a muffin, too? Or am I just your java wench for now?” I sassed back.
“Haha! Just the coffee, but skip the run. I’m lonely.”
“No, I need to run. Besides, that will give you time to clean up your place,” I pushed.
“How do you know if I need to clean up my place or not? You’ve never been here,” he asked.
“You’re twenty-four right? Let’s see, twenty-four. I am going to guess that your boxers are on the coffee table, there are pizza boxes on the floor, and the bong is on the back of the toilet. Yes?”
He was quiet for a minute, and then he burst out laughing. “Go for your run, I’ll see you soon. And the bong isn’t in the bathroom,” he said.
“Kitchen?”
“Maybe.”
“Has it ever been in the bathroom?” I pressed.
“Dammit, yes.”
“I am the master! Text me your order and your address and I’ll be along soon. I’m warning you, though. I will be all hot and sweaty from my run. You may not want to kiss me.”
“Not possible. I’m looking forward to the hot and sweaty. And Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Run fast,” he said.
“No problem. See you soon,” I said.
I ran like my ass was on fire.
I made it to his apartment in less than 60 minutes, forgoing my usual longer run in favor of a more Jack-friendly workout. I had picked up his coffee, grande espresso, and my iced mocha as well. I climbed the stairs to his door and knocked carefully, balancing the two cups.
When he opened the door, my breath drew in with a hiss. He was wearing a white t-shirt, low-slung jeans and was barefoot. The hair was curly perfection, and he hadn’t shaved for a few days. The roughness of his beard accented his jawbones, making him look both virile and angelic at the same time. He was smiling at me while looking devilish. I said hello to him, walked past him into the hallway, and continued into what I assumed was the living room. He said nothing, just followed me in. I could hear the soft slap of his bare feet on the wood floors. I turned around to hand him his coffee and he was right behind me. He took both cups and set them on the table.
“I got it with two sugars, just the way you … ” I was silenced by his stare.
He slid his hands around my waist and pulled me into him. His green eyes were blazing, and his jaw set as his fingers touched the skin between my tank top and my track pants.
“Sorry, I told you I was going to be sweaty, do you want me to—”
“Grace?” he interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Shut the f**k up and enjoy this,” he whispered, as he bent his head to mine.
He’s right, Grace. Shut the f**k up.
His lips touched mine, and though yesterday’s kiss was sweet and amazing, he was serious today. His mouth moved over mine urgently, incessantly. I had been dying to touch his hair since the first day I saw it, and now I dug in. I felt the silk and the soft of every strand as I wound my fingers throughout, drawing him closer to me. I sucked lightly on that damn lower lip, and when his tongue met mine I … thought … I … would explode.
