Worth the Wait Read online

  “You can’t do that.” Avery rallied the way she had in the courtyard of the Elysium, like a shy girl mustering courage no one expected.

  As quickly as they came, her tears were gone. She’s an actor, Merritt thought.

  “If you want a DNA swab…” Avery said, each word calculated.

  You can’t. We’ll arrest you. We’ll sue, Merritt filled in.

  “You’d have to fuck me,” Avery finished.

  Merritt’s surprise left her speechless.

  Outside, footsteps shook the stairs and the trailer. Someone knocked the door. A man called, “Sorry, Aves, you’re on.”

  “In a minute,” Avery shot back with such ferocity even Merritt froze.

  Outside, someone said, “She’s got a friend in there. Give her ten.”

  Merritt knew it would take less than ten minutes for her to come under Avery’s touch.

  “I want you, Merritt.”

  Merritt wanted her too. Damn it, she wanted her so much. Before Merritt realized what she was doing, she had pressed Avery up against the door. Avery gripped fistfuls of Merritt’s hair with a delicious force that bordered on pain and sent a current of desire down Merritt’s spine. They kissed, and the kiss felt like crying and fighting and racing down an empty freeway at midnight when they were eighteen and their car was the only one on the road.

  “Give me an hour.” Avery clutched Merritt’s back. “I’ll make up an excuse. I’ll come find you.”

  Merritt pushed up Avery’s dress. The delicate fabric bunched at Avery’s waist. The wall of the trailer creaked. Their legs intertwined. Merritt felt Avery’s ass through lace underwear. She pressed her thigh into the apex of Avery’s legs.

  “Please,” Avery whispered.

  Iliana said make-up sex was the best. Girls never stuck around long enough for Merritt to find out. Now she understood. The urge to cry had turned into a kiss. Avery’s arms comforted the same heartbreak they caused. And Merritt felt full of tenderness and rage, and touching Avery, arousing her gently and forcefully at turns, was the answer to all the feelings storming inside her.

  “I’ll get us a room at the Jupiter Hotel,” Avery said.

  She grazed her teeth along Merritt’s ear. Merritt heard herself sigh in a way she never did with other women.

  “Meet me there.” Avery pulled away a little bit. “There’s just one thing. I have to text you a contract. I don’t care about it, but I owe it to Alistair and the crew. Everyone gets an NDA if they have sex. It’s like using a condom for us. It’s just safe. Please, it’s nothing in my world. I know it sounds weird.”

  “An NDA?”

  “A nondisclosure agreement.”

  Merritt untangled herself from Avery’s embrace.

  “It just means you won’t tell anyone…officially.”

  Avery took her phone out of some invisible pocket in her dress and called something to the screen. She handed it to Merritt. Merritt tried to control the tremor in her hand as she scrolled to the bottom and back up. Forfeiture of assets, it read. Agree to forgo legal recourse…amount of damages…The number was more than she could conceive.

  “Is this a trick?”

  She had fallen for it again. She couldn’t breathe. The lump in her throat was going to strangle her.

  “You want my shop too? Is this how you win, Avery? This gives you everything if someone sees us.”

  “No! It’s standard. Please, Merritt. In the industry this is nothing.”

  Merritt pressed her hand to Avery’s chest, holding her at arm’s length. She could feel Avery’s heart racing.

  “How are you still in the closet?”

  “My fans trust me, and they feel like they know me. I can’t let them down.”

  Avery kissed Merritt before she could protest. It was the kind of kiss that said, This is more than sex, soft and slow. The kind of kiss Merritt longed for and avoided because hope felt like a punch to the gut. But now she was melting into Avery’s arms, letting her lead, giving in to Avery’s caressing, and…

  “No!”

  She shook herself free. This kiss came along with a twelve-screen nondisclosure contract that, if she’d read it correctly, promised she’d relinquish her home, truck, business, and assets to King & Crown if she so much as called Iliana and said, Guess what? I’ve got a crush on this new girl.

  “Don’t touch me,” Merritt said. “Don’t find me. Don’t come into my life again. I never wanted you to come back to Vale.”

  Chapter 9

  Avery followed Merritt out of the trailer. The sunlight was blinding. Merritt hurried through the bustle, skipping over cables and dodging equipment dollies.

