The Trouble With Eden

by Leslie Pike

  “I’d love to help you, but a man has his limits. I don’t like to be tellin’ tales out of school, but I’ll just say once was enough for me.”

  “I hear you.”

  Finn rubs the top of Coco’s hand. He turns on the Irish charm, and thickens his natural brogue.

  “Darlin,’ can I be havin’ a wee scalp massage?”

  “You know I love when you talk like that. A wee massage! How fucking sexy is that?!” She explodes in giggles.

  Steven’s makeup and hair get done, and we leave Finn, eyes closed, to his massage.

  Walking out of the trailer, I see Caprice coming toward us.

  She must have been waiting for us to leave, before she takes her turn in the chair. As we pass, she gives a little nod of acknowledgment. “Hey,” Steven says, without stopping.

  I say nothing. Chilly.

  Nicki and I talk all the way to San Francisco. It’s just fact that we’ll never run out of things to discuss. And believe me, it runs the gamut. I’m certain that over the last ten years the two of us have solved all the world’s problems, weighed the spiritual tenants of many religions, evaluated every consequential business decision, psychoanalyzed each man we’ve been involved with and dissected every Bravo Housewife in each of the many series.’ Clearly, we are women with varied interests.

  But today, we’re talking about our boyfriend’s.

  “For all his celebrity, and all the attention paid him, Jack’s really sweet. He’s genuinely a good guy,” Nicki says.

  “I can see that. And I like his sense of humor.”

  “Right?! He makes me laugh every day.”

  “Do you think there could be something there? Long term? I mean, potentially.”

  “Yeah. Definitely. I mean I’m not going to be stupid about it. I don’t really know him yet.”

  She pauses, then we both bust out laughing. We know that’s what Nicki should be thinking, what the logical, smart progression is. But it’s too late. She’s fallen.

  “You’re done for, girl. Join the club.”

  No matter how old we are, women love to talk about their boyfriend’s. It’s hysterical really. If you didn’t know we were in our thirties, you’d swear we were sixteen.

  By the time we get to the office, we’ve refocused our attention. Our style of working together is both concentrated and creative.

  Nicki is always prepared to handle the issues and opportunities that come up every day. And I’m strong on thinking outside of the box. Both of us have to be perceptive, and utilize the tools and resources we’ve learned to exploit.

  This kind of a business allows for lots of imaginative problem solving.

  People’s homes are the most accurate reflection of who they are, or who they want to be, or who they want others to think they are. It’s not so much that we capture their homes on film. It’s more that we capture the image of what their home looks like in their minds. What they mean to portray. To that end, our interviews with them are all important, and revealing. A little psychological profiling goes a long way.

  We’re working with clients who accept only the best, and expectations run high on what we deliver as the end product. Today we’ll wrap up two different projects, a thirteen million dollar Carmel estate, and a Silicon Valley tech executives San Francisco penthouse. Filming is completed, and the presentation packaged, for each property. Before we begin the marketing, I’ll compose personal letters to each client, thanking them for their trust and confidence. Nicki will make sure each owner receives the personalized gift chosen with an eye for their individual style.

  Besides these two tasks, calls will be made to clients not yet in possession of their finished projects. Most of all, they need to be assured their money is being well spent. And calls will be made to people we hope to have as clients.

  It’s amazing how fast you can go, and how much work you can get done when you’re motivated. We moved like a flowing river, barely pausing to advance over a few pebbles. We knocked down the jobs on our list, and by the time my watch read nine, every last obligation was completed. Never, have so few, accomplished so much, in the name of horniness.

  We’ve decided not to call Steven or Jack, to let them know we’re on our way back. We’ll surprise them.

  Nicki puts in the gate code, and we wait for the gate to swing open.

  “Just drop me at my cottage. I’ve got to get a few things before I go to Steven’s.”

  “Want me to wait?”

  “No. I’ll walk, it’s just two cottages down. Go to Jack. I know you’re chomping at the bit.”

  Nicki laughs. “Ok. I won’t deny it.”

