Her American Classic (Part 2)

by G J Morgan

  I think in a past life I’d have been a geisha, beautiful but sad, talents sold to the highest bidder. I read a lot about them, they’d lived a hard life, but it was a comfortable one. I’m sure if you were to ask one what they’d prefer, to go back to obscurity or stay as that exotic caged bird, I was sure none would want to fly away. But what could I say? My fascination with tortured women lives on, give me a stunning girl whom I could both envy and pity and I was hooked.

  Now my obsession had turned permanent and I may have done something a little out of the blue, a bit crazy, completely unplanned. Well, not necessarily, I’d thought about it for years, I knew it was something I would eventually do, I just didn’t know when and most importantly I didn’t know what. It took just over six hours, sat there in some tiny little studio, laid horizontal as things buzzed and stung. I’m pleased with it, stupid or brave, I let the tattooist do her thing, her body was pretty much neck-to-toe Orient. I gave her free rein, pointed at various parts of her body and told her what I liked. She looked pretty fucking hot, prettier than me, I think I may have formed a little girl crush, think I may have briefly flirted, till my arm throbbed and I had to focus my attention on the ceiling fan, let my eyes water and my mind wander.

  No one had seen it yet, spent the last few days in jumpers and sleeves, rubbing it in cocoa butter and watching it scab, before my grand reveal. I expected it would not go down well, I could already hear Sally’s voice, my mom’s eyes roll, my agent’s frown line. But hey, what could they do? It was my arm, not theirs. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if somewhere, on the two-hundredth page of some form I’d signed, it says I’d broken some rule, I’d have to get it lasered off before I was sued for breaching contract. Suppose I better enjoy my secret whilst it lasted, before I had to explain and justify why I chose to make myself less marketable. I was sure my half sleeve meant I crossed a lot of boxes on why I shouldn’t be picked for a role, though on the flip side it ticked a few on why I should. But hey, I’ve spent a lot of years pleasing people before myself, normally the ones who didn’t need or notice it. Time to be a little selfish for a change, do something just for me, without permission or challenge.

  Only one person had seen it so far, and I thought they might be angry, not at the tattoo, but the fact he hadn’t been pre-warned or involved, instead he said it was beautiful. I find myself staring at my new friend, my little geisha girl tucked away just under my armpit, both sharing a similar expression, not quite a grin, but not quite a frown. You could tell my new twin was a Goodridge.

  I was hungry. My stomach rumbled. I looked at him again, he looked too peaceful to wake up just yet. Give him five minutes, I thought to myself. I was a little annoyed to have woken so early, it was a rarity that either of us had the opportunity to wake up naturally, without alarms beeping or doors being knocked.

  God we’d barely been home, passing ships, which was mostly down to me, well all down to me. Clocking up the air miles, spending most of my time in hotel rooms the size of the Staples Centre. Though I couldn’t be too mad, yes, I wished I could stay in one place, spend time with the people I wanted to rather than the ones I was forced to, credit to him he never made me feel guilty, in fact he encouraged it. So, I got to see some of the wonders of the world, got to speak to fans I never thought I had. Fans that spoke another language but still knew how to scream my name, got to stay in the prettiest places too, doesn’t look like letting up either. I’d seen my schedule for the next few months, so knew we should soak up all this calm before the storm hits again. Make sure we take advantage of lazy days like these and not feel too guilty if we don’t fill them with culture and activity. Be able to sit in front of the TV, little walks, swim, read, eat and cook what we wanted and when we wanted. I’m OK with busy now, try to plan, make my free time count. Though some of us don’t find it as easy to wind down. I guess when life is a hundred miles per hour, it can be hard to slam on the brakes, but I’m working on him, trying to teach him the art of doing fuck all, when most girlfriends wouldn’t dream of encouraging that.

