by Lee Winter
Elizabeth hadn’t expected the bitterness. She really should have done this much sooner. “I’m taking a meeting with a French director. Jean-Claude…”
“Badour?”
“You know him?”
“My mother did the costumes for Quand Pleurent les Clowns, among some of his other movies. I’ve met him a few times. There was a karaoke night and pool wrap party for Clowns; I got to see a lot of him there.”
“Oh.” Well, there went Elizabeth’s ace card. How would you like to meet someone you already know far better than I do? “Your mother’s a costume designer?”
Summer gave her an impatient nod. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
“Jean-Claude is making his Hollywood debut. I don’t know much about it yet. I don’t think anyone does.”
“Eight Little Pieces,” Summer said. “A writer in a remote shack gets eight visitors after the nearest road is blocked by a rock fall. They knock on her door, seeking help. It’s all an allegory. The eight people each represent a different part of her. You know, like loss, shame, lust, regret, power, that sort of thing. The visitors aren’t real, they’re just facets of her own personality, but she doesn’t know it until the end.”
That was what it was about? It did sound good. Elizabeth frowned. “How do you know all that?”
“Jean-Claude and Mom stay in touch. They sort of vibrate on the same eccentric frequency. She spitballs designs with him and he talks latest projects with her.” Summer leveled a cool look at her. “Why so interested?”
“He wants me to star in his film. I could fit it into hiatus. The thing is…he wants me to bring my girlfriend to lunch before confirming my casting.” She held her breath.
“Your girlfriend.” A shadow crossed Summer’s face. “He saw the photos?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“And you denied it?”
“Delvine spent some time trying to convince him it was a misunderstanding. He believes that the proof is in the photos, therefore any denial is a lie he cannot tolerate. He wants to do lunch next Sunday, the 27th. With both of us. It wasn’t really a request.”
“Your people told you to avoid me and now they want you to fake-date me over lunch to get this role?” she asked. One hand tightened on her script, fingers whitening.
“I realize I have no right to ask. I know I was unfair to you.”
“Unfair.” Summer’s laugh was brittle. “Is that how you see it? And now you’ve apologized only because you need something from me.”
Elizabeth exhaled. “You have every right to be angry. I understand that.”
“So give me one reason why I should do this for you?”
Elizabeth worried her lip with her teeth. She briefly thought of offering money, as Delvine had suggested, but the look in Summer’s eye told her that was the worst idea. Time stretched out. “I can’t think of a single reason.”
“Well, at least you didn’t offer me cash.”
At least I read one thing right.
“Answer me something.” Summer tilted her head. “Did you ever think about how it felt for me, being told I wasn’t even worthy of exiting a building with you? Did that cross your mind at any point?”
Elizabeth hesitated. No, she hadn’t given it a great deal of thought, beyond that she’d upset Summer.
“I’m worth more than that. I don’t care who you are, how good you are, or where you are in this show’s hierarchy. No one’s disposable.”
Shame burned through her. Summer was completely right. “I’m truly sorry. And I see now it was wrong of me to ask this of you.” She made to rise.
“Why did you? Knowing how it would end?” Summer watched her closely. “You must want this role badly.”
She debated how to answer that. Great opportunity. Career step. Interesting possibilities. But under Summer’s hard gaze, all the usual tweaking of the truth flew out the window.
“I’m dying here,” Elizabeth said in a harsh whisper. “Piece by piece, bit by bit. My character has no humanity left. I count down the days until I’m free. And sometimes I don’t know how I’m going to get through it. I’m angry all the time, frustrated, bored, and it leaks out onto people who don’t deserve it.” She glanced at Summer. “Decent people.”
Elizabeth looked at her hands. “I don’t want to be like that. This role is fresh and exciting. It’ll push me, and keep me sane through one last season on Hope. And hopefully it’ll propel me to something far beyond TV dramas when my contract expires. Lastly, I don’t expect you to understand this as you’ve only ever played likable characters, but being hated 24/7 is a draining existence. It wears away at you. I’m only human.” She rose. “I’d appreciate it if this conversation stayed between us. Sorry again, Summer.” She turned to leave.
