In which Vivienne needs a favor.

Lorelei decided she wants Butterscotch to join her and Marguerite in the quilt-making adventure this afternoon, so we’re in the laundry room getting treats to make sure the young dog follows her.

“Wow, you have a lot of dog treats!” Lorelei says as we’re looking in Butterscotch’s box on top of the dryer. I shoot Rune a look over her head. Most of these goodies are brand-new additions that mysteriously arrived on my doorstep yesterday. I now have enough for three dogs.

“I think she’d like the bacon waffle bits,” Rune says, ignoring me.

My phone rings with Vivienne’s ringtone as Lorelei and Butterscotch scamper out the back door. I motion to Rune that I’ll be a second and go into the kitchen. He follows and wanders off in the direction of the office.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Do you think your dad could give me some PR help? I have a situation,” Vivienne says, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“A situation?” I ask. It’s a phrase she hasn’t used in a long time. She’d say this when dealing with one of Pamela’s tricky snafus.

“I posted a new blog on Medium a couple of days ago and it’s gone a bit viral,” she tells me, “A couple members of the press have reached out wanting interview."

“Oh wow,” I say, “that’s excellent!”

“Well, yes, but it’s because the blog is a bit controversial,” Vivienne admits with a nervous laugh, “I could use some public relations guidance. Do you mind if I call your dad?”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to help, Viv, but all his advice and contacts are about music and maybe too old school for what you need right now.”

“Okay,” she sighs, “It’s just that I’d rather not contact someone from our old agency if I can avoid it. Do you know anyone else?”

“Don’t want them in your sensuality business?” I ask, teasing.

“Not yet,” she admits, “People can be weird about anything to do with sex, even LA hipsters.”

“I have an idea, let me call you back in a few minutes,” I tell her.

I never felt comfortable sharing with Jack what precisely Vivienne does now. He once made a disparaging remark about how pathetic it was that so many people felt they needed a life coach these days. So I didn’t want to tell him about teaching sensuality until I knew exactly where our relationship was headed. I just told him she was in marketing.

But Rune’s a different matter. As an actor who got famous for being sexy, I doubt he’ll bat an eye at a sensuality coach. I find him in the office, looking intently through my small collection of fantasy novels. He’s already Howl’s Moving Castle and another favorite, Robin McKinley’s Sunshine, pulled out. My heart lifts seeing him holding these two beloved books. Maybe I really have my book nerd friend back.

“Nice backdrop for online calls,” he says, motioning with his head from my desktop monitor back to the bookcase, “Can I bribe you with one of my expensive scented candles to come and work your display magic on my set up next door?”

“Sure,” I say, as a bubble of happy pride rises in my chest, “but trade me for this favor instead. My friend Vivienne is looking for a publicist. I can connect her with my dad, but maybe you know someone who might be a better fit?”

“What is she?” he asks, continuing to browse, “An artist like you?”

“It’s better if I show you,” I say, suddenly shy about precisely what Vivienne does. Slipping into my office chair, I pull up Vivienne’s Medium page while I explain what she told me on the phone.

Rune scoots the other office chair over. He sits right next to me, shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the large screen. This is how we used to sit as kids. We were almost always glued at the hip while working on various summertime projects.

Happily, we’re not on a couch, so his thigh isn’t next to mine. Having his broad shoulder right there is enough to send the lower half of my stomach into fluttery rhapsodies enough as it is.

When will my body get over ignoring that I’m mad at him? Sooner or later, I need to address what happened at Sundance. I’ve decided, however, it’s better if I wait until after the fundraiser. I don’t want to jeopardize things. I really like the idea of his being my fake date to face Jack, Amy, and everyone else.

Vivienne’s latest post shows Why Hollywood Needs Sensuality Coaching Next as the headline. I glance at her gorgeous new headshot. She has 12k followers now. Wow. That’s a definite improvement from the last time I looked. I click on the post. It reads:

I’m delighted that Hollywood is getting used to the idea of Intimacy Coaches! Let’s give a big cheer to the pioneering women who make safe environments on set for the actors doing the brave work of playing out for the camera the love scenes that thrill us.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Now, may I suggest a bold next step? Hollywood needs sensuality coaches like yours truly to help craft more positive relationship arcs and love scenes. I’m talking about scenes that not only titillate and add to the story, but inspire and help educate the public about positive, responsible sexuality. Are some movies and television shows already doing this? Yes. But much more is needed.

“I bet she’s causing a buzz with this,” Rune chuckles, “Will you email me the link?” Rune asks, starting to scan through other posts.

“Sure. Can I tell her you’ll think about it and get back to her?”

“I know who’d be perfect,” he glances at me from under his thick, long, red-blonde lashes and then back at the screen, “Call her back.”

I focus on getting Viv on speaker so I can ignore my nether regions dancing in delight, “Hey Viv, this is my friend Rune, whom you know better as Gregg Allman.”

“Pleasure to meet you, talented man,” Vivienne says graciously as always.

“Lovely to meet you, Vivienne. Shelby tells me you need a good publicist,” Rune answers just as graciously back, continuing to scroll through her posts.

“Do I! Can you help a lady who poked a hornet’s nest of ego?”

Rune gives a surprised bark of laughter at this, which launches us all into giggles.

