Her American Classic (Part 2)

by G J Morgan

  “Are you dropping me a subtle hint?” I said, pointing to my empty wine bottle.

  “No, not at all. Thought you might need warming up. It ain’t sunbathing weather.” He put a blanket over my legs. “If you don’t mind me saying, you do look rather familiar.” He studied my face. For a moment, I thought my cover was blown. “You were here last week. I remember serving you. And your man too. Tom Collins for him, I recall. Martinis for yourself. Followed by enough tequila to sink a ship. It’s lucky you’re still alive.”

  “Were we that bad?”

  “You drank my top shelf dry. No harm. Sign of a successful evening. That’s what I like about this place. There’s a certain order to it. Order at the beginning, chaos in the middle, then back to order. Just like a mystery novel.”

  We both looked out across our private cove. A few people paddling twenty yards ahead, a man asleep or reading. In the distance, the mainland, tiny spots and moving blurs of people enjoying the same tranquillity as us, but without the same degree of privacy.

  “How long have you worked here?” I asked him.

  “Too long. Not long enough.”

  “Mad island, isn’t it?”

  “Not mad. Different. Eccentric. Everyone needs a wee bit of escapism.”

  I laughed. “Escaping sounds ideal right about now.

  “Forgive me. You don’t mind me talking, do you? You’re my only customer. I think everyone has retired for midday naps.”

  “No not at all. I appreciate the company. You think they can see us up here? Y’know, from the beach. All those people on their holidays.”

  “Na. Too high. But I bet they are trying to. Wouldn’t you if you were down there? Wouldn’t you want to know? I know I would. You’re staying at the top of a grand castle. And all those down there have to look up and wonder.”

  “You think?”

  “I know so. Where’s your man from the other week? Is he down there somewhere with the riff-raff or is he inside the hotel? Billiards Room I bet?”

  “He’s somewhere.”

  He looked over his shoulder, checking his bar.

  “What is it you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I’m an actress.”

  “How very grand. A fabulous life to lead, I can imagine.”

  “It is. Most of the time. It’s harder than you might think.”

  “Doesn’t seem hard from where I’m standing. Cocktails and romance seems pretty fabulous to me,” he smiled, pulling up a chair beside me. “I’m joking, of course. I had a friend back home who worked the theatre for years. She worked every hour under the sun, I can only imagine how hard it must be, harder than making cocktails and pots of tea. I couldn’t do it; one character is enough for me, thank you very much.”

  “Did she ever make it on the big screen, your friend?”

  “No, not even close.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “She wasn’t too fussed. She was just happy acting, she couldn’t care less if she was on the West End or the top floor of a corner pub. As long as she was performing, she was happy.”

  “She sounds cool.”

  “She is. She was. She died not long ago. That was a hell of funeral. Pints of heavy, singing, a few rammies. Just how she would’ve wanted it. Must be an amazing profession to be in. To give people so much joy.”

  “It is. But your job must give people joy too.”

  “Depends how drunk I get them. Joy and despair aren’t too far removed when alcohol is involved. I think your line of work is far more rewarding than mine.”

  “I don’t think all people see it like that. Some would say the last thing this planet needs right now is more dancers, more actors, more artists.”

  “Only the uneducated think that way. Art makes us human. There are so many restrictions in life, scientific rules and laws we are governed by. Everyone needs a creative outlet.”

  “What’s your outlet?”

  “People. I love people.”

  “Not cocktails?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I love making cocktails, but that’s just science, mixing chemicals, changing taste and colours. More rules and laws I’m afraid. My outlet is people. Yours is acting.”

  I sniffed and smiled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “If you’d asked me this morning, I was about to be a retired actress.”

  “Has something dramatic happened between breakfast and lunch to cause such a change of opinion?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And is there likely to be a change of opinion again? By dinner or supper?”

  “Most likely.”

  “Keeps you on your toes at least.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s a volatile way of surviving.”

  “But still you survive.”

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Are you surviving?”

  “I’ve done OK. I’ve had successes, failures too, and I can’t take credit for either. Strangely the big decisions in life are the ones it’s best to plan the least, most weren’t even planned at all. Working here, for example.”

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “You should be. It’s quite a story. One that now I can look back at fondly. At the time, it was far more complicated, lots of drama and twists.”

  “Drama and now calm.”

  “For now, yes. But you know what they say about calm and storms.”

  “Are you predicting drama for yourself?”

  “Always, but calm to follow. It works both ways. Hence why decisions shouldn’t always be thought through, sometimes a little impulse is required.” He looked behind him. There was movement around the bar. A couple dressed in beige. “I best get back inside. I shouldn’t leave the bar unattended. Even if it so quiet today. Leave you to the view and me to serving more Americans.”

  “Poor you.”

  “Me. I love it.”

  “Really?”

  “I never take for granted the magic of this place. I’ve been here years, they only get to sample it for a day or two. Every customer deserves to be treated like only they exist. Like they’re a Hollywood star. Even if it is just for one day.”

