into nothing as if looking for the right words. “You know how on screen he’s always so together? In flesh he was…I dunno, different. Shorter than I thought but mostly just wired up like he drank a gallon of coffee before the party.”
“Or took drugs.”
“Maybe. I didn’t expect him to notice a total nobody like me, but I worked up the nerve to walk up to him and compliment him on the movie. Next thing I know, he’s talking to me three hundred miles an hour, flashing his teeth every couple of minutes like some overly happy shark. And he kept touching me. I don’t think he heard a word I said either. He just blathered on, and I was getting these weird vibes from him. Thank God the wife-thing showed up and towed him away.”
I was feeling better and better about my decision not to go. “I’m sorry. That must have been a disappointment.”
He shrugged. “I’ll get over it. I got over Goofy too.” He grinned and stuffed a forkful of salad in his face.
We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, but then Olly perked up. “Oh, I almost forgot! I met Sandy Baker!” From the amount of his enthusiasm, I knew it was supposed to mean something to me.
“Who?”
“She’s on that HBO series, Fangs.”
“Oh yeah, I like that one. Who does she play?” Fangs had a ridiculous and overcomplicated plot with werewolves and other paranormal creatures, but it was also great fun and full of eye candy for viewers of every gender and sexual orientation.
“Glynne, the super-bitchy vampiress. The one that keeps screwing everyone, one way or the other.”
“Oh yeah, she’s quite a character.”
“In real life, she’s down-to-earth and totally funny. She said her character will do some wicked shit next season but wouldn’t say more. We talked for like an hour. I love her! I told her I’d be her gay for life.”
“Oh really? What does that entail?”
“You know. Gossip, fashion advice, the works. I’m so qualified.”
“I concur.” I was glad Olly found someone else to transfer his affections and obsessions to. God help Sandy—unless she wanted an overeager, gay twink lovingly stalking her. Who knew, she might. Those Hollywood types were nutty that way.
Chapter Seven
I didn’t expect to be stalked myself, especially by a Hollywood type. It was all backward.
Employees of Fred’s Trade Post had to leave their cars at the far end of the parking lot, so customers could have the good spots. So seeing another car parked next to mine struck me as unusual. However, it wasn’t a black SUV, only a lemon-yellow Mini Cooper. Not the color of the delicate Meyer lemons, but the cooler hue of its thick-skinned cousin. I cast misgivings aside and clicked my car’s door open with the remote. I wanted to get inside and crank up the A/C. We were having a heat wave, and simply walking from the store to the end of the parking lot got me sweaty. Good thing I’d remembered to put the sunshade in the window, or I wouldn’t be able to touch the steering wheel.
The petite blonde woman popping out of the Mini and trapping me between our cars nearly gave me a heart attack. I was as shocked as a hiker getting jumped by a mountain lion. Physically, she wasn’t that imposing—skinny body, big head, like a human lollipop. A very angry lollipop.
She pointed a long and lethally pink fingernail at me. “You little twat!” She must have been normally very pretty, but at that moment, fury twisted her features. She scared me a little. Okay, a lot. She could’ve had a gun; she could’ve been crazy. She clearly didn’t like me.
I smiled feebly. “I’m sorry, ma’am…miss, you must be confusing me with someone.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t play innocent with me. You were at the house, chatting it up with that slimeball, and I saw your little friend last night. I’m on to your little game, and I can tell you it won’t work. You’re not gonna entrap Clay. Whatever you might have heard about him are lies. If I ever see
“Or took drugs.”
“Maybe. I didn’t expect him to notice a total nobody like me, but I worked up the nerve to walk up to him and compliment him on the movie. Next thing I know, he’s talking to me three hundred miles an hour, flashing his teeth every couple of minutes like some overly happy shark. And he kept touching me. I don’t think he heard a word I said either. He just blathered on, and I was getting these weird vibes from him. Thank God the wife-thing showed up and towed him away.”
I was feeling better and better about my decision not to go. “I’m sorry. That must have been a disappointment.”
He shrugged. “I’ll get over it. I got over Goofy too.” He grinned and stuffed a forkful of salad in his face.
We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, but then Olly perked up. “Oh, I almost forgot! I met Sandy Baker!” From the amount of his enthusiasm, I knew it was supposed to mean something to me.
“Who?”
“She’s on that HBO series, Fangs.”
“Oh yeah, I like that one. Who does she play?” Fangs had a ridiculous and overcomplicated plot with werewolves and other paranormal creatures, but it was also great fun and full of eye candy for viewers of every gender and sexual orientation.
“Glynne, the super-bitchy vampiress. The one that keeps screwing everyone, one way or the other.”
“Oh yeah, she’s quite a character.”
“In real life, she’s down-to-earth and totally funny. She said her character will do some wicked shit next season but wouldn’t say more. We talked for like an hour. I love her! I told her I’d be her gay for life.”
“Oh really? What does that entail?”
“You know. Gossip, fashion advice, the works. I’m so qualified.”
“I concur.” I was glad Olly found someone else to transfer his affections and obsessions to. God help Sandy—unless she wanted an overeager, gay twink lovingly stalking her. Who knew, she might. Those Hollywood types were nutty that way.
Chapter Seven
I didn’t expect to be stalked myself, especially by a Hollywood type. It was all backward.
Employees of Fred’s Trade Post had to leave their cars at the far end of the parking lot, so customers could have the good spots. So seeing another car parked next to mine struck me as unusual. However, it wasn’t a black SUV, only a lemon-yellow Mini Cooper. Not the color of the delicate Meyer lemons, but the cooler hue of its thick-skinned cousin. I cast misgivings aside and clicked my car’s door open with the remote. I wanted to get inside and crank up the A/C. We were having a heat wave, and simply walking from the store to the end of the parking lot got me sweaty. Good thing I’d remembered to put the sunshade in the window, or I wouldn’t be able to touch the steering wheel.
The petite blonde woman popping out of the Mini and trapping me between our cars nearly gave me a heart attack. I was as shocked as a hiker getting jumped by a mountain lion. Physically, she wasn’t that imposing—skinny body, big head, like a human lollipop. A very angry lollipop.
She pointed a long and lethally pink fingernail at me. “You little twat!” She must have been normally very pretty, but at that moment, fury twisted her features. She scared me a little. Okay, a lot. She could’ve had a gun; she could’ve been crazy. She clearly didn’t like me.
I smiled feebly. “I’m sorry, ma’am…miss, you must be confusing me with someone.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t play innocent with me. You were at the house, chatting it up with that slimeball, and I saw your little friend last night. I’m on to your little game, and I can tell you it won’t work. You’re not gonna entrap Clay. Whatever you might have heard about him are lies. If I ever see
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