He stood in the doorway, glancing over at the bed a few times. I knew he was waiting for an invitation, but I didn’t give him one. If we were going to make love for the first time in our new home, I didn’t want it to be like this.
He went off to bed, and I phoned my best friend and cousin, Shayla, to tell her everything.
When she heard about me not getting invited to the set, she got even more angry than I had.
I sure do love Shayla.
She was the one who suggested I call my new L.A. friend Mitchell, and get him to help me sneak onto the set of One Vamp to Love.
I had a few more glasses of wine, thanks to a bottle I liberated from the wine cellar, and then I phoned Mitchell.
4
When I got out of bed Monday morning, Dalton was already gone for work. He’d gotten up before five o’clock so he could be on the set by six.
Mitchell arrived at the house at nine, wheeling a suitcase full of wigs he’d borrowed from his drag queen roommate.
“This house is almost exactly what I imagined,” Mitchell said as he looked around the living room, with its polished concrete floor and fifteen-foot-high ceilings. Mitchell isn’t a very tall guy, and he looked even smaller in the big room, like a fresh-faced, muscular kid with curly blond hair. “Needs more art.”
“And a few area rugs, right?” We both looked around at the bare, modern interior for a moment, then Mitchell took a seat on a white leather chair.
I ran to the kitchen for my mocha and his latte, then returned.
“Yes, you need area rugs,” he said as he checked his phone. “I may still get called in to work, but I’m probably yours for the whole day. Are you still serious about crashing the Vamp set, or should we do the sensible, boring thing and go shopping instead?”
“What do you think? I don’t know anymore. It felt like a good idea last night, but now it just seems ridiculous. And dangerous. They could arrest me for being a stalker.”
“Tell them you’re his wife.”
“That’s what all the stalkers say.”
“Good point, but you really are his wife.” Mitchell suddenly glanced wildly around the room, his blond curls bouncing. “Wait, you are married to him, right? Don’t tell me you broke into his house and this whole thing is an elaborate con!”
I laughed. “Mitchell, you were at the wedding.”
He grinned. “Exactly. Which proves my point. You really are Dalton’s wife, so you’re not a stalker, and nothing bad is going to happen to us.”
I sipped my mocha for a minute, not quite willing to say yes. Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I asked what kind of wigs he’d brought over, courtesy of his roommate’s alter-ego, Luscious Hilda Mae Sparkles.
Mitchell opened the suitcase and pulled out an assortment of top-quality wigs in brunette, black, and red. Our plan was to sneak in as personal assistants, and Mitchell knew just what to say, because he’d worked at a number of studios. The key was to talk fast and act annoyed.
I could have just shown up as myself and made a fuss until they let me in, but that would have reflected poorly on Dalton, and given me even more of a diva reputation. The press had already been calling me Super Soaker, because I had a tendency to dump water on people I didn’t like. (And on people I do like, but that’s a different story.)
We relocated to the bathroom with the biggest mirror, and we tried all of the wigs. I liked the brunette one, because it was closest to matching my eyebrows.
Mitchell said, “No, you need to wear the black wig, because you look fierce, like Cleopatra.” He settled the black-haired wig onto my head, then stepped back to admire. He gasped, “Oh my god, I’m straight now.”
“They’ll know it’s a wig. My eyebrows look like furry blond caterpillars next to this.”
Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Fools and children shouldn’t see things half finished.” He pulled out a makeup kit and went crazy on my face, darkening my eyelashes and eyebrows.
When I looked in the mirror, I was surprised by how sexy I was. Now, I feel pretty good about my appearance most of the time, but I’ve never wanted to make out with myself, you know?
In that sexy Cleopatra wig, I kinda wanted to get Dalton and have a kinky threesome, with me, him, and the hot chick in the mirror.
“Dalton won’t know it’s you,” Mitchell said. “Your own mother wouldn’t know it’s you.”
“She would if I opened my mouth.”
Mitchell got a cheeky grin. “Not if you’re Ursula. How’s your cleaning-lady accent?”
I cleared my throat, then tried my Ursula identity. “I am cleaning lady. I clean real good.” I put on a blank expression. “I clean shower real good. I get right in and scrub, scrub, scrub. Dirty bachelor. Tsk tsk.”
“Very good, Ursula, but you’re a personal assistant now, not a cleaner.”
“Yes, yes. I help actor. He no good actor, but he work hard. He stand in back and pretend to talk. I ask what he say, and he say it’s nothing. He say he make background noise. Peas-and-carrots-peas-and-carrots.”
“And what work do you do for our boss, Ursula?”
“I make the food in the blender. I make the laundry. And sometimes when he sad, I put the hand in the pants and pull and pull until we make more laundry.”
Mitchell frowned. “We don’t talk about that last part.”
I pretended to zip my lips.
We finished getting me dressed, ate a quick brunch with some waffles the housekeeper had stocked in the fridge, and got ready to leave.
Dalton’s butler/pilot/personal assistant met us at the door.
“Where shall I take you shopping?” Vern asked politely.
“Take the day off. Mitchell’s driving today.”
Vern stared at my black wig with suspicion. “I’ll drive both of you, and you’ll save time not having to worry about parking.”
“It’s no trouble,” Mitchell said.
Vern kept staring at me. “Ms. Deangelo, that certainly is an excellent disguise. I barely recognized you. It does seem like an awful lot of effort just to avoid some paparazzi.”
“Maybe I’m robbing a bank,” I said.
Vern moved to block the door.
I picked up a pillow from the sofa and chucked it at him. The pillow struck his chest and dropped to the floor. I picked up another pillow and aimed it at his head.
Vern’s face got puckered, like he’d just swallowed a bug.
Mitchell joined me in grabbing pillows from the sofa and aiming them at Vern.