Getting Tricky Read online

  “So you’re Lyla,” Trick said, from the corner of his mouth, behind his infamous smile.

  “Yes, Mr. Strickland, I am,” she said, restraining herself from asking what gave it away, the big dress and the vows maybe?

  “Think it should be Trick, don’t you?” he said.

  Paul growled aloud and waved as he marched down the aisle toward them. “No talking! Can you just smile and walk please?”

  “Damn,” Trick muttered and began to walk backward, but he went too fast and she whooped as she tried to keep up.

  Her groom’s manners only went so far. Trick’s patience might be stretched, but so was hers. Frustration was no excuse for him dragging her around by her arm that he had clamped under his.

  Next time, they both did their best to smile and walked up the aisle without talking. Paul was grumbling and unhappy when they finished the shot, but Trick landed a glare on the director that made her shiver.

  Oh yeah, he was pissed and he wasn’t doing it again. That was just fine with her.

  FOUR

  Pictures weren’t much better. Everyone was in a bad mood. Smiles were forced and the group shot was probably the best one, and that was only because it was so wide. They only took half a dozen before Paul called his crew over.

  Trick went to join his personal posse.

  Lyla had seen the woman at the head of the group looking at her frequently throughout the day. She’d been in the front row on Trick’s side, so Lyla guessed that the woman was Trick’s mom. She was looking again and seemed to want to come over, but Trick put an arm around the front of her chest and drew her back.

  “Ok,” Paul said, rushing over to her, reaching Lyla even before her aunt and mother managed to. He put an arm around her and began to guide her away, but paused to look around. “Where’s Trick?”

  Turning, she pointed back. “With his family.”

  “Right. Trick!”

  Trick turned, but took his time speaking to his family before he left them and came over to join her and Paul. “Now do we eat?” Trick asked when he got to them.

  “In a minute,” Paul said. “You’re supposed to get an hour to talk, we have to cut that, we just don’t have time to get everything in. You can have fifteen minutes; the cameras will follow you up. There’s a seating area at the top of the stairs, in the sunroom, it’s lit.”

  “Wish I was,” Trick said, digging his hands in his pockets.

  Paul just grumbled at him and shooed them up the stairs. Trick didn’t even wait for her, he took the stone steps two at a time and got to the building while she was just halfway up the staircase. Trying to negotiate her dress and ridiculous shoes without falling on her face delayed her, but Lyla would rather take her time than embarrass herself on film.

  Lyla didn’t know the layout of the hotel, so she was glad to get to the building at all. But when she entered the glass doors of the sunroom, she found herself alone. Huh. Trick had definitely been ahead of her, she couldn’t see how he could get lost.

  “Lose your groom?”

  Turning around, she saw Cliff and the camera closing in on her. “Uh, looks that way,” she said.

  “How do you feel?” Cliff asked, gesturing at her to sit down from behind the camera.

  Backing up toward the cushioned wicker couch, she looked down and then spread her hands on her dress without sitting. “The dress… can I crease the dress?”

  “Are you going to stand all night?” Cliff asked. “You’ll have to sit down for dinner.”

  “True,” she said. “If there’s a seamstress around, some of the layers are detachable.”

  “Continuity,” Cliff said.

  Damn that word. She exhaled and sank down, but lost most of herself in the skirt. Shoving it down, she stretched out her legs to point her toes, but it didn’t matter to the camera because the operator crouched to film up at her.

  “Are you trying to get a shot of my underwear?” she asked, pushing the air out of her skirt.

  “Looks like you’re sitting on a cloud,” Cliff said, glancing at the image on the top of the camera. “So, forgetting the production stuff, how do you think the day went?”

  “Oh God,” she said. “Like a comedy of errors.”

  Cliff smiled. “Can you remember to repeat the question in your answer and… you know… try to stay positive, you just got married. Smile.”

  Sick of hearing that word, she was tempted to sink back, but still felt the bulk of the dress getting in her way. “I think the day went well,” she said, wondering when she’d become such a convincing liar.

  “And your groom, what do you think of him?”

  Trailing her eyes toward the courtyard, and then the other way to the building that was attached to the room by a set of open double doors, she wondered where he’d got to and what she could say about him that was positive. “I think my groom is… funny.”

  Yeah, he was funny, great at cracking jokes, not so great at being where he was supposed to be. “And what do you think he thinks of you?”

  Of her? How was she supposed to answer that question when they’d exchanged so few words? “He thinks her feet hurt.”

  The camera turned as they all did toward the double internal doors; Trick emerged from the dimly-lit bar beyond carrying two glasses of some kind of dark liquor. Sauntering over, Lyla expected him to offer her one of the glasses. But he didn’t. He tossed one measure into his throat quickly followed by the other.

  Crouching, he shoved the empty glasses onto an end table then dropped to his knees beside her and tucked a hand under the end of her dress to circle her ankle with his hand. Relief made her exhale when he pulled off her shoe. Her head fell back when he slid the other off.

  “Way into a woman’s panties, start by taking off the shoes,” Trick said.

