Changing Roles

“I’m not sure the Academy would be too happy to know you were more upset over the TV than the statue, Liam.” She winked. “I’ll keep that between us—” she paused then grinned “—Oscar.”

I laughed, enjoying her teasing and liking her nickname.

But I pretended my nickname was homage to my acting skills and Shelby let me.

She was serious when she said I had the final say in things. Her emails were endless. And perfect. She narrowed down the choices to two for everything and sent me links or pictures, and I simply chose the one I liked best and replied. I did beg her to have mercy when she sent drapery choices and questions about dishes and cooking pots. I didn’t give a flying fuck about any of that—as long as there was food on the plate, I didn’t care what color the crockery was. Or the color of the new sheets she was purchasing for me as long as they were on my bed and Marie hadn’t touched them. I told her to send me the big stuff, and I would let her choose the accessories to complete the rooms.

I was quite proud of knowing that word and decorating phrase. Shelby seemed impressed as well.

I sent the makeup artist and her husband to dinner to thank her for supplying me with them. I was grateful the email had come while Cindy was doing my makeup and she had been amused at my moan of despair when I read it. I had her type the reply to make sure it was correct. I told myself it was like someone prompting my lines off-camera.

I loved Shelby’s emails for other reasons. I got to know her through her words, and I was amazed how quickly she seemed to know exactly what I would like when it came to my home. Deep, comfortable furniture would replace the ugly, hard-leather black sofas Marie had chosen. Dark wood and warm colors on the walls removed the glass-topped tables and white walls Marie had informed me were chic. In retrospect, Marie had scared me so badly, I just let her do what she wanted so she would leave me alone. It probably wasn’t the best scenario, having her in my house.

When I walked into my house three weeks later, I hardly recognized the place. I loved every single change Shelby had made—especially the larger flat screen, which was now housed in a built-in wall unit, my repaired and shiny Oscar proudly displayed on one of the shelves.

I also reveled in my freshly replaced underwear and T-shirts. My dressers were full and organized.

Somehow, knowing Shelby had her hands all over them didn’t bother me the way knowing that Marie had touched them had.

It was different.

Marie was scary. Psycho-shower-scene scary.

Shelby, as Everett had put it, wasn’t even remotely scary. She was amazing, and I already worshiped her.

And in the six months she’d been with me, that hadn’t changed at all. It had only grown.Shelby made that funny noise, and I opened my eyes, looking at her across the room. She was staring at her tablet, her eyes narrowed and her lips moving wordlessly as she read the screen. Immediately, I shut my eyes, knowing exactly what was causing that reaction. I struggled to keep a straight face as I heard her chair push back, and her feet hit the floor in fast angry steps. My eyes flew open when her tiny but strong finger poked me in the chest.

“What the hell is this, Liam?”

I acted confused. “What is what, Beaker?”

I knew she was upset when she ignored the use of her nickname.

“This,” she hissed, holding up her iPad.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“There is a deposit in my account for $100,000. What the hell?”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I paid my debt.”

“Are you mental? You don’t owe me a hundred grand!”

I sighed patiently. “Obviously, I no longer owe you. I paid it.”

“You never owed it, you stupid British moron!”

Behind her, Everett began to guffaw. He relaxed in his chair, his arm draped casually over the back as he sipped his coffee and watched us.

I subtly flipped him the bird.

Shelby slapped my hand. “Behave.”

Dammit. She caught me every time.

“I told you I’d give you a hundred grand if you had what I wanted. You did. I paid up. Simple.”

“You say shit like that all the time. I don’t take you seriously.”

I pursed my lips, teasingly. “Wait, I owe you more?” I dug into my pocket. “I’ll call the bank.”

“You don’t owe me anything! Cancel the transfer.”

“Can’t. It’s already in there.”

“Reverse it.”

“Nope. A promise is a promise.”

She hovered over me, trying hard to be menacing. “I promise I am going to hurt you if you don’t take this back.”

“She will,” Everett sang. “I’ll help her.”

“Sod off, you git. Stay out of this. It’s between Shelby and me. And the discussion is over.”