Nine
Tibby sat up on her single bed in a bathrobe, with a bath towel wrapped around her hair, and carefully applied flamingo-pink nail polish to her toes. There was a knock at her door and Mills peeped her head around.
"What's up, Milly?" Tibby didn't look up. It was after ten, and students were confined to their rooms, so it could only have been Mills, coming through the bathroom they both shared.
"Are you excited about tomorrow?" Mills was in her pajamas. She came over and sat on the end of Tibby's bed.
"Trying not to be" Tibby shrugged. "I guess its just a meeting, in the end. This guy probably auditions hundreds of actors before he makes a movie."
"Still, it is pretty cool that he's coming all this way just to see you."
"I know!" Tibby couldn't help herself. The broad grin threatened to overtake her whole face. "My heart has been racing all day, like I'm on meth or something! And I can't eat a thing. I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight, but I have to. Otherwise I'll look like a haggard old wench."
"What are you going to do if he actually casts you? Will you have to leave school?"
Tibby honestly hadn't thought about it. She had been so focused upon the lunch meeting with her mom and Etienne Girard that she hadn't spent any time at all considering the logistics of actually making a movie. It wasn't like she'd done it before or anything. Also, the thought of having to act in front of people scared the crap out of her, and she didn't dare think about it. Why did it have to be so hard? If this was what she wanted to do, and Etienne wanted her to do it, why was it so fucking terrifying? Her heart fluttered and her stomach tied itself into yet another knot.
"I have no idea." She sighed. "Maybe he'll fit it in around my studies?" But she knew immediately that that wouldn't be possible. She literally lived at school, and Etienne lived in Paris and made his movies in France. She had grown up following her mom from movie shoot to movie shoot, different locations and different countries, and she knew how long it took to make a feature film. Realistically, it could be months or even a year.
"I don't want to leave St Croix. No way. I'd miss you too much."
"I thought you hated it! Homework, bad food and the ugliest uniform ever?" Mills said, quoting Tibby.
"I know, I know. I lied! To be honest, Mills, I'm scared. This opportunity is amazing, and I'd be insane to pass it up, but the thought of leaving sucks. I'd probably have to have a tutor on set."
"That wouldn't suck." Said Mills, imagining having just one teacher to deal with, instead of dozens of them.
"It would if I got stuck with some creepy old guy, or some poisonous bitch. There'd be no escape. Plus I'm scared of being filmed."
It just slipped out. She hadn't meant to say it. It was hard enough admitting it to herself, but now it was out, she was glad it was Mills who had heard her say it.
"What?" Mills looked stunned.
"I'm totally frightened of having to act in front of a bunch of people. Especially famous, beautiful, talented, foreign people." Tibby's shoulders slumped and put her head in her hands. Mills shuffled over on the duvet and put her arms right around her girlfriend.
"Tibby, that's crazy. This is huge. Why didn't you just tell your mom and dad that?"
"Why do you think? They'd be so fucking disappointed. I couldn't do it."
"But they're not pushing you into it, are they?"
"No, that's the problem!" Tibby started to cry. Big tears rolled down her cheeks and fell onto the thick terry cloth robe. "I wanted to do it because I thought I would be able to get over the fear this time, but I'm getting more and more nervous every minute. If I don't try, it will look to my mom and dad like I'm rejecting them. I just want to be good at this one thing!"
"But you're great at loads of things."
"Name one! Name one fucking thing that I'm not just average at? Do you know how hard that is at a school like this? I'm an average student and an average athlete. I'm not a deformed gorgon, sure, great! But that's not going to get me into fucking Princeton, is it? That's why I have to force myself to do this, and this opportunity is incredible. If I can get this part, my parents won't have to worry about me, and maybe they'll even be proud of me. I won't just be Jodie Easton's average daughter anymore."
"I'm sure they're very proud of you, Tibby. They'd be crazy not to be. You're amazing."
Tibby looked at Mills through red, watery eyes, and smiled.
"Thanks. See, how can I leave you and run off and do a movie? You're my best friend. If I get it, will you come, too?"
"You're a stubborn bitch, Tibby, but if you're going to go for it, I guess you'll have to hire me as your personal assistant or something. Any idea which guys are going to be in the movie?"
Tibby giggled and pushed Mills. She grabbed a pillow and hit her friend over the head, sending fine goose down feathers into the air.
"Fancy a nightcap?" Paige stood in the doorway of the Imperial Hotel, lit by the glow of the plush lobby, which spilled out onto the quiet street. It was almost ten forty-five, and Jas had been absent from school since early evening. If he hadn't already been missed, he was certain to be discovered at final roll-call. The St Croix weekday curfew was almost up, and he needed to be back in his rooms when the housemaster came around to check on them. He took his phone out and texted Brand.
JasGen: Dude, u have to cover for me...i'm going to be late getting back.
A moment later, Brand replied,
ABMan: Where R U?
JasGen: About 20 mins away...can u stall 4 me?
ABMan: I can try, but u need to haul ass...it's almost curfew.
JasGen: Thanks bro...I'll be there ASAP.
