Stalk Me

“Can we talk about that when I get home?”

“So you are at di

“He’s not that old, and yes. Bye, Mom.”

“Gossip flying already?” Vincent asks.

“You have an admirer.”

My car is parked up front, so the valet hands me the keys. Vincent follows me to my car. He keeps taking steps closer to me and, pretty soon, I’m leaning with my back up against the side of it. His entire body is about six inches away from mine.

“Is it you?” he asks.

I laugh. “The lady from the bar. You did say you like older women. Want me to set you up?”

“Probably not.”

“So, when will you have the script done?”

“I’m shooting for August.”

“I can't wait to read it. So, I think I better skip the walk on the beach and get home.”

He cups his hands on my shoulders and slides them slowly down my arms. “I had a nice time tonight. You have my mind going a million places.”

“Where is it going?” I ask.

“Just all the things we talked about, brainstormed. I need to get home and write them all down. This isn't a slam to your mom's talent, okay? She’s one of the best actresses around.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll admit we’ve been struggling a bit with the script. I think because I was still picturing her in the movie. And even though we knew we wanted a kick-ass heroine, I was having a hard time imagining your mom doing any of those things. You're right. She did just stand around and scream. Now that I’m envisioning someone else in the role, I can see it more clearly.”

“That’s good, right?”

“You want this as bad as I do, don’t you?”

I smile. “Yeah, I think I do, so you better get finished.”

He leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. It’s the kind of kiss your dad might give you, except he holds his lips there way longer than a dad would. It’s sweet, sexy, and sort of confusing.

He pulls back, studies my face, and shakes his head. “Hmmmm. Well, we can’t have that.”

“Can’t have what?”

“I’ve gotten good at reading your face.” He softly touches my other cheek. “This side is jealous.”

He chuckles at himself then gives my other cheek a matching slow kiss.

“Um, so, thanks for di

“We’re doing this again soon,” he says as he shuts my car door.

Mom meets me in the entryway. “Were you actually on a date? With a man?”

“No.” I roll my eyes.

“So who were you with?”

“His name is Vincent Sharpe.”

Mom squints her eyes. "I know that name."

“You should. He’s been in on the financing for a couple of your movies. He's also Viviane Sharpe’s grandson. You heard she passed away, didn’t you?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t. That’s so sad. She was an amazing actress. So how do you know Vincent?”

“Brooklyn and I met him the other day. He’s buying a house down the beach. Actually, it’s really sad. He was buying it because it’s the same piece of land where Viviane and her husband used to live. He was going to surprise her with it on her birthday next month. He was all alone on the beach yesterday. I helped him spread her ashes. We’ve kinda gotten to be friends.”

“That was sweet of you, Keatyn, but how old is he?”

“I don’t know, maybe late twenties, early thirties. I didn’t ask. And it was not a date. It was a thanks-for-being-nice-to-me di

“Keatyn, I’ve warned you about that.”

“I know. I know. But he owns the rights to remake your old movie, A Day at the Lake. He said he’s been having a hard time finding someone to fill your shoes. He thinks I look like you.”

“Hmm. I know a lot of people say that, but when I look at you, all I see is your father. So are you going to get to see a script soon? Do you want me to call my agent? Is acting even something you want to do?”

“Not yet. The script won’t even be done until this fall.”

“Okay. Just use your head.” She gives me a kiss and says, “I’ve got to get to bed. I have an East Coast phone interview to do at five am, then I have to get on set. Night.” She starts to head toward her bedroom then turns back around. “Oh, hey, Brooklyn stopped by earlier looking for you.”

“REALLY!? What did he say!?”

Mom looks at me kinda fu

“Ohmigosh!” I say, and go tearing out the back door and up the beach.

I try to walk leisurely down the beach, rather than ru

It’s a good thing I do, because he says, “Hey, Keats, what’s up?” as I walk up the stairs to his deck.

I realize I’m sweating.

This is nothing.

Just two old friends catching up.

“Not much. Just got home. What have you been up to? I haven’t talked to you in forever.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says. “I lost my phone.”

“That sucks; did you find it? I mean, you don’t usually call me anyway. You usually just stop by.”

“I did on Monday night, but you weren’t home. Didn’t the na

“Uh, no.” Note to self: fire the na

“Where were you?”

“Monday night? Oh, I was at the Pier with a friend from school.”

“Was it a date?”

“No, just, no. I had a bad day at school. Everyone was talking shit about me and Sander’s break up, and I just needed to get out of there, so Cush and I skipped school and went.”

“Do you like him?”

“Cush?” I laugh. “No. He’s, we’re, um, we’re just friends.”

“Good.” He releases a big sigh. “I was afraid you were mad at me or started dating some guy from school.”

I’ve been awkwardly standing in front of him. He leans forward in his chair, grabs my arms, and pulls me onto his lap.

“I’ve missed you,” he says as he kisses me.

And I am back on cloud nine.

We make out for a while, but unfortunately I have a test I still have to study for. And I need to do well on this test. I totally bombed the last quiz.

“I don’t want to leave,” I tell him. “But I have to study for a test.”

“That’s okay. I’m beat. I had a busy day. So, me and the guys are going down to Hermosa Beach on Saturday morning. We’re go

“I’d love to,” I say, and give him a really long good-bye kiss.

I go home and try to study, but my brain is having a hard time concentrating. It’s busy imagining scenes with Hermosa Beach as the setting.

B and me, alone in a tent.

By a campfire.

On the beach in the moonlight.

I mentally revise the scripts of losing my virginity to include a cozy tent. In the sand under the moonlight. Or maybe in the ocean.

I picture myself stripping off my bikini and ru

Thursday, May 19th

Pay for what you’ve done.

8:10pm

Tommy and I just got home from grabbing a quick di

“You know, my parents never would’ve let me go to a club at your age, let alone drive a freaking Ferrari.”