  We get through the gate, and she drives me to my place. All’s quiet on the western front, at the other cottages. It’s only ten thirty, but everyone is tucked in. Must be an early work day tomorrow. I think I’m the only resident who closes her shutters. Sometimes Renee does, but tonight they’re all open to the beautiful views.

  “See you tomorrow. Thanks for today,” I say.

  “Sleep tight.”

  I’m out of the car, and she drives on toward her promised land.

  I can see Steven’s left the porch light, and the living room lights on for me. Sweet man. I’m sure he stayed up as long as he could, waiting to see if by some slim chance, I’d be back tonight.

  I didn’t call him all day, mostly because I didn’t know if Nicki and I would finish what we had to do. When we did, I decided I’d surprise him. I didn’t get any calls from him either. That was considerate, because I had told him we’d be buried in work for a few days.

  I make my way into my cottage, and turn on the lights. I always get a happy feeling when I walk into this place. I feel safe, and centered. It’s the feeling I’m looking for in my next home. Just like this, except bigger, and with neighbors more than thirty feet away. And maybe, just maybe, Steven and I will be together in that house, living the life I’ve imagined in childhood dreams. With love, as its heart and marrow.

  I quickly gather the few things I want with me tonight. Fresh lingerie, and tomorrow’s clothes. I grab my keys, purse and the small packed carry on. I lock the door behind me.

  It seems as if we’ve been apart for a week, instead of one day. I’ve gotten used to having him around me, and of being around him, like two binary stars, circling each other.

  It’s mild weather tonight, but the ocean is untamed and raging. It looks spectacularly lit from the incline, as I walk to Steven’s cottage. I pass Caprice’s. Her shutters are open, but lights are off. I walk a few more steps, then look up to Steven’s window. And I stop.

  My whole world just stops.

  There in the picture window, stands the totally naked Caprice.

  Steven’s favorite cashmere pants are draped over the floor lamp. She’s dancing for someone and she’s laughing. Of course I know just who that someone is. I see the top of his head against the sofa.

  I feel my spirit shrink and draw back into itself. And to my soul, I’m tinged with a disappointment and sadness that I cannot describe, even to myself. I start crying a little.

  STEVEN

  It’s early morning. I’m standing at my window, having coffee before I head for the set. It’s so foggy and grey, that it’s hard to see the other cottages. But I’m hoping Bliss will show up today, so I don’t give a damn about the weather.

  Think I’ll call, just to let her know she’s on my mind.

  I grab my phone from the charger, and hit her number. Of course it goes to voice mail, it’s only 6:00 A.M.

  “Morning, baby. Wanted to let you know I’m missing you. Get your ass back here. I’m lonely. That bed felt awfully big last night. Call when you have a chance.”

  As I’m looking out the window, I see Caprice’s driver pull up to take her to the set. I close my shutters.

  This morning we have a photo shoot, before our ten o’clock call time. First its hair and makeup at 6:30, followed by the 8:00 o’clock shoot. It’s scheduled for two hours, because of the people
involved, the two leads, Finn, the Director, and me.

  Magazines like to show stars with their stunt doubles, IF the star isn’t denying he uses them. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard an actor in an interview saying he did his own stunts. I mean the big ones. I’m not talking about driving a car down the street, or taking a fake punch. I’m talking about the burns and high falls, the roll overs and the explosions.

  That’s laughable. It doesn’t happen. No insurance company is going to cover a production that puts its lead actor’s life in danger. Even if he breaks his leg, the movie shuts down.

  It would be a ridiculous financial risk on the part of the insurance company, and the production company, to risk a fifty five million dollar film so that an actor can feel macho.

  But every day, some actor tells the world they did it on their own.

  Self-aggrandizing pricks.

  Do they not have enough attention? Do they think we won’t hear the lie? The answer is no, and they don’t care.

  Stuntmen respect the actors confident enough to tell the truth. Jack’s one of them. Loyalty and integrity are qualities he possesses, and he’s more than fulfilled with the job he actually does. It’s called acting.

