No Laughing Matter: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy Page 14

  Too late. As I tugged it out, the call cut off and the screen went black. But I knew who’d called. It was Griffin.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  “Everything okay?” Carlotta’s T-shirt was still hitched up, her legs spread, her thin panties the only thing keeping me from heaven.

  If I allowed myself to kiss her one more time, there’d be no way I could stop.

  “Carlotta, sweetheart.” My voice came out rough, trembling with the effort of control. “We can’t do this here. Not at your mother’s house.”

  She blinked at me, her eyes glazed. Her lips were swollen and the temptation to kiss them again was like a physical pain.

  “Mom’s at school.” Carlotta sounded breathless, like she was at the top of a mountain.

  “But she’ll be home soon.” I smoothed her top back down, fitting her bra carefully back into place. “We don’t need to rush this. We can take it slowly. Do it properly.”

  “Take it slowly? Are you kidding?” Her eyes widened and her voice suddenly because a lot less breathy. “You want to take it slowly, and now is when you tell me?”

  I swallowed hard, stepping back. “I don’t want to be interrupted by your mother.”

  She reached up to run her hands through her tangled hair. Her face was still flushed, and she looked as frustrated as I felt.

  She muttered something I didn’t quite catch. From her rough tone it had to be a swear word, though it sounded like “Bumbaclot”.

  “Carlotta, I—”

  My phone vibrated again, and I saw Griffin had sent a message asking me to call. Probably wanted to update me on whatever vicious, ugly shit Diamond was up to, or demand an update on when I’d be back in Houston.

  “I’m sorry, I need to go.” I stuffed my phone back into my pocket.

  She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Does another body need guarding?”

  I put both hands on her shoulders and ran them down her arms, forcing her to unfold them. Then I took her hands. “Even if my phone hadn’t gone off, I don’t want our first time to be on a table in your mother’s house, with the sound of hammers ringing in our ears, knowing we could be interrupted at any moment.”

  “I don’t care about any of that.”

  “I do.” I held her gaze until her eyes softened, then I leaned forward to kiss her. The slightest touch made my body ache for her. She was impossible to resist.

  “We’ve waited all these years,” I said. “Let’s do it right.”

  “Is that what this is? Unfinished business from years ago?”

  “This is me not being able to be around you without wanting to kiss you.” I lifted one hand to twist a few strands of her hair between my fingers. “We may only have a few days, but I don’t want any regrets. I want to make this a perfect memory. Something we can both think about later without wishing we’d done anything differently.”

  She frowned. “If we do that, we might not want it to end.”

  “It has to end.”

  She leaned back on the table, propping herself up on her hands. “Your job must be intense. Will you tell me about it?”

  If only I could.

  As long as I’d been undercover, the temptation to confess the truth about what I did had never been this strong. Not even close.

  “I need to go. I have to return a call.” I bent to start packing Asher’s tools back into his toolbox, but Carlotta pushed herself off the table.

  “If you leave your tools here, I’ll replace the rest of the latches myself.”

  I hadn’t thought of asking her, but it made sense. Then Carlotta and her mother wouldn’t need to spend another night with insecure windows.

  “Will you be careful doing the work by yourself?” I asked.

  She put her hands on her hips, her brow furrowing. “I’m better at screwing than you are, remember?” Then she smiled. “Besides, leaving your tools here will give you an excuse to come back and get them tomorrow, when I might accidentally be fully naked.” She tugged her T-shirt up playfully, exposing her entire lower body clad only in a pair of panties.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting for control, hoping she couldn’t tell how close to the edge of madness she was driving me. When I opened my eyes again, I’d regained enough of a stranglehold on my self-discipline to be able to return her smile.

  “I don’t need an excuse to come back,” I told her honestly. “While I’m gone, all I’ll be thinking about is you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carlotta

  Nobody in the entire history of the world had ever needed an orgasm more than I did.

