The Actor and the Housewife

by Shannon Hale

  Across the crowded sidewalk, leaning against the waist-high fence that enclosed the café’s patio, was a man in a baseball cap and sunglasses, wearing a very familiar, very wonderful grin. Her blood rushed from her belly outward, tingling her toes and feet, making her face feel hot. She stood up, her napkin sliding off her lap and onto the ground.

  “What the hell are you doing here?!” he called.

  “What the heck are you doing here?”

  “I live here, you beautiful thing. But I’m in Sydney this month—I’m just in town overnight for a meeting.”

  “Australia? Is that why you aren’t as pasty as a true Englishman? You’d better get over here right now.”

  “Can’t. I’m already late for that aforementioned meeting. Stay here until I get back.”

  “I’m leaving from here for the airport. Don’t make me swear at you. Get over here.”

  “Hang on.” He ran off .

  “Was that—” Karen started.

  “Felix Callahan. He’d better come back. He’d better.” Becky couldn’t look at her food. Her stomach had gone hard and small. Now that she’d glimpsed his face, she needed to see him, she needed to hug him this instant. How had she ignored that pull on her heart for so long? It was such a strong tug now, and it made her tremble with impatience. She forced herself to sit, but she kept scanning the crowd while trying to pay attention to Karen’s conversation.

  Finally she interrupted. “Sorry, Karen. That man’s my lost puppy and until I know he’s okay, I can’t concentrate on anything but fretting.”

  “Sure,” Karen said, taking a bite of salad and giving Becky that knowing look she’d received so many times in the past when it came to Felix.“

  “ He’s my best friend,” Becky explained, and realized that it was still true.

  “Wow,” Karen said. “I mean—wow. I didn’t know Felix Callahan had best friends. That’s—Wow.”

  Then there he was, sprinting back to the café. Becky squealed and ran toward him. Without slowing his stride, he put a hand on the fence and vaulted over, landing before her. He picked her up and swung her around while she screeched, putting her down again only to hug her more fiercely.

  “Don’t leave again, ever,” she said, her face smooshed against his chest. “I won’t either. I promise. I’m sorry.”

  “Mike is okay?”

  “He’s perfect.”

  “How old is our Polly now?”

  “She’s eleven, the sweetie pie.”

  “Eleven! So . . . wait, how old does that make Sam?”

  “Four.”

  He squinted. “That’s impossible. How could you let that happen?”

  “I know. We’ve taken him to the doctor, but there’s nothing they can do.”

  Felix couldn’t stop hugging her. “Can I eat you for lunch? Nothing crude, I assure you. I just want to swallow you whole so you can’t get away.”

  “Please do,” she said against his chest. “Aah, I hadn’t realized my heart had been torn in half. We weren’t supposed to be apart anymore, remember? You’re a terrible heartbreaker and I hate you.”

  “I hate you too,” he whispered against her head, then kissed her hair.

  She wondered if she should feel bad for hugging him like that. She’d had such careful rules about physical touch with Felix. But hugging him felt about as smutty as Sesame Street. Besides, she was so outlandishly in love with Mike, and Mike was healthy (Remission! Remission!), and all was well.

  Still, last time they were together, in Los Angeles and hugging, Mike had been there too. To stay on the safe side, she shimmied out of his hold.

  “What’s with the hat and glasses?”

  “I’m in disguise.”

  “As what, a famous actor?”

  “I have to shield myself from my fans lest they swoon at the mere sight of me.”

  “You are such a dork.”

  “And as ever, my lady, you are a poet.”

  He put his arm around her as they walked back to the table. Karen was staring. So was the lunch crowd. Becky flushed.

  “Karen, do you mind if Felix joins us?”

  “Not . . . at . . . all,” Karen said, hitting each word with delighted emphasis.

  “I’m sorry,” Becky said. “I’m so rude to interrupt our lunch like this. But at least I’m not a shameless show-off . He pretends he wants to be anonymous, but really he’s a ham around any audience. Did you see how he hurdled that fence? Flaunting his manly fitness, trying to pretend he’s still twenty. Look at those eye wrinkles. Does this look like the face of a twenty-year-old to you? I bet he pulled a muscle performing that jump, but he’ll never admit it.”