“I’ll do it.”
Freezing, Elizabeth said, “What?”
“Tell Delvine to send me the details. I’ll play your girlfriend for one lunch. It’ll be nice to see Jean-Claude again. Just don’t expect me to forget I’m still seriously pissed at how you treated me.”
“I…understand.” She inhaled. “How about we get our stories straight early next week? Monday or Tuesday? We both have late starts.”
“Sure.” Summer picked up her script again.
Elizabeth offered a smile. It was not returned. She hesitated. She should take her win and go, but she had to know. “May I ask why you agreed?”
Summer didn’t look up. “You were honest. Now if you don’t mind, I have a scene to learn. If you see Tori, can you ask her to come back? I mean, if you can manage that without terrifying her?” A hint of a smile threatened Summer’s lips. It was tiny, but still…it was there.
“I’ll do my best.” She couldn’t repress a smirk. As she walked away, Elizabeth felt lighter than she had in weeks.
Summer woke abruptly, her tongue feeling twice its normal size and her eyes as if they’d been gouged with sandpaper. Her head felt as though fists were hammering her skull. How did she ever think drinking that much was a great idea? But Tori had been the absolute master of “just one more”. And her big brown eyes had seemed so cute at two in the morning. Ugh.
“Finally!” Chloe exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to wake you for ages. Thought you were gonna snore till noon.”
Summer scowled. “Lies. I don’t snore.”
“Uh-huh. Just like you don’t have a hangover. Here.” Chloe passed her water and a tablet. “Aspirin.”
Summer grimaced but took it, swallowing gingerly before putting the glass down.
Chloe was still eying her, which made Summer grumpier. “What? Sizing up my bed hair?”
“There’s a limo outside. Driver says he’s here to pick you and Elizabeth Thornton up and whisk you to some hotel. I told him I’d get you. I didn’t admit it’d involve waking the dead.”
The hell? “That’s next Sunday, not today! The 27th!” Summer grabbed her phone to check the date. A black screen stared back. Oh right. The battery had died somewhere around her third Manhattan. She plugged it in.
“See! Today’s the twentieth…” Her comment died in her throat. Her home screen was filled with notifications. A text from Delvine and another from an unknown number. Summer stabbed Delvine’s message.
Date change, darling! Lunch with JCB now TOMORROW. Sorry for short notice. If you can’t make it, call me ASAP, otherwise a car will be @ your place at 11:30. See you then! Delvine
Summer tapped the unknown number’s text.
It’s Elizabeth. Re: lunch. Delvine said she’d told you about date change. We must prep for tomorrow. Pls pick up.
God. “Time is it now?” Summer whispered. It was a stupid question because she could clearly see the time in large, mocking letters on her phone.
“Eleven-forty,” Chloe said helpfully.
“Crap!” Summer flung back her bedding and sp
rinted for the bathroom.
Chloe padded down the hallway after her and gave the closing bathroom door a nudge to keep it ajar. “Aren’t we going to talk about why you’re going to a hotel with a certain person you’re allegedly not dating?” she called.
Summer flung off her sleepwear and turned the shower on. “It’s a business thing. With Elizabeth, her manager, and Jean-Claude Badour.”
“Who’s that?”
“A producer, writer, and director. Top indie creds. His work’s beautiful.” Summer tested the water with her fingers. “Lunch is at his suite at the Four Seasons to get Elizabeth some big role. I’m just going with her.” She got in.
“But why?” Chloe called out louder to compete with the hiss of water. “You can’t be competing for the same role. Or are you friends now? Friends who lunch together?” she added skeptically.
“Definitely not friends. But there is a role for me. I’m playing Elizabeth Thornton’s girlfriend.”
