Say It Sexy by Virna Depaul Page A

when she was free of worry or the scrutiny of others.
    “Well, I think now is the perfect time to talk about it,” she said. “I don’t want to argue, I want to discuss. I was raised with dinner time conversation, unless you all prefer to eat in silence.”
    “Not me,” Shane replied.
    “Gwen,” Erica said, tossing her a knowing look. “I’m sure there are other topics to choose from.”
    “But none of them would be nearly as entertaining to watch.” I gulped back a swig of my beer.
    Erica scowled at me.
    “Tyler feels a certain way about my work. I want to know what it is and why.”
    “Waiter!” Erica called just as the guy was passing our table on her end. “Excuse me, may I have another house margarita?”
    “Come on, guys,” Shane piped up, eyeing everyone. “We’re supposed to be a team here.”
    Tyler hadn’t said anything about Gwen’s attempt at conversation. Just sat there staring at us, face impassive.
    “Why is it we can’t have discussions without thinking it’s an argument?” Gwen asked. “A good debate can build camaraderie.”
    I shrugged my agreement. “And UST.”
    Erica caught the waiter by his sleeve before he could slip out of reach. “Can you actually make that a double?”
    Gwen’s brow furrowed. “What’s a UST?”
    “Unresolved sexual tension, Gwen,” I said softly, noting with satisfaction the way her eyelids flickered and she blushed before looking away. I straightened a little. Yeah, I knew a lot about UST, and despite trying to fight it, so did Gwen. Maybe with a little push from me, she’d be willing to admit it.
    “I swear I don’t have one of those…anymore.” Shane laughed, patting out a rhythm on the table.
    “Sugar, it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Erica mumbled.
    Shane scowled with a half-smirk. “Uh…nice to know you think I’m pretty, but I was kidding. Someone has to lighten up the mood.”
    Erica squirmed and blushed, focusing her interest on her colorful margarita glass while at the same time trying to look like she was perfectly at ease.
    “It’ll be fine,” Gwen said. “I’m just curious to know Tyler’s thoughts on soap operas. So tell me, Tyler,” she encouraged. “You’ve won an Academy Award already. Surely, you know more than I.”
    To my surprise, Tyler straightened in his seat and folded his hands on the table, looking for all the world like he was actually happy to engage with the rest of us. “But you wouldn’t value my opinion if I hadn’t.”
    Gwen pursed her lips in thought. “Probably not as highly, no.”
    “At least you’re honest,” Tyler said, reaching for some chips.
    “Does anyone else want a margarita?” Erica asked.
    “Look, Vickers…” Tyler’s eyes locked on Gwen. “To each their own. Different people enjoy different types of entertainment. Variety is the spice of life and all that. There are just…some forms of entertainment that take more talent to produce.”
    Crystals of ice appeared in Gwen’s eyes like slivers of moonlight. “And you think your work is superior to mine because soaps use substandard actors?”
    “Oh, no, no…” Tyler shook his head, and I felt a bit of tension uncoil from the air. But the pressure soared right back to critical when he continued. “Not just substandard actors. Substandard scriptwriters, substandard soundtracks, camera, equipment, mics, stages, settings, characters…everything. It’s a cheesy business designed for a cheesy target audience who can’t appreciate a finer production. That’s all. No need to get your panties in a twist over it.”
    I winced. Jesus, I’d even known it was coming, but Tyler’s brass balls were still a little too huge to be believed.
    “My panties are just fine,” Gwen said, and the table got suddenly very quiet. “And I disagree with you.”
    Tyler sighed, pressing his hands against his forehead. “And I guess we’re pretending for a moment that I care.”
    “Well, I do care.” Gwen raised her chin. “I