Say You Love Me Read online

  “Is your work safe?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Not always, but I can handle it.”

  “Does Vince know?”

  “Yes.”

  I tip my head to the side. “Really?”

  She sighs heavily. “Charlie, don’t make me regret telling you.”

  I wave a hand indifferently. “Don’t. Just say safe, and call me if you need a hand. I’m a black belt, remember?”

  She chuckles. “I remember…”

  “And listen, Mags. I just want to be a part of catching Mita. Like I said, I don’t want to sit around and do nothing.”

  Maggie studies me. Finally, she sighs. “I, of all people, understand that. Remember what happened to Vince before our wedding?”

  “I do.”

  “Jack knew he couldn’t leave me behind. So…” She nods once. “I’ll keep you close.”

  I slump in relief. “Thanks. So what next?”

  “I have to go to the crow’s nest.”

  “Crow’s nest?”

  “Wherever Mita lives. That’s where I have to go.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Then I remember tomorrow’s a big day in the studio. “Well, I can go the day after tomorrow.”

  “Charlie, the sooner the better.”

  “Mags, you can’t do this without me.”

  She narrows an eye and then sighs. I can tell by the velocity of wind she blows through her nose that she’s going to give me what I want. “Okay…”

  I grin, satisfied. “Okay. The day after tomorrow.”

  She nods as though it hurts to make the concession.

  Chapter Three

  CHARLIE LORD

  I resist calling Angel again while inching up Pacific Coast Highway. It’s after midnight in London, and she has to rest for the day’s show. Last week, we were up all night, talking on FaceTime. We engaged in long-distance sex, which was pretty amazing, especially when she took her top off so that I could fantasize about doing things to her perfect tits. But she didn’t get a lick of sleep, and the next day, during her performance, she fell and almost sprained her ankle. We haven’t had phone sex since, and my dick feels neglected by her.

  My car phone rings, and I see Angel’s name on the control panel screen. I press Answer. “Hey, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” I’m grinning big.

  Her chuckle sounds weary. “I didn’t like the way we left things this morning. I miss you too. I miss you all the time, and I’m so dang confused about it.”

  That’s exactly what my heart needed to hear. “Why are you confused?”

  “Because I’d rather be with you than here. But…” She sighs.

  “But?”

  “But I’m a dancer, and I fought so hard to be what I am.”

  Her mother, who passed two years ago, wanted her to become a doctor. “I don’t want you to stop dancing either.”

  The line falls silent, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s still there. “Angel?”

  “I’m here. Listen, babe, I love you, but I really have to get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Of course. Oh, and is Mita still making shit tough for you?”

  “Oh…” She sounds relieved. “She’s gone. Thank God.”

  I pump my fist victoriously as I turn down my street. This is the perfect time to hear good news. Home is less than twenty feet away.

  “Good,” I say.

  “Great,” she says.

  Suddenly, the panel shows that I have another call. “Your papa is calling me.”

  “Oh, tell him I said hi and that I miss him,” she says.

  We say a final good-bye and I love you. I pull up in front of my garage as I answer his call. “Jacques!”

  “How are you, son?” His voice drags as if he’s tired.

  “Doing well.”

  “Listen. I don’t have a lot of time. Mita Capelli will be at the studio tomorrow. We’re going to remix some of the tracks and her harmonies.”

  My head spins as I digest the bad news. “Mita’s in LA?”

  “She’s on a flight from London.”

  I open my mouth to speak and then close it to think. My first inclination is to talk him out of using her. I discovered a better cellist—Elaine Ko from Pasadena—and if I call her, she’ll definitely make herself available. But if Mita’s in LA, then she’s far away from Angelina, and that’s the bright, shiny side of the situation.

  “You do remember that Ship is scheduled to be in-studio all day tomorrow,” I say. Ship Gorman is the director of the film we’re scoring.

  “I know, and so am I.” He’s videoconferencing in. “What? Do you have problem with Mita?”

  “No,” I say, sounding as sincere as possible.

