Just Physical (2 page)

BOOK: Just Physical
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CHAPTER 1

Eighteen months later

 

“Susana?” Jill called toward the
kitchen. “I'm heading over to Grace's. Can you set the alarm when you go? And don't feed you-know-who too many treats while I'm gone.”

“Me?” her housekeeper called back in her most innocent tone. “I don't do that. He just likes to keep me company in the kitchen because he's a real love sponge.”

Jill snorted. “Yeah. That and an anything-edible-that-dropped-to-the-kitchen-floor sponge.” When she reached for her car keys and walked to the door, Tramp came running from the kitchen.

“Oh no.” She shook her head and pushed him back a little. “You stay here with your grandmother.”

“I heard that.” Susana Rosales stepped into the hall, combing back her salt-and-pepper hair with one hand. “I'm not old enough to be a grandmother.”

“Not yet,” Jill answered with a grin. “I hear Tomás finally has a girlfriend.”

Susana beamed at her. “Sí. It seems seeing you naked didn't traumatize him for life after all.”

They looked at each other and started laughing.

A year ago, it hadn't been a laughing matter at all. Jill sobered as she thought back to the day she had discovered that taking hot baths was no longer a good idea. The heat had made her MS symptoms flare, and she had nearly passed out before managing to make it out of the tub. She'd stumbled out of the bathroom—and into the arms of Susana's sixteen-year-old son, who had just stepped down from a ladder after changing a lightbulb in her room. It had been a toss-up as to who had been more mortified: Jill or Tomás.

“Traumatized?” Jill repeated and shook her head. “Nah. If anything, seeing me naked would have spoiled him for other women.”

Susana flicked the dish towel she'd tucked into her apron in her direction and tsked. “Go, or I'll tell Tomás not to mow your lawn after all.”

Laughing, Jill escaped out the door and to her car. A push of a button on her remote control opened the wrought-iron double-swing gate in front of her home in Glendale. She felt like a character in a spy thriller as she guided the car onto the street, peeking left and right to make sure no paparazzi were lurking.

After she had come out as a lesbian and a woman with MS last June, they had followed her around as if they were a starving pack of wolves and she a tasty rabbit, even though they hadn't given her the time of day before.
That's Hollywood for you. You have to die, go into rehab, or at least get diagnosed with a chronic illness to get any attention.

When she was sure the coast was clear, she drove to Grace's cottage in Topanga Canyon. The hidden home had been a safe haven for Grace and her girlfriend, Lauren, when they first got together. Jill had spent some time up in the cottage too, especially last year, during the media frenzy after she had been forced to reveal her MS to the public. Back then, Lauren had still been her publicist, but in the past months, she had become a friend.

Grace's SUV and Lauren's Honda Civic were in the driveway when Jill reached the end of the steep dirt path.

Ooh, great!
Jill parked her bright red Beetle convertible and rubbed her hands. She couldn't wait to find out what the casting director of
Shaken to the Core
had said. Would he give her the lead role in the historical drama Lauren had written—or at least let her audition for it? She had been captivated by Lauren's script from the moment Lauren had shown it to her. It wasn't just the historical setting and the suspenseful action scenes of two young women trying to survive the earthquake and fires of 1906. This was finally a script with not just one but two strong female characters. Truth be told, Jill was sick of always playing the witty sidekick or the dorky best friend. Now, with Lauren putting in a good word for her, she might finally have a chance to prove herself in a more challenging role.

Grace opened the door wearing a turquoise bikini that was almost the same color as her eyes.

Not that Jill was looking into her eyes. Her gaze was drawn down to her friend's generous cleavage. She stared for a second, startled by the unexpected sight and the reminder that her libido was still alive and kicking.

“Come on in,” Grace said, giving her a hug. Her skin was warm, and drops of water clung to it. “We're outside in the hot tub.” She led the way to the stone patio at the back of the cottage.

Jeez.
Jill shook her head at herself.
You're not so desperate that you'd ogle your best friend, are you?
Okay, maybe she should cut herself some slack after more than eighteen months of not looking at, much less touching, another woman. Besides, even priests and gay men ogled Grace. She hadn't been voted one of the sexiest women alive for nothing.

When they stepped through the sliding glass door, Lauren lifted a hand out of the bubbling water and gave a short wave. “Hey, Jill. Want to join us?” She pointed at the redwood hot tub that was big enough for three.

Jill playfully clutched her chest. “Skinny dipping with the two of you? Thanks for the very tempting offer, but I'm not sure my heart could take it.” Her heart was just fine, but immersing herself in hot water still wasn't a good idea. Any rise in body temperature could make her symptoms flare and force her to use a cane for the rest of the day. But she didn't mention that. There was no reason to constantly remind the people in her life about her damn MS, now that it was in remission.

Grace gave her a look that said she knew exactly why Jill had rejected the offer. Thankfully, she said nothing.

Lauren smiled, leaned back, and watched Grace climb back in. “Suit yourself. Grace and I get it all to ourselves, then.”

Jill's friends looked at each other and seemed to forget that they weren't alone.

Jill smiled wistfully. She was happy for Grace, really. After her failed marriage and all the bullshit she'd been through last year, she deserved whatever happiness she could get. But sometimes, a part of Jill rebelled at the unfairness of her own situation. Her friends had it all—they were successful, healthy, and in love, while she…

Oh, come on. Stop the pity party! You're doing just fine.
She sat on a deck chair in the shade and cleared her throat. “So, did you get a chance to talk to the casting director?”

