Page 11 of Hollywood King
On a Wednesday night, most of the stools sat empty. One long bar top took up almost the whole right side of the place with high top tables and stools scattered around. The required neon signs decorated the walls, and a dart board sat unused in the far back corner. We took a seat toward the end of the bar, far enough away from others we could have some privacy.
A bearded man in his mid-thirties came over and tossed paper coasters in front of us. “What are you drinking?”
“Two of whatever you have on draft,” Eddy said before I could answer.
I leveled him a look, and he held up his hands in surrender. “If you were going to order something else, please, do.”
“Just because you know I’d want a beer, doesn’t mean I can’t order my own drinks.”
He shook his hands still up by his ears, and I scooted around on the stool. “I’m sorry. I haven’t done this in a while.”
“Acted like a human? I understand how it can be tough. What’s bothering you? We’ve gone out for drinks dozens of times.”
I turned to face him on the stool. “Never alone, and never under the official label.”
“If I took off the official label and called this hanging out, you’d feel better, and relax?”
He smiled softly and leaned on the edge of the bar. “Cathy. We’ve been friends forever. It was time we did this, to check how it feels. If it’s nothing, we go back to how we’ve always been. If it’s more, then we’ll deal with it when we get there.”
The selfish part of me, the one still waiting for Heath, wanted to tell him to forget it. Tell him I’d never feel about him the way I feel—felt—about Heath. But, the rational, logical part of me knew Heath had been gone for a decade. And I’d been holding onto a childish fantasy I dreamt up as a teenager. A silly girl with silly ideals about love and friendship.
The bartender sat the beer in front of us, and I took a sip at the edge of the foam. After a long work shift, beer might not be the best choice. I’d take it slow.
“How’s your brother?” Eddy asked.
The mention of Hindley reminded me a second I even had a family. “The last I heard, he is fine. Gearing up to take over for our father as he starts his retirement.”
“The old man is finally retiring, wow! No one makes movies like him, and no one ever will.”
His response came from years of training to be polite when the truth caused people to stare. Both of us growing up in the public eye, we learned to always be ready for other’s opinions. And the throngs had it spades. When I cared about being Hollywood’s elite, I wore all the right things, visited all the best places. Nothing more than a girl scrutinized by the world on a daily basis.
Unlike me, Eddy hadn’t cut himself off from his family. He still participated in public events and let patients take pictures with him if they asked.
Me, I’d been more likely featured in the celebrities behaving badly column.
“And how is Isabella?” I sputtered. Turning the conversation away from my screwed-up family.
“She’s great. Settling in her own place I think, and I heard she’s going on auditions. Wants to start acting.”
I didn’t have a single polite response queued up for his news. Isabella sucked at acting. I settled with, “That must be a big change.” Always a good fall back.
We settled into silence and sipped our beers. I watched him for a moment. He really was a beautiful man. Being with him should be easy, simple, clear cut. No drama. No brooding. No intensity.
No heat.
I glanced away and stared down the bar. One man sat reading a newspaper, drinking a brown liquor in a low-ball glass. By the front, a couple talked loudly, laughing between kisses.
Eddy shifted closer, sliding along until he stood next to my thigh. The heat of his skin seeped through my black jeans. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” he whispered. I got a second to brace my hands on his biceps before he caught my face between his hands and kissed me. Soft, gentle, almost yielding. Then he let go. A question of a kiss.
“Thank you,” I said in response.
He laughed and stepped back. “Alright, I’m calling it. This is not going to work.”
I put my forehead down on the edge of the wood. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You can try again if you want.”
“No, thank you. It was like kissing my sister.”