  “Goddamn it. Who’s that in the shot!” Venner, the executive producer from TKO, yelled.

  No one in the King & Crown family responded.

  Someone wheeled a fan past Merritt, and her white shirt blew back, outlining her body. Her black hair blew across her face.

  “Security!” Venner bellowed. “Bunter, get her.”

  Merritt raised her voice. “I’m going.”

  Bunter, their security guard, had reached her. He grabbed Merritt’s arm.

  “Don’t!” Avery called out. Her mind was racing. She had to call Merritt back. She had to explain. She would get Greg to tell her she had nothing to do with purchasing.

  Bunter yanked Merritt’s arm backward, twisting it behind her back. “Get off the set,” he growled.

  Avery saw them frozen in a single frame: Bunter scowling, Merritt’s face startled by pain.

  “Get off me,” Merritt said.

  It was her toughness that made her vulnerability so poignant.

  In a flash, Avery remembered Thanksgiving at Vale. Her father had won junior-year Thanksgiving in the ever-simmering custody battle between him and Marlene. Early on Thanksgiving morning, Avery had returned to campus to pick up a book from her locker, but everything was locked. The landscaping was encased in frost. She was about to leave when she noticed the beautiful transfer student from her biology class sitting on the back of a bench, smoking a cigarette. Merritt Lessing. What luck! There were no cool girls to distract Merritt, no boy offering Merritt his pen or a soda. Avery took a deep breath and walked over.

  When’s your flight? Avery had asked, because Merritt was one of the residential girls who had to pack up for holidays. Not long after that, Merritt’s uncle had saved her from a life of dorm food and lonely holidays, but that Thanksgiving Merritt was a woman without a home.

  I got a hotel downtown, Merritt said. And this. She’d reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and withdrew a fake ID with the casual air of someone who floated above rules and regulations. And although Merritt was young and undeniably a girl, she reminded Avery of some of the old men Avery’s mother knew. Men who had been talented, wanted, and wealthy for so long, they no longer had to flaunt the fact that the rules did not apply to them. Merritt had always had presence. At Vale, the other girls had flirted with Merritt and feared her at turns. There was something dangerous about her, something rebellious, even with her A average and her lacrosse victories. She was as unmoored as her parents’ yacht. No one told her what to do. No one owned her. And she played it up. So casual. So grown-up. Christmas. Aren’t we a little old for Santa Claus?

  But behind Merritt’s self-assured smile, she had looked lost that Thanksgiving morning.

  Avery saw that girl in Merritt now.

  “Don’t hurt her!” Avery yelled.

  Bunter wouldn’t really hurt her—you had to think about liability—but accidents happened. She couldn’t bear for one more thing to come between them. How would she persuade Merritt that King & Crown was a lovely, harmless band of friends if Bunter dislocated Merritt’s shoulder?

  Bunter muscled Merritt forward, using her arm as leverage. Then somehow, unexplainably, Bunter was on his knees. He was simply upright one moment and kneeling the next. Merritt looked slightly perplexed, as though the blue sky had shed a single raindrop on her head. She held her hands up
in surrender, stepping away from him.

  “I don’t want any trouble. I’m out of here.”

  “What the—”

  Bunter rose and grabbed at Merritt again. She stood perfectly still. Then she wasn’t in front of him anymore. Bunter was stumbling into the empty space. Avery saw Merritt’s posture grow looser and more catlike. Her knees softened. Her shoulders squared. She raised her hands before her. Then Bunter was sitting on the ground again.

  Nothing Avery had ever done had that grace, and it suddenly struck her that explaining the Elysium wouldn’t be enough. Merritt could have anyone. How could Avery compete? She was on television, but what did that mean to Merritt? She heard her mother’s voice in the back of her mind. I’m pulling as many strings as I can, but there’s only so much we can do. She’d thought fifteen years of King & Crown had proved her mother wrong. Fifteen years was exceptional. But she had never seen exceptional until she saw Merritt again.

  “I’m calling the police,” Greg yelled.