  “My pride is shocking,” Felix said, shaking Karen’s hand and taking a seat. “As is my incivility. But I can’t be blamed. Some force in the universe makes it unbearable for me to be away from this woman. I mean, look at her. Does it make sense to you? No scientist in the world can explain it. And believe me, I’ve hired dozens.”

  “It’s pretty simple, actually. I drug his tea. He’s English—and he drinks tea. It’s so cliché. I tried to tell him, but he insists.”

  “I eat crumpets too.”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “I ask you, Karen, is this to be born?”

  “Don’t make me tell her about you.”

  “And he has his eyebrows waxed. Professionally waxed. I know this for a fact. I saw the receipt.”

  Felix rested his elbows on the table, leaning toward Karen, getting enthused. “Let’s talk about cliché—she lives in Utah, she’s Mormon, and she has four kids. And she makes zucchini bread.”

  “I love zucchini bread,” Karen said.

  Felix waved his hand in the air. “You’re all freaks.”

  Becky pulled his hand down and examined the fingernails. “You see these white marks here? These are signs of vitamin deficiency. You’re not taking multivitamins anymore, are you? I’m going to have to call Celeste about this. You know I will.”

  “I know.” He leaned back to look at her. “Stay longer.”

  “Impossible. I can’t stand to be away from Mike since . . . Besides, tomorrow is laundry day, and if I miss that, our system takes weeks to recover. Come stay with us. I could dig The Little Mermaid comforter and matching shams out of storage.”

  “Storage? No more Ariel fascination for fair Fiona?”

  “Hardly. Fair Fiona is into indie rock, and Polly . . .” Becky fl inched, anticipating his reaction. “Polly is enamored of a certain bow-wielding elf.”

  “No! Not Polly too!”

  “No! Not “I know.”

  “If only . . . but I can’t. The Sydney movie resumes shooting in two days.”

  “Oh, Felix, when are you going to give up that ridiculous fantasy?” She turned to Karen. “It’s sad, really. He wants to be an actor and he has reasonable talent, but you need more—a certain charm, an indefinable handsomeness. And look at him!”

  Karen looked. She nearly drooled.

  Felix started to pick through Becky’s salad, eating the nuts and celery. She pushed the plate toward him, instructing, “But not the beets.”

  He plopped a cubed beet into his mouth.

  “Not the beets, I said. Hey, drop that beet!” She slapped his hand.

  “Ow.”

  Karen picked up her purse. “Well, maybe I’ll go and let you two catch up.”

  Felix and Becky started to protest at once.

  “No, no,” Felix said.

  “Let’s just pretend he isn’t here. It’s easy—I’ve done it many a time.”

  “I should really—” Karen started.

  “Don’t you dare leave,” Becky said. “Alone, we’re liable to sit around saying stupid things trying to get the other to laugh while drinking carbonated beverages. It’s embarrassingly immature. Besides, you’re far more important.” She turned to Felix with a smug smile. “Karen’s interested in buying my new screenplay.”

  Felix snorted. “Claimed it was hers, did she? You can’t believe
a word Becky says.”

  “Well, it’s mine now,” Becky said. “I won the eBay auction fair and square.”

  “Becky couldn’t write a screenplay to save her life.”

  “Felix can’t act his way out of a box.”

  “Boxes are tricky,” Felix said, frowning. “And sometimes they’re taped shut.”

  “Felix,” Karen said slowly, as if an idea was just emerging, “I assume you’ve read Becky’s script?”

  “Me? No, of course not.”

  “Ha! That’s as ridiculous as the thought of me going to see one of his movies. They’re all rated R lately. He has such a potty mouth.”

  Karen wet her lips. “I just had the most scrumptious thought. Felix, what would you think about playing the male lead?”

  “Certainly not. I assume it’s another romantic comedy.”

  “Wait, wait, I haven’t finished.” Karen scooted forward in her chair. “I can see you playing the male lead, Felix, and Becky playing opposite.”

  They stared at Karen, both quiet for some time. Then, as if on cue, they laughed.

  “I’m serious,” Karen said.