  Horror made her head snap back up, but he was talking into the camera, not to her. His hand slid up the front of her leg as he rose to slide onto the couch beside her. Leaning over her, Trick let her skirt gather against his arm as his hand slid up over her knee.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her lungs getting tighter.

  “Getting to know you,” he murmured and leaned in.

  Planting her hands on his chest, Lyla gave him a hard shove and put space between them. Glancing at the camera before she looked back at her groom, she tried not to freak out. “I don’t think that’s what they meant.”

  “They meant whatever we want them to mean,” he said and tried to kiss her again.

  “I’m not ready to… I can’t kiss you,” she said, her eyes popping toward the camera and the other silent men in the room.

  “Just ignore them, babe, you focus on me.”

  His hand went higher when he tried once again to kiss her, but she wasn’t giving in. “Our families are right out there,” she said. In a glass room with other men was one thing, but outside the glass were their families and colleagues who would be making their way up to the hotel for dinner soon.

  Trick sniggered, his eyes heavy as he focused on her lips. “I wasn’t gonna take you all the way right here… But if that’s what you want, Mrs. Strickland, that dress will give us all the cover we’ll need… you slide on over into your old man’s lap.”

  Sitting back, he slouched and patted his thighs with both hands, which gave her the ability to sit up and try to regain some composure as she straightened out her dress. “I think, Mr. Strickland, you need to hold your horses and think about bringing a girl a drink before you put your hand up her dress.”

  “Liquor!” Trick announced, slapping his knees and sitting up straight. “My second favorite thing to do with a girl. We’re not so opposite after all, are we, sweetheart?”

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek so fast that she didn’t even realize it was happening. And she was still gaping at Trick when Cliff spoke. “Ok,” the assistant director said on a laugh. “We’ll cut it there. You guys have five minutes before we’re coming to get you… enjoy it.”

  The assistant dir
ector took his cameraman and sound guy out of the room and closed the doors, though did it matter when they were in a glass room? Lyla was pleased to have transparent walls because she didn’t want to be alone with this Neanderthal of a man who was only interested in booze or sex.

  She was about to chastise Trick for his behavior when he sagged and let his head fall against the back of the couch. “I had no idea that a wedding was so exhausting,” he said, his eyes closed. “Don’t put those shoes back on if they hurt your feet, screw continuity.”

  Who was this guy? This relaxed guy who was talking without that thread of innuendo in his tone? “Uh, Mr. Strickland…”

  “Seriously, babe,” he said and managed to catch her hand without opening his eyes. “Call me Trick. We’re married.”

  “Right,” she said, looking down at their joined hands that were resting on the cushion of her dress. “Married.”

  “Do you know what we’re having for dinner?”

  Why couldn’t she stop looking at their joined hands and why did no one tell her that his hands were so big? “No,” she said.

  “Doesn’t matter, I guess, I’m starved, I’d eat just about anything right now… You know, they made the announcement at Prem about an hour ago, so I’d expect some of our colleagues to show up to this shindig tonight.”

  How did he know this? And who knew his fingers would be so thick between hers and feel so solid? But they were warm, and his fingertips were rough, why would his fingertips be so rough? “Right,” she mumbled.

  “Hey, you ok? I mean… apart from the obvious whiplash of going from single to married in a day?”

  Forcing herself to turn, she saw his head was tilted toward her, his eyes open to slits. “I’m… confused… you don’t want in my underwear anymore?”

  His smile almost turned into a laugh as he closed his eyes and let his head twist away again. “Yeah, that was full-on; I figured they warned you, you did good… Production did their job good though, finding a woman so opposite to me. I knew pretty much as soon as you walked around the corner of that screen that you weren’t my type… So, we’re good, I’ll play it up; I know what I’m supposed to do. But it’s damn clear you’re not attracted to me, so just keep slapping me down and we’ll be good… It’s what the audience wants, right?”

  “Great television?” she murmured.

  “Exactly.” The double doors opened and Paul appeared with a camera. “Time to turn it on, sweetheart,” Trick whispered and grinned before leaping to his feet and pulling her up. “Gotta get my girl drunk enough to enjoy the wedding night.”

  It was obvious her groom was talking to the camera and it even got a wink as he dragged her past and into the bar that led to the dining room beyond.

  “Ready to split?” Paul asked.

  Lyla hadn’t seen much of Trick all night.

  The Prem crowd had been in and had cheered accordingly, but she had a lot of explaining to do. Specifically, to Curtis who had been her only friend in the building for a long time. He didn’t get it, and she was sorry that he seemed so annoyed.

  At least her parents liked the food and there was an open bar, that was something. The rest of the guests seemed to be having fun too. The night got progressively rowdier as the guests drank as much free alcohol as they could.

  The first dance had been a war of the hands. Trick kept trying to grab her ass and pull her close as she fought to maintain a more traditional stance. He didn’t seem to care much about them having an audience, both in terms of their friends and family members that were around the perimeter of the dancefloor, or the camera that kept coming in close to try to pick up their conversation.

  The fifth time she had to duck his kiss was the last time.

