Vanessa drove to the apartment later that afternoon filled with uneasiness, unsure of what to think about the whole situation.  The rest of the afternoon had been, for lack of a better word, odd. 

After the fiasco at breakfast, she changed back into her pants and found another shirt to wear in the vast variety of goods in the extra bedroom.  Riley waited for her in the hallway and led her to another room where he had a variety of collections on display.  He was particularly proud of his music collection, which included numerous concert posters, trinkets, guitars and various relics.  He showed her several special pieces of Beatles memorabilia, each carrying an involved history which he explained in detail.  She was impressed by his knowledge of the band. 

She drifted through the different topics discussed throughout the afternoon, all primarily superficial.  She remembered sitting on opposite facing couches in the collection room.  Although there were one or two awkward silences, brought on by her, and a little hemming and hawing, laughter littered the conversation.  Riley had a great sense of humor, but any time the subject came around to him, he found a graceful way to deflect by making a joke and changing the subject.  He mentioned a little of his upbringing by two doting parents, and he had a much older sister who had moved out to go to college shortly after he was born.  Vanessa mentioned the similarity to her brother’s leaving for school, except she was old enough to remember him leaving, but she had to stop herself from revealing more.  She had hoped that the sibling connection would relax him enough to divulge more of his personal life, but he guarded it with great care.  He would be a tough nut to crack.

Riley tried to convince her to stay, arguing that since her near-death ordeal this morning, he would really feel more comfortable if he could keep an eye on her.  She insisted on leaving, so after making plans to meet at his house tomorrow evening, they said polite goodbyes.

She drove up to her new apartment, and her cell phone buzzed.

“Emily!  Oh my God, I’m so glad it’s you.”

“What’s up, Ness?  I’m sorry I didn’t call before, but I didn’t realize until last night that my phone died yesterday.  We’ve spent all day looking for a charger, which you think would be easy…”

“Emily!”

“…but there aren’t any cell phone stores around the hotel and I have this credit from Verizon that I wanted to use…”

“EMILY!  Shut up and let me tell you something!”

She explained the whole enchilada, including that she couldn’t tell her who Riley was and why.  All the sordid events of the last two days took a while to explain, but Emily listened intently. 

“So what’s the deal?” Emily questioned.  “Why do you sound like you are upset about this?  It sounds like a great opportunity to me.”

“Because I don’t think I can do this,” Vanessa sighed. 

“Shit, girl, if there’s one person in the world who can, it’s you.  Why do you say that?”

“I’m in over my head.”  Panic filled her statement, which she didn’t even try to cover.  Emily would hear it anyway.

Emily was silent for a moment.  “You are attracted to this actor, aren’t you?”

“No.  It’s not that.  At all.  It’s that I’ve made a complete fool of myself.”

“Because you are attracted to him,” Emily giggled. 

“No!  He’s not my type.”

“Uh huh.  I don’t remember you having an exact type.  None of your boyfriends have been a type.”

“You know I think Mark Zuckerberg is the sexiest, and that was before the billions.  And you make it sound like I’ve had more than two boyfriends.  The others?  Each consisting of one boring date and no call back.  All jerks.”

“And the two you had were jerks, too,” Emily added quietly.  “Both unappreciative of who you are.  That’s the problem of dating only smart guys, Ness.  They lead with their brains, not their hearts.  You need a guy who has more heart.”

“I don’t want a girly man, Em.  I like men who act like men.  All that sensitive-man stuff I’ll leave to you and your sappy-ass romance novels.”  

“Yeah, but you need a guy who will put you first and worship you.  Plus,” she added teasingly, “you need one who will rock your headboard the right way.”

Vanessa let out a long breath.  “And there’s more to a relationship than good sex.  I need someone with whom I can have a conversation.”

“Eh.  Conversation is overrated if you’re getting fucked properly.” Emily snickered.  “And, hey, don’t trash my romance novels, Vanessa.  Anyway, most of them include alpha-male, bad boys.  My books make me happy.”

“Because they’re so realistic,” Vanessa deadpanned.

“Shut up.  Anything is possible.  It could even happen to you, Miss Pessimistic.  And I’m not saying you need to find a marshmallow.  Just not a brainiac.  And right about now, you probably could use some mind-blowing sex, no relationship needed.  How long has it been?  Two years?”

“No, I don’t need sex,” Vanessa contended.  “And it has NOT been two years.”  She paused.  “It’s been three.”  Another pause.  “And eight months.  Jeez.  I just need to go home.”

“So there you go.  Bone him and go home on Friday.  End of story.”

“Can you say unethical?” Vanessa huffed.  “I can’t do that.”

