Fix You

by Beck Anderson

  He seems like he’s friendly too. Maybe I misjudged him.

  “Well, it’s your job,” I say with a laugh. “It’s like working in the ice cream parlor—after a while, it’s just ice cream.”

  He’s next to me now, and he puts an arm at the back of my waist, gently guides me away from where we’ve been standing. “Let’s get you a glass of wine.”

  As we weave our way in and out of the crowd, he greets quite a few people with “Bro!” or a knuckle pound or a nod and an eyebrow raise at the person’s date. He’s in his element. This feels very reminiscent of a frat party. “So who’d you sit with for the movie?” he asks.

  He knows the answer to this one. He sat with my date, Andrew, since I’m still persona non grata. He and Franca.

  “No one. My mom was going to come, but she had to cancel at the last minute.” This isn’t true, of course. Though now I think it would’ve been a good idea.

  We’re by the bar now. He hands me a glass of wine, and he’s got another Coors. “Well, it’s too bad it has to work that way.”

  I wonder if he means it. His voice is warm, sympathetic. I look up at him and try to see what he’s really saying. His brown eyes seem warm too.

  “Yeah, it kinda sucks. I guess I’m still getting used to how things work out here.” I feel guarded, but it might be good if I could build some sort of rapport with this man. You know, it could be helpful to Andrew somehow.

  He looks at me and gives me the full up-and-down appraisal. It’s subtle, but I’m sure he wants me to notice.

  “You know, that’s not always how it works,” he continues.

  “Oh, I know.” I’m not sure how much to expose myself to this comment. I think I’m still supposed to be denying that I’m anything more than a family friend.

  I lean on the bar a bit—my feet are killing me in these shoes—and Jeremy touches my elbow. “If you were seeing someone else, it might not have to be that way.”

  I have no idea what he’s getting at. “What?”

  “You’re a knockout in that dress tonight. I bet he didn’t even have the balls to come over and tell you that in front of anyone. Has he even acknowledged your presence here?”

  All right, I’m going there. “You know he can’t. You’re why he can’t!”

  “Can’t he? Or is he too chickenshit? If he were more mature, he’d find a way to do it. And if he weren’t an actor, there wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

  I still can’t follow. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “If you get tired of the cougar thing, I think you’re an amazingly sexy woman. And we could date without all this sneaking around bullshit. I’d parade you out on my arm for all of Hollywood to see. And I’d be the envy of every man at this party.”

  Oh, I see. Wow. I guess I’d be flattered in a roundabout way, if he weren’t supposed to be looking out for Andrew’s best interests.

  “Andrew is your client. You probably shouldn’t hit on his girlfriend.”

  “You’d be my woman, not my girlfriend. You’re a lady, not a girl. Give yourself some credit.”

  I set my wine down and take a step back from him. “Do you have morals?”

  He grins shamelessly. “I left them in my other pants.”

  “I’m walking away now.”

  “Have a great evening, Kelly.”

  Thankfully Tucker emerges from the crowd. “I saw Jeremy talking to you. You all right?”

  “I think I need a shower. That man is a piece of work.”

  Tucker smiles. “Did he hit on you?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Sadly, that’s not surprising.”

  I feel a pang of loneliness. I check my phone. The movie’s been out almost an hour. “Is there any way I can see him now? I can’t find him anywhere. Once the house lights went down I lost track of him.”

  Tucker nods. “He never watches his movies. It makes him crazy. He’s back at the hotel at the after party. I’m taking you over right now, if that’s okay. Unless you want to hang with Jeremy some more.” He grins.

  It’s the first time Tucker’s joked with me, but I like it. It seems our relationship is moving to a new level. Bonding with the bodyguard—it’s a new facet of this relationship that I didn’t foresee, but it’s not a bad thing.

  We scoot through a side door and out through a service entrance. The big black Suburban Andrew arrived on the red carpet in is parked in the alley. Tucker’s a total gentleman and helps me climb up into the passenger side in my ridiculous heels.

  “I swear I’m taking these off as soon as possible.”