  “Well, you certainly do that. Thank you.”

  He smiled, his mouth closed. “Let me know if ever you need anything. More wine, more tea, more blankets.”

  “I will. I promise. Oh what is up there?” pointing to the top of a cliff, at half a dozen people as small as pins.

  “The old chapel. A good place to take stock of the world. Though not the sort of walk I’d recommend if having wine for breakfast and lunch. It’s a long way to fall and last time I checked, Superman isn’t on our payroll.” Said with a smile, offence not to be taken, which it wasn’t.

  I watched him walk back inside the hotel, I could already hear him embrace his new customers like long lost friends. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” I heard him say, like he just had to me.

  I laughed to myself.

  Every job had its script.

  It took another pot of tea and a complimentary shot of grappa before I realized that Tom was not involved in all this, deep down I always knew it wasn’t him, but at that split second I saw the photos, everyone close was guilty.

  My guess was it was Max, it was far too timely to be paparazzi, this little twist had Max written all over it, I could picture his face, his cigar being lit, smoke fumes and a big grin. This was a man whose job it was to toy with tension, to know how to create it, build it, know the exact point or page at which his audience should be knocked off their seats, when they should boo and cheer.

  I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of a reaction, though knowing him he knew I wouldn’t give him one. There was more to this though, movies were a blood
sport and a decent director was fully aware of the need for a little sadism. Any decent movie, the protagonist will get their happy ending, but they will have to suffer in the middle, that was for damn sure, they’ll have to lose, or bleed or die, or defeat the antagonist, but they will win.

  So why was I worried? Whatever Max was planning for Act Two, I might possibly come away from it unscathed, but that didn’t mean that others would be so lucky. I had to get to Tom, explain things, prepare him for what might happen next, tell him to brace himself.

  I checked my cell, a list of missed calls, mostly from Tom. I tried his number, let it ring and ring. I needed to fix this and quick, speak to him before he did something stupid like leave or stay. I was sure Max had escape routes for both.

  34

  “And then she lamped him one. Slapped him silly.”

  “She did that?”

  “I saw her do it, man. She doesn’t take any crap, that girl.”

  “I get that impression.” I turned the heating down in the Jeep. “You warm now, Frank?”

  “I’m warm, but I ain’t dry, that’s for sure. You?”

  “Same.”

  “You still feeling bummed?” Frank checking his cell.

  “I could’ve sworn she’d be there. Thought they’d at least let us through the gate.”

  “It wouldn’t have made a difference. If you stay on a private island, there’s a strong chance you want your privacy. Even if we had found her I’m damn sure we wouldn’t have been welcomed with open arms. Knowing Lilly, it’s better this way, let her come out when she’s good and ready, on her own terms.”

  “I guess so. Least me and you got to bond, hey?” I joked, when I wasn’t sure me and Frank were in joke territory yet.

  “Who said we’d bonded?” he coughed.

  “We are still enemies?”

  “I’m just yanking your chain. Don’t take it personal if we don’t hold hands just yet. It’s my nature to think the worst of people. I’m used to protecting things, buildings and front lines remember. I ain’t so good when people are involved. Don’t quite know how to behave apart from attack or defend.”

  I smiled. “You’re just looking out for Lilly. I can understand why your guard is up.”

  I took a quick glance at the clock, it was earlier than I thought, the sky was the wrong colour, gave the impression there was no day left.

  “How did it come about?” I asked. “You and Lilly?”

  “Nothing special. I worked through an agency. Security, hired thug. Politicians and billionaires mostly.”

  “Sounds a luxurious way of living.”

  “It was. I had some fun times, stayed in some amazing places, got to see the world using someone else’s wallet.”

  “Any hairy moments?” turning on the windscreen wipers.

  “Plenty. The richer my employer, the more people wanted their money or power.”

  “That must be the draw, though. Why else would you be a bodyguard if it wasn’t for a life of danger?”

  “The younger me would agree. The time I got the call to work for Lilly I was just about to accept a job for Union Pacific over at Salt Lake. Nine-to-five pencil-pushing.”

  “Bit of a career change. Bullet vests to rail roads,” I said, putting my foot on the brake as a tractor pulled in front of us.

  “Fancied a different speed. Danger is a young man’s game. Just wanted something to top up my Marine Corps pension till I could forget work entirely and focus on important stuff like good beer and decent waves.”

  “Then why didn’t you take the job in Salt Lake?”

  “Few days before, one of my friends at the agency rang me in a panic, said she was in a spot of bother. Some young actress with a reputation for sacking folk had gone and sacked another. I owed her a favour, they needed someone fast, that someone was me. I just thought of Lilly as another pay cheque, so when Max asked me to keep tabs on her, I thought of the money rather than the person I was protecting.”

  “Lilly likes to sack people then?”