  “Shit,” I mumble after we end the call. I don’t want Jacques seeing me sweat because Mita’s in the house. I call Maggie right away and break the news.

  “Predictable,” Maggie says. “She’s ready to strike.”

  I pull into the garage, too flabbergasted to ask her to explain how she came to that conclusion. Maggie tells me that things have changed and she’ll keep me posted.

  “What about Italy?” I ask.

  “First of all, her apartment’s in Paris. And you obviously can’t come now. She’ll get suspicious.”

  “Then you’re still going?”

  “I certainly am.”

  We hang up. I sit in my car and stare at the dusty garage door. This house sits empty for most of the year. Lately, I only come to LA for work, and I normally stay in a room at the studio. But during this stint, I’ve been in town for six days and I’ve stayed here. The room at the studio has become too small for me. Life is best when Angelina and I are at home together in New Iberia or New Orleans. I’ve come to the conclusion that I like residing in my own home and with her in it.

  I focus on the garage door. I don’t want to go inside the house—at least not yet. I back out, turn my car around, and drive to Quarry, a bar off Pacific Coast Highway. I find my favorite stool and ask Mitch, my favorite bartender, to pour me a vodka and tonic.

  “Been a while, brother,” Mitch says as he makes my watered-down drink.

  I bob my head. “So it has. How’s it been going?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  Two attractive women in bikini tops and flowing skirts take the stools to my right. Mitch shrugs his forehead, sets my drink down in front of me, and leans in close, “I see you still got it.”

  I steal a glance at the two women. One faces the other and is grinning. I’ve sat through enough scenes like this to know that she’s noticing me without looking and her friend is fighting the urge to turn around and get a view. I take a gulp of my drink, wondering if I should switch seats. Ever since I made a vow to be with Angel, all I want to do is run away from situations like this. Women still come on to me constantly, but I’ve stopped responding. I’m in love with Angel, and she’s irreplaceable.

  I shrug, look up at the baseball game, and slowly sip my drink. Dustin, Matt, and Corey, my Quarry bar buddies, might show up soon. I’ll nurse this one drink for most of the evening while we shoot the shit. I haven’t been drunk in nineteen months and plan to keep it that way.

  “Boo,” a woman says in my ear.

  I jump and turn around. “Monroe?”

  “Look who the cat dragged in.”

  She’s wearing the same toothy smile as usual—it’s just as naughty as it is nice. “Hey… I think the cat dragged you in because I was here first.” I reach an arm around to hug her from the side.

  Monroe rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Chuck. But really, what are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you out in LA tonight, especially without your other half.”

  The women on the stools to my right have decided to give us full-on eye service. Actually, it’s sort of a relief to see Monroe. We both understand that we’re never going to be anything more than friends, but she’s mighty attractive. No woman will ever approach me if she’s around me.

  “I’m working at
Jacques’s studio,” I say.

  She cocks her head to the side. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah…”

  She looks so damn intrigued. I’m about to invite her to sit next to me when a couple takes the seats to my left.

  “Who are you here with?” I ask.

  She searches the room. “I came here to meet a potential client, who’s fucking late.” She turns her wrist to check her watch.

  “So you’re still in the smoke-and-mirrors business?”

  She studies my face with a grimace. “Smoke and mirrors?” She jerks her head back. “Oh. Right. Got it. Yeah. Same business at least for now.” Monroe tilts her head. “Charlie, do you have a minute? I want to talk to you about that.”

  I tense. “About the business you’re in?”

  “About the business I used to be in and now I want to be back in.”

  I grunt, curious. The plot always thickens when Monroe’s around. “Sure, okay.” I swirl on my stool and search the room for a good empty table.

  “This way,” Monroe says before I can spot any seats. She’s already walking away.

  I hop up off the stool.

  “Good-bye.” The woman who was facing away from me twists her body in my direction and wiggles her fingers. Her eyes are smiling and lips smirking. I smash my lips together, cut my eyes away from her face, and catch up to Monroe.