  “Wait, wait, tell me the plot,” Felix said.

  “This gorgeous guy falls in love with a woman over the telephone, you see,” Karen explained. “But he knows she’ll be suspicious of him and won’t believe he really loves her, because she’s self-conscious of her own looks and had been played by an attractive man in the past. So when he starts to woo her, he pretends to be blind.”

  “And what is it called, Love Is Blind?”

  “Of course not.” Becky said. She took a bite of salad. “It’s called Blind Love.”

  Felix began to wheeze with a laugh.

  “There are excellent supporting characters, witty dialogue, lots of opportunity for physical comedy,” Karen said. “This part was made for you, Felix. Becky must have been hearing your voice in her mind when she wrote the part. One romantic comedy every ten years can only improve your career. You’re brilliant at it. You’re the king of this.”

  Felix shook his head. He was still laughing.

  “And Becky, you’ve acted before.”

  “I’ve played background scenery in made-for-TV movies and done a little community theater. I’m no motion picture star. I mean, look at me!”

  “This part is about an ordinary gal who captivates a gorgeous man.”

  “Hm, that’s very interesting.” Felix rubbed his chin and slitted his eyes at her.

  Becky sighed. “It’s not about us.”

  “Perhaps not. Or perhaps you’re expressing your pent-up desire for me.”

  “Yes,” she said dryly, “that’s what I’m doing. Expressing pent-up desire. For you.”

  “Seriously,” Karen said, “the way you work off each other! Becky, you know Hattie is more of a supporting part while the Lionel character carries the story. This is more about relationship and chemistry than complicated acting. You know this script. Now, can you imagine exchanging those lines with Felix?”

  “Seriously, Karen, what studio is going to let me star in a film?”

  “If it meant they could have Felix Callahan?”

  Becky turned to smile at Felix and share the joke, but his face had gone serious.

  “You’re actually considering this,” she said.

  He shrugged. And she knew that he was. So did Karen, by the way her eyes lit up.

  “But my family . . .” Becky started.

  Karen leaned forward, getting really excited now. “A rented house in Los Angeles will be part of the package, peaches. Your hubby can telecommute or, with the extra dough you’ll be bringing in, take a leave of absence.”

  For a minute, no one spoke. Becky became conscious of the cacophony of conversation all around her. Every table on the patio was filled. How many of those sunglassed, tight-jeaned people were negotiating movie deals as well? It was unnerving. She didn’t belong here.

  Becky sighed. “But—”

  “Plan on about three months for the shoot,” Karen interrupted. “And the money you make could go in a college fund for your kids.”

  Becky’s sigh became a moan. “But—”

  “Before we talk numbers, let me just pitch this to you: one location. No exhausting globe-hopping. A rented house for Becky’s family. And when the movie is released, all publicity will be joint publicity—that means if Felix is asked on a talk show, so is Becky. We’d pitch this as a friendly romantic comedy acted by best friends. The media will eat it up.”

  It was ridiculous. But they’d been apart for so long, and the idea of working with Felix, of seeing him every day, was filling her chest. She looked at him. He was looking at her. He’d started to smile.

  “What do you think?” he asked. “You and me on set together? A nice two-month slice of liver time?”

  She couldn’t help smiling back. “I think it’d be bloody great.”

  He gasped. “Mrs. Jack, you swore!”

  “Not really. Did I? I mean, it’s a British word. Does it count as swearing if I’m not British?”

  “Karen, I have to apologize on Becky’s behalf. She has such a potty mouth.”

  “I didn’t think it counted. I was just . . .”

  Felix patted her shoulder and whispered over her head to Karen, “We’re getting her help.”

  “I mean, ‘bloody’ just means—”

  “Let’s run up to my office and film you two talking together,” Karen said, gathering her things and tossing some bills on the table. “It’ll take an hour, Becky, I swear, then I’ll have a car take you to the airport. Once the execs see you two together, I’ll have no problem pitching a newcomer opposite Felix Callahan. Oh, this is going to be so great!”

  Felix gobbled up the remaining beets from Becky’s salad as they rose from the table.

