Waiting in the Wings

by Melissa Brayden

  I kissed her thoroughly while we said good-bye and made every attempt to memorize the sight of her.

  Her eyes were shining with emotion. “I hate saying good-bye to you.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  She took my hand and walked me to the door. It was now or never. I took a deep breath. “I have to take the job, Adrienne.” She paused at my words, her back to me. I hated that I couldn’t see her face. “It’s too big an opportunity to turn down and I’ve worked too hard. Please say something.”

  Years seemed to go by as I stood there. She turned around finally, her expression excruciatingly polite. “Congratulations.”

  I shook my head, wanting to put my hand on her arm but thinking better of it. “Please don’t do that. This isn’t the end. I want us to be together. Say you want that too. We can still do New York down the line. This is just a slight detour. We can still have it all.”

  Her brow furrowed and she held up one finger. “You mean you can still have it all. I don’t want to be your long-distance girlfriend, Jenna, who amounts to nothing more than a stolen weekend here or there.”

  “That’s not all it would be.”

  “That’s exactly what it would be.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were ice cold. “You’ve made your choice. There’s nothing left to say.”

  “That’s not true.”

  She held the door open for me. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “This is not what I choose. Don’t do this. Adrienne, I think I’m falling—”

  She raised her hand. “Don’t say it. We had a good time, Jenna. Let’s leave it there. I wish you all the success in the world.”

  Nothing she could have said would have hurt worse than that. I wasn’t stupid. You don’t matter that much to me was easy enough to translate from the words she’d just spoken. I felt like the walls were closing in and my limbs suddenly had weights attached to them.

  There was a knock on the door and we both jumped. “Jenna, are you coming? We’re gonna be late.” It was Ben. I glanced at my watch.

  “Guess you better go. I know how important your career is to you.”

  My voice wasn’t working so instead I nodded, my mind blank at the realization that nothing was what I thought it was. I took one last look at Adrienne and walked through the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Four Years Later

  “The nominees for Best Supporting Actress in a Motion Picture are…” The screen above the stage came alive as clips from the mentioned films played under the presenter’s voice, showcasing each actress for a brief moment. “Eleanor Kramer for Getting Away with Murder, Stephanie Hill for Chimneys, Chastidy Kellar for Wide Range, Jenna McGovern forTenth Avenue, and Carolyn Rojas for City of War.”

  I clapped wholeheartedly after each nominee’s name was read and smiled widely. I did my best to focus my attention on the stage, despite the fact there was a giant camera mere inches from my face, recording and broadcasting each minor facial expression I made. I knew I had very little chance of winning this award and prepared myself to look incredibly gracious as the name of another nominee was read as the winner. To be honest, I was flabbergasted to even be in the room. Tenth Avenue was only my third film, but definitely the grittiest part I’d yet played. Who knew such a small-budgeted independent movie would garner so much mainstream attention? Not that I was complaining. Suddenly people knew who I was and I was asked to do national interviews on the talk shows I grew up watching. Now, to be nominated for a Golden Globe, quite literally out of nowhere, was surprising to say the least. The whole scenario still felt unreal, but I was doing my best to enjoy the ride. My mom, who was my date for the evening, squeezed my hand. I looked over at her and winked, happy she was there to share this moment.

  “And the winner is…Carolyn Rojas for City of War.”

  I nodded knowingly and extended my applauding hands in the direction of the stage as Carolyn ascended the stairs to accept her Golden Globe. I sighed with relief now that the pressure was off and the giant camera had moved on. My mother turned to me, offering me a reassuring smile. “Next time, sweetie.” I kissed her cheek in appreciation of her continued support.

  The after party at the Beverly Hilton was in full swing when I arrived. I surveyed the room for familiar faces, namely the cast and producers from Tenth Avenue. A tray full of champagne flutes flew by and I snagged one, downing it quickly.

  “You should have won, you know,” a husky voice purred in my ear.

  I turned around and met the owner’s eyes, and glared playfully. Paige was the cinematographer on Tenth Avenue and someone I’d spent a few stolen evenings with. “You say that to all the girls, don’t you?”

  “Just the hot ones,” Paige said, her hand now on the small of my back. “Hey, where’s your mom?” She scanned the immediate area.” I want to meet her.”

  “Sorry. She changes into a pumpkin at midnight so I took her back to the hotel, which is also why I’m late.”

  “No worries. Want to dance?”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  Paige and I hit the dance floor and didn’t look back. I wanted to have fun tonight, shake off all the stress of the week leading up to the awards and cut loose a little bit. I felt the pulse of the music all the way down to my toes and didn’t let the heels I was wearing get in the way. For song after song, we lost ourselves on the dance floor. I grabbed Paige around the waist and pulled her to me, our hips moving and swaying together, the powerful bass intoxicating. The music slowed and Paige pulled me tightly against her body, our curves melding together as we moved to the music. She was turning me on. As if reading my mind, she looked up at me. “I want to be alone with you.”