  My head was full of Mason. His scent was on my clothes, my lips still ached from his kisses, and the pressure of his hands was so fresh in my mind it felt as though he were still touching me.

  And sure enough, when I headed into my bedroom to relieve the pressure with a little ménage à moi, my climax went off like the launch of an Apollo rocket.

  Afterward, I lay drained, still dreaming about Mason.

  He was an addiction. Every time his lips touched mine, I wanted to fall into him. Or more accurately, I wanted him to sink into me.

  But I’d fallen hard for Mason as a teenager, and the worst thing I could do now would be to hand my heart back to him. To prevent that happening, I probably shouldn’t have reached orbit while imagining he was touching me. And I definitely shouldn’t be obsessing about him while lying naked in bed.

  At least there was one activity guaranteed to take my mind off Mason and bring me crashing back to earth.

  Yup. I checked my Instagram.

  And yup, it turned out to be a terrible idea.

  As funny as I’d thought the picture of me covered in sticky egg gunk was, my followers didn’t agree. They thought it was a waste of perfectly good eggs, and now, as well as being a ruthless duck killer, I was a selfish consumer of the world’s egg resources and an enemy to chickens.

  Chikins shuld peck out her eyes, suggested one person.

  Behold, Satan’s hands of destruction, said someone else.

  More people thought I deserved to ‘dye.’ Which reminded me, I really had to add that word to my death threat filter.

  Would it even be possible to win back the support of my followers? Maybe the paint-throwing duck lover wasn’t an outlier. Perhaps they’d all throw paint and dump poop if they could.

  A few weeks ago, I’d happened to snap a friend’s dog in a cute pose, lying down with his paw over his eyes as though shielding them from something he didn’t want to see. I’d captioned it, ‘Maybe I should start shutting the bathroom door’.

  Not one of my followers had commented about animal rights. But now public opinion had swung against me, the same snap would probably have PETA on my doorstep within the hour.

  Xul interrupted my thoughts by jumping onto my bed and settling down next to me. I patted his head and tugged on one of his floppy ears. “At least you didn’t see any of the x-rated stuff, Xul. If an animal rescue team turns up, you’ll tell them that, won’t you?”

  He just sighed and closed his eyes.

  Wriggling back into my jeans while still on the bed, I found myself staring up at the posters of actresses on my wall. Sally Field had both arms in the air, beaming like she’d swallowed the sun.

  “Did you ever get any death threats, Sally?” I wondered aloud.

  Mason had wanted me to delete my social media accounts, but when I used to get messages from people saying I’d helped them feel better about themselves, it had been the best feeling in the world.

  “Ugh,” I said out loud to Xul. “Being hated sucks.” But he was already snoring.

  Putting both hands over my face, I couldn’t help remembering an audition I went to after graduating from acting school. My eyes had been filled with stars and I was certain success, fortune, and fame were just around the corner.

  The play was a comedy, the part silly, the character crazy. I’d thrown myself into the audition with everything I had. For a brief,
wonderful period, I was that character. I owned the scene, hitting every beat perfectly, stretching the laughs, making it hilarious.

  It was the best performance I’d ever delivered.

  When it was over, the casting director told me I was terrible. My comedy was clownish, and he’d been inwardly cringing. He was doing me a favor by telling me that if I didn’t go on a diet and get a boob job, I’d never get anywhere. Oh, and by the way, women weren’t naturally funny, so I shouldn’t try so hard.

  Screw him, right?

  If I was a clown, why not embrace it? And dammit I was funny!

  That’s when I’d started posting pictures designed to empower women, and found the crazier I got, the more people liked it. I revealed the most personal stuff about myself, showed off my tiny boobs and big butt, and made fun of my flaws. My lack of embarrassment was my secret weapon. Thanks to Mom, I’d always been laughed at, but who knew I could earn a living that way?

  “You know what, Sally Field?” I asked the poster. “I used to love acting. And maybe I’m the court jester instead of a serious thespian, but what’s so bad about being a jester? Everyone likes to laugh, don’t they?”

