“Whatever,” Luca said. “I demanded business class but had to settle for extended legroom.”
I kneaded my fingers into my hips. “I could have definitely used business class. My whole body feels like it was vacuum sealed.”
He scoffed. “Bee, don’t pretend like you can’t swing an upgrade. Honestly, though, that shouldn’t even matter. If Teddy wants your goodies in Vermont”—he motioned to my ample ass—“then he should know that you require premium shipping.”
Luca was often high maintenance and sometimes difficult to work with, but I had to admit he had a point. “Well, there’s always the return flight... which may come sooner than I hope if I can’t keep the whole sex-work thing on the down low, if you know what I mean.”
He nodded vigorously. “Oh, Uncle Ray—Teddy—has already been very clear that if I am to do costuming forDuke the Ballsthat I have to be, like, as vanilla as an insurance adjuster.”
I giggled as his forehead tightened with confusion. “Oh. I thought that—you do know it’s calledDuke the Hallsand notDuke the Balls, right?”
Realization dawned on him as his lips parted slightly. “That does seem to be more on brand for Hopeflix.” He nodded to himself, and I couldn’t help but imagine that he’d had a very confusing twenty-four hours preparing for a family-friendly soft-core porn to premiere on Hopeflix. “Have you ever heard of... what did Nolan call them? Fall out breeches?”
I patted his shoulder. “I think Google might be your best friend over the next few weeks. Isn’t it so weird to actually see Nolan Shaw in the flesh?”
He made apshsound. “Nolan Shaw is dead to me.”
I touched a hand to his shoulder. “Oh my God. What did he say to you? I was so nervous he would be an asshole.”
“Um, he only ruined a gold medal opportunity for Emily Albright, the American ice princess we needed but never truly deserved!”
“Oh,” I said. “That.”
He led me to the back room, which was stocked full of tubs that needed to be unpacked.
“Are these all the costumes?” I asked.
He pointed to four bins that each had a piece of duct tape withLucawritten in marker stuck on them. “All except those. I brought some emergency options. Teddy couldn’t tell me what I’d be working with, so I wanted to be prepared.”
I glanced into an open bin. “With ball gags and crotchless panties?”
“Don’t pretend like I haven’t saved your ass on set before,” he countered playfully.
And it was true. Luca started working costumes two years ago when Teddy’s daughter, Astrid, referred him after he’d dropped out of fashion school and was in desperate need of a gig so he wouldn’t have to pack up and leave L.A. for his backward-ass Oregon hometown where he was still known as Jeffrey. Say what you want about Teddy, but he’s got a soft spot for people just trying to make it in Los Angeles, and he’s not a predator, which can’t be said about plenty of people in the industry.
Luca opened an unmarked bin. “Okay, this I can work with,” he said, holding up a deep navy corset with a delicate brocade pattern.
I sized up the aforementioned garment. In the rush of replacing Winnie with me, I didn’t think anyone had taken the time to consider that she was Hollywood thin and I was real-world fat. “Luca, you can sew, right?”
He turned from me dramatically, like he couldn’t bear to look me in the eyes. “My God, Bee. Are you trying to insult me?”
“Is there another one of those corsets in there? Because I think it’s going to take at least two of those things sewn together to keep us out of theDuke the Ballszone.”
Chapter Four
Nolan
God, the beautiful, horrible irony. My dirty dream girl showing up inChristmas Notch, Vermont, of all places, ready to spend the next two weeks wearing corsets in front of me (!!!), and instead of taking her out for drinks and then proposing marriage, I had to keep everything zipped up tight. And not even zipped up in a sexyLet’s pretend we’re in high school and do it over the pantskind of way, but in aMy manager will fire me and I’ll have no money to take care of my familykind of way.
So I had to keep things professional and chaste.
I had to keep things so platonic that Plato himself would raise a kylix to my efforts.
Goddammit.
I tried to rationalize with my libido as I ate my sad carryoutdinner alone in the Edelweiss Inn’s dining room. Because even if Steph hadn’t threatened to make bunting out of my intestines, or whatever it had been, I’d still try to keep my distance from Bee. I’d touched enough outstretched hands belonging to screaming teenagers to know how one-sided these kinds of parasocial fantasies were. And I was sure it was the same for her . . . except probably with an exponentially higher creep factor. I’d seen enough weird comments on her pictures and videos to know that an uncomfortable number of subscribers felt entitled to her body and to her attention. I didn’t want to be the real-life version of that.
But God, why did it have to beher?
