Page 7 of Steamy on Set

When I’m not working, Monty is doing everything in her power to keep me distracted. Keeping up with our tradition of playing canasta while we talk through our problems, we are spending the day together in our own form of a tournament. We’re in the finals when Mira calls.

“You’re throwing a pool party?” I look in Monty’s direction. She shrugs her shoulder with a slight nod.

“It’s boiling outside, and I figured we all need a good time off. Are you coming?”

“Most definitely.” I think of all the bikinis I have yet to show off and start to get excited. She gives us a few more details before hanging up. Having been raised to never show up empty handed, I force Monty to run to the liquor store while I get ready.

Having no intention to swim, I apply a full face before I straighten my hair. I throw on a black and gold two piece with a low-cut design meant to let my belly hang out in all its glory, and add a beautiful kaftan overtop. Monty is ready shortly after, and looking like video vixens, we head out to Mira’s.

Before we even breach the gate to Mira’s condo, we can hear the music from the street. It’s blaring by the time we make our way into her backyard, making it hard to hear her call out my name as she pushes her way through the crowd. As soon as she reaches us, I press the two bottles of alcohol into her open hands and thank her for inviting us.

“Of course,” she says, frowning at Monty. They have never gotten along, as Monty deemed from their first meeting that she felt a bad vibe about her. Mira gave up trying to get on her good side years ago, and now they barely tolerate each other. Their lack of greetings is only worsened by the face Monty pulls when Mira catches her eye.

“Drinks?” I try to cut through the awkwardness of this stand-off, pushing them towards something we all like.

“Yes drinks, follow me.” Mira leads us to a table full of bottles, cans, and a bucket of ice, pointing out all our options.

“Help yourself,” she says while putting down the alcohol I gave her. She only looks at me, making it clear who she is extending the offer to.

I try not to laugh as Monty disregards her and pops open a bottle. Mira is forced to move over as Monty damn near body bumps her to get to the mixes.

“Oh look, it’s Errol,” Mira says glancing over my shoulder. “Errol, over here,” she yells.

I listen for the sound of him approaching, hesitant to turn around and face him. When I do turn, I find he is standing right behind me. Monty does a double take, and I can see on her face that she thinks he is way hotter than I gave him credit for. Raising an eyebrow at me, she takes a long sip of her drink.

“I like your swim shorts,” she says, trying to keep a straight face at my instant anger.

“Thank you. And you are?”

“I’m Farrah’s best friend, Monty.”

“Weird,” Errol says. “Farrah definitely gives off loner vibes.”

Enraged, I look up just in time to see his snarky grin slip onto his lips. Standing there in nothing but his shorts, his shirtless look reveals a toned and glistening chest. With his hair pulled back into a pony-tail, his neck dips into a muscled collarbone that hangs over sculpted abs. Mira laughs like this is all a great joke, breaking me from my stare.

“Me and Farrah have been friends for years,” she says, looping her arm through mine.

I squeeze her hand before I take off the cover up and toss it onto a near-by chair. Errol’s eyes take me in, roaming from my neck to my thighs with a weird look on his face. Anticipating his snarky comment, I’m thrown off when it’s Mira who says something instead.

“Wow, Farrah, I love it. Any body is a summer body, right?”

Monty’s head snaps up like she’s electrified, her face pulling tight as her brows shoot down toward her nose.

“What do you mean by that?” Expecting to hear her voice, shock overcomes me when I realize it’s the deep baritone of Errol’s.

“I just mean—” Mira stutters over her words. “I just mean she looks good.”

“Really?” Errol asks.

“Yes, really. Why, you don’t agree?” Trying to turn things around on him, she asks this question with a righteous flare.

“That is not how it came off, but I’m glad that is what you intended.”

The look he gives her is full of all the disdain that is usually directed at me. Seeing it wielded in my defense is unnerving.

“You never said how you think she looks,” she says, her face red.

“Farrah always looks amazing.” There is no hint of sarcasm in his voice. “If she focused less on how she looked and more on her job, maybe she would be better at it.”

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