Emily laughed.  “Shit Ness, lighten up.  I’m teasing you.” After a beat of silence, she soberly asked,  “But you do find him attractive, don’t you.”

Vanessa thought of the morning’s shirtless Riley with his low-riding shorts and involuntarily bit her bottom lip.  Shit, Nessa.  You gotta stop thinking of him like that.  He’s off limits. 

“Dammit, Em, I hate it when you’re right.”

 

***

 

After an obligatory “checking in” call to her father and a bite or two from the cookie dough, Vanessa realized how hungry she was.  She fixed herself some pizza rolls and settled on the couch for some television while she ate.  She really wanted to spend girl time with Emily, but that would have to be delayed since Em decided to extend her trip. Now that she was convinced that Vanessa wasn’t leaving Friday, she would not be home until Saturday or Sunday.  She really missed her roommate.  She never lived alone until this past month, and she did not like it.  Vanessa was very independent and didn’t mind being alone, she just hated being lonely.

By chance, one of Riley’s movies, Flying Blind, the first in a series of action/comedy movies, was just starting on HBO.  Pure fast-moving action, fights, blood, explosions, perfectly-timed escapes and silly one-liners – a guy movie, definitely not Oscar material.  His character was some cross between a secret service agent and CIA operative on a mission to save the President’s young daughter from kidnappers.  She realized halfway through the movie that she wasn’t really following the plot; she was too busy watching Riley.  She studied his expressions, his movements, careful and deliberate.  His character, Jack Blind, was a Jason Bourne-esque character with a funny bone, and the movie had a True Lies feel to it.  He seemed natural for the part, but from what she saw earlier of the real Riley Tate, the character on the screen was more confident, together, and self-assured.  She wondered if Riley had always been as reserved as he was today.  If so, he was a really good actor.

She never really had much time due to her busy college schedule, and she didn’t like to go to the movies and really didn’t make time to watch TV.  But she sat there hard-core regretting not watching any of the other movies he had made.  She didn’t follow pop culture much, except when she was with her Gram, who loved all things gossipy Hollywood. 

She checked the on-screen guide to see that this movie was made two years ago.  She grabbed her laptop and signed in to the movie database she visited last night.  She looked up every movie he had ever been in to see if she could learn more about Riley from the types of characters he played.  His first movie, a movie Vanessa had watched so many times she could quote it from beginning to end, was a teenage comedy where he played the football star who the lead character, a dorky misfit girl, loved from afar.  She remembered him having plenty of screen time, but he spoke only two lines in the whole movie.  However, it was, admittedly, one of her all-time favorites and the movie that initiated her school-girl crush on Riley’s dimples.

His second role listed was a college-aged romantic comedy where he played the leading man’s handsome, frat-boy, jerk-of-a best friend.  His first starring role was as a rookie cop with a veteran female partner.  He had a supporting role in a non-mainstream superhero movie and its sequel, and Vanessa was not sure if he played a sidekick or a nemesis.  Next he played co-starring role as a stalker-turned-psychotic killer in a horror flick that earned him raves from the critics.  The website reported that Riley’s performance was the only good thing about the movie, and despite his great acting, the movie flopped.  Vanessa thought it was probably because no one wanted to believe Riley Tate is a bad guy.  In his last two movies, he played Jack Blind; Blind Faith, the second in the series, was released on DVD just last Tuesday.  She checked the movies-on-demand feature on the gargantuan TV to see if it was available.  It was.  Before she could stop herself, she ordered it. 

Why do you care about his movies, Nessa?  It’s not like you will solve the riddle of  Riley by learning about the characters he plays.  Why are you getting all worked up over a client who isn’t even a client?  And why is Riley being so difficult?  You really need to cancel tomorrow night, gather up your shit and go back home to your Dad and Gram and Jessie.  Run, before things get worse.

She woke up two hours after the movie was over perched uncomfortably on the couch with her computer closed but still on her lap.  She opened it to turn it off, and the first thing she sees?  Riley Tate’s disarming, full-dimpled smile.  Damn.  It’s bad.

 

***

 

She didn’t sleep well, up most of the night worrying that she wouldn’t wake up from her possible concussion.  Plus, the sort of semi-erotic dreams of Riley half-naked weren’t helping.  So Wednesday morning, she toyed again with the idea of calling the whole thing off.  If she only knew how to get in touch with Riley.  He hadn’t offered any phone numbers to call in case of emergency, and her lack of spine was a definite emergency.  This left her with two options:  one, decline in person, which she knew was the rational choice; or two, suck it up, put on her big-girl panties and go on this non-date to see what happens.  Her curiosity would not give up on option two.

