On Bended Knee

Chapter 2

Janelle gave her a withering look.

Lucy sighed. "And he was really hot and really famous and he maybe flirted with me a bit and that's it," she said in a rush. She tapped the toes of her sneakers together a few times as she spoke.

"How hot?"

"Scorching."

"How famous?"

"Oscar nominee."

"Anyone I've heard of?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about my patients without their permission."

"That's quite the blush you're working on. It wasn't Frederick Asherton, was it? I heard he was spotted in town."

Lucy pressed her lips together and said nothing. Janelle gave her a searching look, then her eyes flew wide open.

"Holy shit, it was." Janelle took a deep pull from her cigarette and tilted her head back to blow the smoke towards the white-painted porch ceiling.

"I can't officially confirm that." Lucy paused, trying to think how to explain."This nameless guy, though, I liked him. I mean, it was exciting to meet a celebrity, but I really liked spending time with him. He was charming as all hell. It was kind of overwhelming. He was just so smooth, and so...I dunno, full of himself, but he wasn't a jerk about it. I can't quite tell if he was actually flirting with me, or if that's just how he is."

"Okay, now I'm starting to get why you were so distracted."

Lucy was starting to feel more settled now, though. The air was cool and fresh, and Janelle's down-to-earth attitude always grounded her.

"Are you going to see him again?"

"I asked him to come back for a follow-up, yeah."

"Sooooo not what I meant. You'll go for it, right?"

"No! He's my patient."

"Pfft. For an ouchie, not a heart transplant."

"Yeah, but, what if I read him all wrong?"

"Then nothing happens. If you go for it, maybe you get to kiss him, maybe you don't. If you don't go for it, you definitely don't get to kiss him."

"What if I make a fool of myself?"

"He's only here to make a movie. He won't be here forever. You'll probably never see him again after his next appointment. Feeling like a fool for a bit isn't fatal."

* * * * *

As Lucy closed her apartment door behind her, she wondered if she really had a shot with Frederick Asherton. It seemed laughable that he would be interested in a boring schmoe like her. She knew she had her charms, but she was leagues away from the type of women that a movie star would be surrounded with day after day.

But Frederick didn't strike her as the type to chase women based entirely on their outer beauty. She suspected—she hoped—that he was the type of man who wanted a woman of substance, one with a desire to do good things with her life and who didn't use the wealth and fame of her boyfriend as a measure of her own worth. The kind of woman who helped the elderly and liked working in the middle of nowhere and considered a long run to be her weekend's entertainment.

Hey, a girl could dream, right?

Lucy sighed as she hung her bag on one of the hooks she'd hung on the wood-paneled wall beside the door. She pulled off her shoes and nudged them onto the brightly-colored braided rug sitting on the wooden floor beside the door; the wood had all been milled by Janelle's family, of course. The apartment was not huge; it was only a few steps from the doorway to the cosy living room, complete with real wood-burning fireplace and her beloved faded red leather couch. But it felt enormous compared to the closet she'd rented in Toronto. She flung herself full-length onto the couch and draped her forearm across her face.