"They're good!" Gesine exclaims, as though she'd had doubts they would be.
Sandra sits in the booth, smoke rising all around her, mindlessly fingering petals on the rose. A waitress walks over, grabbing the plastic wrapper from the flower and setting it on her tray. A ring of condensation surrounds her green-labeled bottle.
Johnny puts two fingers in his mouth, the shriek of his whistle momentarily breaking Sandra's focus and causing her to jump.
Ahead, she sees Dennis, his hand on the wall over the shoulder of another starlet. Once a cad, she thinks, shaking her head before returning her attention to the stage.
Johnny bumps her shoulder with his own and leans down toward her ear. "Your guy's got good hands," he hollers over the music.
"What?"
"He has good hands!" he repeats, louder this time.
"Oh, yeah. He does." She stares at his fingers, strumming on the guitar.
He draws his fingers down the space between her breasts, those same fingers, down until they are circling the delicate skin around her navel. His eyes remain on her lips, watching them part as she sharply inhales with his touch.
Get a grip! she thinks, suddenly grateful for the dark crimson camouflage from the bar lighting. She grabs the sweaty bottle and gulps, the burn of carbonation a welcome distraction.
Lights are flashing and the crowd in front of the stage is jumping in unison with the beating of the drums. All around her are industry-folk: entertainers themselves, watching him play. It doesn't escape her that more than a few of the women, and a couple men, are trained only on him. The muscles of his forearm ripple as he plucks the strings. He is all sleek muscle, in fact, and she savors the knowledge that she knows this intimately.
"This is my good friend, Sandra Bullock." Dennis is back, a new blonde on his arm. "Sandra, meet my new friend, um..."
"Molly."
"Molly! Yes, of course, Molly. Stay right here, Molly, I'm gonna go grab us a couple drinks."
Molly takes a seat next to Gesine, setting her sequined purse down beside her. "So, what brings you out tonight?"
"Just watching the band," Gesine answers.
"Dogstar? I LOVE Dogstar!"
Dennis reappears with drinks in hand. "Her guy is up there playing the bass," he explains, gesturing toward Sandra.
Molly sizes her up, looks at Keanu, then back at Sandra. "Your guy? Wait, you mean Keanu Reeves? Are you with Keanu Reeves?!?"
Sandra pauses, then smiles. "Yeah. I guess I am, yes."
"'Bout damned time, too. Jeff owes me a hundred bucks," Dennis chortles.
Confused, Sandra purses her lips in a "what are you talking about?" formation.
"We...kinda had a bet goin' during filming, to see how long it would take before you two hooked up."
"You had a bet about us?"
"Wha—c'mon Sandra," Dennis scoffs. "The only ones you guys were foolin' were each other."
Sandra rubs the back of her neck a little too briskly. She feels like she's sliding off of the leather booth into a puddle, and right now that's exactly where she wishes she could be. "I-I-I—" she stutters, blinking, searching for a natural response. A bet? They had a bet about us? She tries to steel herself, but Dennis is already onto the next topic of his interest: nibbling on the long neck of his new friend.
Sandra leans in toward Gesine, whispering, "Was it really that obvious?"
"Yep!" she replies, without hesitation.
Her mouth slightly ajar, Sandra turns away from the group and back toward the stage. Toward the band. Toward him. She stares unabashedly as he sticks his tongue out during a complicated riff, she watches him tapping his toe, she watches him smile like a boy on his first trip to Disneyland. She lays a hand against her breastbone, digging her fingertips into her flesh, then releasing. She can feel the thud of her heart under her palm. There is something about watching him do what he's passionate about that ignites a flutter deep inside. She pulls her lower lip in between her teeth and forces her glance back to her sister. That's when she appeared: a somewhat tall, waifish, dishwater blonde.
Is she a woman? Looks more like a girl...
Time crawls along as she moves in slow motion with her hair floating in an invisible breeze. She strides right toward their booth, a man in a black shirt and tie following closely behind with a small tray. Her perfectly wide-set hazel eyes are framed by the longest lashes she's ever seen on another human being. The dancing stage lights set off a glimmer on her neckline as she holds her arms out wide.
Johnny stands. He grabs her by her impossibly tiny waist and pulls her into an embrace that would make an escort blush.
Bewildered, Sandra looks at Gesine, only now seeing the awkward look on the face of the man in the black tie.
Laughing, the woman presses Johnny away with a gentle palm on his chest.
Undeterred, his lips return to the nape of her neck.
She grabs his chiseled cheeks with both of her tiny hands and pulls his face level to hers. "Stohp it, Johnny," she chides in a girlish voice. "Introduce me to yohr friends!"
One hand remaining protectively around her waist, Johnny gets everyone's attention. "This is Kate, my much, much, much-much-much better half."
The fresh-faced supermodel playfully slaps him against his chest.
"Kate, you know Dennis and Sandra Bullock, of course..."
What is he talking about, 'of course'?
"Yes, uhf cohrse."