  Though a strange thing had happened to me when I returned back to America after my time on Europe’s finest red carpets. One, I realized I could never give up being an actress, I was in too deep to get out and I was too famous to be forgotten about. Even if I ran and hid, moved to the other side of the world, then I would still not be free, people would always be watching.

  Secondly and most importantly, I learnt to accept being an actress and accept what came with it. I was past blame and past working out people’s motivations, trying to figure out who was with or against me. I watched as people did their talking for me and perhaps I should have been more worried than I was, question their decision-making, now I just had to learn to trust them. It was clear that my career was out of my control, but rather than be angry and bitter, now I sort of embraced it, rode with it as opposed to challenging and kicking out. Let my crazy life stay crazy.

  I suppose you could say I worked out how to be happy finally, took me a couple of self-help books, recommended by Mr Snore beside me, took little bits from each, worked out my own version of what advice I needed and what might work for me. The Goodridge method. It wasn’t that complicated, just made sure I saw the people who counted, took time out to do things that made me smile, reading too. Being in the air so much, stuck on tiny jets with nowhere to go, rather than movies or internet, I preferred disappearing behind a book, the bigger the better. American books actually, again another recommendation from Mr Snore. Not American literature, books about America, the different states, try and get to know a little more than how good our airports are, understand our culture and our history. I sounded like a grown-up, Mom would be so proud.

  Believe it or not I’d started doing a little volunteering work again, shelters and food banks, big cities and not-so-big cities. So whatever media campaign Sally had me do, whatever part of the map they put me in, rather than just camp out in plush hotels and VIP bars, instead I found places that needed an extra pair of hands. Turned out there was a lot of those places, every town had its problems and there were always people who needed someone to lean on. It was a win–win, good for me, good for them, so far no one had noticed Lilly Goodridge and were content with just me, more preoccupied with when they would get their next meal rather than who’d be serving it to them.

  This wasn’t some marketing campaign either. I tried my best to keep my new hobby a secret, not sure what else I could have done, I’d told no one, made myself unrecognisable. But my generosity that was supposed to be pure and selfless, becomes a KTLA breakfast headline, photos of me and the downtrodden, like it was some PR set-up, but who cared, hey? The poor got fed and more people got to read how Obama is still faraway from fixing America. But that’s another story, I tried not to focus on things I couldn’t fix anymore, put all my energy into things I could.

  And that had been the hardest thing. Understanding what was broken and what was beyond repair. Took me a while to work out the difference. Might even take me a little longer.

  75

  “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Welcome to my jolly trolley, my shiny tram on wheels. My name is Tom and I’ll be your driver today. How are you all? I want to see bigger smiles than that, guys. Come on, days like today don’t come around often. Now straight off the bat I know what you are all probably thinking. Milk-skinned, sunburnt, funny accent. Hardly who you would typically be expecting to be driving you around this beautiful city of Clearwater. And I tell you, it is beautiful. But my job today, ladies and gentlemen, isn’t just to be your driver, think of me as your concierge on wheels, so any questions about what we see, or where you need to go to or get off, then just let me know. I’ll be the one in the flowery shirt getting us all lost – I’m kidding. So, guys, leave your car where you are and let’s get this bus moving and the air con blasting.”

  It wasn’t a bad way to earn a living. It was only my third week on the job, Rose had a friend of a f
riend that hooked me up. The boss didn’t pay much attention to my detailed CV, said she wasn’t one for formalities and protocol. She was lovely, and like every old lady in Clearwater, she instantly embraced you like an extension of her own family, treated the work I did like I was doing her a favour, hugged you like she owed you one in return.

  Originally my intention wasn’t to hang around long behind the wheel, it felt like a backward step, had my eyes set on a career in journalism, wild dreams of working for the Tampa Bay Times, writing for Pulitzer prizes. I sent them my résumé but heard nothing back and didn’t expect I would, instead I toyed with the idea of taking a night course, getting some academics behind me, at least that was the plan.

