by JD Hawkins
Robinson gets up from behind his desk and meets me halfway, shaking my hand with typical thoroughness, like a mechanic wrenching a tough bolt.
“I hope you’re ready for this weekend?”
I look at him through bemused eyes.
“This weekend?”
“The Napa retreat, remember? I told you about it last week. The time has come.”
“Ah,” I say, smiling with recognition. “Yes. I remember. About that…I don’t think—”
“No!” he roars suddenly. “Not this time, Nate! I understand that you’re a very busy man, with an incredibly vibrant personal life, which is why I’ve overlooked your absence from many out-of-office activities,” he says, turning back to walk towards his desk, “but this is different. Not only are the very best clients that this agency has ever worked with going to attend, but the partners, the New York office, and some very influential people will be there too.” He reaches his office chair, turns around, and eases himself back into it. “This is the inner circle, Nate. Only the most powerful players get invited to this sort of thing, and some of the most important decisions are made there. So you and Tessa are going, and that’s final.”
I stand in front of his desk, one hand in my pocket, the other scratching my chin. I look casual on the outside, but on the inside I’m being torn apart by warring impulses. I’d heard about the retreat gatherings before, but always in the vague terms of an urban myth. The truth is, I didn’t think my career could get much bigger – not without a little nepotism. But this could change everything. And now that the opportunity is so close, and yet so far away…
“I won’t take no for an answer,” Robinson says, his voice a balance between threatening and jovial that I’ve never heard anyone else achieve. “This is the next step for you, Nate. You’ve achieved everything you’re ever going to achieve at this level. You’ve represented some of the most difficult, and brilliant, clients we have. You’ve solved many problems nobody at this agency could – including myself – and you’ve done it without making too many enemies, which is mightily impressive. Now it’s time you took on a new level of challenge. You’ve outgrown the business as you know it. It’s time for you to start making powerful decisions, instead of just following them. Eventually, it could be you behind this desk.”
I didn’t get where I am by being content, by thinking that I had enough. I never got anywhere by passing up chances that were risky, dangerous, or just couldn’t work. Right now I’m one of the most talented agents in my field, which for a lot of people would be a good time to hold steady, but for me only means that I’ve outgrown my field. I don’t want the corner office and the perks anymore – I want to be the guy who can give them out. The retreat could be the first step into something bigger than I ever imagined, where talent and hard work don’t even matter anymore, the aristocracy of Hollywood. Once you’re in, you’re a made man. Suddenly I feel like everything I’ve done up to this point has been kindergarten, and I’m finally ready for the real deal.
“Well, how can I refuse when you make a case like that? I’ll move some things around and see about making it happen. Thank you very much for the offer.” I start backing away, hoping he won’t notice I’ve made no mention of Tessa, who I imagine will be coming down with a severe but temporary illness of some kind this weekend.
“Good to hear,” Robinson growls cheerily. “I’ll have Chloe send you the details.”
“Thanks,” I say, exhaling with relief and turning around.
“Oh,” Robinson calls out after I take a few steps towards the door, “and don’t even think about coming without your wife – oop, sorry – fiancée.”
I freeze mid-step, then turn around with the slow, impending fear of a teller during a bank robbery. Time to think fast.
“Um…that’s going to be a bit of a problem. You see, she’s—”
“She’ll be fine,” Robinson interrupted. “The Napa retreat is always a family affair. There will be lots of spouses there for her to spend time with. The surroundings are beautiful, good food, good wine. So don’t worry about it.”
I scramble for an ironclad excuse as panic rises in my chest, but I’m coming up blank. “It’s not that…it’s just that I think she—”
“And the retreat is very much a chance for clients and peers to see your informal side. An opportunity to see the people behind the negotiations and business side of things. Without all the competitiveness and back-biting we unfortunately put up with in this—” Robinson’s phone rings loudly on his desk. He glances at it for half a second, holds his hand up as if I was the one talking, and answers it.
“Hello? Yes…of course!” He gives me an emphatic thumbs-up, a polite non-verbal translation of ‘we’re done here, so please leave now – and don’t dare ‘forget’ what you just agreed to.’
“…and then he asked what I would do to give the character a sense of integrity during the scene – you know, because it comes so shortly after the comedic exchange – and I didn’t even think about it, I was just ‘in the zone’ as you Yanks say, so I just stood up, and I started acting out exactly how I saw it going. You should have seen his face – Nate? Are you even listening to me?”
I look up from the bar as if waking from a dream.
“Yeah, shit. Sorry, Will. I’m just a little out of it today.”
He shifts a little in his stool to properly face me, takes a long draw of beer, and laughs a little to himself.
“I should have known something was wrong when you didn’t even look at that rather lovely trio in the corner there.”
I raise my eyes and look over to the other end of the empty bar. I catch the three young girls in business clothes looking in my direction, and when I return their gaze they quickly giggle and turn back to themselves shyly.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’m not interested today?”
“Not particularly,” Will responds, keeping his eyes fixed upon the women. “What’s the problem? Wait. Let me guess. You’ve suddenly seen the error of your ways and are experiencing the guilt of a thousand morning-afters at once.”