“Many of the male power mongers in Hollywood, especially the older ones, still aren’t too keen about Intimacy Coaches,” he tells her.

“Hopefully, I haven’t ruined my new career just as it starting to pay off nicely.”

“Nah,” he tells her, “Controversy is an excellent way to start a conversation.”

“That’s the plan. But I didn’t think it would happen so fast,” Vivienne admits. “Have you ever worked with an Intimacy Coach?” She asks, and as she says it, I realize I’m dying to know too.

“Yes, but not enough,” he admits, now scrolling through his phone, “Especially early on when I was a teen and young adult and really needed one. The mother and daughter team I’m considering might be out of your price range, but they’re amazing even if you can only afford a couple hours of their time.”

“I’ve been wise at saving my pennies for important things,” she tells him.

“Here’s their number,” Rune says, texting it to her. He and Vivienne exchange email addresses, too. I’m surprised he does this so easily, as if it’s no big thing. Does he trust me enough to trust my friends with his privacy?

“Thank you. I’ll call them right now,” Vivienne says and signs off, obviously eager to reach out.

“Thank you, Rune, I appreciate your help,” I tell him as I get up.

This was kind of him, but I don’t want to sit here adjacent to Vivienne’s sensuality advice while my body’s humming with excitement over his proximity. Plus, I’m anxious to see if there are viable costumes in Theo’s collection for tomorrow night.

“I’m happy to help. Can I borrow these?” Rune asks, standing as well and tapping the cover of Sunshine. I see he's also picked up Terri Windling's The Wood Wife, which is another excellent choice.

“Sure, but if you’re looking for books for Lorelei, that top one’s too old for her,” I say, looking back at him as I move toward the office door.

“Yes, I gathered that from the bondage chain around her ankle on the cover and her slinky red dress,” Rune says, not quite rolling his eyes at me but close, “Give me a little credit, Shells.”

“It’s not a bondage chain,” I retort, taking the book from him, “She’s been kidnapped and chained up in the same room as a starving vampire.”

“How silly of me for the mistake,” Rune eyes the cover as I hand it back to him, “but Neil Gaiman calls it ‘pretty near perfect,’ so I thought it was worth looking into.”

“It is,” I tell him, as we enter the living room, “I think it would make a wonderful movie or TV show, so would the other one."

“That’s what I’m looking for.”

“Is that part of what you do now?” I ask, opening the front door for us. Rune stops at the coffee table and sets down the two books.

“One of them. My production partners are bummed I’ve been off on my own storytelling adventures and haven’t found any compelling IPs to option to option recently.”

I know enough about film production to know that IP means intellectual property, i.e., a novel a movie can be based on.

“I’m jealous; you’re doing what we wanted to do as kids,” I say before I can stop myself as we head off the porch toward the barn.

“Why? Your job as an illustrator seems so cool,” he says as we traverse the distance between the two buildings.

“It is,” I agree, “but it’s still in the early days. I hope to be in demand creating book covers and movie posters someday. But it’s not as cool as seeing a favorite book come fully to life on TV or film.”

“Maybe not,” Rune concurs, “But you need the patience of a saint for adaptations. It usually takes years to make anything happen. You need to be really good at managing several projects at once, and nudging each along."

“I bet,” I say, unlocking the deadbolt on the barn and starting to slide one side of the big doors open as Rune does the other, “Howl’s Moving Castle would make a great live-action movie or TV series, too,” I add.

“Even though it was already made into a beautifully animated film?” He asks as we walk into the cavernous space which now only contains Theo’s old SAAB that I drive and a large sealed-off room that takes up about a quarter of the barn along the Eastern wall.

“You saw the movie?” I ask, unlocking the door to the vintage storage room and switching on the overhead lights.

“My friend Julia and I got to go to the U.S. premiere,” he says casually, “Whew,” he whistles, turning three-sixty to take in all the vintage furniture, paintings, stacks of clear plastic storage boxes, and rack after rack of vintage clothes that fill the room, “I after when Theo first filled it. The room wasn’t beautifully organized then. Did you do this? It’s impressive,” He’s reading a tag on the rolling clothing rack beside him.

“Yep,” I say, enjoying his compliment, “I used organizing as a way to engage Theo’s interest when I first got here and realized how depressed was.”

“I bet that was hard,” he says, walking around with keen interest in his handsome face, “If you ever tire of illustrating, you can give Marie Kondo a run for her money or work in a prop department.

“I’ll keep that in mind. The racks are organized by decade, so this should be one of the 1960s,” I tell him, moving further back and quickly reading the tag, “Yep,” I unzip the plastic cover that keeps the dust off, “Knock yourself out.”

“This is the last of the stuff from his stores?” Rune asks. He’s referring to the boutique in Long Beach on the famous Retro Row on 4th Street and another in Palm Springs. Theo owned both stores for decades.

“No, that stuff was all sold when my grandmother retired from running them,” I tell him, “These pieces are all the ones loved too much to ever sell.”

I check the tag on the next rack and see it’s also from the 60s. I unzip it revealing clothing, accessories, and shoes.

“So back to Howl’s Moving Castle,” Rune says, as he examines piece after piece of clothing, “why do you think it would it make a good TV show or movie?”