Sandra tilts her head and squints her eyes in disbelief, while Johnny continues the introductions.
"This is Sandra's sister..." He holds his palm up, fingers in her direction, clearly stumped.
"Gesine," her sister offers.
"Gesine! And this is...is..." He turns to Molly, who is tongue-deep with Dennis as though no one else were present. He pauses for a moment, his mouth in a horseshoe-shape. Shrugging, he waves them off and turns back to the rest of the group.
"Oh, I've brought you aull something!" Kate exclaims.
Knowing his cue, the man sets the tray onto the table and retreats to the bar. Twelve small glasses with amber liquid line the tray, each with a slice of lime on its rim. Next to the shots are three shakers of salt.
Sandra meets her sister's eyes and shrugs. A little bit of tequila might be exactly what she needs to cover her shock over this bet. The sisters salt their limes and raise their shots into the air.
The whole group tosses six of them back, slamming their glasses down on the table. Sandra and Gesine cough, eyes watering. Dennis shakes his head to and fro, mouth open and tongue out. Molly throws her palm across her lips as though she is trying to keep the tequila in. Johnny already has the lime between his teeth, fleshy part facing out, waiting for Kate to to take it from him, which she happily does.
Sandra has no sooner gotten feeling back in her tongue than Kate calls for round two. She obediently tilts her head back, the burning amber sliding down her throat again. Gesine's hand drops out of sight as she slyly spills her second tequila onto the ground, not unnoticed by Sandra.
"Chicken," she chides, under her breath.
"I don't want to hate life when we get up for mom tomorrow," Gesine defends herself.
"You know mom says she doesn't want us to see her off."
"Yeah, and you know she doesn't mean that."
Sandra smirks.
"Not really, anyway," Gesine continues. "You guys are peas in a pod. You both have walls so high a Trojan horse couldn't see over it."
Sandra raises her beer. "Trojan horse. Good one."
The music stops and a buzz from the crowd rises as the band takes a short break. Sandra is swaying back and forth with the tip of the bottle between her lips when Keanu jogs back to their booth. She is so relaxed, now, she doesn't even flinch when he slides into the booth next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, into a warm state of bliss. Her eyes flutter shut as she breathes in the familiar scent of leather and soap and a hint of sweat.
Before she can blink, she feels a vibration through his chest when Rob walks by, slapping his hands on Keanu's shoulder. He groans, turning toward her and burying his face into her hair, which sends an exquisite shiver to her scalp.
"Don't go disappearing, alright?" he whispers, his breath moving small strands of hair against her cheek.
She nods.
Tilting his chin and looking up from his melted chocolate eyes, he asks again, wanting her verbal promise. "Okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
"Alright, good." His warm fingers cupping the tip of her chin, he turns her head to face him and his mouth swoops in to steal a kiss.
She finds herself leaning forward, into his welcoming lips, but they are gone, leaving her bracing herself with her palm on the leather seat. She turns back to the group in the booth to find Johnny watching her, a crooked smile spilling across his lips. She is suddenly acutely aware that kiss happened in front of, well, everyone she knows, everyone she's heard of, in front of...
Everyone.
She covers her mouth with her hand.
Johnny raises his glass of Bordeaux and drops his chin in her direction.
She lowers her eyes, an embarrassed laugh escaping. Pressing her lips together in a line of defeat, she raises her green bottle, still staring at the rose lying on the table. I guess the cat is out of the bag. At least...at least it's in here.
Thirty minutes later...
The strum of Keanu's guitar in a ballad is soothing, lulling her into a dream-like state. Her head bobs lightly to the beat of Rob's drum. She is alone, in this crowd of faces, and he is playing just for her.
"Sandy."
The disembodied voice is muffled. She isn't sure it's real yet.
"Sandy!" Gesine's demand brings her out of her daze with a bang.
"Yeah?"
Gesine looks at the watch on her wrist. "It's late. I'm going to go. You coming with, or...?" Her sister's eyes are ablaze. She already knows the answer, but cannot resist the chance to poke Sandra a little bit more until she decides to let her off the hook. "You going to be okay here tonight?"
Sandra looks back at the stage. "Yeah, I'll be okay."
Gesine grabs her purse and gives her sister a quick hug and just one more poke. "Don't have too much fun!" She bids the rest of the group farewell and disappears into the crowd.
Sandra watches her as she leaves until she can see no more trace, then she takes in her surroundings. Looking toward the bar, she sees a goofy, but handsome guy behind the bar with notable brown dreadlocks framing his jovial face. That's that Counting Crows guy, right? Dropping her view she sees a gorgeous, tanned Jennifer Aniston sporting the famous "Rachel" haircut, not a strand out of place. She leans forward, raising a dirty martini to her lips as Adam Duritz plays the clown for her attention. Next to her is a beautiful woman with auburn hair and a leopard print skirt, her deep burgundy lips a contrast to her porcelain skin.
