by G J Morgan
I looked over my shoulder, the crew frantically setting up the last shot of the day, moving lamps, checking cameras, testing light. I didn’t quite know how I’d gotten through today, caffeine mostly, Renata the photographer was full of relentless energy, as was the crew, rubbed off on me, gave me a boost I didn’t think I had in me, especially considering the last few days I’d had.
My feet were throbbing, various shoes throughout the day, ornate and expensive, yes, so my toes and ankles were officially ruined, all over was pretty fucked actually, head to toe. Prodded and poked all day by my dresser. My outfits had been beautiful, this one in particular, small and tight, my hair sprayed high and pinned, my jewellery heavy. I looked amazing, but now I just wanted to be comfortable, I was tired of being pulled in and up. Now I just wanted to have a bath and go to bed, let my fat roll and frown.
A girl, Alex, came back with a coat which I put on immediately. We’d spoken briefly throughout the day, what her accent was, where she got her dress, where she got her bangs cut. She invited me out later, bar, club, gonna be a late one, she said, wild. She was the sort of young that could survive on zero sleep and despite me declining, she gave me her number anyway, just in case, she said.
I noticed Sally cutting her way through the crowd, stepping over props, cat-like.
“I’m getting déjà vu,” she said, scanning the surroundings. “I remember blueberry mojitos, but very little else.”
“Sign of a good night. You should order one, Sal. See if it jogs the memory.”
“Only if you have one. Drinking alone is alcoholic. Drink together and it’s socializing.”
“Sorry, I’m on the tea I’m afraid. Too cold. Frank not with you?”
“He’s in some meeting with management.”
“Management?”
“Going through your schedule. Just working out logistics, safety, y’know, bodyguard stuff.”
“What’s happening tomorrow? I’m assuming it isn’t a day off.”
“You’ve got most of the day off actually.”
“Thank God.”
“In the evening, I’ll need you for a few hours. There’s a meet-and-greet and I think it would really boost your profile if you were there to attend.”
“Can I say no?”
“You can say no. But… ”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”
“Friday is the biggy though. Jimmy Fallon.”
“I haven’t seen you this excited since I got you an iPad.”
“You know how many people watch him each week? It’s like half the planet. We’ll need to prepare for it beforehand, obviously. I’ll speak to Max to make sure we are all on the same page, but the plans are, so far, you’ll reveal the big news on the show. Should get everyone’s tongues wagging. Don’t worry we’ll let you know what you can or cannot say.”
“Are you around tomorrow? I fancy therapy.”
“Retail, I hope.”
“To start with.”
“I’ve got a lunch meeting, but apart from that I’m free. Meeting Max, funnily enough.”
“To talk about me, I suppose.”
“Indirectly. I just thought it best I meet with them so I can set up a time line. Get our heads round both our calendars. Whisper is they are looking to start filming around late Feb, early March time.”
“I wish it was sooner. That’s like half a year away.”
“March is pretty good going in my book. This has been in the pipeline a long time. Sounds like it was all set up ready to go. Scripts, locations. You were the final piece of the puzzle.”
Sally’s cell buzzed, though she didn’t care to look or check who it was.
“I’m so happy you’ve decided to take on Max’s project. This could be the movie, Lilly. The one that people will talk about for years to come. You must be so excited. I know I am.”
“It was an offer I couldn’t turn down.”
“You’re damn right, Lilly. The contract’s amazing. Hell of a pay cheque, not to mention all the added perks. Max has made sure you’ll be well looked after.”
“How do you mean?”
“Let’s just say your entourage might be expanding slightly. Own private chefs, personal trainer on set, life coach, extra security.”
“Great. I’m Mariah fucking Carey.”
“Enjoy it.”
“You don’t think Max will try and push out Frank, do you? They’ve never seen eye to eye.”
“I hope not, but now you’ve mentioned that it wouldn’t surprise me if he tries to replace Frank.”
“Max might even try and replace you, Sally?”
“He can fucking try,” she snarled. “I’ll make it clear tomorrow that me and Frank are here for the long haul.”
“Please. And tell him I’m perfectly happy with the team I’ve got now. It’s done me well so far. If I need someone to sort through my M&Ms he’ll be the first to know.”
“I’m still surprised by all this. It’s all happened so quickly. I wouldn’t have imagined this in a million years. It’s fate, isn’t it? All that stars and planets and shit. Everything coming together at the right time.”
“You mixed up your meds again. You’ve gone all utopian. I’m not sure it suits you, Sally.”
“You know what I mean. Y’know, like a higher power. Like, for all the planning and predictions, life already has it all mapped out.”
“This wasn’t fate, Sally. Max knew what he was doing.”
“But did he ever think you would say yes? If you’d have asked me back in England what you’d be doing now, I wouldn’t have expected this. You and Max together again, well, working together, I mean.”
“Well, like I said. It was an offer I couldn’t really refuse.”