  “I think they sack themselves. Lilly may have given them the push, but from what she tells me the guys she fired were amateur at best. They weren’t fit to handle her.”

  I laughed. “You make her sound like a wild dog.”

  “Oh, she’s wild. There’s a mean streak to that girl. Selfish side, too. Stubborn.”

  “Loyal though.”

  “Very. She’s a very complicated girl. I’ve seen many a side of Lilly. Some I wouldn’t want to see again if you know what I mean. She’s hard-shelled that one.”

  “Most people are, one way or the other.”

  “Don’t know where it comes from? I know her parents’ divorce affected her pretty bad.”

  “Divorce?”

  “Her biological mother ran off with some party boy. Moved across state. Lilly was just about to start junior high. Never saw her again.”

  “How could her mum do that?”

  “Bad people are bad people. Don’t think her dad handled it very well, breakdown, remarried pretty quick. He made some bad choices.”

  “Like?”

  “Nothing major. Just little things that can mess with a daughter’s head. Not spending time with her. Letting her become an adult way too soon.”

  “Makes sense of why she is like she is.”

  “She’s changed a lot. When I first met her she was all over the place. Fame came quick for Lilly, I don’t think she knew quite how to handle it. Drank a lot, partied too much. Far too much.”

  “Till you came along.”

  “Not straight away. Took time.”

  “And what made you so special?”

  “I think I was just honest with her. Told her straight.”

  “I bet she loved that. The iron fist.”

  “We had our fights at first. She just needed to get things out of her system. After that she was sweet as pie. But there’s still that nasty side to Lilly. I don’t see it often, but it hasn’t gone away. Probably why she ran off again. I think she knows how bad she can turn when things get too real or too close. Running away seems her defence mechanism.”

  “What’s the deal with her step-mum and dad now then? Some days they’re one call away from child welfare, the next they’re Parents of the Year.”

  “They’re OK. Met them a few times. They’re just preoccupied.”

  “With what?”

  “Themselves. They’re Hollywood people. Her dad’s still waiting on his big break. Her mom too.”

  “Her step-mum’s an actress?”

  “No, though she likes the idea of being an actor’s wife, that’s for sure.”

  “She sounds lovely,” I said, watching the tractor in front, contemplating overtaking the damn thing.

  “They’re nice people. Not a bad bone between them. Just not too good at being parents.”

  “You got your own kids, I take it?”

  “No, never lucky enough on that front. You?”

  “Girl.”

  “I always wanted a girl. Boys you can leave to find their own way. Girls you actually have to father.” He looked out the window. “I always wanted a girl.”

  “I think you already have one of those. Do you think we should ring Sally? Let her know we are on our way back.”

  “I still can’t get a signal out here. You?”

  “My battery died ages ago. Is there a charger anywhere near you, Frank? I normally I have one.”

  Frank started to rummage, under his seat, the glovebox, as the tractor took a right and I could finally put my foot down, make up for lost time. Both of us ready for home.

  “She won’t move here, Tom. I know she’s filled your head with the idea. But it won’t happen.”

  “I kinda gathered that a long time ago.”

  “What next then?”

 
“More than likely she’ll go her way and I’ll go mine.”

  “And what if, by some miracle, that doesn’t happen? Say she wants you as much as you want her?”

  “That won’t happen, trust me. Not based on the last few days, not based on what’s happened today either.”

  “Lilly is prone to change her mind. What if she does? You have a choice here, Tom. End things happy. End it quick. Before people start making drastic decisions liking quitting careers and upping sticks.”

  “I don’t have that choice, Frank. Lilly has taken that decision out of my hands already.”

  “You might be right. But if she hasn’t then you might have to. Could you do that, Tom? Could you end it with the big and famous Lilly Goodridge? Have you got the balls to do something like that?”

  I didn’t answer,

  “Is that a yes?”

  I nodded, convincing neither Frank nor myself.

  35

  The lady at reception asked if there was something wrong with the room and I did my best to assure her I wasn’t leaving early on their part. I could see her point, I’d checked in at lunchtime and I was leaving before dinner, a full night’s charge for four hours’ stay. She offered to reduce the cost, which was unexpected. I declined of course, left them a substantial tip and a glowing reference on their visitor log. I’d made a mistake, not them, I should never have come, the least I could do was scribble a few adjectives down on paper before I sped off again, not that I was entirely sure where I was speeding off to.

  I looked down at the map drawn by the landlord I’d met ten minutes before, then back at the crossroads I was facing. It was hard to work out if I was lost, all I knew was, what started as pretty little rows of cobbled houses now just looked like one dark alley away from a murdered American. Thank God, a group of guys pointed me in the right direction, even offered me their fish and chips, which I was too cold and hungry to decline.

  * * *

  I rang the bell and heard a bark so prepared for a dog. Rang it again, another bark, but again no dog, just the threat of one. Eventually I could see movement, someone chewing and smiling as they rattled the key chain, opening the door, letting the heat of indoors pour into the cold street.