Authors: Liz Matis
“I’m not armed.”
“Neither was I.” She faked a move to the right and pulled back, grinning widely when he fell for it, and then lunged to the left. Victoria got in two solid body hits before Russ was able to wrestle it away from her. Now it was her turn to run.
“Cut! That was epic,” yelled the director, saving Victoria from any retaliation.
“I owe you one.” Russ pointed to Victoria with the bolster pillow.
Hmmm, quite the phallic image.
She held back a grin. The crew was supposed to think they hated each. “Stop being a child.” She made a show of primping her hair.
“No, no, no. I sewed. You build something out of wood.”
“I don’t play with wood.”
The crew burst out into hysterics and Victoria realized what she had said. She turned around and stared them down. The set quickly went silent. Russ may not be scared of her but at least the crew still feared her. With only two days to shoot a show it didn’t leave much time for fun and it fell to her to keep them on track. She looked at their now serious faces. She felt bad. What she had said was funny; hell, they probably thought that’s why she’s so bitchy. A bubble of laughter rose within her and she let it out. At first the crew was stunned, which made her laugh harder, and then they joined in.
Victoria looked back to Russ who was smiling and winked knowingly at her.
***
T
he dreaded reveal was five minutes away. Since the homeowner’s reaction can’t be filmed a second time, everything from the camera angles, lighting, and sound had to be perfect. So did the room. Victoria fussed with the flower arrangement on the coffee table. Why was she always nervous before the reveals? All her clients loved her work. All except one.
The production assistant placed the blindfolded Johnsons on their marks and instructed them on what would happen next. Victoria walked over to the mantel to re-position the crystal vases. Russ snuck up from behind and reached over her shoulder to move them back to their original places. Surprised, Victoria jumped and nearly knocked one over.
“No worries. Everything looks great.”
How did he know? She turned to face him. “Really?”
“I meant what I said last night. Your choice of wall color was spot on.”
She blew out a sigh of relief. So it wasn’t just the promise of sex, he really did like it.
He pointed over to the couple. “Now let’s not keep the Johnsons in the dark any longer.”
With Russ’s stupid joke the rest of her nerves disappeared and a sense of joyous anticipation replaced it. They took their places on either side of the couple.
“Are we ready?” she said to Mrs. Johnson.
“I’m so nervous.”
“Don’t be.” She was able to say this with full confidence and not an utter of self-doubt.
“Action!” yelled Stephen.
Victoria welcomed back the TV audience and spieled through a summary of the show, reminding the Johnsons of how the room looked prior to the makeover. Russ asked what they hoped the final result would be.
“Well, let’s see if we gave you what you wanted. Take off your blindfolds!” Victoria had a full season of episodes under her belt and was used to squeals of delight from these reveals but Mrs. Johnson screamed and then proceeded to jump into Russ’s arms shouting, “Thank you.”
Was she merely overwhelmed by the makeover or was she just using it as an excuse to hump Victoria’s co-host? To Russ’s credit, he seemed embarrassed by the overt gushing, which surprised her since he did moonlight as a stripper. Being molested by over zealous women must come with the territory. Mr. Johnson ignored the display repeating, “This is not my house.”
For once she wished someone would say something original. Normally the over-used phrase didn’t irritate her but right now she wanted to shout at the husband,
Get your wife off my … my what? Co-host? Man? Lover?
“Honey, look at my TV.”
Victoria fought the urge to dope slap him. All her work and all Mr. Johnson cared about was his oversized television. His, mind you. Not our TV or even the TV. His. No wonder his wife was hoping Russ came with the room.
What about the new floor with the amazing throw rug? The re-done fireplace and painting she created just for them? You would think the couch that looked like an overstuffed backseat of a ‘57 Chevy would’ve caught his attention. She was never going to design another room with a television in it again. Never. She would force Ava to work out a new contract with the network.
Russ managed to peel off Mrs. Johnson who for the first time actually looked around at the room. “Oh, I love it. I just love it. It looks like it belongs on a cover of a magazine.”
Victoria pointed out the highlights and when she didn’t bring up the entertainment center Russ did, bragging on how the television blended in with the design. She could’ve kicked him for that one. Stephen gave the sign to wrap up the show. “This is Victoria Bryce and Russell Rowland for Design Intervention with another room saved from design disaster.”
The Johnsons thanked her as the crew, including Russ, started to break down the set. She said her good-byes and went to the kitchen to get her bag.
“Hey.” Russ leaned in with both hands on the doorframe. “Can I stop by later?” he asked quickly as he looked over his shoulder.
“Aren’t you coming to the wrap dinner?”
“I can’t—” He straightened. “Well, okay we’ll talk tomorrow about the next shoot.”
One of the production assistants appeared and Russ disappeared from her line of sight. Probably already out the door to his other ‘engagement.’ How stupid of her.
Did you think he was going to give up stripping for you?
***
V
ictoria lounged on the couch at her apartment while Ava poured her another glass of Pinot Grigio. She accepted the glass with a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and trepidation. Relief that the reveal had went well and the homeowners seemed happy. Exhaustion from all the hard work shoved into a two-day schedule. Trepidation because she knew Ava was trying to get her drunk and she was waiting for her to drop some sort of bomb.
“I’m bored.”
Victoria should have guessed. She knew exactly where this was going. “Don’t even.”
“Oh, come on. Russ invited us.”
“No,” Victoria got off the couch and marched into the kitchen and dumped the contents of her glass into the stainless steel sink.
Ava followed her in. “That’s a waste of perfectly great wine.”
“It’s my wine to waste.”
“I knew I should have made martinis,” sulked Ava. “Don’t you want to see Russ dance?”
“Dance?”
“Well, technically it is. Music. Movement.”