  She locates a table out on the terrace with a view of the Pacific Ocean. We take our seats at the same time.

  “I see women are still throwing themselves at you,” she says.

  I snort. “I hardly pay attention to it.”

  She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms and legs. “Look at you, Charlie. I thought hell would freeze over twice before you ever turned into a respectable citizen.”

  I laugh. “And vice versa.”

  “I mean, you used to be a hobo.”

  “And you were…” I twirl my finger next to my ear. “Cuckoo.”

  She laughs. “I’m still working on that.”

  We smile at each other. That’s one thing I always liked about Monroe—she’s naturally funny, which always makes for a pleasant time.

  I roll my shoulders and sit up in my seat. “So what is it you want to talk about regarding your career?”

  “I want to act.”

  I shake my head, confused. “Act as a what?”

  She throws up her hands. “An actress.”

  “You’re an actress?”

  “Not yet. I want to do it, though. However, I don’t want my first part to be the wrong part. You know?”

  I’m still processing her big reveal. “I’ve never taken you for an actress. But now that I think about it…” I figure I shouldn’t call her crazy again, but even the sanest actor is at least twenty- percent cracked.

  Monroe is still waiting for me to finish what I was going to say.

  I flop my hand aimlessly. “Forget it.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Forgotten.” She slaps her hands and rubs them together. “So you know the right people, Chuck.”

  I slap my chest. “You’re asking me for a job and calling me Chuck while doing it.”

  “Come on. You know it’s a term of endearment.”

  I shake my head as I snicker. “Yeah… well… I’m out of the moviemaking business.”

  “You said you were in town working.”

  “Scoring a film, not casting one.”

  “Who’s the director?”

  “Ship…” Suddenly I catch her drift. “Gorman.”

  Monroe winks. “How well do you know him?”

  Ship and I worked together three or four times in the last two years. But I’ve also been a guest at his house three times: one backyard barbecue and two dinner parties.

  “I guess I know him pretty well,” I say.

  A tiny waitress with a short haircut walks up to our table and asks if we would like to order anything to eat. We decide to have dinner since Monroe’s client texts that she’s going to be another half hour late. Monroe speaks out loud as she types. “Don’t bother. Go home. Will not represent you.” She turns her phone off.

  “Who was your client?” I ask.

  “Peggy Dewater.”

  “She’s an actress,” I say, insinuating she should probably try asking Peggy for help, but then I think about it. As I remember it, Mo&Ma’s clients are pretty fucked in the head.

  “So what?” she says with a sour expression.

  “Never mind.” I raise a finger. “Give me a moment to think about Ship.” Tomorrow’s a big day. Ship will be in the studio, but we’re all going to be occupied for hours. Monroe could help keep Mita in line, but first, I have to tell her what’s going on.

  “Why are you looking at me that way?” she asks.

  Can I trust her? I stop frowning, shift in my seat, and look around to see who’s in earshot. The closest table is about seven feet away. Two guys are sitting there. One keeps eyeing Monroe, but every guy out here is staring at her absentmindedly. It takes me a moment to realize how sexy she looks. I don’t usually notice anymore—not because I’m so into Angel that I can’t admire another attractive woman but because Monroe is like family. But she’s wearing a tight grey skirt that stops just below her knees, a tight white T-shirt, and sandals, the kind with a strap around the ankle. Her long, wavy brown hair cascades freely over her shoulders and down her arms. There’s not a stitch of makeup on her face, yet her skin is dewy. Monroe’s originally from Manhattan, but she’s transformed into a real California girl with understated sexiness.

  I rub my eyebrow and move my chair closer to hers. Her forehead wrinkles as if she’s concerned about what I’m going to tell her.

  “Listen, Monroe. I can help you, but could I also ask you to help me?”

  Her frown intensifies. “Help you with what?”

  I lower my voice and give her the rundown on Mita and her blackmailing ways. By the time I make it to the end, we’re huddling closer together. We only sit back to give each other space when the server brings our food to the table.

  “How are you making sure she never shows Angelina that video? I don’t know Angelina too well, but I gather she’s a purist.”