There was a long, long silence then finally, “Girl, we so need to talk.”
Elizabeth eyed Summer with irritation. They were all in the back of a ludicrously stretched limousine. Delvine sat on the long seat opposite, paperwork fanned out all around her, trying to finish some transatlantic call she’d been on since before Elizabeth slid into the car. And then there was Summer, who had mumbled something about a dead phone, and then wrapped her arms around herself and made no further attempt at conversation.
They were late. Elizabeth hated being late. It might be acceptable to some people, especially certain laid-back Americans, but she was always punctual. She was also always prepared. Even if Summer didn’t share the same instincts. Maybe the girl thought she could just wing a fake relationship? Or perhaps she was punishing Elizabeth for the way she’d treated Summer in the past? That didn’t seem like Summer, but she didn’t know her well. Either way, she didn’t appreciate having her fate in someone else’s hands.
“Darling, no!” Delvine was saying. “If you check the terms of the contract, it quite clearly stipulates that my client’s availability is subject to…”
Summer, on the far end of the long seat she shared with Elizabeth, slumped lower down against the window, a monument to human misery. She wore dark sunglasses, had a greenish tinge to her skin, and her hair bore the look of being frantically brushed. Her clothes comprised a faintly crumpled sunny yellow dress and sandals.
“Would you like a drink?” Elizabeth waved at the car’s small fridge.
“God no.” Summer swallowed.
So, that confirmed that theory. “I meant water. You look like perhaps you need to rehydrate?”
Summer shook her head, then winced. “Please no,” she whispered.
Elizabeth was perplexed. She’d been imagining this scenario over and over, fixating on how lunch would go and what Summer’s demeanor would be like, and at no time did it occur to her that her co-star might turn up less than professional.
She retracted that thought immediately. Summer wasn’t here in a professional capacity, but rather, as a personal favor. And the change of dates had been on short notice. But still…what if Summer couldn’t pull this off?
Peering out the window, Elizabeth watched the blur of palm trees flash against endless blue skies. So California. When she’d first arrived, she’d taken to visiting the beach with a thermos of tea and a good book. It hadn’t taken long to realize the fantasy didn’t match reality. Sand ended up in her tea, and too much sunscreen was still never quite enough for her skin.
Elizabeth glanced at the miserable woman again. “Are you up for this?”
“Yes,” Summer said in a hoarse whisper. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
That earned her a glare, as much as Elizabeth could tell through those glasses. Well. The kitten had claws…at least when hungover.
Silence descended for four more blocks.
“Don’t you think we should get our stories straight at some point?” Elizabeth ventured. “Or were you planning to wing it?”
Summer looked like talking pained her. “Sorry I missed your calls last night. I was out.”
No kidding.
“But you’d be wrong if you think I haven’t done any research,” Summer continued. “I’m prepared.”
Research? On what? Playing a lesbian girlfriend? Elizabeth’s career highlights?
“I meant we should decide our stories about how we met and fell for each other,” Elizabeth said, unable to resist the sarcasm.
That got Summer’s attention. She pulled off her sunglasses and gave Elizabeth a hard, hard look. “You act like falling in love with me would be the most absurd thing imaginable. I’m also starting to doubt the sincerity of your apology. Such as it was.” She rammed her sunglasses back on and returned her gaze outside.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Elizabeth tried to hide her growing testiness. Even if that’s exactly how she’d meant it. It was absurd. Badour was clearly some ego-puffed fantasist who refused to see facts. She wondered at what point “Monsieur Human Condition” would notice what a ludicrous couple they were. And when he did, the whole lunch would be an unmitigated disaster and she’d lose this role and go back to hating her life.
Elizabeth had read the Eight Little Pieces script that Rachel sent over the day before. It was everything Summer had said, and much more. It was layered and clever, very French of course, and so compelling. Playing the emotionally fractured writer Elspeth would give her career an amazing boost if Badour could pull off even half the brilliance on the page. It had awards written all over it, too. No wonder even her antsy agent was tolerating this charade, if it got Elizabeth the part. But none of this would work if Summer didn’t get her act together.