I sigh into my beer bottle.
“I’m supposed to go to a high-end retreat this weekend and schmooze with the company’s biggest players.”
“Great!”
“No ‘great,’ fucking amazing. Imagine prom, graduation, your first blow job, and your first paycheck – combine them, and that’s the kind of breakthrough this weekend could be. If it goes well, I could be one of the biggest forces in Hollywood within a year.”
Will looks at me with awe in his eyes.
“Again…great!”
“The thing is, I’m supposed to be bringing my girlfriend along.”
Will knits his eyebrows together and looks at me suspiciously.
“But you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“That’s the problem. My boss is a family man, so I’ve been pretending to be a good little boy all this time – that meant inventing a fictional girl that I love deeply and am incredibly loyal to.”
After laughing for what feels like an eternity, Will drains his beer and slaps a palm on my back.
“Sorry, Nate,” he says, with typically British politeness. “I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just…well…again, what’s the problem?”
I shoot him a confused look.
“If I may,” Will says, putting his beer bottle down on the bar and directing his full attention towards me. “You are good at precisely two things. One: Meeting women, and seducing them into doing all manner of things they never thought they’d be doing. And two: Managing the egos and whims of people in the film industry – not least actors and actresses. Put those two elements together, and I believe you’ll find there’s quite an obvious solution to this predicament.”
“It’s not a matter of finding some random girl to stand-in, Will. My boss met ‘Tessa’ a few days ago, only it wasn’t Tessa, it was…an old friend. That’s who Robinson’s expecting.”
Will shrugs. �
�So take her.”
I shake my head miserably. “She’s not exactly supportive of my…extracurricular activities. Trust me, there’s no way I can get her to agree to fake being my girlfriend for two days. Likely all I’d get for asking is a kick in the balls.”
Will nods. “I see your problem now.”
I groan slowly. We order a couple more beers and I start flicking through my phone contacts, looking for the number of a girl I’d met a week before – I’m going to need a hell of a stress-reliever tonight.
“Hands off, Nate. This one’s all mine,” Will says, nudging me in the ribs. I look up.
“Jessie?”
She hears me call her name and flashes me a smile before making her way over from the entrance. In her tight yoga pants, hugging the sweet curve of her hips and thighs, and her bright-blue sports bra revealing the toned flatness of her midriff she looks out of place in the night-ambience of the bar. Still, even with a thin layer of sweat on her, dorky headphones around her neck, and her hair tied back, she’s the hottest girl there. Because she’s real.
Will sighs and rolls his eyes at me.
“I should have known. Is there a hot girl you haven’t already slept with?”
I glower at him quickly.
“She’s my best friend’s little sister. And we haven’t slept together. I mean, we did, but it was a one-off, and we said we’d never talk about so don’t start saying anything to her—”
“Hey!” Jessie smiles, inserting herself between me and Will, effectively cutting off my explanation.
“Jessie! What are you doing here?”
“I was just out for a run and dropped by your office to see you. The receptionist told me you’d be here,” she says, before turning to notice Will. “Hey! You’re the guy who used to be on that goofy kid’s show!”
“That’s not its official name,” Will drones. “But yes.”
“Wow. I think every girl in my high school had your picture up in their locker.”
“Did you?” Will says, leaning in a little.
“No way! Your hair looked like roadkill in that show. I had much better taste than that – no offense.”
I tense up a little, knowing how sensitive he is about his teen idol days. But instead of getting offended, Will just throws his head back and laughs. “None taken. I said the same thing to the set hairdresser.”
Jessie grins. “You look much better now.”
“Thank you. I must say, the ‘hot and sweaty’ look suits you as well.”
“Hold on,” I say, interrupting the exchange before I start cringing too much to talk. “You ran all the way here from my office?”
“Well…” Jessie says, drawing the word out and glancing at Will quickly as if to say ‘let’s talk in private.’
“He’s cool,” I say.
“I’m very cool, you should get to know—” Will says, before I raise a hand to stop him.
“I wanted to pay you back,” Jessie says uncomfortably, pulling out some folded dollars from the arm band that her phone’s attached to, “for the…um…bail money. I got paid, so…”
“Come on,” I say, pushing her hand away. “It’s cool. Forget it.”
“No way, Nate. I don’t work sixteen-hour days to have someone else pay my way. I’m leaving the money here,” she says, putting the money on the bar. “You can take it or leave it.”
“A woman of principle,” Will says. “I like it.”
“Okay,” I sigh, peeling a bill from the crumpled-up and sweaty twenties. “But let me get you a drink at least.”
She smiles but then shakes her head. “I shouldn’t be drinking in the middle of a run.”
“I’ll bet you do a lot of things you shouldn’t do,” Will says, his eyes still scrolling Jessie’s body like he’s reading small print off it.
“What happened to the English being reserved?” I say, as the bartender takes the bill and replaces our beers.
Will grins. “That was always a myth – much like that of Americans being unfit,” he says, looking at Jessie’s toned waist as he does so.
“Anyway,” Jessie says, turning her head towards me. “I just wanted to say thanks a lot, Nate. I owe you one.”
