“That is royally fucked up.”
We stop at Lucy’s front entrance. “Is it though?” I shrug, shaking off twenty-nine years of dealing with being fat shamed in an industry obsessed with perfection. “I can’t control what people think of me, or what they feel entitled to say. I can only control how I react to it.” My eyes again drift to my Doc Martens. “Let’s go inside.”
Archer gently takes my arm and turns me to face him. For a moment we just stare at each other, and I don’t know what to make of it. My heart beats so fast, I may pass out.
“I think you’re perfect just like you are, Billie Wyatt.” That box office smile is gone, replaced with the most serious gaze I’ve seen from him, yet.
“You don’t have to say that, Arch.”
“I’m not just saying it.” His low voice sends shivers all over my body. “I see you, Billie.” The floor drops out from beneath me. I don’t know what to say. A strange series of sounds escape my mouth. This isn’t something I was prepared for. Is he being serious, this movie star who has a tendency to fall for his co-stars?
I reach up and put my hand on his cheek, warm and soft to the touch. “You’re wonderful, Archer. And nothing at all like I thought you’d be.”
“How so?” His voice is soft, gentle.
“You’re human.”
“I think you’re perfect just like you are, Billie Wyatt.” That box office smile is gone, replaced with the most serious gaze I’ve seen from him, yet.
“You don’t have to say that, Arch.”
“I’m not just saying it.” His low voice sends shivers all over my body. “I see you, Billie.” The floor drops out from beneath me. I don’t know what to say. A strange series of sounds escape my mouth. This isn’t something I was prepared for. Is he being serious, this movie star who has a tendency to fall for his co-stars?
I reach up and put my hand on his cheek, warm and soft to the touch. “You’re wonderful, Archer. And nothing at all like I thought you’d be.”
“How so?” His voice is soft, gentle.
“You’re human.”
5
Archer
I’m not surprised that one drink led to three, but it’s hard to pull myself away from her. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around someone who isn’t wrapped up in the Hollywood game. Everyone has something to gain from you once you’ve “made it.” With Billie, there’s no ulterior motive. It’s like we’re two teenagers going on a weird first date, that isn’t actually a date, in an obscenely dark environment. What’s more teenage than that?
Her unabashed laugh is more like a cackle, and every time she lets one rip I can’t help but laugh along with her. The woman is radiant. I’m so glad I have her all to myself before the world discovers how irresistible she is.
“And then,” she sets her drink down, brushing a stray hair away from her face. “The man dropped trow and started peeing.” Her eyes go wide. “Right next to me on the subway platform.”
“Is this a fetish of yours?”
“Ew.”
It’s my turn to laugh. The only thing cuter than her laugh is when she’s grossed out. Her face scrunches up and her eyes beam with insulted intensity. God, I love this woman.
Whoa. That came out wrong. I lovebeingwith this woman. My co-star. There’s no way I could actually love her. I barely know her. And God knows she barely knows me. As Billie keeps talking I try and suppress the voice in my head reminding me that maybe she’s like everyone else. Maybe she too just wants a piece of me?
I shake the thought away as fast as it arrives. I’m being paranoid. Life in the spotlight will do that to you.
“Oh my God, are you Archer Bain?” A woman’s face hovers between us, cutting Billie off mid-sentence. I lean back a little to give myself breathing room. “You are, aren’t you?”
“Funny how people always say my full name.” I say to Billie. “This’ll happen to you too, you know?” I hope this makes Billie smile, but she’s too busy eyeing this woman up and down to take in my words. I can see why; This strange woman is practically naked. Short skirt. Tight tank top. Knee high boots. Like she’s an extra on the set of Pretty Woman.
“I loved you in Viking King.” The Pretty Woman Extra runs her tongue across her top teeth.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Billie hops up off the barstool. “I need to use the restroom.” Without a second glance, she darts toward the back of the bar, leaving me alone with this star fucker groupie. I can spot them a mile away.
The woman continues talking to me. Her breasts come closer and closer to my arm and I have to constantly pull away so that I don’t make contact. Even without meeting her eyes, the woman doesn’t understand—or doesn’t care—that I’m not interested.