Then she paced through the group, gesticulating, confronting and cajoling her “sisters” to spill their guts about their failures in life and love—which everyone except Andy was more than willing to do. It was amazing the things women were willing to share…and share…and share.
As soon as someone admitted their failure, Carmen turned it around and badgered them into “changing the scenario” to one of success.
Andy kept her mouth shut during the first half and avoided Carmen’s intent eyes whenever she passed by her chair. And then with only minutes to go, Carmen stopped in front of her.
“And you, Ariadne,” she said in her spicy Latino-accented voice. “Do you know what you want?”
Andy shrunk back in her chair. She didn’t have to pretend to be the shy Ms. McAllister. She was horrified to see everyone turn toward her, their expressions expectant and encouraging. She couldn’t give details about her life. What would she say? That she was a stuntwoman, here under false pretenses? That she wasn’t really shy and inexperienced? And she certainly wasn’t going to confess to her active, but going nowhere, love life.
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Cleared her throat and finally just shrugged and stared at her hands.
Carmen gave her a disappointed look and said, “We are all here to succeed, but in order to do that, we must first share.” Then she turned her attention to someone who was more than happy to oblige.
As soon as the class was over and Carmen was surrounded by enthusiastic women, Andy grabbed her backpack and slinked out of the room.
She had wasted the entire morning without asking one question about Mac’s disappearance. Which she needed to do soon. She couldn’t take much more of this touchy-feely “we are all sisters and we deserve the job and the man of our dreams” bit. She had the job she wanted. She was successful, had a loving family. And if she was a little behind in finding the man of her dreams, it wasn’t through lack of trying.
Making films was a grueling, time-devouring profession. And exhausting. Which didn’t leave much time or energy for building a relationship. Men came on to her all the time, but they didn’t stay. And she never really wanted them to. They assumed that a stuntwoman would be fun for a night of gymnastic sex, but they invariably ended up feeling threatened by a woman who was stronger, more athletic, and able to take care of herself as well as him. Then it was, “That was great. I’ll call you.” Of course, they rarely did, and if they did manage to leave a message, she was usually working.
Well, a girl couldn’t have everything.
She stalked across the grass toward the pool where she’d agreed to meet Evelyn, Jeannie, and Loubelle for lunch. There were plenty of young, good-looking women at the retreat. Too bad her family hadn’t done their research. Then she wouldn’t be stuck in this annoying old-maid costume.
What she needed was a makeover, like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady or Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries. Then Dillon could see her as she really was.
Wait a minute. Forget Dillon. She was on a mission. And as soon as she found out what happened to Mac, she was out of here. No wonder Mac left. Andy couldn’t figure out why she’d come in the first place. Mac was successful, gorgeous, independent, and still had plenty of men around…but never kept any of them.
Maybe that was it. Maybe Mac was looking for “the one.”
Andy shuddered. She really didn’t need to go there.
She heard her name being warbled. “Over here.” Jeannie waved at her from where she and Loubelle and Evelyn were lying on white plastic chaise lounges by the pool.
Andy waved back, shoved her glasses on, and began shuffling past blurs of chairs and people toward the three women. She felt along the empty chaise between Evelyn and Jeannie, dumped her backpack alongside it, and sat down.
“We ordered iced tea,” Jeannie drawled. “Here’s the lunch menu.” A rectangle of cardboard appeared before Andy.
“What’s everyone having?” she asked, hoping to get a clue without actually having to read it.
“I’m having the crab salad,” said Evelyn. “It’s always delicious here. They have it flown in from the coast.”
“Sounds good to me.” Andy dropped the menu and stretched her legs along the chaise. The sun was glaring through her Coke-bottle lenses. She felt as though her irises might burst into flame any minute. She tried closing her eyes, but it didn’t help. She picked up her backpack, rummaged inside, and took out her Ray-Bans. She pulled off her prop glasses and replaced them with the sunglasses. The world snapped into focus, a little dark, but clear. Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner.
Her gaze fell immediately on a huge kidney-shaped pool with three stone dolphins spewing water from its center. Across the pool was a food cabana and a colonnaded stone amphitheater. Goddesses of all sizes and shapes, wearing a variety of swimwear from string bikinis to knee-length cover-ups, swam, sat at tables playing cards or eating, or lay in chaises while their attendants straddled their recumbent bodies and applied sunscreen in long, easy strokes.
Andy wondered where her attendant was. Too bad her string bikini was hidden away in her suitcase. She wouldn’t mind having Dillon’s hands slathering oil all over her.
“You know, hon, you should try to relax. Have some fun. Like me.” Jeannie was wearing a two-piece suit, which accentuated her too-thin, too-tanned body. Her skin wrinkled each time she changed positions.
On the other side of Jeannie, Loubelle stood up and began to slather sunblock over the parts of her not covered by her Bermuda shorts and peasant blouse.
“Loubelle, sugah, pull up your sleeves or you’re gonna get a farmer’s tan,” said Jeannie, turning lazily toward her. “And where’s that Rusty? He should be doing that.”
Loubelle shook her head. “I’m a great-grandmother,” she said in her soft accent. “Some things are better left to the imagination.”
“But not many,” Jeannie said and winked at the others.
Andy began to search for Dillon among the men carrying trays to and from the food cabana. She finally spotted him on the other side of the pool, talking with several of the younger, hotter women.
Andy crossed her arms. Back off, bitches, she thought. He’s mine.
Just when she was considering a triple flip across the pool and several well-aimed karate chops, Dillon moved away from them. Andy watched them watch him, until she realized how stupid that was and began watching him, too.
He moved unhurriedly, efficiently, walking with a slight hitch that she’d noticed yesterday. Surely she wasn’t responsible for that limp. She hadn’t fallen on him that hard. The silk of his nylon shirt rippled over his muscles as he headed toward the cabana.
“Which workshop did you attend this morning, Ariadne?”
“This morning?” Andy forced her gaze away from Dillon and looked at Evelyn.
“Oh. Knowing What You Want and How To Get It.”
“That was a good choice,” said Loubelle. “I took it two sessions ago and it really works.”
“Always good to know what you want before you get it,” said Jeannie, then shook her head. “Somebody oughta light a fire under your slave, hon. He’s moving slow. Uh-huh. But lookin’ good.”
He sure was, thought Andy. Dillon was walking toward them, the drinks’ tray balanced on his palm. The frontal view was even better than the side view. And for the first time, Andy could look to her heart’s content. Really, the sunglasses were a brilliant move. A breeze kicked up, plastering his T-shirt to his chest, while the sun glared down on Andy’s shirt and khakis. She seemed to get hotter with every step Dillon took.
“Do you ever let your hair down?” asked Jeannie, sitting up on the edge of her chaise and looking at Andy.
Evelyn