“Well, however he managed to persuade you, I’m impressed with his methods.”
“What does Frank think? I’ve not had much time to talk to him.”
“You know Frank. He’s hard to read.”
“He is acting a bit weird though, isn’t he? It’s not just me, is it?”
“Frank has always been weird. But yes, his weird levels have increased. Certainly quieter, if that is even possible. It’s the whole Max thing. You know he’s not his biggest fan. He needs to grow a pair. Move on like you.”
“Me?”
“Yes you. I think it’s brilliant that you can put the past behind you. I know a lot has gone on with you and Max and I know it will make working with him difficult at first. I’ll be there for you every step of the way. I’m so proud of you, Lilly, for looking at this as a career opportunity and not letting emotions get in the way of good business. You’ve really grown up. Put all that went on in England behind you, all that talk of emigrating, put all that soul-searching behind you. Get back to what you do best.”
“Go Team Goodridge.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“I can’t tell anymore,” I said, sipping my tea.
“Surely you see how ridiculous it all was? He was a nice boy, but a simple boy, with simple aspirations. Your life will always be too big for someone like Tom. The poor boy would’ve drowned.”
“Hora dorado, personas,” Reneta shouted. “Golden hour, people.”
“Time to shine, Lilly,” she smiled, 59th Street Bridge behind her, a sunset of metal and orange.
* * *
My cell buzzed.
You up?
No x
Seconds later there was a knock at my door.
“Couple next door are trying to break a record.”
“Gross,” I said, letting him in.
“Can I crash here till the baby-making is all over?” Frank sat beside me on the bed. “You eating this?” noticing my room service.
“It’s probably cold by now.”
Frank was already halfway through it
with his fork. “What you watching?”
“Deadliest Catch. Those guys don’t get paid enough.”
“How was today?” he said, chewing.
“Long.”
“Don’t worry. Few more days to go now. What are you and your folks getting up to on 4th July?”
“The usual. Tons of meat, slaw, banana pudding, pecan pie, beer. Try and get a good view of all the fireworks, normally head towards the Bowl. What about you?”
“Good bottle of whisky and the remote control.” He yawned.
“You had a long day too?”
“Not especially. Just tired. Want my own bed now. The novelty of fresh towels and bed linen has officially worn off.” He dipped asparagus into hollandaise. “I need my armchair, my own bathroom, my own coffee. You?”
“I’m not sure how to feel now. I went through a stage where I was quite looking forward to going back, but I think I’ve gone full circle. I’ve gotten used to be waited on, beds being made, my clothes washed. I know one thing though.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna move out of my apartment.”
“You haven’t been in your new one that long. Where?”
“Not a clue. Somewhere less show-home, something lived in, with a big garden and lots of space.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“I doubt I’ll find Devon in Beverley Hills.”
“You have enough money, you can find anything in Beverly Hills.”
“I’m not rich yet.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He smiled. “You spoken to your folks?”
“About?”
“Your big movie news.”
“Only briefly. Think Dad is already pricing up a new Harley. Why is Sally meeting Max tomorrow?” I said, changing the subject. “Should I be worried?”
“I wouldn’t read too much into it. It’s nothing sinister. Just think they need to walk through the next twelve to eighteen months. Boring stuff. Distribution overseas, media tactics, dealing with the press, getting the world enthusiastic about the film.”
“Probably involve me spending large amounts of time in the same room as Max.”
“I wouldn’t disagree there. You’re the star and he’s the director. You better get used to it. Hey, but you knew that would be part of the deal. Otherwise you wouldn’t have signed.”
“Just because I signed doesn’t mean I have to like Max. I just have to work with him.”
“And that’s all he wants? Just to work with you?”
“Probably not. He’ll do his best to romance me, sweep me off my feet.”
“And will he be successful?”
“Probably. You fancy a beer?”
“Why not, hey? I’ll get ’em.” Frank got up, lumbered over to the mini bar, taking out a couple of Buds.
I took a sip. “God that tastes good.”
“Hits the spot.” Frank propped a pillow behind his back.
“We got any more?”
“Not unless you fancy hitting the miniatures.”
“Feel like doing something wild. We could trash the room, throw a TV out of the window.”
“Me? I’m gonna watch TV, finish my beer, go to bed. What you do next is up to you.”
“Don’t be surprised if you wake up to carnage tomorrow. I may have totalled my room.”
“As long as it’s not me cleaning it up I don’t care what you do. It will be Sally you’ll have to answer to. You sure it’s worth it?”
We both leant back against the headboard.
“You think I’m stupid doing this, don’t you? Working with Max again?”
“No actually.”
“You don’t? I thought you hated Max more than I do.”
“I think it makes sense. I may dislike the man, but still doesn’t change the fact it was the right move.”
“You don’t sound 100%.”
“I understand why it makes sense. I just can’t for the life of me understand how it made sense to you.”
“Like you said. It was too good to say no to.”