She spent most of the day watching TV, answering e-mails, and playing computer solitaire and internet games with random opponents, trying not to think about tonight.  Occupy the mind so that it cannot wander.  All the planning for yesterday went, yeah, not so great.  On a whim, she decided to do another Google search on Riley, but this time she image searched “Riley Tate’s girlfriends.”  Bad decision.

Riley stood with his arm around different women in about a million different pictures.  Almost all looked stiff and staged, so she ruled them as publicity.  There were two that felt like, what’s the word?  Threats.  Whoa, threats?  What is this?  Craziness.  Getting bent over some pictures?  Strange.  Wrong. 

She recognized one of the women in the photos as Darby Cheetwood, the gorgeous, red-headed, popular actress who played his veteran partner in his third movie.  In each of the several pictures with Darby, they seemed pretty chummy and genuine as a couple, but she felt that if they were really ever dating, there would be way more pictures cropping up in her internet searches.

The other girl Vanessa did not recognize, and she guessed the picture was taken some time ago.  Riley seemed to be a less-bulky version of himself, and his eyes had the youthful innocence of a school boy.  He and the girl looked at each other adoringly.  The girl was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and pretty, but she did not seem like a “Hollywood” type, wearing less makeup and less trendy clothes than the norm around Tinsel Town.  It was probably a picture taken before his career started, which meant the chick was probably his high-school or college girlfriend.

No picture captured the slutty gold digger, which was probably a good thing.  Vanessa felt that if she had a visual on the tramp, she would search for her with the right front fender of her Honda.  It was best left not knowing what model-esque ho-bag had victimized poor Riley.  Best for all concerned. 

She flew off her couch realizing she had a mere hour to get herself prettied up for her very public date with Riley Tate.  She decided to look every bit the part of an actor’s potential girlfriend, so preparation was methodical.  Dress?  Trendy, curve-hugging, royal blue wrap dress (No, Nessa, the color doesn’t have anything to do with Riley’s comment yesterday about it bringing out your eyes.) hitting just above the knee and just sexy enough to keep them guessing.  Shoes?  Black strappy heels.  Hair?  Down and naturally curly.  Makeup?  Not overpowering, but more eye shadow and liner than she usually wore and a touch of rose-colored lipstick.  Looking good, Dr. Taylor.

After a bite of  cookie dough for courage, she drove to Riley’s with a new confidence inspired by her appearance.  She would gently coerce an answer out of him tonight.  Will she treat him or not?  Done deal.

 

***

 

“Hi.  Remember me?”  She asked the older Hispanic gentleman when he answered the door; he simply nodded.  “I’m Doctor Taylor, and you are?”

“Javier.”  He waved her in the door.  Javier was not interested in any other conversation.  He motioned to the couch to her left and disappeared. 

She walked to the mantle and looked at Riley’s pictures, ones she didn’t notice yesterday.  One was of an older couple, and judging from the clothes, it was taken a long while ago.  The man had the same eyes as Riley and the woman had Riley’s dimples, his parents.  An attractive couple, all smiles and warmth.  The other picture contained a family, a forty-something female and a bald husband with two blonde girls, twins, in their early twenties.  Judging by the dimples on the woman, it had to be Riley’s sister’s family. 

“Wow.”  Riley’s voice came from behind startling her.  She turned around to see the same dimples in the pictures.  “You look…” She waited as he searched for words, dragging his eyes up and down her small frame, then locking on her eyes.  Intense, electrified silence filled the air for a long moment.  His dimples emerged with his smirk.  He cleared his throat.  “…very nice.”  Really?  That’s the best you can do, dumb ass?  Actions speak louder than words, and your eyes bugging out tell me you could say something nicer than that! 

She took in Riley’s attire for the evening.  Button-down long-sleeved maroon shirt tucked into belted black slacks.  He looked lickable, but she tried to hide her attraction behind narrowed eyes.  She nodded.  “Thank you.  You look decent, too.”  She downplayed on purpose, hoping her unenthusiastic compliment stung him like his stung her.  

Riley narrowed his eyes right back, as if he didn’t believe her either.  He smiled.  “That color really does bring out your eyes.”  He nodded toward the door.  “We should go,” he urged.  “If we leave now, we will just make our reservation.”

“Where are we going?”  she asked, walking toward the door.

He reached around her to open the door, his heat causing those goosebumps to erupt on her skin again.  He leaned toward her ear and murmured, “Bastille.”

Oh, jeez.  I think I need to change my panties now.  Get it together, Nessa.  Concentrate on what you need to do.  That restaurant?  What the fuck is Bastille?  It sounds very expensive, posh and French.  Great.  Pretentious, upper-crusty L.A. atmosphere with snooty waiters and indecipherable menus.  Where is a Chili’s when you need one?