  After that, she pushed his hands from her body and excused herself for the ladies room. Lyla didn’t make a big deal of it, just acted like she really needed to go. Except the truth was, she couldn’t even use the bathroom because of the dress. She’d been holding it all night, so she hadn’t drunk much, but that was fine with her. Trick was fast with his hands and his mouth, and Lyla had to keep her wits about her when he was trying to steal from her what he wanted.

  Her mother seemed to like him though. Cece thought he was mischievous. Lyla didn’t get it. The man was constantly trying to grope her, always hugging other women and leaning in just a little too close, taking a good look down their dresses as he did. Yeah, he was mischievous, and a letch.

  She still hadn’t met any of Trick’s family; they’d been at their own table all night and didn’t venture far from it. Nathaniel and Noah, Trick’s cohosts, spent a lot of the night at that table too, but the two of them she had met and danced with. They seemed to talk about sex as much as Trick did.

  All in all, it had been an exhausting night and she was so relieved that Paul had come to offer a reprieve.

  “Yes,” she said, pushing away from the bar where she’d been loitering alone for almost an hour since her parents and aunt left.

  It was a long journey home for them, so she didn’t begrudge them leaving, especially since they still had to pick up the twins from their friends’ houses. But Curtis hadn’t stayed either, so she was left alone, in a dress she was still paranoid about creasing.

  “Where’s Trick?” Paul asked.

  “You’re asking me?” she asked, looking out across the room that was starting to thin a bit now.

  The Strickland family table was empty and she couldn’t even see Nathaniel or Noah anymore. Cliff came running over to join them wearing a smile. “Good?” Cliff asked.

  “Don’t know where Trick is,” Paul said.

  Cliff blinked and poked a thumb over his shoulder. “He and the boys left with a posse a half-hour ago… they’re going to that opening in town… he took his camera crew though, so we’re good.”

  Paul nodded. “Ok, I guess, would’ve been nice to know.”

  Yeah, for her too, because she could’ve left when they did if she’d known they were going. “Can I go home then?”

  The men exchanged a look and the camera suddenly came in to view behind them. That’s right; she was being filmed all the time. “There’s a suite upstairs for your wedding night,” Paul said. “Someone should use it.”

  “Let Trick take his party there,” she said and grabbed her clutch from the bar. Her mother had kept it for her all day and she was pleased she’d had the foresight to pack her phone and some cash.

  Walking away from the men, she began to head for the exit and got as far as the lobby before she realized she was being followed. Turning around, she stopped to address Cliff. “What are you doing?”

  “Coming with you.”

  “Coming—what?”

  “We have to,” Cliff said.

  “I’m going home to take a shower and go to bed,” she said. “You have to film that?”

  Cliff shrugged. “I guess the shower is optional if you’re going to be in it alone.”

  Restraining her growl, she turned to continue onto the street. They weren’t all going to fit in the back of a cab, but that didn’t stop Cliff from joining her with a portable camera.

  It was amazing that the directors and crews still seemed to be so motivated when she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

  “Aren’t you tired?” she asked after reciting her address to the driver. “Don’t you have a family to go home to?”

  “Nope,” he said. “You want to grab a drink?”

  The camera was on, so she had to guess he was joking, but that wasn’t exactly clear when she met his eye. As unimpressed as she felt, he was smiling. God, she was sick of men already. This was why she avoided them and did everything she could to not talk to them or draw attention to herself. As soon as she took her glasses off and let them know she had a waist, that was it, they all became complete idiots.

  “Seriously?”

  His smile only got wider. “It’s your wedding night, right? No bride should sleep alone on her wedding night.”

  “I’ll sle
ep with Risk,” she said, without even being polite enough to smile.

  “Risk?”

  “My cat,” she said. “He has better manners than every man I met today… minus my own family.”

  Cliff looked at his watch. “We could go to the club, get your groom.”

  Yeah, production would love that, if she stormed into a nightclub in her wedding dress and grabbed her groom to haul him home by his ear. No way, she’d done enough performing for today.

  “No thanks.”

  “One last night of freedom before the whipping starts?” he asked.

  Whatever he wanted her to say, she didn’t care about trying to take his lead anymore. “No whipping,” she muttered and closed her eyes. “I can’t wait to get out of this damn dress.”

  “That we will be filming,” he said and she didn’t appreciate his teasing.

  Though, in fairness, she was probably just too tired to really focus on his humor that seemed to just keep missing the mark. “Do what you want,” she murmured, unable to fight. “I just want to get to sleep.”

  “So you can wake up early and catch your flight. Excited about your honeymoon?”

  “Sun, sea, sand, what’s not to be excited about?” she asked. “Florida’s like my dream destination.”

  “Really?” he asked and he was right to sound dubious.

  She cracked an eye. “I’m more of an Alaska girl,” she said. “Lots of layers and hot chocolate around an open fire.”

  “And a good book.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes again. “You’re getting to know me so well, Cliff… Now will you let me take my clothes off in private?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “I’ll have to text Paul.”

  So this was her life. One guy had to get another guy’s permission to find out if she had to strip in private or on film. “You won’t be missing anything. Trust me.”