Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(88)

“I don’t know, Coop.”

“You don’t have to know. Because I know. You just make sure that Leyna is still on board. And then leave everything else to me.”

We hang up, and while I should know better by now — boy, should I know better! — Coop’s enthusiasm and conviction have started to infect me. Or maybe it’s the thought of getting to tell Leyna that the film’s still on, that she’s still my leading lady.

Or possibly it’s just the sleep deprivation.

Whatever the cause, I stroll up to Leyna’s house — a cute yellow-and-white two-story that looks like it should be on a TV show — with a big grin on my face. Give a light rat-a-tat-tat on the front door, and a few moments later, a tall hollow-cheeked woman with long bleached-blond hair — Leyna forty years from now? — is standing in the entryway.

“You must be Shane,” the woman says, extending her bony hand.

“Sean,” I correct her as we awkwardly shake. Weird that her mom would be home. I’d think we’d need some privacy for the unveiling.

“Of course. Sorry. I’m terrible with names. Forgive me. I’m Claudia.”

“Hi,” I say.

Claudia steps to one side. “Leyna will be right down.”

I enter the house, which smells vaguely of lemons and is as picture-perfect inside as out. I’m shown to a formal room — with uninviting ornate floral couches and armchairs — and am told to make myself comfortable.

I glance around at the museum-ness of it all and think that it isn’t exactly the living room of a girl who wants to show you her “little muffin.” But then I guess growing up in such an uptight environment might make you want to be a bit more wild and free.

I stroll over to the window and stare outside at the well-manicured bushes just starting to regain their leaves. I need to think about what I’m going to say when she shows it to me. I have to be easygoing about it. Happy and grateful but not overly enthusiastic. I don’t want to come across as some noob who’s never seen a naked girl up close and personal.

Even though it’s true.

Yes, I saw Ms. Luntz on the nude beach last year. But I don’t count that. A grossed-out chill rockets up my spine as the image escapes its lockbox. Besides, while that may have been in person, it was hardly up close, thank Gandalf.

I pace around the living room, being careful not to bump into anything. Shake my arms out, roll my head around my neck like I’m about to do the fifty-yard dash.

Have to stay chill, Sean. Be all casual when she shows you. Just observe, and smile, and say something like, “Yes, that’s lovely. One of the prettiest I’ve seen. Quite impressive.”

Quite impressive? What are you, an art critic? Jesus.

I crane my neck to see if Leyna’s coming down the hall.

Okay. Deep breath.

Claudia told me to make myself comfortable and so that is what I will do. I sit down on the fancy couch facing the window and casually cross my right foot over my left leg. I toss an arm up over the back, glance over to the seat next to me, wink and point, and say, “Hey, there. Nice vagina. Thanks for showing it to me.”

Oh, come on, Sean. You can do better than that. I hunch over, press my palms into my eyes. Think, man. Think. How would Captain Kirk respond to seeing a woman’s Mystical Coif of Elements?

“I’m not going to . . . lie to you, Leyna. . . . Your genitalia . . . is ravishing. . . . Perhaps the . . . most exquisite specimen in the known universe. . . . Of all the females in all the races that I have had the . . . privilege . . . of encountering . . . your Omega Nebula . . . is unrivaled.”

“Who are you talking to, Sean?”

Oh, crud. It’s Leyna.

I pull my hands from my eyes and look up to see her backlit form standing over me.

“I was, um”— I swallow —“just going over some dialogue. For a new scene. That I wrote. Just now. In my head.”

“Oh,” Leyna says doubtfully. “But I thought the movie was dead.”

“Oh, my God, no . . . That’s . . . what I was going to tell you . . . now . . . Coop just had this great idea for filming the movie. On our cell phones. I know it sounds crazy, but we think it might actually work. Anyway, I was hoping . . . uh . . . I mean, if you’re not doing any other movies at the moment”— I laugh way too loud at my own lame joke —“if you’re free, maybe you could go back to being Nashira?”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to!” she says, sitting next to me on the couch and putting her hand on my leg. “I’m so glad to hear you haven’t given up on your dreams.”

“No, no, still got those dreams,” I say.

“Well, I want to talk all about it. But first, the reason I asked you over.” She gives my knee a squeeze. My leg jumps like it’s been stun-gunned. “Would you like something to drink first?”

My mouth is pretty parched, but I shake my head. “Nah. I’m good. Thanks.”

“Okay, then.” Leyna slaps her knees. “Should we get right to it? I mean, I don’t want to rush things, but I have been waiting quite a while for you to have a peek at this.” She laughs. “Time to put your doctor’s hat on.”

I gulp. “Uh . . . I . . .” My eyes dart around, all my grand plans gone up in smoke. “Where do you want to . . . ?”