  Sally beamed at me.

  “Exactly!”

  On a whim, I picked up my phone. I hadn’t seen my old drama teacher in a decade, but when she answered my call, she said, “Hi doll,” as though we spoke every day.

  “Hey Judy. How are you?”

  “Doing rehearsals for Grease.” Her voice was croaky. “We open in a week, and Sandy’s still messing up the songs. Danny hates Rizzo so much he keeps sabotaging her on stage. And I decided to put the Teen Angel on a wire, but every time he flies in to do his number, he wipes out the entire set.” She coughed. “I’ve been yelling at the kids so much, I’m losing my voice.”

  “So it’s looking bad?”

  “Terrible.”

  “Just like you’d expect?”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty much on track. How are things with you?”

  I sighed wistfully, remembering the exhausting and exhilarating chaos of rehearsals. “I miss the theater. Remember when we did Cats and on opening night Rumpleteazer’s costume split all the way up the back so his bare butt was hanging out?”

  Judy’s laugh turned into a hoarse cough. “Still a highlight,” she croaked when she could speak again. “Sometimes I make popcorn and watch the footage again on YouTube.”

  “I’m in San Dante for while.”

  “You are, doll? Then you should come and help out with rehearsals.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. But are you sure I won’t get in the way?”

  “Are you kidding? If you take over yelling at the kids, my voice might recover. And you can give them some pointers. Show them how it’s done.”

  “Um. Except my short acting career wasn’t exactly an unparalleled success.”

  “You know how to put on a good show. That’s what matters.”

  I shot Sally Field a smile, feeling better. “Then I don’t suppose tomorrow would work for you?”

  “Sure. The kids will be here after school.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  I hung up and looked down at Xul, who was snoring like a congested walrus. “I can’t lie around all day,” I told him. “I still have window latches to fix.”

  Xul the Destroyer farted without waking up. He didn’t even wake when I made retching noises and scrambled off the bed.

  In the living room, I got busy with the drill and screws. I was just finishing the latches when Mom arrived home from school. But instead of sweeping in and making a scene, she seemed subdued.

  “You want pizza for dinner?” she asked. “With anchovies?”

  It had to be a peace offering, seeing as she hated anchovies on pizza and couldn’t understand why I loved the delicious salty taste.

  “Sounds great.”

  “I’ll order one.” She touched my arm for a moment, giving me a tentative smile.

  I cut her a break and smiled back. Like Mason had said, she hadn’t set out to hurt me. She’d been ashamed of having an affair, and afraid I’d blame her for Dad’s departure. Not that I was entirely ready to forgive her, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever believe or trust her, but she was still my mother and she loved me in her own way. If I held grudges, I wouldn’t have come back here at all.

  My phone went off while I was waiting for the pizza to arrive. A message from Mason.

  How was the rest of your day?

  Knowing he was thinking about me made my thighs feel warm and tingly, though I kept warning them not to fall for him.

  Still, I barely had to think about my reply.

  Felt better after I masturbated.

  Watching the screen, I waited for a response.

  Silence.

  More silence.

  More silence.

  Are you okay? I asked. TMI?

  A minute later, his reply arrived.

  I was drinking and almost drowned. Took a while to be able to breathe again. But tell me more. At least I’ll die happy.

  I grinned.

  Did you know Chuck Norris actually died years ago? The Grim Reaper hasn’t been brave enough to tell him.

  A moment later, my phone dinged.

  Don’t change the subject.

  I couldn’t resist sending one more.

  Chuck Norris doesn’t cheat death. He wins fair and square.

  His reply was quick.

  Know any facts about Vulcans? I’m far more interested in Spock.

  I laughed, and thought about it a moment before I replied.

  I’m heading to the Spotlight Theater to sit in on a rehearsal tomorrow at four o’clock. Come along if you can get away. P.S. Chuck Norris proved Spock was illogical. Then he counted to infinity. Twice.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mason

  The next evening I went to the Spotlight Theater.