  I never expected to enjoy this job so much, didn’t expect to get on so well with the customers and staff. Yes, the salary wasn’t as large as I’d hoped and wasn’t a future that would set the world on fire, but at the moment I could hardly complain, no stress, flexible hours, health care. I went to bed happy and woke up happy, Mum said that was always her litmus test, albeit simple, I agreed that people made life more complicated than it needed to be.

  Mum had been the happiest I’d seen her, sunshine had always suited my mother, pottering round gardens with gloves and a glass of red. Despite beating cancer, she still soaked up every available sun ray and was content to turn herself into a leather couch. She and Rose had become best friends and Lou was now a man doted over, two women at his beck and call. I joked about a love triangle, he laughed, said they were overrated, speaking like a man who knew, which he probably did.

  Despite her warnings, Mum was still living with us, and showed no particular rush to change that, she talked of her own place, but a month or so of being looked after meant the eventual move date had changed from October, to November, and now there was even talk of the new year. It wouldn’t surprise me if she never left, in fact it wouldn’t surprise me if I never left either. It was an easy place to sink into, Lou and Rose kept their home pristine, kept the fridge well stocked, pool Ph at optimum level, hard to walk away from show home to squalor. Still, Mum said she would stay till Molly had become settled. To be fair, Molly settled to the pace of life just as quickly, spent most of her time in a hammock with Lou or chasing Rose with the water hose. Though she would get a shock when September came around, no more lazy mornings and beach picnics. In a month she would start kindergarten, so I was already predicting tears, mine as well as hers.

  Emma had decided to go back home, just for a short while, missed her mum. None of us were prepared for what happened after London, the world finding out about me and Lilly, including Emma. I was surprised she stood by me, most women wouldn’t have, though she very nearly didn’t. There were a lot of raised voices, a lot of late-night discussions, think she was just mad I never told her, that she had to find out at the same time as everyone else. Wasn’t the best timing either, the day the news dropped was the day before we went to visit Emma’s mother, so as you could imagine the warm arms I expected was instead a cold front.

  Life became manic after that, constant phone calls, hassled and harassed. After the first few photos hit, more came out, then some more and by the time Devon came around the story of poor boy meets rich girl was a fairy tale every woman and daughter wanted to read more about. And the way the photos came out made it movie-like, the photos came out in order, from surfing to holding hands, from meeting Mum to riding sea tractors. Every photo was another episode and without hearing mine or Lilly’s side, the world remained unfulfilled by the gaps in between and thirsty for an ending or explanation.

  I was everywhere, so was Lilly, so was Max, but the audience wasn’t satisfied and hence why I was being offered silly money to say my piece, go on talk shows, speak to editors. Of course, I could’ve wallowed in it, milked it for all it was worth, made my fortune, even used it to get me some fancy job with some big-time newspaper or magazine. But instead I hid, laid low, disappeared for a while, hung out at Lou’s, tried to stay silent till they’d given up, which I knew they never would.

  Even before the media intrusion it was clear that out of all of us Emma would find it the hardest. She wasn’t used to not working and despite attempting to get work back in the medical field all her attempts so far had been unsuccessful. I told her to enjoy her time off, kick back and take advantage of not having to get up for the twelve-hour shifts she was used to. But though she tried to sunbathe, to swim, to take walks on the beach, doing nothing didn’t quite sit right with her. Then of course there was the press invasion and from day one at the airport the camera flashes had been relentless and everywhere she went she was often followed by people asking her questions about a girl she hadn’t even met.

  She would be back, not sure when, but she would be back. We talked on the phone still most nights, things were OK, it was a period of adjustment for all of us, I told her things would get better, it would just take more time. For now, it was just a case of making a life here, getting on with things, blending in, which wasn’t easy now I was suddenly Clearwater’s newest celebrity. But it wasn’t that bad, meant the passengers sometimes asked me for a photograph or signature, the brave ones even asked about Lilly, not that I ever answered. Though from the little exposure I’d had so far, I could see how fame could drive someone mad, moments were not my own anymore, pushing Molly on a swing, a jog in the sand, learning to fish with Lou, there was always a camera not too far away. Though I could hardly complain could I, and I’d be a hypocrite if I spoke badly of the people behind the lenses, seeing as I’d done much worse in a previous life. They were just trying to earn a decent living after all, just like the rest of us.