  As far as I can tell, Finn’s made in the same mold. He’s especially good on a motorcycle, and Jack’s great in fight scenes. Nevertheless, neither will ever be put in a dangerous spot. They’re too crucial in keeping the film in budget.

  By the time I get to KikiCoco’s trailer, Caprice, Jack and Finn are already in the chairs. Caprice has had her hair done, and Coco’s working on her makeup. Jack’s getting his hair trimmed by Kiki, and Finn waits in chair three. I take the empty spot.

  “Morning, Steven,” Jack says.

  “Morning.”

  “Where’s your better half?” asks Finn.

  “She’s in San Francisco for a few days. I’m hoping she’s on her way back.”

  I see an odd expression on Jack’s face. There’s something he wants to say, but for some reason isn’t. Probably has something to do with the fact that Caprice is here.

  Caprice is in the middle of having her lipstick applied, but I know she’s listening to our every word. I picture a cartoon character mouse, who sports a gigantic ear, as he listens for the cat. That’s her right now. Coco gives her a tissue, to blot her lips.

  She does, then stares admirably at her own reflection in the mirror. She gets out of her chair, and stretches for effect. No one here gives a shit.

  She picks up her cell on the counter, and walks slowly across the room to me. She gets behind my chair, bends down to my face, and brings the phone around in front of us. In the mirror I see her showy smile. She snaps a picture. She just took a fucking selfie of us before I could object.

  “By the way, Bliss is back. I saw her this morning leaving her cottage. Didn’t she tell you?”

  She doesn’t wait for my answer, but walks out of the trailer without another word.

  “What the fuck? Why’s she telling me Bliss is back? What’s that going to accomplish?”

  I see that expression on Jack’s face again.

  “What? I saw that look earlier.”

  “They got back last night. Haven’t you seen her yet?”

  “What? Did you see Nicki?”

  “Well, yeah. She stayed the night.”

  “Are you sure Bliss came back with her?”

  “I just assumed. Nicki didn’t actually say she did.”

  Finn and KikiCoco are just listening and watching the scene play out. Finn looks particularly worried.

  I’m already dialing Bliss’ number. It goes straight to voice mail.

  “Bliss, call me. It’s important.” I disconnect.

  “Jack, call Nicki. Ask her if they came back together.”

  Jack takes his cell from his pocket, and calls Nicki.

  “Hi. Question. Did Bliss come back with you last night?”

  There’s a long silence from Jack’s end, as he listens to what Nicki has to say. It’s most definitely not a yes or no answer. I wait for what seems an eternity, before Jack says, “Ok, I’ll tell him.”

  He disconnects. Then gets out of his chair, leaving KikiCoco standing with scissors in her hand.

  “Work on Finn. We’ll be back.”

  He motions to me to follow him outside.

  We walk out of the trailer, then far enough away so our companions can’t overhear.

  “What’s happening? Is she here?” I say.

  “She was, brother. But she’s gone now. Nicki says she dropped her off at her cottage last night when they came home around ten thirty. Everything seemed fine. Then Bliss sent her a text this morning, saying she was going back to San Francisco, and that something had happened. Bliss said she’d call today, and fill her in. Nicki has no idea why she’d return to San Francisco. They had accomplished what they went to do.”

  “What happened? And why didn’t she call me? It’s not like her.”

  “She’ll call. It’s most likely something she had to get done, that Nicki didn’t know about.”

  I look at Jack’s face, and we both know he’s just talking. He doesn’t mean a word of it.

  “What if something happened to her last night? This isn’t Bliss’ style. I’m fucking worried.”

  We see the A.D. approach.

  “The photographer’s waiting at the location. We’ll take you all in ten.

  Are the rest of them in makeup?”

  “Yeah, they’re in there.”

  The A.D. walks off.

  “I’m not sure what to do. I can’t leave here, and I wouldn’t know where to go anyway,” I say.

  “Just hold steady. She’s going to call you, and this will all blow over.”