  It was a small community theater with folding chairs for the audience. It smelled like paint and sweat, and the soles of my shoes stuck to the floor with each step.

  Carlotta was standing in front of the stage with her back to me, next to another woman who was much older. They were watching some schoolgirls sing, Look At Me I’m Sandra Dee. A few pieces of furniture had turned the stage into a makeshift bedroom, and the girl’s voices weren’t half bad.

  I chose a seat at the side of the theater so I could see some of Carlotta’s face, but toward the back so as not to disturb the performers. Carlotta must have sensed I was there, because she turned. When she saw me, her expression lit up. “Come down here,” she mouthed, motioning me closer. The woman she was with turned too, staring at me curiously. I recognized her as the drama teacher from school, but couldn’t remember her name. She had wild gray hair and a lined face, and when she smiled a greeting I saw some of her bright red lipstick had migrated onto her teeth.

  I waved a hand at Carlotta, indicating I was just fine where I was. “I’ll stay out of the way,” I mouthed back.

  Carlotta looked like she’d protest, but one of the girls on stage suddenly started coughing instead of singing. She bent double with big hacking barks, like she was about to bring up a lung.

  “Stop,” yelled Carlotta, waving her hands to halt the song. “Rizzo, what are you doing? You’re not supposed to actually smoke that cigarette. It’s just a prop.”

  The girl could barely speak. “But…” Cough. “It’s more…” Cough. “Authentic.”

  “It’s also illegal. Do you want to spend your eighteenth birthday behind bars?”

  Carlotta had her hands on her hips, and her expression was as stern as I’d ever seen it. This was a whole new side of her. Sexy teacher. Maybe I had an undiscovered fetish, because I couldn’t help imagining how turned on I’d get if she were telling me off like that.

  “Rizzo, go backstage and get a drink,” Carlotta ordered. “And by a drink, I mean a glass of water. I wouldn’t have guessed I’d need to be so specific, but I don’t want you adopting any more of you
r character’s bad habits.”

  The rest of the cast laughed, and Rizzo scuttled off, red-faced and still coughing.

  “Okay,” said Carlotta. “We have time for one last song. If we sing We Go Together again, you think you can all manage to stay on stage this time? Or shall we replace the front three rows with trampolines so you can bounce right back into the routine?”

  Another burst of laughter from the kids. They carried the bedroom furniture offstage and replaced it with a carnival, complete with fun house. The fun house was made from bench seats and cardboard, but I had to take my hat off to whoever had painted it. And when the kids leaped all over it, singing their hearts out while they danced, cartwheeled, and twirled, my jaw loosened.

  At the end of the song I stood and clapped. Loudly. And gave the kids a whistle of appreciation for good measure.

  The cast looked delighted. They took long, low bows, blowing me kisses, giving speeches that involved thanking their agents, directors, and co-stars, and totally hamming it up.

  Carlotta rolled her eyes. “Okay, settle down. Great job, but here are some notes for tomorrow. Kenickie, your performance was good, but your lines aren’t going to learn themselves. Frenchy, excellent energy, but stick a little more to the left so you don’t crowd Danny and Sandy. Doody, your tumbling is spectacular. Keep it up.”

  She had an individual comment for everyone, then she gave them some encouraging words as a group, telling them how well they were doing, but that they needed to keep working hard to make sure they were ready for opening night. Finally she dismissed them, and gave the drama teacher a hug before joining me.

  “Impressive,” I told her. “You’re great with them.”

  “They’re talented kids. And they love an audience. As soon as you walked in, their energy levels spiked.”

  “Glad to have helped.”

  “It was a fun rehearsal.” She patted her stomach. “Now I’m craving something sweet. Shall we get ice-cream?”

  “I want to go to your place to finish putting on the window latches.”

  “The latches are done. The house is secure.”

  “You did them all?”