“Um, yes, I did,” Lauren answered.

“You did?” Grace asked. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“Well, I just met with him earlier today, and when I got back…”

Grinning, Jill shook her head at her friends. “Let me guess… You got a little distracted.”

Lauren's gaze strayed to Grace's bare shoulders, which were peeking out of the water. A wide grin formed on her face. “A lot distracted, actually.”

“So,” Jill said, “what did the casting director say?”

The smile disappeared from Lauren's face. She might have once been one of Hollywood's top PR experts, but she couldn't act to save her life.

Jill suppressed a sigh. “He said no.”

Biting her lip, Lauren nodded. “I'm sorry. I know you really wanted that role.”

“It's okay,” Jill said, trying not to let her disappointment show. “Maybe I wouldn't have been a good fit anyway.”

“You would have been perfect,” Grace said, her cheeks reddened either by the hot water or her passionate defense. “You're strong and tough with just a hint of vulnerability. That would have worked great for the role. Not to mention that you're gay, so you would have had no problem kissing another woman. I really can't understand why they wouldn't let you audition.”

“It's a pretty challenging role,” Lauren said quietly.

Grace frowned at her girlfriend of six months. “You think Jill isn't up to it? You saw her in
Ava's Heart
. She acted circles around the rest of the supporting cast! She—”

“I'm not talking about that kind of challenge. The script calls for a lot of physical action. The two lead actresses will have to do some of their own stunts.”

Jill bit down on the inside of her cheek. So that was the true reason. It wasn't her looks or her acting skills. It was the MS. She hadn't had an attack for seven months and two weeks. At times, she could almost forget that she even had MS. The people in the industry never forgot, though. Disaster movies were expensive. The powers that be didn't want to risk production being held up by an actress who couldn't keep up.

“I understand,” she said as calmly as possible, even though she was raging inside. What good would it do to make her friends feel bad about it too?

“I don't,” Grace said, her famous sky-blue eyes darkened to a thundercloud gray. “Why couldn't they at least offer her a supporting role? One that didn't involve so much running and jumping and climbing over mountains of debris?”

Years of acting experience enabled Jill to look calm while her friends talked about her as if she weren't even present. She knew they meant well.

“Actually, I was able to convince the casting director to take a look at her head shot.” Lauren swiveled around on the hot tub's bench seat to face Jill. “With your green eyes, red hair, and fair complexion, you look exactly the way I imagine Lucy Sharpe to look like. You're even the right age.”

Lucy Sharpe… Jill tried to remember who that was. Maybe it was just her imagination, but since the MS had started, her memory didn't seem to be the same. Sometimes it took her forever to learn her lines.

“The lady doctor, remember?” Lauren prompted when Jill directed a questioning look her way.

Ah.
Jill nodded. She was also a strong female character, and she starred in nearly as many scenes as the two leading ladies, but she wasn't a main character. Jill forced a grin. “Ooh, so I'd get to play doctor?”

“If you want the role…” Lauren searched her face.

“Sure, what's not to want?” Jill swallowed her pride. It wasn't as if casting directors had been knocking down her door in the past nine months since her double outing.

Lauren brightened. “Okay. I'll let them know, then.”

“Do you think they'll go for it?” Jill asked.

“They'd better.” Lauren flashed a grim smile. “The casting director is my godfather, and after he shot me down about you playing Kathryn Winthrop, he owes me.”

Even though it might be stupid, Jill shook her head. “I don't want to get the role just because the casting director is doing you a personal favor.”

“Are you kidding? They'd be lucky to get you. I think you bring just the right kind of spunk to the role. Besides…” Lauren gave her a playful leer. “I'm sure you'll look great in a corset.”

Jill groaned. “I hate period costumes. You can't breathe in those things. Next time, write a script about a female version of Casanova who does nothing but lie by the pool and seduce women all day. I'd be perfect for that role.”

Both of her friends snorted and splashed water at her.

“Hey!”

The walkie-talkie crackled to life. “Crash?” came the stunt coordinator's voice through the device. “You still there?”

Crash grinned. She was standing on the rooftop of a six-story building. Where was she supposed to go? “Still here and ready to rumble.”

“We need a few more minutes to set up the cameras,” he said.

“Okay. I'll stand by.”

The walkie-talkie fell silent.

Normally, Crash didn't mind the waiting involved in making a movie. In her five years in the stunt business, she had gotten used to it. But up here on the rooftop, the dry March wind was so much stronger than on the ground that it made her eyes tear. She had to repeatedly reach up, wipe her eyes, and brush strands of her blonde wig out of her face.

While she waited, she went through her reminders: keep an eye on the wind currents, to make it less likely she would jump into a sudden gust that would blow her off course and make her overshoot the air bag. Hit the inflated bag straight in the middle, so she wouldn't get a bad bounce and smash against the building or the ground.

She took a deep, steadying breath. While a certain risk always remained, the stunt was safe. She'd checked out the equipment and had done a practice jump earlier today.

Finally, the stunt coordinator's voice came through the walkie-talkie again. “Ready?”

Crash peered down the building to the blue heavy-duty air bag below and made sure the safety spotters were in the correct places. “Ready to roll.”

“Remember to do a face-off and—”

“I know the drill,” she told him.

The second-unit director's commands came through the walkie-talkie as he instructed his crew. “Roll camera.”

“Rolling.”

Crash eyed the spot on the rooftop ledge where she had to go over in order to hit the air bag just right.

“In three, two, one…”

BOOK: Just Physical
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ads

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