by L.H. Cosway
“I’d like to get your real-life perspective,” Damon went on, drawing me back to the conversation. “The story is told from Sasha’s point of view, but I want to depict the experience of the escort she develops a relationship with in the most realistic way possible.”
Real life had definitely mirrored fiction with that one.
“I’m not sure I’m right for that job,” I replied and closed the paper. “And I’m sure Ellen would prefer it if I weren’t hanging around the set.”
“She’s the one who suggested you,” Damon said, and I blinked. She had? Was she back from her travels?
Everything inside of me thrilled at the idea of seeing her, and then immediately rebelled against it. My feelings for her were dangerous. I’d come too close to losing myself to her completely. As a recovering addict, the idea of being so vulnerable with another person was terrifying. If she rejected me, and inevitably she would eventually, it might send me straight back into the arms of my greatest love, heroin.
“She admitted that when she first wrote the book a number of years ago, she was young and new to publishing. She didn’t do any real-life research, didn’t talk to anyone within the profession. And like I said, since it’s all from Sasha’s perspective in the book, it works. But in the film, we’re trying to show all viewpoints,” Damon went on in an effort to convince me.
I frowned as I thought about it. “You’re not just making this offer because you’re sick of me moping around the flat?”
In truth, not only had I been grumpy for months, I also hadn’t worked. I was at a point where I could afford to take some time off, but I definitely couldn’t afford to do this indefinitely. I needed to start earning again. The problem was, my interactions with clients had been difficult at best. I’d tried, but like with Cathy after I’d started to grow close to Ellen, I couldn’t bring myself to be intimate. All I thought about was Ellen, and how I wished I was kissing her, touching her, taking her into my arms.
Nobody else would do, and that’s what terrified me. For so long I sought pleasure in many beds, now I only yearned for one.
“Julian, I don’t exactly know any other male escorts. Besides, I don’t want anyone else for this job but you. It’s a great job opportunity, with a potential for similar jobs down the line. We’ve also just cast the lead role.”
That piqued my curiosity. I wondered what A-lister they’d found to play Sasha. “Oh?”
Damon smiled. “Our old friend Alicia has agreed to play the lead.”
Well. That was interesting. “And Rose has no objections?”
Back when they’d worked on the West End together, Alicia had eyes for Damon. In the end, she’d succumbed to my charms, but I still couldn’t imagine Rose being thrilled about her coming back into their lives.
“Rose has known for a long time that I’ve no romantic inclinations towards Alicia. Besides, she’s perfect for the role. We couldn’t go with anyone else.”
“And how has the rest of the casting been going? Rose mentioned the other week you were having some troubles.”
Damon rubbed his jaw. “We haven’t found the right person yet to play Toby, Sasha’s boss at the magazine. We need someone who’s good-looking, but older. Also, someone who isn’t a huge star. Alicia needs to be the clear headliner.”
I almost grinned. “Was that in her contract?”
Damon shot his eyes to the ceiling. “What do you think?”
I chuckled, and it was the first time I’d felt any sort of humour in who knew how long. It was just so Alicia to insist on being the main attraction. It was one of the things that had drawn me to her. When I thought of how Ellen was her opposite in every way, I wondered if maybe that had been my problem. I’d always gone for women like Alicia, women who were like me, perhaps subconsciously knowing they wouldn’t fall for me. But Ellen…
“Well, what do you think?” Damon prodded, interrupting my thoughts.
I sighed. “Let me think about it.”
He started to smile. “Great.”
I wagged my finger at him. “Don’t go getting too excited. I’m not agreeing to anything yet.”
But really, I did need to work. It was only the thought of being around Ellen that made me hesitate. Then again, with her newfound confidence and travels, I’d be surprised if she hadn’t moved on to someone else by now. Even thinking it made me want to lash out, but I kept the urge at bay. I drummed my fingers on the back of the chair to release some nervous energy when an idea struck. “How about having David audition for the Toby role?”
Damon appeared thoughtful as he rubbed his chin. “He just finished a stint in Sweeney Todd, right? Has he done any other acting?”
“Do music videos count?”
Now he laughed. “Not really, but give me his number and I’ll get in touch. See if he’s interested.”
Later that day, I stood outside Montrose, the assisted living facility where my mother resided. It was an hour outside of London, but I still felt guilty for not visiting more often. It was just that these visits, they drained me. And then I felt guilty for feeling drained. It was a vicious cycle.
When I went inside, I was immediately welcomed by a smiling receptionist. A fresh vase of flowers sat on her desk, colourful and vibrant. Mum used to live in a much worse place than this, but once I started to earn enough money, I transferred her here. Sometimes I wondered if maybe it was a little too nice. She was comfortable here and didn’t want to leave.
I guess there were worse ways to live. At least at Montrose, I knew she was being cared for. She was taking her meds, getting up every morning, socialising with the other residents. It was the best possible scenario.
On the outside world, Mum had been a wreck. In here, she had peace, a routine, predictability. It was the only way I knew to keep her safe.
When I reached her room, I stopped a moment to mentally prepare myself. I did this every time. Took a deep breath, steeled myself just in case she wasn’t feeling well. And when Mum didn’t feel well, she took it out on whoever was around her.