  They started after Karen, weaving through the tables, but Becky had to grab the back of a chair to keep upright.

  “Whoa, easy there,” he said, catching her arm. “Are you okay?”

  Karen was waiting at her black SUV, gesturing for them to hurry.

  “I think I nearly swooned. Swooned! Honestly, this is too crazy. I can’t be in a movie. With you. With anyone.”

  Felix put her arm in his and walked her to the car. “Don’t worry, darling. The odds are astronomical. Thousands of movies are pitched for every one that actually gets a green light.”

  Two months later, Blind Love got a green light.

  In which a Hyde family dinner isn’t fun ( for some)

  Becky and Mike talked about it for hours, making a list of pros and cons. He ran the telecommuting idea by his boss and agreed to fly home for one week a month.

  “But are you sure, Bec? Do you want to do this?”

  “Be in a movie? I think it’s a grandly stupid idea. But I’m sure that I missed Felix. And I’m sure that this is going to be an adventure of epic Jack family proportions. But I’m only sure so far as you’re game.”

  He winked and clicked his tongue, pointing at her with his gun finger. “I’m game, baby. I am so Hollywood.”

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re so not. But really, can we pass this up? It seems ungracious to be given this crazy chance at a fantasy and throw it away.”

  “It’s like if I was asked to play the U.S. Open.”

  “Sure, kinda like that.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  They sat the kids down and gave them the scoop.

  “It would be for the entire summer. Uncle Ryan wants to stay with us, so he’ll hang out with you, take you to the beach and other cool places, while Dad works from home. I’ll be pretty busy. Still, we can do Disneyland and other fun stuff during my free time. You’ll have to leave your friends, but you’ll get to know a new place, and there will be times when you can come on set and see the workings of a Hollywood movie. So, what do you think?”

  Fiona: “Whatever.”

  Polly: “Oh.”

  Hyrum: “Cool.”

  Sam: “Will we get to go
on an airplane? Will there be ice cream? Like, an ice cream store by our house? Or a 7-Eleven I can walk to and buy Slurpees with my allowance? Can I make new friends there and have them over and can we play video games? Can I go play a video game right now? Aw, come on, Mom! Aw, come on, just for a minute. Aw, Mom, come on, just for one minute.”

  Mike and Becky weighed their children’s responses and determined that they qualified as a resounding “Yes, let’s do it, dear parents. We’re elated about the upcoming exploits.” After all, children were barely fluent, so wasn’t it the parental prerogative to interpret what they were saying?

  It was settled. And Becky was unsettled. Time to take some aggressive preemptive action.

  First she wrestled with the script. She made sure she and Felix were always together, trimming herself out of scenes opposite the talented supporting cast. Her character didn’t make a journey, didn’t require range. Becky would only need to be a little funny, to have some chemistry with Felix, and to help move the story along. She thought (hoped!) she could do that much.

  She sent it to her agent, Shelley, who passed it along to the director. He approved but went a step further, employing a script doctor to “punch it up a notch.” It came back with a new subplot: Hattie (Becky) had been a young mother, her husband good-looking but a scoundrel. He’d left her with a baby and never come back. Now said baby was grown into a gorgeous young woman, creating a romantic subplot as Hattie’s daughter falls for Lionel’s (Felix’s) attractive assistant. It was a good addition, Becky thought. Audiences didn’t seem to have much patience watching a less-than-dazzling woman for too long, so the gorgeous daughter and attractive assistant magnified the film’s eye-candy quotient. And the subplot whittled even more screen time away from Becky.

  Next, Becky started working out. Yes, she was going to play the “ordinary” woman, but that didn’t mean she had to sport a mother-of-four kangaroo pouch. She was going to pump up, tone up, get fit and fine and in the best shape of her life!

  Then it turned out, to get into the best shape of her life, she had to give up her secret stash of caramels and stop making snickerdoodles and go to the gym practically every day. After a month and no change to her belly, she buckled down and hired a personal trainer. Justin the Jazzed put her through twenty intensive weeks that felt like boot camp, but it did the trick. She’d thought that biceps were a muscle unique to the male anatomy, but there they were on her arms, pushing through her shirt in a pleasing little arc.