  “I had a client once who never wore heels shorter than five inches. Sometimes I had to carry her at the end of the night because her feet were literally numb.” He’s relaxed and chattier when Andrew isn’t around. I guess he’s not feeling the need to be greatly vigilant.

  “Tucker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is it normal? The whole contract I-can’t-date-anyone-publicly thing?” He seems like the right person to ask this question. I feel like he won’t lie to me.

  He nods. “You’d be surprised. And there are a lot of people ‘dating’ in LA who can’t stand the sight of each other. There are always the rumors too—about people who’re married strictly for business.”

  I can recall gossip headlines alluding to that. “Do you think this is a good idea? I’m not like these people.”

  He pats my hand. “I think that’s exactly why this is a good idea. Because you aren’t like these people. But, to be fair, I’ve known plenty of these people who aren’t like these people.”

  “Andrew?” I hope for a good reply.

  “Most of the time, yeah, Andrew.” He seems like he’s about to say something more.

  “What?”

  He reconsiders. “Nothing.”

  “Tucker, please.”

  He sighs. “Yes, Andrew, most of the time. He’s young, Kelly, and new to a lot of this. There’s a difference between a working actor and an insanely famous actor. Sometimes he loses sight of things. Just be mindful of that. He never means to, I don’t think.”

  “Thank you, Tucker.”

  “For what?”

  “I appreciate your honesty. I’m flying blind here, you know.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  We pull up to the hotel, and he parks. “Sorry, but if we walk in together it’s less of an entrance than me letting you out of the car. People sometimes recognize me as his bodyguard. I don’t want them to put two and two together.”

  I slip off the heels. “Screw it. I can walk. Don’t you worry about it.”

  We go in the front lobby, and Tucker takes me into an elevator. “The party’s on the roof. It’s closed, of course, but you’re with me.”

  I can’t help but snort. “Did you know you’d be dating me, Tucker? Are you okay with that?”

  I think he’s blushing a little. “Well, I’m gay, but other than that, yeah, I’m comfortable with our relationship.”

  He’s definitely blushing. I love this guy more and more each moment. “Seriously, though, are you dating anyone for real?”

  “Not at the moment. But thanks for asking.” He pats me on the back as the elevator arrives at the roof.

  As soon as the doors open, the music assails us. It’s pounding, literally.

  I’m overwhelmed before I’ve been on the roof for five minutes. It’s packed, and it’s a young crowd. There are lights flashing everywhere. The DJ plays loud dubstep music. The line at the bar is enormous.

  Tucker has to yell so I can hear him. “Come on, I’ll take you to find Andrew.”

  We pass through the first set of velvet ropes with a nod from the bouncer. It feels weird to know I wouldn’t rate for a second if it weren’t for Tucker standing next to me.

  We weave through many, many people dressed either very skimpily, if women, or very funkily, if men.

  Tucker’s quite effective at clearing a path. I fight against the impulse to shrink into the back of him and
disappear.

  I was never very good at parties, even when I was in school. If a large herd of us went out to dance, I was fine. But in unfamiliar territory on my own, I found myself longing for my pajamas and my bed in short order.

  I try to let go and enjoy the scene. It’s not very often that I get to be anywhere like this. Okay, it’s never that I get to be anywhere like this. I’m a widow in Boise, Idaho, with two kids. Let’s get real.

  Tucker takes my hand and pulls me up alongside him. I see why. We’re at another checkpoint. This is getting to be like the Berlin Wall or something. No one here was alive when that existed. Never mind.

  He yells into the gatekeeper’s ear. They fist bump, and the guy, dressed in a gorgeous green suit, reaches over the crowd to point for Tucker. He then pulls yet another velvet rope aside.

  Tucker threads a wire from his ever-present radio at his hip to his ear. It has the curly earpiece on it, and the mouthpiece attached at his cuff, just like the secret service guys wear. He’s going into working mode. We must be getting close to Andrew.

  There are several pavilions—little tents with chairs and sofas—surrounded by lots of California greenery. He steers me to one of them. There’s another velvet rope. This one is staffed by Dean. When he spots Tucker and me, he smiles, the first time I’ve ever seen him do that. They shake hands.

