by JD Hawkins
Esther and Ash return to their mojitos, and I look out to the busy street, the passing cars and strolling couples.
“Excuse me,” Ash says, pushing her chair back and fumbling in her bag as her phone vibrates. “I’m so sorry to be rude but I need to take a quick call for work. Be right back, I promise.”
“Sure,” I say, winking at her and watching her all the way.
“Smitten,” Esther mumbles.
I turn to see her grinning widely.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she shrugs, smiling even harder. “It’s just nice to see you happy. I always knew you were a true romantic underneath that bad boy exterior.”
I look back to see if Ash is nearby, but she’s out of sight.
“So what do you think about her?” I ask.
Esther gulps down her drink and raises a curious eyebrow.
“Since when do you need to ask me for my opinion on girls?”
I laugh and drain the last of my mojito.
“You were always keen on giving me an opinion in Germany.”
“This isn’t Germany, Teo. This is your home, not mine,” she says. “But honestly? I think you two are perfect together. She’s smart. Gorgeous. Seems grounded, obviously hardworking…the humble, steady type. I think she’s just what you need.”
I nod, twisting a coaster in my hand as I ponder over the words. It feels somewhat satisfying hearing somebody else say it, a confirmation I’m not just blindly hoping our future looks good.
“Thanks for telling her I was a hound in Berlin, by the way,” I joke.
Esther laughs deeply, throwing her head back.
“Please—she’s so besotted with you I could tell her you were an axe murderer and she’d ask to help hide the bodies. She understands… More to the point, she seems to want to understand you. How many of the other girls you dated could you say that about?”
I nod again, feeling comforted by the way Esther never shies from delivering home the hard truths.
“Still…” I say, looking at the coaster.
“What?”
I shake my head, searching for the words—or maybe the courage to use them.
“Sometimes I think I’m just setting myself up for a fall again. Maybe she’s still too good for me. Maybe I’m not as put together as I’ve been pretending these past couple of years. Still a whole lot of room for things to go wrong—do you know what I mean?”
Esther shifts in her chair to direct herself at me.
“Listen, Teo: I hate to play armchair psychiatrist, but this just looks so clear to me. The whole time you were working your way through every heterosexual woman in Berlin, it was obvious that you were trying to compensate for something—trying to fill some empty space inside of you. Whatever happened between you and Ash before is in the past—and it would serve you well to remember that.
“Can’t you see? I watched you change, Teo. You came to me as a guy running away from things, a guy with plenty of demons. And you left Berlin as a guy coming home, a guy with goals. Your work, your shop, Ash—you don’t have to keep searching anymore, Teo. Just let yourself be open to everything that’s going right.”
I twist the coaster a little more quickly now, struggling to order my thoughts.
“I had a future with Ash before,” I say, looking up at Esther, “and I lost it. How do I know I won’t lose it again?”
“Because this time you won’t make the same mistakes, Teo. This time it’s up to you.”
I meet her eyes, as if allowing her a glimpse inside my soul. Then smile it off and look away.
Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
13
Ash
As the only producer on Hollywood Night who actually seems to do anything, it doesn’t take me long to put Teo’s advice into practice. Within a week I’ve already shot some b-roll of Frankie’s yoga classes and studio, as well as a basic interview. It’s still not enough to form the segment I want it to be, but it’s getting there.
It helps that almost everyone at Hollywood Night seems to hold a grudge against Candace for something or other, so I can call in favors with all the editors and crew I want, knowing that they’re not going to tell her I’m working on something of my own.
It’s strange, thinking back to how Teo and I kept our relationship a secret because my parents would think he was a bad influence on me. He’s been back in my life for all of ten minutes and here I am bribing people with boxes of donuts to let me smuggle some older, unused camera equipment out of the studio for a few hours, sneaking extra time in the editing room, and pretending that I’m location-scouting when I’m really at Frankie’s yoga studio filming interviews with her students.
Sometimes it feels like I’m running an undercover operation, stirring up a revolution in the ranks—but I’ve spent way too long playing by the rules, and breaking them can be a hell of a turn-on. It also makes the rest of the celebrity non-news and pregnancy gossip I have to produce a lot easier to stomach. Maybe I’ve always needed a little influencing to follow my passions—bad or not.
Now that I’m doing this, I’m really thinking back to all the ideas I’ve had shot down by Candace over the years, all the quirky people I wanted to interview, all the serious topics I wanted to cover. The peculiar stories of actors who reached the very top only to fall completely off the map overnight, exposés of sexism and prejudice in film-making, the great Hollywood scripts that were never filmed because they got caught in legal or political limbos.
Of course, filming all this stuff might all mean nothing in the end, if I never actually get to put it on air—but you can’t force everything in life. Sometimes you just have to be ready for when an opportunity presents itself. Besides, with a decent portfolio of actually-interesting segments, my own ideas, I might just finally be able to take the plunge and find a better gig than running condom-fetching errands for Candace and Carlos.
It’s as I’m working through some of these ideas, at the end of a long workday of dealing with Carlos’ hissyfits over his hair, that Jenny knocks on my office door. She pushes it open slowly, poking a strand of blue hair and half a yellow hoop earring inside.
