Keith Raven certainly was… a champion. As we danced, I imagined him murmuring stage directions to me in bed the way he had during the shoot.
He leaned down and whispered near my ear, “Those photos of us are going to be so hot.”
“I’m worried about the lack of airbrushing.”
He laughed, loud enough to turn heads in the restaurant around us.
I pinched his butt. “Don’t make fun. I’ve eaten a few more cookies than you, and I assumed there’d be some digital sculpting. Mitchell told me the photographer doesn’t do that.”
Keith swept a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“You know how magazines have spreads on the no-makeup looks? And really it’s just natural shades and as much makeup as any other look? That photographer does the no-retouching look, but trust me, there’s retouching.”
“I’m so relieved I could kiss you!”
His eyebrows quirked up, and then he was kissing me, his hot lips on… my cheek. It ended as quickly as it began, and he said, “You’re welcome.”
I looked around, feeling guilty about a silly cheek kiss. If a paparazzi saw us together, and Dalton saw the photos—and he might even see them instantly, thanks to the magic of the internet—he’d be hurt. I was through with him, but I was no monster.
“I should get going,” I said, pulling away.
“Has anyone taken you to get a great night view of the Hollywood sign yet?”
I shook my head, no. I’d been in LA only one night. My sense of time stretched out like gooey taffy. Had it really been just one night? The lack of sleep was playing tricks with my sense of reality. I wanted to climb into bed. With Keith. His body had been next to mine for most of the day, and I ached to press myself against him. I didn’t want anything from him emotionally. Just his sweet, sweet skin. And his hands. And maybe a little taste of his money maker. The poor thing had been fluffed up, collared, and stuffed into so many underpants that day. He could probably use a massage after all that hard work, filling out pouches.
“Sure, let’s see the Hollywood sign,” I said.
He held his arm out like a gentleman to escort me back to our table. He took care of the bill quickly, then whisked me out of the restaurant.
The inside of his van smelled even earthier now, in the dark of night. The scent of the dirt drove me crazy in a way that surprised me.
My tongue was awake and calling my attention. My tongue wanted to be inside Keith’s mouth. I kept my mouth shut, wondering how my tongue had gotten so randy all of a sudden. My mouth watered, and my tongue swirled around like a hamster on an exercise wheel, going nowhere fast.
I should have stopped drinking after the first vodka and soda, like Keith.
“How did you get into modeling?” I asked.
We were driving through a neighborhood that would have alarmed me if we’d been in a fancy car. The green van blended right in, though, and nobody even batted an eyelash our way.
“Officially, I was scouted after appearing in a charity calendar.”
“What do you mean, officially? Is that not true?”
“True enough,” he said. “As true as anyone’s story around here. A word of advice? Don’t ever go peeling back the onion layers. You’ll only find more of the same onion.”
I gazed over at his profile in admiration. “You’re more than just a pretty face and a full underwear pouch, Keith Raven.”
He grinned and fiddled with the buttons of the radio on the van’s dash. “Raven’s actually my middle name. My real last name is Lipschitz.”
“Not as marketable.” I zipped up my jacket.
Keith noticed this and wordlessly turned on the van’s heater.
“Cool night,” he said.
I inhaled the rich, loamy scent in the van and settled into my seat. Finally, I was starting to come down from the action of the day, but I had a new problem. Finding out Keith’s last name was Lipschitz had only made me want to kiss him more.
After a few more minutes of driving, Keith pulled the van to the side of the road and stopped the engine.
He jumped out and was at my side to help me step down before I even had my seat belt off.
We were in an area with few street lamps, and the night was inky black around us. I took Keith’s hand so I wouldn’t stumble in the dark, and followed as he led me up a hill.
When we crested the rise, there was the sign.
“Wow,” I said. “I’ve seen it so many times in movies and on TV, that I have to remind myself this is the first time I’m seeing it for real.”
“For real?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ve never been to LA before.”
We were still holding hands from the climb, and he turned to look down at me. In the darkness, his brown eyes looked black and dangerous, his cheeks gaunt.
“We think we know what’s real and what isn’t,” he said. “Who’s to say you haven’t seen this sign a thousand times for real? Who’s to say that when you close your eyes and imagine something happening, like kissing a beautiful stranger, that it isn’t just as real as whatever happens when your eyes are open?”
“My eyes are wide open now. This is real.”
“Is the sky above us real?”
I gazed up at the night sky. Because of the city light and the smog in the valley, I couldn’t see any stars. The city itself, with its twinkling lights, made its own starlight.
Keith was so close to me, I could feel his body heat radiating my way. He murmured, “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
I pulled away, a bitter taste in my mouth. “That’s Oscar Wilde. You’re using someone else’s words.”
“That’s from Lady Windermere’s Fan. You work in a bookstore, so I assumed you knew that quote.” He pulled me back toward him. “I’m not trying to pull one over on you, Peaches. I’m a gardener with the last name of Lipschitz, and I brought you to see this beautiful view because I was hoping to kiss you.”
I turned and took in the Hollywood sign again. If the letters were all in a perfectly-aligned row, it wouldn’t look as real. The flaws, including some of the sections not being as brightly-lit, were what made me believe I was seeing the sign and not imagining it.
Keith wrapped his arms around me from behind, scooping me in close to him. How good it felt to be embraced. On a cool summer night, there is no feeling greater than this. I trembled at his touch.
He murmured near my ear, “The only thing more adorable than you looking up at the sky for stars is you looking at that sign with stars in your eyes.”