  I flinch. “A purist? How?” She certainly doesn’t fuck me like a purist.

  Monroe starts counting down finger by finger. “She doesn’t curse. She doesn’t speak ill of the living. I’ve never heard her speak unless she has something nice to say. She’s always smiling and dancing and shit, which can become kind of annoying sometimes. Sorry, but… it’s true.”

  “Those are all things I love about her, though.”

  She presses down on her fifth finger. “And she’s made you into a better but boring man.”

  I jerk my head. “Who, me? Boring?”

  “Oh, come on, Charlie. You have to admit that pissing in alleys, fucking tramps, and fighting bouncers was fun.”

  “Not fun—stupid.”

  She grunts like she doesn’t believe me. “You looked like you were having fun.”

  I study her with narrowed eyes. It’s time to bring an end to the discussion of my past. That wasn’t healthy behavior, nor was it fun. I was hurting deep inside, and I used every stimulant I could to keep myself from feeling the pain.

  “Listen, I’m not saying you should go back to that shit. I’m just pointing out that you’ve found your adult because of her. Hell, that’s a good thing, Chuck.”

  I widen my eyes. “Sure didn’t sound like you thought that.”

  “Well, I did. So… what do you need me to do tomorrow?”

  As we finish dinner, I lay out the plan. Before we leave, she points out another reason why I’m more boring than ever when I order another water and nothing alcoholic.

  “Alcohol can quickly go from being your toxic friend to a harmful foe,” I say.

  She raises a finger pointedly. “The Premium Red Mes Fleurs can definitely be your best friend.”

  I laugh, but I have to agree. Jacques’s vineyard churns out gnarly wi
ne. When dinner ends, we hug and say good-bye. I’ll see her again tomorrow morning. I decide to not tell Maggie about my plan to have Monroe at the studio. I’m not sure if she’d be happy about it. But for what Maggie has planned, I’m sure Monroe won’t get in the way. At least, I hope she won’t.

  Chapter Four

  CHARLIE LORD

  I make it home a few minutes after eleven o’clock. I go upstairs, flop down on the edge of the bed, and call Angel. She answers on the first ring. I tell her right away that I had dinner with Monroe and explain how we by chance ended up at Quarry.

  “I’m sure she made you laugh,” she says

  “Yeah?” I say, surprised at her lax reaction.

  “I trust you, babe. Plus, Maggie’s circle of friends lives by a serious girl code. Monroe wouldn’t go there even if she wanted to. She doesn’t have the constitution for it.”

  I chuckle tiredly as I take off my pants. “I think you’re right.” That’s another of the many reasons why I love Angel—she’s observant and smart.

  Angelina talks about how a scaffold was added to the stage. I lie back on the bed and struggle to keep my eyes open, listening to her give me the dimensions and height of the scaffold.

  “Charlie?” she finally says.

  I open my eyes, and the light of the room stabs them. Shit, I fell asleep. “Yeah?” I say in an alert voice.

  “You’re tired,” she says understandingly. “Go to bed, sweetie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I want her to keep talking so that I can pretend she’s sleeping beside me. I yawn. “No, I’m listening.”

  Her chuckle feels like a sexy whisper in my ear. I want to reach through the phone, grab her, lift her shirt off, and suck on her perfect tits.

  “Go to sleep, Charlie. I’ll call you… wait. You’re going to be in session with Papa all day tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  I withhold a yawn. “Yeah.” I yawn anyway.

  “Then call me when you’re done.”

  The details of tomorrow pass through my mind. My shoulders are heavier, and so is my head, thinking about how busy I’m going to be. And then there’s Mita. “Will do.”

  We say that we love each other and end the call. I take off my shirt and crawl into bed. All the mental stress from today comes crashing down on me. I can barely keep my eyes open as my face digs into the pillow. Before long, I can’t think about Mita and the crazy game she’s playing. I would give her money to make her go away. Maybe that’s an option I should consider. Angel and I live on way less than I have.