“You busy?”
“No,” I say, dropping my pen. “Come in.”
Jenny steps inside.
“Just wanted to remind you that we’re meeting at Hooper’s for drinks in about an hour.”
I purse my lips apologetically.
“Oh, I can’t. Not tonight.”
Jenny’s face falls. “You have to,” she says. “Sean insisted that you come, so he’ll notice if you’re not there. I think he wants to thank you for nailing that Stephen Peace segment…under all those ‘difficult’ circumstances.”
“Can’t. I’ve already made plans,” I sigh, knowing that Jenny isn’t the person I should be excusing myself to.
Jenny winces, then quickly turns around to close the door and approaches my desk.
“Honestly,” she says, “I think you should really come. If only to keep certain persons from bitching about you too much. With all your secret projects on the side now…might be smart to keep up friendly appearances.”
My pulse kicks up a notch. “You think she suspects something?”
“No…Candace is so self-absorbed you could probably come into work naked and she wouldn’t notice. She won’t find out anything unless she decides to start going over the schedules with a fine-tooth comb—which is about as likely me being offered a part in a remake of Casablanca.”
I laugh gently as Jenny half-sits on my desk.
“But since you’re filming all this stuff,” Jenny continues, “you may as well kiss a little ass. Could help when it comes time to show them what you’ve got.”
“I hear you,” I nod. “The thing is, I made plans with Teo tonight.”
“So bring him!” Jenny asserts eagerly. “It’s about time I meet the guy who’s got you walking in here in the mornings with a Miss America smile! God—” Jenny stops herself to look
away flippantly, “you should ask him to bring a friend, if you really care.”
I consider it for a second, then shake my head.
“It’s not really his scene.”
Jenny scoffs. “He doesn’t like free bar tabs? Come on, half the crew always bring their girlfriends and boyfriends. You can swing a plus one.”
“I don’t know…”
Jenny frowns suddenly, putting a hand on her hip.
“How many times have you been to his tattoo shop? Spoken to his friends there? You even met his mentor from Germany last week. Don’t you think it’s only right you show him your world the way he’s shown you his?”
“I suppose…although my ‘world’ basically consists of an unbearably vain prima donna and a boss who looks at me as if she wants to wear my skin.”
Jenny leans forward.
“You forgot to mention the incredibly smart, funny, and talented writer who does regular unpaid stints as your psychotherapist, motivational speaker, and top secret project collaborator.”
I laugh again.
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Good,” Jenny says, leaping off the desk and heading for the door with an air of triumph. “And don’t forget to ask about the friend—it’s been years since I could smile like that before midday.”
Hooper’s is a large bar. Sleek, with its black couches and metal tables, but not too modern with its warm chandelier lighting and carpeted pool table area. More to the point, they have a great cocktail and whiskey menu which—even with my producer-promotion raise—I wouldn’t want to afford unless it was on the company’s tab.
Work drinks happen about once a month. Part morale-booster, part opportunity for a lot of the unappreciated employees to drink their fair share of compensation, and part opportunity for Sean to feel involved with the production—the whole thing is usually his idea. Even as a producer on the show, it’s only when the whole crew bundles into the bar that I realize how many people work on Hollywood Night—wardrobe, make-up, writers, editors, set crew, assistants—and it’s nice to connect with everyone. It’ll be nice to introduce Teo to them, too. As soon as I arrive I’m checking the door every few seconds, waiting for him to show up like he told me he would.
Tonight follows the same tried and tested pattern. Sean begins by giving a little speech about how proud he is of everyone, special mentions for some of us, and how much he hopes we’ll ‘kick-on’ and ‘keep up the great work,’ before we all turn off to concentrate on our orders. Sean then jumps from conversation to conversation, making smiley small talk and handing out pats on the back while Candace inevitably separates herself from the crew members she can barely name, and spends her time with Carlos and the showbiz friends they always invite to these things.
Once the vibe settles a little, and I’ve taken my turn exchanging niceties with Sean, I take a seat at the bar and order another blue lagoon. As I half-listen to a conversation between a couple of the crew beside me, I feel a pat on the back and Jenny squeezes beside me carrying an empty glass.
“Another Manhattan, please,” she says to the busy bartender, before turning eager eyes to me. “So? Where is he?”
“Ugh, must you keep nagging?” I tease, pulling my phone out to check if he’s messaged. “I sent him a text—but like I said, don’t be surprised if he doesn’t come. This is really not his bag.”
Jenny smiles and leans in to be heard over the vibrant chatter, pointing along the bar to the corner.
“Take a look,” she says, as I follow the point of her finger. Carlos is flirting with a couple of tall women in tight dresses— and a few feet away, Candace glares at him like she’s trying to see a magic eye picture. “You’d think with all that plastic surgery she’d be better at hiding her emotions.”
I turn my attention back to my drink and suck a long gulp.
“They’re both a time bomb waiting to happen,” I say.
“It’s so ironic…” Jenny says.
“What is?”
“Well, Candace loves nothing more than pieces about ‘cheating celebrities’ and ‘who’s the father?’ pregnancies—all the while she’s sleeping with a married man who puts himself across as some latter-day saint.”