  Tucker leans in and shouts into my ear. “Andrew’s been asking where you are. He’s on the back couch. You all are safe here to hang out. I doubt anyone would be the wiser.”

  I don’t know about that—there’s a big crowd on the other side of Dean’s rope. I can’t even see into the pavilion for all of the bodies in the way. As with the rest of the party, all the girls are less clothed than me.

  I give Tucker and Dean a little wave goodbye and weave my way into the cluster of people. Already I feel awkward.

  Suddenly, I emerge on the other side of the crowd. There he is.

  Andrew sits on one of the couches next to a person I assume is his friend Todd. He’s smoking. He has a beer in his hand and is using it to gesture as he talks. Both guys are flanked by girls, and the other couches in the pavilion are filled with women too. Great.

  I’m almost all the way over before he notices I’m there.

  I have to yell to be heard. “Hi.”

  He looks up. “You made it!”

  He stands to greet me and takes two huge side steps, off balance. I immediately recognize this for what it is: he’s drunk. Double great.

  He recovers and slips an arm around my waist for a hug. He has to yell into my ear, just like anyone else here trying to have a conversation. I might be deaf by the end of the night.

  “How was it?” He steps back to look me in the eye. I lean into his ear.

  “It was great. You were amazing.”

  “Good, good.” He’s not paying attention. He smells like the boys at college. I have a crazy-strong flashback to Peter’s crew parties sophomore year. I just hope the bathrooms aren’t as scary.

  He motions to the couch. “Come meet Todd.”

  I straighten up. Okay, Kelly. This is a friend. Time to be warm, time to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Regardless of what the photographer guys said earlier today.

  Andrew waves to Todd, who has to semi-pry himself out of the arms of the girls.

  He stands, and I get a good look at him. He’s shorter than Andrew, more normal looking. He’s still handsome. He has warm, dark skin and tightly curly hair that droops into his eyes. He wears a striped T-shirt and a holey cardigan sweater with argyles on the front. The whole look is kind of prepster meets hobo. He’s even got duct tape over the toe of one of his Converse sneakers.

  He comes and gives me a big hug. “Greetings.” He smooches the side of my cheek. He’s charming. And charmingly drunk, just like Andrew.

  “You guys have been having fun.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “I’m so glad you could come out tonight. Andrew’s told me all about you.” Todd plops back down onto the couch and pats the cushion next to him. A girl in a white bikini top with an orange tan shoots me a bitch-kitty stare. I have to laugh.

  I wedge in between Andrew and Todd. But Todd is completely focused. He looks at my dress, notices my shoes. “You look terrific. Has anyone told you that tonight?”

  I can’t help it. “Jeremy, actually.”

  Todd laughs, blowing the smoke from his cigarette into the night air above our heads. “Did Tucker save you, I hope? You have to tell Andrew.”

  Right now Andrew is intent on a conversation with two girls who missed curfew two hours ago by the looks of it. Total jail bait, I swear.

  “How long are you in town?” I ask him.

  “This week. I go back a week from today.”

  I know nothing about this guy. “Where are you from?”

  “New York. I’m in a band there. Andrew and I used to be in a band together, until he went all movie star on us and left for LA.”

  A high school friend. This is an important person, a person who has history with Andrew. He knows Andrew from when he was Andrew, not Andy Pettigrew, superstar. And he seems to know all about me.

  “You lived in Pennsylvania too?”

  “I lived with Andrew and his folks when my dad got stationed in Germany my senior year in high school. Someday I’ll tell you all of our high school exploits—or most of them.”

  “Don’t tell her about how you left me in that tree in the park when the cops came.” Andrew has turned around to listen. He puts an arm around my shoulder.

  “You were the one who passed out right when the party got busted,” Todd counters. “It was every man for himself.”

  I’m none too keen on hearing the high school drinking exploits. It makes me uncomfortable.

  Todd changes the subject, thankfully. “Jeremy put the moves on Kelly tonight.” He waits for a reaction.

  Andrew looks at me for confirmation.