“Just be careful with… ”
“You don’t need to tell me that, Frank.”
We took a gulp of beer.
“You seem quiet these days.”
“Do I?” he looked surprised. “Overworked and underpaid. I’m getting too old for this.”
“Too old for what?”
“Everything. Just want to sit and pass the time.”
“Don’t retire on me just yet. Not when things are about to go a hundred miles per hour.”
“Trust me. You’d be in better hands with someone else.”
“I’m sure I would.”
“I can’t work forever, Lilly.”
“I’m not asking for forever. I’m just saying not yet. You promise?”
He didn’t answer. Took another gulp of beer as we both sank into the bed.
“You promise, Frank?”
“I’ll do my best,” he smiled. Eyes on the TV. Crab pots and heavy seas.
* * *
Witching hour again. Ever since I signed the contract with Max, it was like this. Days were worse, but nights were a curse, too much quiet. I was on my own at least, had to send Frank back to his room, he wasn’t impressed being pushed out of the door mid-snore. I did try to budge him on his side, move him so the bed could be shared, but the lump wasn’t to be moved.
I heard a helicopter overhead, New York was just getting started, car horns, dogs, sirens, now helicopters, the Upper East Side sounded agitated, wanting attention or getting it. I thought it might stop, thought it might subside as time sneaked further towards the morning, no such luck. I never knew noise travelled so far, or so high. Not loud enough to deafen, but loud enough to make me search for earplugs I already knew I’d forgotten to pack. I could’ve complained, but what would it have solved, not as if I could go any higher, my apartment was top floor. I could’ve rung down for earplugs, but I didn’t, I was too embarrassed to ask.
I opened my bedside drawer, I could’ve sworn I’d brought Zantac. Why was I so drunk? Must be my empty stomach, me and Frank had only the one beer, well, a shot of vodka too. The fizz of beer was still in my tummy, as was the alcohol in my bloodstream. I wasn’t drunk, but I didn’t feel sober either, a horrible middle to be in. Outside there would’ve been far more easy and accessible alternatives that the Big Apple would be able to accommodate and a younger version of me would’ve pursued such alternatives – would have got up, grabbed some clothes, found somewhere dark and neon, smoke-filled, loud, become a shadow for a few hours.
I thought of the girl earlier today, her invitation, it would’ve been so simple to ring her. It wouldn’t have taken much to get dressed, speed across town. I didn’t even remember her name, that wouldn’t have mattered, I wasn’t after friendship, just didn’t want to be alone, just wanted to feel anything other than headache. Fill myself till I didn’t feel so empty, music, liquor, chemical, whatever cure it took.
Perhaps that is what it would take, something to take the edge off. Not just for tonight, but to see me through the next few weeks, months, years, see me through to the end of Max’s little plan unscathed. Ring my doctor, get him to prescribe everything legal, ring someone else to prescribe everything else. That wouldn’t be a good idea, me and drugs had a love–hate thing, I loved them, they hated me.
I could hate Tom instead. Build him up as the villain rather than the victim, better to think of him as blameable. The man who crashed his car, killed his wife, trespassed on my property, a bad father, a bad son. Tom wasn’t my problem and his mother and his child were not my problem. I shouldn’t have had to pay the price for his mom’s cancer or who his daughter should live with, those were his problems, not mine. I could have pretended I’d never met him, pretended he’d never existed, hundreds of miles away it woul
dn’t be that difficult. It would be sad at first, but he could be forgotten quickly, if I buried myself in my work, found someone new, our time together could just be something to look back on fondly, no regrets and no hard feelings. So why couldn’t I do that? Why couldn’t I accept that? Why couldn’t that be enough?
Because it wasn’t the truth and Tom was none of those things. He loved his wife, his mom, his daughter, he did what he had to, to make a living. He wasn’t to blame in all this, neither of us were, he at least deserved an explanation, even a fake one. I’d nearly done it, you know, several times, pleaded with Max to let me speak to him, even wrote Tom letters though they all ended up in the trash.
None of this made sense, if Max wanted drama, headlines, then it would better just to expose me and Tom, it would get people talking, sell his goddamn movie. Maybe that was the plan, no matter what I did from then on, we would be exposed regardless. Or maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to see me with anybody else. The rest, the movie, the plan, perhaps he just wanted me back and this was the only way he could make it happen.
Screw this. This was fucking torture.
I threw on some clothes, grabbed the first cab I could find, found the nearest place that sounded loud. Did whatever it took, numbed my senses, partied till there was little party left in me. By the time I got back New York was finally waking up, though neither of us had really slept.
47
“What’s it like?” I whispered, though I didn’t need to, Molly was preoccupied with her fork and peas, the peas currently winning.
“What’s what like?” Mum chewing. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Does it feel like dying?”
“No. It’s like nothing is wrong, but the sheer fact you’re told there is, means you feel obliged to act the part. I don’t think you’re allowed to smile and laugh. You have to look broken and beaten.”