  Though the media was camped outside my front door, only one person actually chose to knock, funnily enough. It wasn’t me who answered, if it had been I wasn’t entirely sure I would’ve let them in, though it wasn’t the first time Vince had turned up unannounced and uninvited and still be welcomed inside.

  At first it was all smiles and handshakes, introductions to a family he’d met before and a family he hadn’t. Lou and Rose were over-friendly, I didn’t have any friends, so Vince being the first he was now considered instantly one of their own. Despite any resentment my mum had for Vince she didn’t show it when he stood in front of her with his big bleached grin, gave him the same hugs and smiles she did the first time she welcomed him into her arms. And once drinks had been offered and poured, eventually I excused myself and Vince, as my family dispersed to different rooms of the house and Vince and I took ourselves outside to the garden.

  “Is this the part where we hit each other as hard as we can?” he said and for a very brief moment it felt the right thing to do, slug it out, till we were satisfied with the punches we’d given and taken. But of course, we didn’t.

  Instead we both said our side, he asked about Lilly, how we came about, I told him very little, though he was still impressed, even a little proud, called me a little devil, whatever that meant. I asked him about Lilly too, how long he’d known about us, or if he’d known all along, which he said he hadn’t, the first he heard was when Max returned from London with a bruise on his cheek and a concern Lilly was enjoying the company of someone new. Things started to make sense the more he explained, turned out Vince arrived just before Lilly whisked me off back home to meet Molly and Mum. He was behind us ever since then, followed us to Mum’s village, followed us back, followed us to Burgh Island. I asked him if he was the Silver Merc, not that I needed to and not that he answered, it was obvious.

  I could’ve asked him why he double-crossed me, why he went behind my back, but it would have been a wasted conversation. Plainly and simply, Vince would do any job as long as it paid the most, his choice wasn’t based on ethics and morals and loyalty. The truth was, Max paid more, lined his pockets more than I ever could have hiding behind bushes.

  Why the messages, though? I never understood why he got back in contact when we first got home from Thailand. Why the reveal?
Why the threat? If it even was a threat. Why tell me he knew about me and Lilly? What did he want to happen?

  Vince just said it was a moment of weakness, said he thought I should know what shit storm was coming my way even though neither me nor him had any control to stop it. I tried to get to the bottom of how much he knew about Max and about Lilly, figure out how she went from loving me to loving him. He just smiled, said he didn’t ask things he didn’t need to know. Max was ruthless, that was all he said.

  After that we reverted back to small talk as we strolled poolside, my life in Clearwater, his life back in LA, no matter the fortunes he chased and spent, his world was always full of problems, as was mine. It was a strange visit, not quite sure why he showed up when he first arrived or even after when he left. He wasn’t there to apologize, that was for sure, and he never asked for one from me in return, when in truth we both probably deserved an apology of some kind. I was glad he came, meant I was no longer in Vince’s debt, didn’t have to worry about owing him or worry what he might do next. In the end, we left on good terms, handshakes at the door, a friendship I thought dead and buried, which more than likely would stay that way, but at least it was settled and squared up.

  As he left, as was about to climb into his big shiny SUV, my head filled with unresolved questions, things I should have asked, that I might not get the chance to ask again.

  “Vince?”

  “What’s up, buddy?” he said, about to close the door of his car.

  “He didn’t send you, did he?”

  Vince smiled. “My days working for Max are over, don’t worry.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve earned enough.”

  “And Lilly?”

  “What about her?”

  “Is she all right? Is she OK?” assuming they’d even met.