Everything from Summer’s shoulders to her fists was bunched up and tight. Her closed-off expression reminded Elizabeth of how she’d looked when Elizabeth first asked her to do this.
Elizabeth already regretted her honesty that day. Baring her soul made her feel vulnerable and embarrassed. For some reason, though, she hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut. Maybe Summer’s eyes had gotten to her. Sad and big and lacking the faith and trust they’d once held.
“Summer,” she murmured, “I’m grateful you’re putting yourself out for me today. I know it must be very hard for you…”
Summer’s lips pursed.
Now what had she said?
“Why very hard?” Summer turned to look at her. “I play roles all the time. This is no different. Or are you hinting that I’m not capable of acting well?”
Elizabeth repressed an eye roll. Was she capable? Elizabeth had no idea. Summer might be able to pull the wool over Ravitz’s eyes, playing a clueless ingénue, but the man wasn’t terribly smart, either. Delvine seemed to think Summer was talented, though, so the jury was still out.
“I have no idea what you’re capable of,” she said honestly. “I just assumed you hadn’t played a lesbian before. So I guessed it would be hard for you.”
“Guessed?” Summer sounded curious. “I’ve looked up your acting history. You haven’t played a lesbian either. So don’t you know yourself whether it feels hard or not? Why did you say guessed?”
Oh no. That was a dangerous question. The impish voice in the back of her brain dared her to reply: Well, Summer, I had to guess because I don’t have a clue how heterosexual women feel about playing lesbians.
Mercifully, Delvine got off the phone just then, tossing it into her glossy shoulder bag before ramming her scattered paperwork in after it. “Sorry about that. Dramas non-stop. Why would I allow my biggest male star to do ads on Japanese TV? It’s cheapening his brand.” She eyed them both. “Remember that, you two. Never say yes to everything.” She hesitated when she glanced at Summer, then added, “Darling, thank you for agreeing to this. It means a lot to Elizabeth.”
“I know,” Summer
replied curtly.
Delvine regarded her, then slid her gaze over to Elizabeth. “And are you two okay? With each other? And what this entails?”
“Fine,” Elizabeth replied.
“Great,” Summer said.
“It’s only one lunch,” Delvine said. “Summer, be a dear and try not to look like you want to kill Elizabeth for five minutes?”
Summer snorted. “I’ll try.”
Delvine smiled. “Excellent.” She paused, studying Summer. “You know, my kids loved Teen Spy Camp. I watched it with them all the time. We cried great buckets when Punky’s best friend almost died. What was her name?”
“Hannah,” Summer murmured.
“That was a beautiful scene. What was the line? About needing the two of them? Can you still remember?”
Elizabeth frowned, wondering where Delvine was going with this. Her manager wasn’t prone to pointless small talk.
“I remember every word.” Summer’s face softened. “I loved that scene.”
“As you should. But what was the bit, when Punky held Hannah’s hand in the hospital?”
With a soft sigh, Summer took off her sunglasses again and tangled them in her fingers in her lap.
“Don’t leave me,” she said suddenly, her voice hollow and pained. Shock coursed through Elizabeth at the transformation. “Please, you can’t. You’re my best friend. This life’s made for two of us, not one. Remember that time you taught me how to climb Mr. Murphy’s tree in ten seconds flat? Or when we went berry picking, and the juice wound up down our shirts? Our moms were so mad.”
Summer giggled, sounding so achingly young, then her expression fell. “Or when Marley died. And you told me no one would understand, not really. But that it was okay. That it was a love for just me and him, and I’d always have the memories of wet noses, muddy hugs, and a hundred sneezes.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You got me through everything, Hannah Jane Marshall. I need us to be two again. I can’t be just one. We’ve got so many adventures ahead. Oh, please, please, don’t go.”