I knocked on the door and waited. A second later a quiet voice called, “Come in.”
I stepped inside and found her sitting by the window, a word search on her lap. Her hair looked washed and her eyes bright. My tension eased. She was having a good day, thank Christ.
“Hi, Mum,” I greeted and went to set the bag of goodies on the table. I always brought the same thing; gossip magazines, chocolate, and the expensive coffee pods she liked. Last Christmas, I’d gotten her a Nespresso machine and it was her new favourite thing. She said it tasted just like the stuff you got at fancy cafés.
“Your hair’s grown longer,” she commented, eyeing me with the tip of her pen in her mouth. She chewed on it a moment.
I ran my hand through my hair. She was right. It had gotten longer. “Definitely needs a cut.”
She scoffed. “Bet you think you look like Jim Morrison.”
“That’s one person I’ve never been mistaken for, Mum.”
“Hush, for a second. I’m trying to concentrate.”
I shut my mouth and looked out the window while she circled a word she just found. Mum had a view of the courtyard garden. There was a woman sitting on a bench with a tiny dog on her lap.
“They let you have pets here?” I asked.
Mum rolled her eyes. “You talking about Maureen over there?” she said, eyeing the woman outside. I nodded. “Not everyone’s allowed. You need to have perfect behaviour.”
“And you don’t?”
She huffed a sigh. “I could have a pet if I wanted, but I’m not interested. Maureen spends half the day picking up poo. And the stupid thing barks constantly. Does my head in.”
“You never did like animals,” I said in agreement.
She eyed me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I never had a pet growing up.”
“You survived, didn’t you? Anyway, pets are overrated.”
A silence fell, and Mum went ba
ck to her word search. I made us both some coffee and set a cup down in front of her. “Thanks,” she said, eyeing me warily.
Mum saying thanks was a big deal. Most of the time she just accepted stuff without talking, like I owed her for the simple fact she brought me into the world.
I retook my seat and noticed her still watching me. “What’s going on with you?” she questioned.
Quite like her thanks, Mum asking questions about me was also unusual. She knew what I did for a living, but since it paid for her life here at Montrose, she rarely mentioned it.
I decided to hell with it. I was going to answer honestly. Maybe it would shock her out of her indifference. “I think I might’ve fallen in love with someone.”
Her brow ticked upward ever so slightly. “Other than yourself? I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“Yes, Mum. I fell for someone other than myself. Big shocker.”
Mum thought that because I bought expensive clothes, took care of myself, and lived a somewhat luxurious life that I was inherently vain and selfish. I think it suited her better than to accept the reality that I was sensitive, that I had feelings and could bleed just like everyone else.
Still, she appeared curious, her attention wandering over me, her word search forgotten. “Is she one of those women, the ones who pay money for you to chauffeur them around?”
‘Chauffeur them around’ was Mum’s code for ‘shag them senseless’.
“No, she isn’t one of those women.”
She was quiet, then said, “And how does she feel about you…you know, spreading it around like that?”
“I don’t spread anything around.”
She waved a hand through the air. “You know what I mean.”
“She never judged me for what I do for a living, if that’s what you’re asking. But if you must know, I’m not doing that anymore anyway.”
She sat a little straighter, probably because me not working equalled to her not having her expenses paid to live here. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I can still afford to pay for this place.”
Mum sniffed and folded her arms. “So, this woman, you gave up whoring yourself for her?”
Normally she wasn’t so blunt. Mum had an infinite number of ways to describe prostitution without actually saying the words. “No, I didn’t give it up for her, but I did give it up because of her.”
Mum was quiet again. She appeared to be thinking, so I drank my coffee and let her think.
“Since you’re here, telling me your woes, I’m guessing things didn’t work out in the end.”
My expression was solemn. “Unfortunately, when it comes to love I’ve inherited your bad luck.”
She grunted and looked away. “More trouble than it’s worth.”
For once, she was right. Loving people was more trouble it was worth, and Mum was a shining example of that. I loved her to my detriment because she was my mum and I’d never get another. I loved her even though almost all of her decisions ended up hurting me.
“Julian,” she said and I looked up. It wasn’t often that she uttered my name.
“Yes, Mum?”
Her expression showed a rare hint of remorse. “You shouldn’t listen to me. This woman, maybe she loves you back. Maybe you just need to take a chance. You don’t want to end up like me. I hurt everyone who ever tried to love me, because I was hurt too many times myself, and now I’m all alone.”
Was that what would happen? I’d end up exactly like Mum?
Her uncharacteristic show of emotion and vulnerability was jarring. I reached out and took her hand. For a second, she flinched, but then accepted my touch. “You’re not alone. You have me.”
Mum blinked, and I thought I saw a watery shine in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Too bad, you’ve got me.”
