Once Upon a Day by Lisa Tucker

inside she vowed she would never do anything like that again. Nothing was worth the awful feeling she had with Mr. Smitty—Smutty, as some of the tenants called him—in Nashville. Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she still saw him groping her and breathing on her and climbing on top of her. He seemed to like it when she cried out, which she usually did. She was skinny and small. He didn’t take his time. He’d hurt her.
    But now she was starting over. Her new life in L.A. Except here she was, sitting on the bed in an empty guest room, waiting for the police to haul her off to jail.
    When the door suddenly opened and Charles Keenan himself walked in, she flashed to a scene in one of his movies. “I’ll give you another chance, outlaw. You leave now and don’t darken my door again, and I won’t kill you for the cattle thief you are.” What was it called? The Last Train?
    Janice had pointed him out downstairs, but up close he looked much taller and scarier. He was wearing a suit rather than the casual California clothes everyone else at the party wore. And he had very strange eyes: blue gray, with one eye, the left one, noticeably larger than the right. The closer he came, the more she noticed it. It was ridiculous, but she felt that one eye could see right down into her soul.
    He didn’t speak as he came toward her. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but she couldn’t find her voice. She watched with a growing sense of horror as he sat down on the bed and started untying his shoes.
    She had no idea whether Keenan was considered attractive. Probably, but even if he wasn’t, he could have all the dates he wanted. Lucy herself had seen three model types hanging on him downstairs. So what was he doing up here with her?
    He sat very still for a moment before slipping off the shoes. The way he placed them carefully at the side of the bed reminded her of Smitty. Something very mechanical about it. No passion likeshe’d seen in the movies, where a man wants a woman so much that the whereabouts of his clothes afterward is the last thing on his mind.
    Finally, he twisted his body around to face her. He still hadn’t spoken. The look on his face was so confident, like he had an absolute right.
    “How dare you!” Lucy’s voice was louder than she expected, and she realized she was furious. “This is about a lousy spoon?”
    The big eye was staring at her, and she could feel herself becoming awkward in her own body. “My mother told me you were up here waiting for me.”
    “Well, I’m not going to do it,” Lucy said, quieter now, but with a firmness that surprised herself. “I’d rather go to jail than . . . than . . .”
    “What?” He took a long look at her. She felt her cheeks get warm. He sounded annoyed. “I only came up here to talk to you.”
    “But you took off your shoes. You’re on the bed!”
    “I have blisters on the bottoms of my feet. An accident I had on the last day of shooting, when I was supposed to be showing one of my actors the right way to walk across hot coals.” He inhaled. “I’m on the bed because the room isn’t finished. It’s the only place to sit. I assume that’s why you’re sitting here too.”
    She’d already breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “Let me make sure I understand. Were you telling me that you’d rather go to jail than have sex with me?”
    She sat up straighter. “Yes, yes, I was.”
    “And you know who I am?”
    “Of course. You’re Charles Keenan, the great director.” Her voice grew defiant. “But do you know who I am?”
    “Your name is Lucy.”
    “That’s all you know? Because I’m—”
    “I know you tried to steal from me. Solid silver, worth . . .” He rubbed his forehead. “I have no idea.”
    “Big deal. You have enough already, don’t you think? My entireplace isn’t as big as this guest room. The spread you have on your table would feed me and my roommate for a year.”
    “So you think you had a right to do