Then, all of a sudden, it clicks. She does owe me one. I turn to Jessie with determined eyes.
“Come with me to a work retreat this weekend. My boss already thinks you’re Tessa.”
There’s a split-second pause.
“Wait. You’re saying this is the same girl?” Will says, incredulous. I nod.
Will starts laughing so hard he has to stop himself from spitting beer all over the place. I clench my jaw and start preparing arguments in my favor.
But Jessie’s already got her arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head no.
“Hear me out, Jessie. My boss invited me to a big gathering this weekend – Hollywood types, decision-makers, that kind of thing. It’s a big deal. Thing is, he wants you – I mean, my girlfriend – I mean, the fake girlfriend I made up – to come along. I need Tessa to be there, and you’re the only one who can do it, Jessie.”
“This is too good!” Will says, raising his bottle like it’s a cup of tea. “Positively Wildean!”
“You want me to pretend to be Tessa for an entire weekend?”
“Don’t think of it as an ‘entire’ weekend, think of it as ‘just’ a weekend. Two days, and it’ll be over before you know it.”
Jessie looks at me with an expression that says she’s wondering if I’m actually crazy, or just plain pitiful.
“Not a chance in hell, Nate. You’ve got plenty of ‘enablers’ around you already,” she says, glancing sideways at Will. “I’m not going to help you maintain whatever scam you’ve got going.”
“It’s not a scam, Jessie. Come on...”
She shakes her head again as she steps backwards away from the bar. “Here’s an idea: Try being honest, Nate. Tell your boss you made the whole thing up. He’ll respect you more for it, and you won’t have to lie anymore. Maybe you guys will even laugh about it together.”
I feel the blood drain out of my face, imagining just how well that’d go over.
Jessie goes on, “Thank you again for bailing me out, but I’m gonna have to say no on the whole ‘pretending to be your devoted wife while you sweet-talk a bunch of old dudes into promoting you’ thing. Sorry.”
She turns quickly and starts making for the exit.
“Jessie!” I call out.
She waves behind her, and a second later is gone. I slump over the bar in defeat.
“She seemed sparky,” Will says, sympathetically. “Probably could have even pulled it off with her.”
“Yeah,” I say, raising my head and narrowing my eyes.
“Sorry, buddy.”
“Don’t be,” I reply, “I’m not giving up on her that easily.”
6
Jessie
You can tell the pecking order on a set by the order in which people leave. Terry, Dominique, and Pablo – the lead actors on the show – pretty much disappear the second the director yells cut on their final scheduled scene. Soon after that, the director, script supervisor, and camera operators finish up and head home. An hour after that, the grips, sound, and electric departments go. Then it’s down to just the costume department and assistant director trailer full of exhausted PAs collecting the last of the day’s walkie-talkies and time sheets – all of us left behind to hustle for however long it takes to tidy the mess everyone else made and set things up for the next day’s shoot.
It’s dark by the time I hang the last business suit on the rack, pick up my bag and leave the studio lot, waving goodbye to the workmen smoking a joint before they finish up themselves. I pull out my phone as I walk towards the bus station – I gave up taking my car to work when the days got so long that I was half-asleep every time I got behind the wheel. Working too hard might end up killing me, but I’d prefer it didn’t happen when I was driving home.
The second I look at my phone I al
most stop walking – it’s packed with missed calls and messages. The ones from my ex-boyfriend I delete without even reading, but there are still plenty left from Nate. I read the texts until I get to the bus stop, then board a bus and occupy myself by listening to his voicemail messages – each plea more desperate than the last.
Even after what feels like thirty minutes’ worth of begging (I can almost hear him falling to his knees) the whole idea still feels like a bad sitcom script. I quickly type back.
You’re deluded. How would that even work? There’s no
The bus pulls in at my stop and I delete the message, get up, and storm down the aisle and out the door. Then I walk the few blocks to my apartment, and as the sheer craziness of Nate’s plan begins to fade, it leaves behind a strange sad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Ten years ago I would have chewed my own arm off to have Nate begging me for…well, anything. I had a crush on him the size of the moon – and about as difficult to try and hide. How could I not? Between the ages of twelve and eighteen every girl I met was obsessed with him. I’m sure half of them were only talking to me in the first place as a stepping stone.
It happened in an instant, a flash of lightning that changed everything. I was thirteen, Kyle and Nate were both almost eighteen. We were heading to the beach for the first time that summer, desperate for a little sun and sea after the stuffiness of school. Nate was his usual self on the way there; funny, kind, upbeat – but the second he took his shirt off something exploded inside of me, and I spent the rest of my teenage years picking up the pieces. Maybe it was just my way of hitting puberty, or maybe it was the fact that he’d developed the rock-hard abs and sleek biceps that would haunt my dreams for years afterwards.
It didn’t help that he was always around, hanging out with us and unafraid to pick me up and throw me around the room for a laugh. It’s hard enough to get by when you’re obsessed with someone, but it’s fucking torture when you spend almost every day with them. The first time I kissed a guy I imagined it was Nate, and I’d discreetly judge the dates and boyfriends I had afterwards by his standards.