I look at Jenny for a second.
“Don’t start pointing out contradictions in Hollywood—we’ll be here all night.”
Jenny laughs loudly and sips half her drink. She sways and bounces a little to the hip-hop tune barely audible over the noise of the bar.
I watch her for a while, smiling.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” I ask, eventually.
“What good mood?”
“Don’t play coy,” I say, turning to face her. “Spill it.”
Jenny laughs and stops bouncing for a second.
“Well, since I’m keeping your secret, I suppose you can keep mine.”
“What secret?”
With a dramatic pause, a look in her eye like she’s giddy, she says, “I just got my first audition.”
“Audition?”
“Shh! Keep it down! I don’t want anyone to know.”
I lean in so I can whisper forcefully.
“Since when do you act?”
“It’s not really an acting role…more of a presenting sort of thing.”
“Ok…since when do you present—sort of thing?”
“I don’t…I mean, I didn’t. It’s just something I want to try, you know? I’ve been writing for crappy primetime TV and trying to have my scripts read for so long now…I’d just like to try something a little more...expressive. Something a bit more thrilling than staring at a blank Pages document all day.”
“That’s fantastic, Jenny! God! I’m so excited for you!” I say, grabbing her instinctively for a hug.
“You don’t think it’s stupid?” she says, her lips curled nervously. “A woman in her thirties trying to for a dramatic pivot in her career? Trying to get in front of the camera? I mean, I’m probably not even what they’re looking for.”
“Are you kidding? You’re one of a kind. I think it’s fucking incredible,” I say, picking up my glass and clinking it against Jenny’s. “And I think you’re going to kick seven shades of ass as a presenter.”
“Thanks,” Jenny says, blushing like it’s the first compliment she’s ever received in her life. “It’s not like I want to present for TV or anything, but something small…online, maybe. Or the kind of things you see writers do on sites like TrendBlend.”
I nod encouragingly. “I could absolutely see you doing that. You’ve got the look, the charisma, the attitude—totally.”
Jenny smiles bashfully and waves her empty glass at the bartender again.
“Yeah, well, you have enough of your lines cut by some higher-up, or butchered by some half-wit, and you can’t help wondering why you don’t just deliver them yourself. Speaking of which,” Jenny says, lowering herself on the bar to point again, “it looks like Candace is trying to get her groove back.”
Once again I follow Jenny’s finger to the end of the bar.
“I can’t see,” I say, after tilting my head side-to-side. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“Candace is flirting with some guy, trying to make Carlos jealous,” Jenny says. “Although seeing the guy, I don’t blame her…just, wow.”
It’s only after seeing the half-lidded eyes and open-mouthed awe on Jenny’s face that I figure I better see for myself who she’s talking about, and decide to stand on the bar rail to get a better look. My look is less of awe, and more one of horror.
“Oh shit,” I say, almost cringing at the sight of Candace tightly holding onto him, hand pressed against his chest, the other I don’t even want to think about. “That’s Teo!”
Jenny lets out a low whistle. “Now I see why you want to keep him locked up.”
“Damnit,” I say, jumping back off the bar rail and pushing my way through the crowd toward him, Jenny holding her drink high as she follows in my slipstream.
When I’m close enough for him to see me, Teo breaks out of Candace’s death-grip and darts toward me to land a kiss that’s a little more intimate than it should be considering we’re in a public place surrounded by people.
“Hey babe,” he says as we break apart, looking at me like we’re in private.
“Hey,” I say, turning to Jenny and Candace, who is now glaring daggers at me.
I feel myself blushing as I introduce him to my BFF first. “This is Teo. Teo, this is Jenny—she writes for the show, when she’s not being an awesome friend and supportive comrade for my ideas.”
“Nice to meet you,” Teo says, holding his hand out for the few seconds it takes Jenny to stop gawking and process the words.
“Oh,” she says, finally, practically drooling as she shakes his hand. “You too.”
Candace scowls so hard it’s difficult to ignore, and we all end up looking at her.
“And this is Candace,” I say, trying to break the awkwardness. “My boss.”
“Yeah,” Teo says, half-smiling away the unease. “She already introduced herself.”
“This is your girlfriend?” Candace says, ignoring me to focus on Teo.
Teo squeezes his arm around my shoulder a little tighter, plants a kiss on my forehead.
“Sure is. Lucky me.”
“Pfft,” Candace snorts dismissively, rolling her eyes and then looking back at me like I’m a stain on her expensive rug. “I thought you were a lesbian—the way you dress.”
“Candace!” Jenny hisses.
“It’s ok, Jenny,” I say, my boss’s catty words bouncing right off me as Teo squeezes me even tighter. “I’m sure she’s just had a little too much to drink.”
Candace laughs at this, reveling in the discomfort she thinks she’s causing, enjoying the tension.
“What? Am I wrong?” she goes on, cheerily, as if we’re talking about sports. “I mean…look at you, Ash, and look at him… I’m sure I’m not being controversial when I say he’s a little out of your league.”
“You’re right—Ash could do way better,” Teo says, looking at me like I’m the only girl in the room. “I’m a lucky guy.”