"They're good!" Gesine exclaims, as though she'd had doubts they would be.
Sandra sits in the booth, smoke rising all around her, mindlessly fingering petals on the rose. A waitress walks over, grabbing the plastic wrapper from the flower and setting it on her tray. A ring of condensation surrounds her green-labeled bottle.
Johnny puts two fingers in his mouth, the shriek of his whistle momentarily breaking Sandra's focus and causing her to jump.
Ahead, she sees Dennis, his hand on the wall over the shoulder of another starlet. Once a cad, she thinks, shaking her head before returning her attention to the stage.
Johnny bumps her shoulder with his own and leans down toward her ear. "Your guy's got good hands," he hollers over the music.
"What?"
"He has good hands!" he repeats, louder this time.
"Oh, yeah. He does." She stares at his fingers, strumming on the guitar.
He draws his fingers down the space between her breasts, those same fingers, down until they are circling the delicate skin around her navel. His eyes remain on her lips, watching them part as she sharply inhales with his touch.
Get a grip! she thinks, suddenly grateful for the dark crimson camouflage from the bar lighting. She grabs the sweaty bottle and gulps, the burn of carbonation a welcome distraction.
Lights are flashing and the crowd in front of the stage is jumping in unison with the beating of the drums. All around her are industry-folk: entertainers themselves, watching him play. It doesn't escape her that more than a few of the women, and a couple men, are trained only on him. The muscles of his forearm ripple as he plucks the strings. He is all sleek muscle, in fact, and she savors the knowledge that she knows this intimately.
"This is my good friend, Sandra Bullock." Dennis is back, a new blonde on his arm. "Sandra, meet my new friend, um..."
"Molly."
"Molly! Yes, of course, Molly. Stay right here, Molly, I'm gonna go grab us a couple drinks."
Molly takes a seat next to Gesine, setting her sequined purse down beside her. "So, what brings you out tonight?"
"Just watching the band," Gesine answers.
"Dogstar? I LOVE Dogstar!"
Dennis reappears with drinks in hand. "Her guy is up there playing the bass," he explains, gesturing toward Sandra.
Molly sizes her up, looks at Keanu, then back at Sandra. "Your guy? Wait, you mean Keanu Reeves? Are you with Keanu Reeves?!?"
Sandra pauses, then smiles. "Yeah. I guess I am, yes."
"'Bout damned time, too. Jeff owes me a hundred bucks," Dennis chortles.
Confused, Sandra purses her lips in a "what are you talking about?" formation.
"We...kinda had a bet goin' during filming, to see how long it would take before you two hooked up."
"You had a bet about us?"
"Wha—c'mon Sandra," Dennis scoffs. "The only ones you guys were foolin' were each other."
Sandra rubs the back of her neck a little too briskly. She feels like she's sliding off of the leather booth into a puddle, and right now that's exactly where she wishes she could be. "I-I-I—" she stutters, blinking, searching for a natural response. A bet? They had a bet about us? She tries to steel herself, but Dennis is already onto the next topic of his interest: nibbling on the long neck of his new friend.
YOU ARE READING
The Beginning
Fanfiction"Come here," his voice is gentle again. She gives in, placing her small hand in his. Lifting the cloth, he sees her blood spill out from her palm. He inhales sharply through his teeth and presses the rag back down. They sit there like that for abo...