They are blotted out briefly by a tall, shockingly beautiful, leggy woman with flawless dark skin framed by flawless dark hair. Her smile is blindingly bright and she has a long arm raised into the air as she stares directly at Sandra. Unable to place her, Sandra's eyes dart back and forth until she catches movement in the corner of her eye, just to her left.
It's Kate, standing, her arms raised, too. "Naomi! Ovuhr he-uhr," she calls out in her thick accent.
Naomi! Another perfect beauty with a perfect accent. What is it about British accents that makes me feel so...dull in comparison? She ponders, blowing the bangs out of her eyes.
Naomi makes her way over to their booth, sliding in next to Kate.
Sandra watches the young supermodels in designer clothing, deep in their animated conversation, then she looks down at her plain self in her plain, black dress. One of these things is not like the other, she thinks, watching the most gorgeous women she thinks she's ever laid eyes on chat without a care in the world.
Back to the stage, she scans the crowd as they dance and sway to the music. Two tall, sinewy blondes stand to the side, directly in front of Keanu. One she recognizes instantly as Cameron Diaz, who'd had a major breakout role in a hit film called The Mask. The other she cannot place; her platinum hair in a pixie cut and her bright, white tee sliding across her lightly-tanned skin, the silky cotton dancing with her own movement and making it clear there is nothing underneath. Sandra crosses her arms across her own chest, unable to tear her eyes away. The one with the short hair is stunning. Everyone is stunning, she notes. But this one is giving off a different vibe. With one arm in the air and the other drawn across her taut abdomen, her hips slink to the right, then left. Her eyes, however, stunning blue eyes Sandra can see even in the darkness of the club, they are trained on one thing.
One person.
Keanu.
Overwhelmed with insecurity she flags down a waitress and orders another lager.
Ninety minutes and another beer later...
The last encore is nearing its end and Sandra has not been able to look away. A handsome man with dark-hair is now standing behind Cameron, his arms wrapped around her waist. The unnamed blonde is still near the stage, alone.
Sandra squeezes her eyes shut and lays a clammy palm against her forehead, feeling hot and cold simultaneously. A pounding vibration fills her skull and a prickly sensation sinks deep into her gut. The air is too thick for her to fill her lungs and her toes are electrified, demanding she move.
Now.
Rising, she streaks into the crowd, pressing towards the door. In the brisk, Los Angeles air, she leans against the cool, black brick, her shoulders bouncing up and down as she inhales and exhales.
Johnny and Kate file out, hands tightly clasped. Seeing her, they saunter over, forming a small circle.
Sandra feigns participation in their chatter but all she hears is a Charlie Brown "wah-wah-wah". All she sees is that damned pixie-cut goddess, again, standing expectantly by the door.
The door swings open and out he comes, focused. Empty-handed. She watches him as he walks toward the mystery woman, who has positioned herself to be in his path. As he nears, the woman places one hand lightly against his stomach. It works.
He stops and turns in her direction.
They chat as she watches, pretending not to watch, the muscles in her jaw in a spasm. The blonde has one hand on his cheek, now, and Sandra is overcome by waves of nausea intermixed with a searing heat.
He smiles at her.
Sandra grips the watch on her wrist, twisting it around and around, leaving a red band on her skin. He reaches for her hand and Sandra contemplates calling for a cab until she sees him draw her hand off of his cheek, smile again, nod and let go.
He continues in her direction.
She looks him in the eye and his face lights up.
In moments, his hand is around her waist, pulling her to him, bringing their mouths within the same breathing space. He takes her lips with his own and for the first time that entire night, she felt beautiful again. His hand slides down lower and his thumb is moving back and forth across her hip.
"I'm almost done packing up. Stay right here and I'll be back for you."
Her hand moves up to the muscles of his back as he leans just past her to ask Johnny and Kate to stay with her a few minutes longer. Back to Sandra, he gives her a wink and a grin and one more touch of his lips as though this were how he ended every show, and Sandra thinks to herself that maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
The door to the club closes behind him and she blinks several times, rubbing her eyes. Is that a double door? Right next to... next to the double...bouncer?!? When did the second bouncer get there? Curious she whips her head back to Johnny and Kate only to see their figures merging together in a blur.
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Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Housekeeping."
The sound of the voice outside the door jolts Sandra out of her deep slumber. She shoots straight up from the tangle of sheets, trying to place her location. She lifts the sheets and sees a large pair of plaid boxer shorts. It is only then she notices the red maple leaf on the baggy tee-shirt she's wearing. Reaching up to assess her hair, she finds her pony tail removed, her hair without any signs of a knot. A rustling coming from the corner of the room breaks her concentration. That is when she sees Keanu, sitting in that patterned arm chair with his feet up on a small, matching ottoman, nothing but a jacket covering him. He is coming out of dreamland himself, aroused by the rap at the door.
"What happened last night?"
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*Picture of Charlize Theron has Keanu in the background, walking away from her. Events surrounding that are fiction.