She gave me a glimpse into just how grateful she was, how sorry she was for everything she put me through, all in one infinitely sad expression. Reaching out, she stroked my hair away from my face. “You’re a good person, Julian. Too good. I know I give you shit all the time, but you don’t deserve it. Sometimes my misery wants to make everyone else miserable, too.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
And I did. When I was a teenager, I started to suffer from the same depression as Mum. I knew what it was like to be a black hole and want to pull everyone down with me. But I was stronger than Mum and I fought it. I got it under control. It required constant upkeep, but it was the only way I kept from succumbing to darkness. I’d fallen once before, fallen so bad I almost killed myself with drugs. But I’d never go back to that. I couldn’t.
“If you think she’ll give you another shot, you should take it,” Mum went on. “You don’t get too many chances for love in this life. More often than not, it’s unrequited. So, when it’s real, you’ve got to grab hold of it.”
I absorbed her words. I let them sink into me and embolden me. Because she was right. How often do we find connections like the one I shared with Ellen? Sometimes only once in a lifetime. Sometimes not even once.
I could take a chance on her, or I could continue to live in this liminal world where I’ve spent so many years existing. Giving myself to people, but then taking myself away just as quickly, always moving on for fear of getting too attached. Or I could try let someone love me, and love them in return.
I hadn’t seen Ellen in months and I still thought about her every single day.
What was the point in yearning for someone like that when they were just around the corner, completely and totally within reach? Was it some form of sadism? Self-sabotage?
I was wrapped in my thoughts all the way home from my visit with Mum. While walking by a bookshop, I saw a display of the entire Sasha Orlando series, and it felt like a sign. On autopilot, I went inside, bought a copy of every single book and walked out with a heavy bag on my arm.
Halfway down the street, there was a teenage girl with a box of puppies. Living in the city, I’d come across countless people giving away puppies and kittens, and all other manner of baby animals on the street. Each time I’d taken a look at the cute little things and continued on my merry way. But not today. Today I stopped completely.
The girl’s face was red as she handed a puppy off to a smiling couple. The sign over the box read: FREE PUPPIES. MY MUM IS MAKING ME GIVE THEM AWAY. ONLY TO GOOD, CARING HOMES.
Instantly, my heart went out to her.
“What breed are they?” I asked, peering down at the fawn coloured pups.
“Chihuahuas. I have to give them away because we don’t have room in our flat,” she replied, bereft.
“They’re so tiny,” I commented.
She nodded. “They don’t need much space, just someone to care for them. They need a lot of love.”
Feeling bold, I said, “I’ll take one.”
Sadly, she turned and picked one up. “This is Sheila. She’s the bossiest of the litter, if you think you can handle that.”
I smiled warmly. “I am partial to a bossy female.”
She handed me the pup and I took her in my arms. Sheila was sleepy, and she immediately snuggled into me. For a second, I was a little boy again, the one whose Mum said no every time he begged for a pet.
“I think I love her already,” I breathed.
“She’ll get fluffier as she gets older,” the girl said. “Her mum, Hilda, is my dog and she’s really fluffy.”
“I’ll invest in some good lint rollers then,” I said, unable to stop smiling.
When I arrived back at the flat, Damon sat in the living room, a laptop open in front of him and stacks of paper all around. He did a double take when he saw me.
“Uh, Julian, is that a dog?”
I flounced into the room, holding my new baby. “You can refer to her as Sheila.”
Damon scratched his head. “Okay, but…you don’t even have a garden.”
“The balcony w
ill do. And she can come with me every morning for a walk in the park. There was a girl out on the street giving them away. I had to take one.”
Now he chuckled. “Well, don’t tell Rose that. She’ll be out trying to find the girl to get one for herself.”
I saluted him as I headed for the kitchen to find a bowl to pour some water for Sheila. “By the way, I’ll take that consulting job if it’s still going,” I said casually while I opened a cupboard.
“You will? That’s great,” Damon replied, and I smiled to myself.
By taking the job, it would put me in direct proximity to Ellen. And I had a new goal, one nobody could deter me from. I was going to win her back, claim her heart, and make her fall in love with me all over again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ellen
“Miss, can you sign for these, please?” the delivery guy asked as I answered the door. He held a giant bouquet of flowers.
It was early in the morning and a car would be arriving any minute to take me to Pinewood studios for the first day of filming. I’d been home a few weeks. My dad had been caring for Skittles and Rainbow while I was away, but I think they were glad to be settling back into their regular routine, and so was I. Although now I had to get used to a brand new one as the filming for the Sasha Orlando movie started in earnest.
Today I wore a dark blue tea dress with tiny hot air balloons printed all over, a black cardigan, purple tights, and mustard ballet flats. Ever since I said goodbye to Elodie, I’d slowly started to develop a new style, one that was all my own.
I finally found that little bit of confidence to let my inner girly girl fly free.
I still wondered if the outfit was “writery” enough, or if I should wear something more serious. While I was travelling, I’d collaborated via email and video chat with Levi Wilkins and Stacy Young, an award-winning screen-writing duo, to adapt Good Girl, Bad Lady for the big screen.
It had been both intimidating and exhilarating to work with such amazing writers, and I was more than a little excited about the first day of filming. I’d missed out on the read through due to nerves (yes, I was still a work in progress), but luckily Levi and Stacy were able to be there in my place. Now they were off working on their next project, so I would be the only writer on set during filming. Needless to say, I was shitting myself. Just a little bit.