Jas slipped his phone back into the pocket of his jacket. Paige was waiting for him at the reception desk. She had a key card in her hand.
"I have to be quick." Jas put his hand into the small of her back and they headed over to the elevator.
"We'll just see what's in the minibar, okay?"
The elevator doors opened, and Jas waited for Paige to go first before following her inside. She punched the button for the third floor and the doors swished shut.
Brand was in his boxers and nothing else, sitting at his desk, with his laptop glowing at him in the low light of the room. The window was open, allowing a gentle breeze of cool September air to fill the room. It was a few minutes before eleven, and the housemaster would be coming around soon to knock on the doors and check that all the boys were ready for bed. There was a audible hum of activity in the adjoining rooms, and across the yard all the other boarding houses were doing the same thing. Lights Out would be at eleven fifteen, and the doors to the house would also be locked from the inside, which meant that Jas had only a few minutes to get back or else be locked out for the night. Brand looked nervously at the clock on his desktop.
"Shit." He said out loud. What am I going to do to stall for Jas? He paced the room, then sat down on his bed before an idea came to him. He opened his door and peered down the hall. There were eighteen rooms in a row along the corridor, nine on each side facing each other. Brand heard the housemaster around the corner, where the Freshman rooms were. In a moment, he'd be coming up the hall and it would be too late.
Fortunately, he and Jas had rooms across the hall from one another, and Brand was able to dash across and slip into Jas's room just in time. He pulled the door shut quietly just as the housemaster knocked on the first door, on the same side as Jas's room. He would wait for a reply, then poke his head around the door and ask the boy inside to turn off any music, close textbooks and laptops, put cellphones away, and shut off the light at eleven fifteen. Brand was well familiar with the routine.
Jas' room was dark and tidy. The window was open, curtains blowing out in the night. He ducked into the bathroom and turned on the shower full-blast, leaving the door open. Light from the bathroom filled the little bedroom. If his plan was going to work, he needed it to be obvious that someone was in the shower, without the housemaster needing to come in. He heard a muffled knock a
t the door of the next room, and he quickly pulled his boxers off and hopped into the steaming shower, pulling aside the semi-transparent curtain. A moment later, he heard the housemaster knock at Jas's door.
"Yeah!" He called from the shower, hoping the noise of the water would mask his voice a little.
"You should be done with your shower by now, Mr Genovese. Wrap it up, please."
"Yes, Sir." He replied, smiling to himself. That was easy.
"And lights out in ten."
"Right you are, Sir. Absolutely."
"That window should be closed, too." He heard the housemaster enter the room and cross over to the window. A second later, he heard it close. Brand could see him clearly reflected in the large mirror opposite the shower. He froze. If the housemaster turned the other way, Brand would be stuck with nowhere to go. His only hope was to turn around, face the shower head, bury his head in a lather of shampoo and pray that the housemaster wouldn't look that way. It seemed like an eternity before he heard him once more. He poked his around the bathroom door.
"Don't leave it so late next time, am I clear?
"Yes, sir." Brand said clearly, his face turned away and covered with soap. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his hair.
"Good night, Mr Genovese."
"Goodnight, Sir."
Brand heard the door click shut. He breathed again, then quickly turned off the shower and grabbed a large bath towel from the rail, wrapping it around his waist. He shut off the bathroom light, then crept across the room and opened the door as quietly as possible. The housemaster was two doors down, about to turn and start on the other side of the corridor. This was Brand's only chance.
It's now or never. He silently slipped out of Jas's room and tiptoed across the hall in his bath towel, reaching his room in three steps and disappearing inside. The relief was enormous. He grinned, and went over to his bed and sat down. A moment later, the housemaster knocked at his door.
"Come in." He called.
The housemaster peered around the door and, seeing Brand wrapped in a towel, scowled and shook his head.
"Looks like you have been leaving your shower too late, too, Mr Brandeis. Hmm?"
"Yes, sir. I lost track of time. I was finishing some writing."
"Oh yes? What are you working on?" He seemed genuinely interested.
"Nothing much, just a novel."
"A novel, eh? That's something."
"Well, I'm just trying to get some ideas down, but I'm stuck. It's probably a waste of time."
"Nonsense, Mr Brandeis. Its a noble pursuit, and one which I encourage you to continue, so long as it doesn't interfere with your schoolwork, of course."
"Of course."
"How are your brothers? They were both excellent students." It seemed like the housemaster was never going to leave. That would be fine under normal circumstances, but Brand wanted to get him out out of the way before Jas showed up and ruined his chance of slipping back in unnoticed.
"Oh, they're fine, thank you, Sir."
"Good, good. Working for the old man, eh?"
"Yes, Sir, working for the firm."
"I should think so. Great opportunity. I suspect you can't wait to get there yourself, eh?"
"I guess so, Sir."
"Yes, well, good night, Mr Brandeis."
"Thank you, Sir."
Brand watched the housemaster leave and heard him knocking on doors back down the hall. He had done the rounds for the night. Jas was safe, as long as got his late ass back in the next couple of minutes before the doors were locked.
Days Of St Croix Page 9