Page 7 of Can’t Fight This Feeling

Somehow, I have to convince her of the truth. I love her, and I’ve loved her for years. But how the fuck do I show her?

Convincing her of anything is like walking on broken glass. But I’ll gladly do it if it gives me the chance to make her mine.

Chapter Three

Marcy

Come Monday morning, it’s business as usual. Stale cigarette smoke and expensive perfume cling to the air when I walk into the studio. I wave to the crew as I weave through the equipment. My staff will arrive any minute with the garment racks and accessories.

The manager points me to the area they’ve set aside for costumes and styling. The makeup artists and hairstylists have already arrived and greet me with air-kisses. We’ve worked together on projects in the past. At this point in my career, I know most of the major players in the industry with roots in the city.

“How was your weekend?” I ask when my reliable employees arrive with the covered garment racks.

“Totally rad,” Trixie gushes. She’s a whiz when it comes to hair. “Hit a party on the Upper East Side. What about you?”

“Oh, yeah. Me too. It was an intimate get-together though. Very exclusive.”

Liana catches my eye and hides a grin behind her hand. We’re very selective about the information we share within the industry. Too much propensity for gossip. I like to keep my personal details under wraps, so I cultivate a persona that fits the bill. My girls know this and support it 100 percent.

“Bitchin’.” Kit, the makeup artist, slides from her seat by the window and stubs out her cigarette. “Did they tell you who we’re styling today?”

“A couple of new artists for an MTV slot and an actor from that show everyone’s raving about.”

“Vic Simmons.” Trixie swoons dramatically. “He’s so choice.”

I snap my gum and shrug. “Never heard of him.”

“Seriously?” Liana gawks at me. “You’ve watched that detective show he was in—”

She snaps her mouth shut at my stern look. I peel the cover off the rack and skim through the clothing selection I packed yesterday.

“Oh, that’s him? Huh.” I play it off while Liana positions the other racks along the wall.

“That role as the brooding detective set him up. He’s hot stuff now.” Kit pops her gum and fixes her hair in the mirror. She readjusts her crop top, ensuring her breasts are at their most visible. “I heard he’s single. Dumped that actress he was with last month.”

“Really?” Trixie perks up. “Dibs.”

“You can’t call dibs,” Kit snaps. “All’s fair in love and war, honey.”

Trixie sticks out her tongue and then applies a generous gloss to her already pouty lips.

These two are ten years younger than me, and they act it. They have no idea what a steady relationship is, judging from the banter I regularly hear. Not that I hold it against them. Truth is I’m jealous. I wish I had spent my twenties having fun and hitting on every guy who crossed my path. Unfortunately, most of that decade of my life was spent hidden in a small apartment afraid I’d end up in the ER because I’d made him mad. Again.

I shake the thoughts away. No. He doesn’t warrant a moment of my time. The past is gone, and I’m not going to give another man that kind of power over me. Ever.

“Isn’t he in his forties?” Liana asks. “I didn’t know you guys liked older men.”

“It’s Vic. He’s hot for an old guy.” Trixie tugs her pink-and-gray ripped tee shirt to the side, exposing her shoulder.

I bite my tongue. They’re only after the sex and the status. They don’t care about the nitty-gritty details of a relationship.

Oh, to be young and carefree again.

A knock at the door interrupts us. The stage manager pops his head inside. “Ready when you are.”

“Bring them in.” I nod and take charge. Trixie and Kit ready their stations while Liana and Donna organize the rest of the clothing.

Three gorgeous women enter the room. They all look vaguely familiar. But then again, everyone does in this industry. I’ve worked with them before, but they don’t acknowledge the prior connection. They see so many stylists throughout the course of their careers. I don’t take it personally when they’re so distracted they forget they’ve met me. In this industry, we’re just the magicians behind the scenes. And even though we don’t get the recognition we deserve on camera, the studio knows exactly who they want working for them. After a quick greeting, we launch into action. Time to make some magic.

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