  “Call them!” Merritt stepped away from Bunter. “And I’ll call OSHA and the zoning board and the inspector.” She nodded toward the film crew. “They’ve got their harnesses on wrong. Your painters aren’t tied in. That roof isn’t rated for terra-cotta shingle. I see what you have over there on that pallet.”

  Venner sprinted in her direction, and Avery recalled a nature show that explained how surprisingly fast the hippopotamus could run when angered…or maybe it was the crocodile. That was Venner.

  “Who are you?” Venner yelled. “Who is she? Who let her on set?”

  “I’m nobody,” Merritt said. “I wandered in by mistake, and I’m just trying to leave.”

  Avery half expected Merritt to throw Venner like she had thrown Bunter…which would have been wonderful. Even through her tears, Avery was mesmerized. Every muscle in Merritt’s body broadcast glorious, brilliant, indignant rage, as though she had seen through all the world’s foolishness and was ready to slam it to the ground like a football player smacking the ball down behind the end zone.

  Alistair had taken his usual spot at Avery’s side, a protective arm around her shoulder.

  “Is Venner trying to pick her up?” Alistair whispered under his breath. “This is like the world’s worst Tinder meet-up.” Merritt turned toward them, and Avery felt Alistair’s arm tighten around her shoulders.

  Venner was trying to talk to Merritt. She stopped him with a raised hand. In L.A. Venner would have poked a finger in her chest, but here he seemed a little bit afraid of her.

  “You know your show is going to ruin this place,” Merritt said to Venner. “Architectural significance, antiques, beauty. You’ll paste over it. Put in color-changing LED lights. You know what LED is good for? Dentistry. You don’t need a Portland-glow light or blue-midnight light. Because there are actual mornings and midnights, and you don’t see that. You have to stay to know it. You can’t love something you have for a month. And you don’t need fans to make wind, because it’s not windy! It’s summer in Portland…” The fire seemed to go out of her. “…and it’s just beautiful.”

  The set had gone silent except for the buzz of the fans.

  Merritt looked at Avery. “It just is,” Merritt said. “And you’ve ruined it.”

  * * *

  Avery felt dizzy. The dappled sunlight spun around her. Then Avery was watching the taillights of Merritt’s enormous black pickup disappear down the street.

  A moment later Alistair pulled Avery into his trailer. It looked exactly like hers, complete with the photos. She would’ve loved to show Merritt around her space, to tell her stories about the pictures. But Merritt didn’t care that Avery thought that the Cariboo Mountains in British Columbia looked like a land of fairies or that the Canyonlands National Park had made her cry it was so magnificent.

  “What was that?” Alistair asked. “I thought you were all happy in your nostalgia lust.”

  There was fear in his eyes. Avery guessed half of it was for her, but the other half was for the show. If Dan Ponza got a picture of her with a girl, the show would be over. She’d have to buy a house instead of renting villas with Alistair. They would never work together again. The crew would split up and go work on sets where producers yelled at them and people fought over the union assignments.

  “It’s the Elysium.” Avery fell into Alistair’s arms. “The building we bought. It was hers. It was supposed to be hers. She was about to close on it, and Pam just came in and took it, and now Merritt thinks it’s my fault.”

  “How would it be your fault?”

  Alistair wrapped his arms around her.

  “She showed it to me,” Avery said miserably. “We took a walk after the reunion, and she showed it to me. And I kissed her in the courtyard.”

  Avery sobbed. Alistair held her gently and stroked her hair. Sweet, sweet Alistair, with whom she’d spent more time than most married couples spent in a lifetime. She could lie down on his bed, snuggle up to him, knowing that she could sleep in his arms and he would never try to touch her, never drink one too many and land a sloppy kiss on her neck. They would never be like those costars who secretly hated each other or dated and married and broke up all over People and Star magazine. And for the first time she thought, What if that’s not enough?

  * * *

  A moment later someone pounded on the door, shaking the thin walls. The door flew open. Venner burst in. Greg followed a few paces behind him, saying, “Give her some space. You can’t just walk into her trailer.”

  “Gold!” Venner exclaimed. He looked at Avery. “Why is she crying?”

  “I’m not—”

  “She’s tired,” Alistair said.

  “Fix her.” Venner looked back and forth between them.