  I know he doesn’t really believe that, and I’ve got a bad feeling.

  “I’m going to call Nicki. I want to talk to her. Give me your phone. Jack hands it over.

  She answers on the first ring. Before she realizes I’m using Jack’s phone.

  “I’m really worried Jack.”

  “It’s Steven, Nicki.”

  “Oh, sorry Steven. Of course I know why you’re calling. But I don’t know what to think. Did you two have a fight or something?”

  “No. I haven’t spoken to her since we were all on set yesterday. Are you telling me everything?” I say.

  “She did say that something had happened between you two. But she didn’t elaborate. And I didn’t know if it was something bad or something good. It wasn’t clear in her text. That’s why I didn’t call.”

  “Did her text sound like her? I mean do you think it could have been written by someone else?”

  “No, it was her. I know how she writes, and how she phrases things.

  Listen, we just have to wait. She said she’d call me by this afternoon.

  If I hear anything at all Steven, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

  The next few hours are torture. First, we have the People Magazine shoot photographed on the cliffs of Monterey. But I’m not fucking interested in pretending everything’s right.

  Finn is wondering what happened to Bliss, and he asked me about it.

  I wasn’t inclined to fill him in, so I toned down my concern.

  Jack’s trying to give it his all, but I know he wants out of here too.

  Albie was smart. He made sure the photographer got the pictures he wanted of the Director first. Then Albie bugged out. He had the teamster drive him to the set, while we were still posing and smiling our asses off.

  The only person who’s enjoying this, is Caprice. I’ve never seen her so upbeat. She’s charming the photographer into taking extra pictures. Caprice on the rocks, Caprice against a Cyprus tree, Caprice smelling a wildflower. Caprice arching her back in artificial sexiness. I could puke.

  Finally it’s done, and we get back in the van for the ride to the set. We’re half an hour late for our call, thanks to the photographer’s favorite subject. Albie’s head must be spinning.

  In the van
, Jack’s going over his script, Finn’s texting and I’m leaning back with my eyes closed. But it’s impossible to think, read, or text, because Caprice is on her cell.

  You know the kind of people who are completely oblivious to who’s overhearing their phone conversations? She’s not one of them. She’s aware we can hear what she’s saying. There’s no escaping hearing what she’s saying. But we don’t understand a word of it. It’s in Italian. Loud, cackling Italian. Where’s the melody of the language?

  Gone. Caprice can take the sex out of sexy.

  She punctuates her dialogue with bursts of laughter that grate on every man here. Even the teamster driving the van, is pissed. He keeps looking in his review mirror, giving her looks that would silence a steroid fueled bouncer in a club. But not her.

  Finally, Jack’s had enough. He throws his script to the side, and hollers. “Goddamn it, Caprice! Will you just SHUT THE FUCK UP?”

  This stops all of us in our tracks. It’s fucking funny, but Finn and I don’t dare laugh. Jack’s going to pay for this enough, without us adding to the price.

  Caprice will go complain to Albie, Albie will want to talk to Jack, Jack will tell him to fuck off and then Jack will have to make nice with Caprice. Finally, Albie will plead that it’s for the sake of the film. We’ve still got three weeks here.

  Caprice dramatically says her Italian goodbyes. Her hand is moving through the air, coming close to connecting with Finn’s head, as he sits next to her. Somewhere in there, we hear a “faccia di merda” and a “Bastardo,” which I’m pretty sure means she’s calling Jack a shit faced bastard. But I paraphrase.

  The rest of the trip back we sit in silence. I’ve got a headache, and I keep checking the time. Why doesn’t she call? By twelve o’clock, I’ve called her too many times to count. I’m not even leaving messages now.

  By our two thirty lunch break, I’m starting to get pissed. What could possibly be the reason she’s leaving me hanging like this? I see Finn coming toward me. I’m sitting by myself, not in the mood for conversation.

  “Have you heard anythin’ yet?”

  I just look at him. I haven’t spoken to him about Bliss, and I’m not planning on doing it now.