Shock Waves. Colleen Collins

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СКАЧАТЬ laughed.

      “El,” Sara said, turning serious, “I know you’re not the type to easily talk about what’s on your heart, but I have to add one thing. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that you saw Bill today. I bet you’re going to run into him again.”

      See Bill again? Ellie didn’t know if her heart, mind or soul could handle it. What had happened this morning was enough to haunt her for months as it was. But no way did she want Sara to know that. Ellie Rockwell was so much better than some ancient crushed-out angst.

      She hoped.

      “As much as I’ve always wanted to have a real supernatural experience,” she said in her best breezy voice, “I doubt you’ve suddenly turned clairvoyant.”

      Before Sara could follow up with something else serious and heartfelt, Ellie pointed toward the end of the aisle. “Hey, down there are some awesome black hair colors.”

      Sara made a stopping gesture. “You promised to go blond, and I’m holding you to it. This one—” she grabbed a hair color labeled Lightning Blond “—is perfect. After we wash out your black rinse, this color will give you that Gwen Stefani bad-girl blond you want.”

      “Okay, we’re starting to talk bad.”

      Grinning, Sara picked up a second container. “Then we’ll add some gold highlights, which will give you that sunny, sparkling beach babe look.”

      Ellie looked over at a couple of sunny, sparkling beachettes. The type who’d snagged Bill’s attention today. Here she thought she’d so smoothly avoided further discussion of Bill, but she’d forgotten the nonstop banter in her own head.

      One of the beachettes laughed, reminding her of the bimbo Bill had chortled with earlier today. What did those types have that Ellie didn’t? Hell, if she could make herself over into the Mistress of the Dark, she could certainly make herself into a Gidget type, too. Not the sunny, sparkling variety, but definitely a Gidget on the Edge.

      “Bad-girl with gold streaks it is,” she said, turning back to Sara. “Sold.”

      “That’s my girl! Hey, El, this is fun taking care of you for a change. Oh, look at these yummy pastel lipsticks…”

      “Huhhhh.” Blond was one thing, but pastel makeup?

      Sara tossed a peachy lipstick into the basket. “I told you I bought several new bikinis for the trip, right? We’re about the same size, so let’s have you try a few on when we get back.”

      “What colors are they?” Not pastel, please God.

      “Pink, tangerine…oh, and black.”

      Ellie’s mood lifted. “Black. Cool.”

      “Okay, next—spray-on tan.”

      This time Ellie willingly followed her friend to the fake bake aisle, as Sara called it.

      Sara held up something called TechnoTan. “What about—”

      “Put it in, baby.”

      Sara, looking surprised but pleased, added it to the basket. “I won’t spray over your tattoos, but use one of my makeup brushes to paint the skin around them.”

      Ellie listened, sort of, but her attention had again been diverted by the beachettes who were giggling in front of the body cream section. It brought back how she’d felt earlier, Miss Black Spiked Hair Can You Move Your Benz, standing in the background, out of place and out of time, wearing her big, broken childhood heart on her sleeve. Okay, so she’d wanted to be better than ancient angst, but the truth was, she wasn’t.

      Suddenly, it felt as though all the years of caring and yearning and dreaming about Bill had crowded against her heart, squeezing it, constricting the memories into a throbbing lump of ache. Today, her world had stopped when she’d recognized Bill, but his didn’t even pause. He wasn’t interested in me. And as much as she told herself it didn’t matter, she felt rejected. Unacceptable.

      She picked up a box of something and pretended to read, as though focusing on random words might impose logic on her pain. On her heart. But the letters danced and swam, refusing to make sense.

      Maybe that’s how she should view the past. Make it blurry, indistinguishable, unimportant. Do what she came to do this week—chill, play matchmaker, audition to be an extra and screw the rest.

      “Hey!” enthused Sara, holding up a plastic case. “This will look fantastic with your turquoise eyes. Ghost Silver eye shadow!”

      Ghost…exactly how she should view Bill. A ghost from her past, nothing more.

      She took the container from Ellie and tossed it into the basket. “Sold.”

      2

      BILL, SITTING in the first row of the audience, shook his head at Mandy, the hyperefficient fortyish principal casting director sitting at the foot of the stage. She nodded, understanding his message that the girl who just auditioned was a no.

      “You didn’t like her?” asked Jimmie, Bill’s best pal and Sin on the Beach’s key grip.

      “Not hot enough,” Bill said, shifting. He tipped his coffee mug, which caused brown liquid to slosh down the front of his white polo shirt.

      “Shit.”

      He set the cup on the sand beneath their folding chairs and pulled the shirt away from his skin. “I’m used to easing into Monday mornings with 9:00 a.m. read-throughs, not getting up when the rooster crows to audition hundreds of extras for some publicity gig.” He flapped the shirt to cool the spilled liquid.

      “I won’t ask if that was hot enough,” quipped Jimmie.

      Bill shot him a look.

      “Sorry. But speaking of things that could be hot…have you given any more thought to you and I starting our own indie company?”

      Bill nodded. “Sure. Problem is, making big bucks with an independent film production company is a long shot.”

      “Who’s talking big bucks?”

      “Me. You know my take on the movie business. Dream big, make it big. No offense, but an indie company is too small for this boy.”

      Jimmie shook his head. “You’re letting your hard-luck roots get the better of you, pal. Producing our own films gives us control, which is big in a better way. Did I tell you Edge of the Universe placed first in its category at the WorldFest competition?”

      He and Jimmie had known each other from their first day at New York University film school, given each other a lot of support while they crawled up the dog-eat-dog success ladder of L.A. film and television work. Jimmie’s first love was screenwriting, but until he started making sales, he worked on film crews.

      Bill balled his hand into a fist, knocked it against Jimmie’s fist. “Edge of the Universe will be your breakthrough sale, no doubt about it.”

      Jimmie had СКАЧАТЬ