  “He told me to look him up when I was sick of the whole cougar thing.” I leave out the other parts.

  “The old Jeremy King loyalty test.” Andrew shakes his head.

  “What?” I’m confused.

  Andrew rolls his eyes. “Jeremy doesn’t believe anyone could be with me for me. He thinks you’re dating me for my money, fame, power. So he tests you to see how loyal you are.”

  “And if I’d said I was into him?” I’m astonished.

  “Oh, he’d jump all over that—or you, more accurately—but it’d be in the name of protecting his client.” Andrew takes a sip of beer.

  Todd laughs. “Oh, man! You need to watch your back, brother. He’s cold.” Todd punches Andrew on the arm.

  Andrew stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Let’s dance.” He pulls me off the couch before I even know what’s going on.

  Play along, Kelly, relax. Don’t assume the worst. “Wait!” I slip off my heels and hand them to Todd before I let Andrew lead me out to the dance floor.

  I’m not sure what to expect when we pass by Dean and the velvet rope. I do notice that he murmurs something into his sleeve. He probably just alerted Tucker that Andrew’s on the move.

  The dance floor is a small area nearer to the pool and the rest of the party. I’m not sure what the plan is here. Andrew has his hands on my hips and sways with me to the music. But my alarm bells are going off. There are a lot of people at this party. They can’t all be sworn to secrecy, can they? And I’m sure they can’t all be trusted to be discreet. I wonder whether everyone surrendered smartphones at the door. How many people are taking pictures and posting them as we speak? Or in this case, as we dance?

  “Andrew.” I love the way his hands feel on me, but still…

  “What?” He looks down at me. His eyelids are hooded. I know that look. He’s pretty drunk.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  He puts an arm around my neck, pulls me in to whisper in my ear. “I think this is a fabulous idea.” One of his hands strays, heading down to the
bottom hem of my dress.

  I step back just as he strokes my cheek and reaches out to kiss me. I kiss him even as I grab both of his hands in an attempt to rearrange them.

  “Andrew. What about all of the stuff with Franca?”

  “Screw it. You’re my date. I didn’t get to hold you all night.”

  I’m acutely aware of the crowd. Yes, it’s busy, and yes, there’s a lot going on, but there are a lot of people. Someone’s going to notice who that is in the clinch on the dance floor next to them. It’s time for me to be the clear thinker here.

  “We need to take this underground, my friend.” I lead him off the dance floor.

  We get to the fringe, and he shakes me off, tries to circle his arms around my waist and pull me back out again. “Come on, Kelly. Lighten up.”

  I’ve already decided this is not a good idea. I think we’re being watched more than casually by several of the girls around the pool. “Andrew, we’ve got an audience. We aren’t ready to do this, remember?”

  He nuzzles my neck. “You were ready in the room earlier.”

  This stings. I am not amused.

  We’ve made it back to the pavilion, the couches. He lets go of me. “I’m going to go dance.” He walks back toward the dance floor and disappears into the crowd.

  I don’t know what to do. I’m hurt, but I’m irritated. He’s acting like—well, Kelly, he’s acting like a boy. Probably because he is one. Jesus.

  Todd’s suddenly next to me. “You did the right thing. He’s not paying any attention. But a lot of people are.” He tosses his head in the direction of the girls by the pool. They have their cell phones out, and it sure doesn’t look like they all have phone calls to make. Maybe Todd isn’t as drunk as I thought he was.

  “You want to dance?” He extends a hand to me. Okay, he might be a dangerous friend of Andrew’s, but he’s a smooth one. I sigh and take his hand.

  He doesn’t make an effort to be near Andrew on the dance floor, and I appreciate that. Andrew dances with the bikini-top orange girl, but thankfully, the music is fast, and he weaves around frenetically. Todd keeps me distracted. We have fun, dance a couple of songs together. He tries to get me to do more than a few ridiculous moves. Each one he prefaces with a goofy “And this is the Corkscrew” or “This is the Going Postal.” He’s funny, and I appreciate his attempts. And he’s kind. Without him, I’d be left standing in the middle of a party, stranded.