Stalk Me

“Sander and I broke up.”

 Mom’s eyes get huge. “Why? Are you okay, honey?”

“I’m fine. We’re still friends, and I’m sure he would love to go tonight, but I have plans with Brooklyn.”

Mom raises her eyebrows knowingly. “Is it a date? Is that why you broke up?”

“No, we’re just hanging out like we always do. It’s no big deal. You’re still pla

“Of course.” She gives me a smirk.

I can’t help but smile. “Fine. I maybe have a little crush on him.”

She laughs at me and walks back into the living room.

Wear a bikini and scream.

10:30 pm

The bar is packed. Twisted Dreams is halfway through their second set and Brooklyn and I are having fun.

At least I think we are.

Di

I answered perfectly. Like I read it from a script. I said, You should always follow your dreams, wherever they take you. Which I thought was so super supportive. I’d be the best girlfriend ever. If he’d just let me.

Our evening so far has been relaxed and chill like usual.

Although, for me, it’s kinda been torture.

Because every time he leans in close to talk to me, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.

Every time he touches my hand, I wonder if it means something.

Every time he looks at me, I wonder if he thinks I’m pretty.

Every time he glances down, I wonder if he’s admiring my legs or if he likes my outfit.

We’re standing near the crowded bar, sipping on beers, and singing along to some of our favorite songs. The dance floor is crowded, but he hasn’t asked me to dance yet.

I notice Mom, Tommy, Damian’s dad, and his wife, Marisa, squeezing their way up to a reserved table at the edge of the dance floor. We go greet them.

I grab a beer from the bucket that appeared on the table the minute Tommy walked in, excuse myself, and walk back to the ladies’ room. Of course, the place is packed, which means getting back there is crazy. Honestly, I’ve had to pee for a while, but I’ve been a little afraid to leave Brooklyn. Afraid I’d come back out and find him talking to some girl. I’m single, finally. He’s mine tonight.

Like, I hope.

Now that Mom and Tommy are here at least I won’t worry about some random girl hitting on him while I’m gone.

I work my way through the crowd and say hey to a few people I know. I’m almost to the long bathroom line when someone pushes me from behind and knocks me straight into a pair of strong arms.

I see a lime green polo, pleated khaki shorts, and an upscale version of a topsider. I’m pretty proud of the fact that I manage not to spill a drop of beer. As the guy pulls me up, I’m surprised to find myself face to face with the hot Armani guy from the beach.

He recognizes me and gives me the kind of smile that has probably bedded many a woman.

“Thanks. Vincent, right? From the beach?”

“In the flesh,” he says.

I get pushed closer into his broad chest when someone else bumps into us.

“I’m sorry,” I say. The poor guy. I’m practically in his arms!

He looks straight into my eyes, like he did at the beach. Like he’s searching them for answers to a question he’s yet to ask.

He puts his mouth by my ear and yells over the music. “I saw you standing next to your mom.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Look, I know you’re a fan. But if you want an autograph or something, you’ll have to be a big boy and go ask her yourself.”

“Already have her autograph,” he says, in a smart-ass way. “I don’t really know her, but we kinda run in the same circle.”

“And what circle is that?”

“The movie industry.”

“Oh, really? You a movie star?” He certainly is good looking enough. If I were to typecast him, I’d make him the guy you know you’re not supposed to fall in love with, but you can’t help yourself.

He laughs. “No, I finance movies.”

“Moneybags, huh?”

He blinks slowly. “Something like that.”

“Cool. Well, it was nice to see you again.” I make a move toward the bathroom.

He stops me. I look down at his muscular arm and read the now fully exposed scrolly tattoo.

It makes me laugh.

“Abby? Are you that big of a fan?”

He shrugs. “Not really. I dated a girl named Abby in high school. She left me for a guy with a Harley and unfortunately couldn’t take the tattoo with her.”

“Sorry,” I say, sort of awkwardly. I could picture myself getting a Brooklyn tattoo.

Once he finally tells me he loves me and all.

“You know, you’re stu

I can’t help but smile. “I have my dad’s eyes.”

Vincent lowers his voice. “He died a few years ago in a plane crash, didn’t he? I’m sorry.”

I nod my head. “Thanks.”

“You ever thought of acting? I could cast you in my next movie.”

I roll my eyes and smirk at him. “That line usually work for you in a bar?”

He touches my nose with the tip of his finger, cocks his head at me, and curls his lips into a smile. “You are a spunky one.” He clinks his beer bottle gently into mine. “Just how old are you anyway?”

“Is that a trick question?”

He replies with a hearty laugh. “Well, you look old enough here, but on the beach I would’ve guessed you to be too young.”

I put my finger up to his lips. “Shh, don’t tell.”

Then I work my way to the restroom.

When I come back out, he’s waiting for me by the door. He looks me over again.

I look at him like, What?

“Forgot to give you my card.” He pushes a business card into my hand.

I take it to be polite.

“Uh, thanks, but if I want a part, I could get one through my family.”

“That’s too bad. This isn’t just any part.”

“Let me guess: I’m go

“I own the rights to remake A Day at the Lake. I’ve been hoping to do it for a few years now, but I haven’t been able to find the right actress. You would be perfect.”

“And, oh, what a perfect role it is!” I say in mock happiness, clasping my hands up by my cheek, and giving him a huge, fake smile. “I’d get to wear a bikini and scream! Please, sign me up!”

He laughs at me. “You’re very fu

“I grew up on movie sets, but no, I haven’t. And I’m not sure if I want to, but if I did—no offense—I’d probably want a more challenging role.”

He nods his head. “I can respect that, but I’ll give you a piece of advice. Don’t turn anything down until you have all the facts. The remake I want to do will have the spirit of the original, but not the script. I want this to be a blockbluster. We’re adding special effects and doing a total rewrite. There will be full marketing. Posters, Barbie dolls, lunch boxes. The lead role needs to be more like Lara Croft or Buffy the Vampire Slayer than the helpless victim your mom was. We want a kick-ass heroine. I saw you out surfing, and you seem pretty athletic. Still, I’d be taking a big chance casting an unknown like you.”

“You might be right. I should’ve listened. Something like that I might be interested in. I just thought—you know—we’re in a bar; you hear stories about that kind of stuff. So, is there a script I could see?”

“Not yet. I’m still working on the financing.”