Page 39 of Taming Achilles

“Really, you are too much!” I laughed. “You’re going to give me an ego.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have one,” he said, waving a curling iron in the air. “If I looked like you, I’d never wear clothes.”

“Pip,” Geordie called from where he was. “You haven’t eaten. Do you want anything? I’ll send Hugo out.”

“I don’t eat before a show.” It was such an obvious thing that I got irritated that he’d even ask.

“You should eat.”

“I can’t,” I said, slowly, glaring at him through the mirror. This was my job. Not eating, dieting, exercising were part of the profession. A profession he loathed and looked down on, but it was still a career.

“What about after the show?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“You’ll come to dinner with me,” Ray said, bringing a hand to my shoulder. “You must, you must, you must! Pretty please?”

I looked at Geordie’s angry face in the mirror and smiled.

“I guess I’ll be eating with Ray.”

“You can bring him along!” Ray said, looking at Geordie. “It’s an open invitation, babe.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” I muttered.

“I’ll be happy to.” He talked over me tilting his head as we made eye contact in the mirror.

Geordie approached, not letting my eyes go. Ray’s hand was on my left shoulder, and Geordie reached out to touch my right, giving it a squeeze before he said, “I’ll get you a tea and pain au chocolat.”

“It’s not that time,” I said, referring to his little observation in the coffee shop yesterday.

“Aye, but it’s a special occasion,” Geordie said with a wink and a smile. “Tu manges chocolat lors d’ocassion spéciales.” You eat chocolate on special occasions.

I hated that he knew that about me. He ran a finger around the shell of my ear, down the curve of my neck before turning around, presumably to get Hugo.

Ray watched him walk out the door, taking an appreciatively long glance at Geordie’s derrière before leaning into me.

“Did he just speak French?” He said in a stage whisper. “That is so hot.”

“Yes, we went to a Swiss boarding school together.”

“Oh my,” he said scandalously. “Forget the Baron, this guy is … yummy.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Do you think I’m blind or stupid?” he said with a laugh. “You’re obviously fucking.”

I gasped and went to deny it, but Ray lifted his hand, palm out.

“Don’t even deny it.” He took a curling iron and started to twist my hair around it. “I was in the closet for ten years. I know when people are secretly fucking.”

I smirked at him.

“Let me guess,” he said, his eyes on my hair. “There’s baggage?”

“He’s friends with my ex,” I lied. That wasn’t even the half of it.

Ray shook his head, bringing a finger to his cheek. “No, I’m thinking it’s something else.”

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