“Minus clothing.” A wave of nausea surged in her stomach. Victoria was glad to be standing at the sink.
“Oh, I get it. You don’t want to see hundreds of women salivating and grabbing at your man.”
“He’s not my man.”
“By the way he looks at you, he’s yours. He might not have admitted it to himself yet. Men like him need some time to figure it out.”
“Meanwhile, as we speak he’s putting on some cheesy costume only for it to get ripped off.”
“Do you think he’s a fireman, with that long hose of his?”
“Ava!”
“Oh, come on, aren’t you the least bit curious?”
Until a second ago it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Now? Images of Russ in a cowboy getup, a cop complete with handcuffs, a gladiator, and yes, a fireman, rumbaed hotly across her mind. “Are you forgetting your boyfriend Josh?”
“He’s out in LA.” Ava checked her watched. “He’s probably cheating on me right now.”
Victoria couldn’t protest since the soap opera star’s infidelity had led to two previous break-ups with her best friend. Why did Ava keep taking him back? Guilt gnawed at her. Ever since she’d stopped partying so had Ava, who also concentrated on her career as super agent. Without the constant merry-go-around of dating, her career had taken off. So had Victoria’s. But at times it was lonely and hard to find a man who wasn’t interested in what you could do for him rather than to him. Maybe going to the club would expand Ava’s dating pool. But would she be doing Ava any favors by having Russ introduce her to one of his stripping buddies who was sure to be on the prowl nightly? Is that what Russ did? Maybe Victoria needed to see it with her own eyes before her emotions got entangled in something that was an illusion of her own creation. “How are we going to get in?”
Ava grinned. “As soon as I left this afternoon I called in a couple of favors and got two VIP passes.”
“VIP?” Victoria wondered what that meant at a strip club for women. There was still one problem. “What if someone recognizes me?”
“Do you still have those disguises you used to wear to fool the paparazzi?”
Victoria had wigs in every color and style. Not to mention hats, makeup, colored contacts, and glasses. Some had worked brilliantly and other not so much. “Umm …”
“Great. I miss playing dress up. It will be just like old times.”
Ava said it like it was a good thing, but Victoria knew she was inviting trouble. And when she invited trouble, the Universe had no problems RSVP-ing with a big fat yes. Before following Ava into the bedroom to don a disguise, she refilled her glass to the brim. Better yet, she took the bottle with her.
Chapter 18
W
ho did she think she was fooling?
Russ spotted Victoria as she approached the seats in the VIP area of the crowded theater. She may have thought she was dressing down in torn jeans that obviously cost hundreds of dollars for the effect, but he knew the swell of her breasts underneath the hot pink, fuzzy shirt clinging to her body. The platinum blonde wig couldn’t conceal the elegant sweep of her cheekbones or the fullness of her bubble gum lips. She looked like a piece of cotton candy waiting to be gobbled up. He wanted a taste of her in the best way.
If those clues weren’t enough for him to identify her out of police lineup, her signature stilettos would have nailed it. “Hey, Brady.”
“Picked out who you’re going to bring up on stage?” Brady peered out the side curtain.
“The petite blonde.”
“You usually go for the tall ones like her friend.”
Russ didn’t recognized Ava at first and if it weren’t for her height and the fact she was with Victoria he wouldn’t have now. She resembled an Amazon princess with a down-the-back-length black wig. Brady was right; Ava was Russ’s type. Was.
“Something about the pixie.” He didn’t want to let on that he knew the two since they had gone to some trouble to disguise themselves. What was up with the cloak and dagger antics? In this day and age, going to a male revue wasn’t all that shocking. Victoria hosted a design show not a news program so it wasn’t like her professional integrity was on the line. Was she concerned about linking herself to him? The network might fire him if they found out their temporary co-host was moonlighting as a stripper. It was one thing to attend a show and another to be one of the performers. Or was she simply ashamed of him? After learning what he did on the side, she had made that quite clear. So why was she here?
“Great, you take Tinker Bell and I’ll take Xena.”
“Brady, I didn’t mean—”
“Good to have you back in the game.” Brady slapped Russ on the shoulder and walked away.
Russ didn’t handle that well. Ava said she had a boyfriend but it wasn’t like he could tell Brady without giving away who they were. Before he could come up with a plan to squash Brady’s hopes, the music started and the MC announced the opening act. “Ladies, you’ve been very bad girls. So, you are all under house arrest!” Riley, who wore a cop uniform, tore past him to jump out on stage. Screaming ensued. Russ was up next.
He did a few twists to warm up while he ran through the performance inside his head. It might be a mistake to bring Victoria up on stage. How would she react? She was unpredictable but to bring up another woman would be a bigger blunder. Between Brady’s after-the-show expectations and Russ’s worries over Victoria’s response, he should never have invited her to a show. What the hell had he’d been thinking?
Riley high fived him as he came off. The MC began Russ’s introduction, “Ladies, the next man has the right tool for the job.”
The music queued. Joe Cocker’s “You Can Leave Your Hat On” blared out. Russ hit the stage, flipping the screwdriver like it was a six-shooter before holstering it in his tool belt. The sound of the women was deafening and the beat of the music was hard to discern for a moment. He slowly danced his way over to Victoria’s spot. Russ slipped off his flannel shirt inch by inch, wishing it was Victoria taking off her clothes.
Stop thinking about her. Concentrate on the performance.
The spotlight followed him as he approached the VIP seating and he got an up-close look at the disguised Victoria. While she was smoking as a blonde, he disliked the violet colored contacts that hid her soul. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Feeling. She wasn’t screaming and hooting like the rest of the women. Did she like it? Or did she want to run out of the place? He wasn’t about to bring anyone else up. Russ was too smart to do that.