  The small space was crowded with everyone standing around like people in an elevator.

  “Look at this. I mean look at this!” He was waving his enormous cell phone in their direction.

  “Give it here,” Alistair said wearily.

  Venner slapped the phone down in his hand. A video froze on the screen, and Alistair restarted it.

  “It’s Merritt,” Alistair said.

  The whole scene on the set replayed in silence, but Avery knew the exact moment when Merritt had looked at her and said, You’ve ruined it.

  “It’s going viral,” Venner said. “Look at the hits. Seriously, am I the only one who gets it? That woman who flipped Bunter is gorgeous, and she’s so Portland. She’s fire. She’s excitement. I am the Finder. Do you know how many careers I’ve launched? Greg says you know her. We’re putting her on King and Crown. She is the Portland edition.”

  Chapter 10

  Two nights later, Avery lay on her bed, her face buried in the pillow. The hotel the King & Crown cast and crew were staying at was awful. Usually she didn’t mind. She liked meeting families with kids road-tripping to Disneyland. She liked making their trip a little more special. And she liked going out early in the morning or late at night and swimming in the over-chlorinated pools and pretending she could be anyone, anywhere. But she wasn’t anyone tonight. Tonight she was the woman Merritt hated. She was the woman who had had one perfect night before property-savant Pam managed to buy an apartment building in the time it took the crew to order their IPAs.

  She rolled over and texted her friend DX. Texting DX was a sketchy proposition. DX was the kind of friend you were a little bit afraid of. Parties thrown by DX probably counted as terrorist acts in countries like Canada and Switzerland. But Avery didn’t want to see Alistair’s poorly concealed worry. Everything she had done put King & Crown in jeopardy.

  I messed up, she texted.

  DX texted back, Grand theft? Guns? [Tombstone emoji. Skull emoji. Dead fish emoji.] Cm on tour. China then S. Korea. Won’t let them catch u.

  Avery’s phone rang. The screen flashed a picture of DX’s curly black hair and aviator sunglasses.

  “What’s up?” DX asked cheerfully. “You and Al break up?”

  For a moment
Avery couldn’t speak. It was all too much to explain to a woman who owned a retrofitted Russian military helicopter that she might have stolen and was in the most remarkably healthy relationship that Avery had ever seen.

  DX’s voice softened. “Hey, for real? What is it?”

  “I fucked up.”

  “Well, good. Finally, schoolgirl. Did you crash one of those comped cars you guys are always driving? Just put it in gear and pushed it over a cliff to see what would happen?”

  “I’m in Portland. There aren’t any cliffs,” Avery said miserably. “It’s a girl. She hates me.”

  “No one can hate you.”

  “It’s possible.” Avery picked a ball of lint off the orange-brown coverlet.

  “Who was it?”

  “A girl I liked”—she had to say it—“in high school.”

  DX hadn’t even gone to high school.

  “It’s that reunion,” DX said. “They plan them to make you feel old. Think about death. Then you’ll give more to the school.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Didn’t they talk about legacy giving? Vultures.”

  They had talked about legacy giving.

  “I’ve never had sex like this before,” Avery blurted.

  “Did you find the clitoris? I wondered whether you knew about that.”

  “Give me some credit!”

  She told DX about her night with Merritt, the Elysium, and Merritt’s arrival on set.

  “Wait,” DX said. “I’m googling her. Ooh, pretty. Like lesbian supermodel pretty.”

  “And now Warren Venner—he’s a new TKO exec—he wants her on the show. But he called her, and she told him to fuck off. It blew his mind. He’s kind of in love with her. No one tells Venner to fuck off.”

  “Tight!”

  “But that’s how much Merritt doesn’t want to see me. She’d turn down a chance to be on King and Crown.”

  “That’s not absolute proof of hatred. Just ask me to hang some chintz curtains with you, and I’ll show you. But this is easy. You just have to convince her to be on the show. You can go into whatever little dressing room trailers you have. Walk around in your underwear and win her back. Explain the whole thing. Be like, ‘Sorry. Totes my bad. Let’s get a room and make love on a waterbed full of man-of-war jellyfish.’ Or go romantic. Be like, ‘Marry me, you androgynous goddess.’”