Page 46 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition
WILLA
“Okay, don’t look now, but I think that guy over there was in that movie last year with whatsername fromTwilightwhere she was a singer. Or maybe she was a nurse. Or was it Hermione?” Harley’s roommate Remi might be an idiot.
“I didn’t see it.”
“Neither did I—don’t look, but he’s really cute and he keeps checking you out.”
“I’m not going to look, and I don’t know who you’re talking about.” We’re seated at one end of a long table. The Hotel Café is crowded, mostly filled with young women my age who are here to see my brother, and I wish he would take the stage already so this person would stop talking.
“Okay, well, he’s super cute and his friend looks really familiar too.”
There’s a guy on stage who’s setting up microphones and a keyboard and drums. Is he my brother’s roadie? Is that what you call him even if my brother’s not on theroad? Does that mean my brother will be starting soon? How is it possible that my panties are this wet, even though I changed them before coming here?
Harley puts her hand on my shoulder. “Willa’s living with a much cuter, much more famous actor, Rem. She’s not going to go slumming with no-name below the title actors that she doesn’t recognize.”
My cheeks are on fire.
“Wait—who are you living with?”
“Not like that—I’m his nanny.”
How is it that no one has been able to tell just from looking at me that I had a massive orgasm like one hour ago? How is it not obvious to everyone that I’m not really here? I’m in a garage, pressed up against a Land Rover, disappearing into the hypnotic rhythm of the most intense kiss of my life?
“I mean, I just started looking after his kids, but he’s my brother’s best friend.”
“Who is it?”
I don’t think I can say his name out loud right now without arching my back and moaning.
“Shane Miller,” Harley tells her.
Remi’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Shut up! FromTwice Bitten?”
“FromThat’s So Wizard,” Harley corrects her. “And that movie with John Cena that we liked.”
Is the hum of the crowd’s chatter and the muted funky bass groove that’s blasting from the speakers really so loud that no one can hear me screaming Shane’s name in my head? God, I hope I didn’t wake up the twins. God, I hope we get to do that again.
“Wait… I thought he was married to Margo Quincey. They were so cute together on that show.”
“They got divorced after two years and she married someone else,” I snap.
“Wait. You’re living with him?”
Yes, and I’m still feeling the aftereffects of his one-handed virtuoso performance on my clitoris. Is there an Oscar category for Best Male Finger Banger? Because we have a winner.
“Not like that. I’m the nanny.”
“He has kids?”
“Yes. That’s why he hired me as a nanny. To look after his kids.”
“Awww. I love kids. Should we get mojitos?”
Both Harley and I ignore that question—me because I’m still in a garage with Shane Miller’s beautiful possessive hand on my boob and Harley because she’s been busy scanning and categorizing the entire male population of this establishment since we got here.
“Okay, there are like fifty guys here, mostly under forty, predominantly singer-songwriters like Nico, Hollywood and music industry assistant-types. Possibly a few junior music executives. A few B-list actors. I see potential in about five of them.”
None of them. I see potential in none of them.