  I searched the room and saw what I needed. Taking her hand, I led her down the long service corridor set aside for the hotel staff. Not too far down the hallway was a storage closet, fortunately unlocked. I pulled her inside. Hot lips were on mine instantly and I wasted no time lifting her dress and finding what I needed. It was over in a matter of minutes. I helped straighten her clothes and kissed her sweetly on the temple. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  She studied me for a moment, still holding me tight. “Come home with me tonight?”

  I sighed inwardly and shook my head, feeling guilty and annoyed at the same time. I removed her hands from around my waist and moved out of her grasp. “We’ve had this conversation before. I like you, Paige. You’re my friend, but I don’t do sleepovers and I don’t do relationships.”

  She forced a smile. “Hey, it’s okay. Sometimes I forget who I’m dealing with is all. Don’t sweat it. I like our arrangement.”

  I nodded, still feeling a little uneven with her. “You know, I better get out of here. I have to drive to San Diego early tomorrow. Can I drop you somewhere?”

  “Nah. I’m going to stay here and dance some more. Call me soon?”

  I kissed her hand and backed away. “Definitely.”

  On the drive home, I decided to put the top down on my BMW M3 convertible, my one and only financial indulgence, and let the cool California air rip through my hair. I blared the music and just drove, passing my apartment purposefully. I used the time to collect my thoughts. I drove up the coastline, reflecting on the evening, and realized I was proud of myself. My career was in a good place and offers were starting to float my way. Film wasn’t where I set out to be when I initially entered the business, but I needed something different after my LA contract ended with Clean Slate. The time I’d spent working on the show and the emotional turmoil that came with it had left me feeling empty, drained. I needed something new, a project that was a bit off the map for me and Latham found the perfect solution, a small part in a film shooting in Paris. I’d never considered myself that great of an actress. Musical theater had always been my forte and I relied heavily on my singing and, even more importantly, my dancing skills to get me places. I’d felt a little naked on that first shoot without them, but I tried to watch and learn as mu
ch as possible, soaking up knowledge about the film industry from anyone who would give me the time of day. The film turned out not to be so bad, and surprisingly, I wasn’t either.

  I’d stayed in Paris for a couple months after we wrapped the film. Call it therapy. I used that time to reconstruct my life and myself back to manageable. I spent a lot of time in museums and immersed myself in art, music, and the exploration of what makes a good martini. I came back to the states stronger, my armor in place, and ready to focus on my career and very little else. There were a few women along the way, but I couldn’t tell you their names. I found it was better that way, no strings. I’d learned a valuable lesson, once upon a time, and that was to hold on to my heart.

  I drove down the beach, found an uninhabited stretch, and parked my car facing the ocean. I pulled the jeans and sweater from my backseat and put them on, discarding my Oscar de la Renta original into an unglamorous pile in the passenger’s seat. Music still played from my stereo speakers as I climbed onto the hood of my car and reclined against the windshield. It was cold out and I liked it. I took in the stars, the sound of the waves, the universe. For the first time in a very, very long while, the smile on my face was real. I nodded my head, a silent reassurance to myself. I was doing all right.

  *

  Coffee was my closest ally. Always had been. It saw me through the rough spots, and without its help, I didn’t think I’d survive. Unfortunately, today the coffee in my cup had gone cold, but I didn’t want to be rude and stop the work in progress to request a refresher. Instead, I pushed through and took a long swig of what remained of the barely lukewarm liquid.

  I watched the giant screen as a towering image of myself moved backward in fast motion for the picture to be reset.

  “All right, let’s take the line again,” a voice in the booth said. “Jenna, all set?”

  I offered a thumbs up to the booth’s window and waited for the beep in my headset. On cue, I repeated the line I’d said a myriad of times already. “You look like you could use a hand.” I did my best to match my own lips on the screen so the dialogue, which wasn’t recorded clearly on the original shoot, could be replaced. This particular TV movie had wrapped a month before and was scheduled to air on HBO in the spring.

  Looping dialogue was a bit of a tedious process, but luckily, I was in a fairly good mood. In an hour, I was meeting Lanie for lunch on the Mission Beach Boardwalk. I was in San Diego for a few days to finish up the postproduction work on the HBO project and was thrilled to be in the same city as Lanie. I hadn’t seen her in three months and was anxious to catch up. Plus, I genuinely missed her. She’d proven herself to be a true friend, especially those last couple months on tour, and we’d kept in close touch after I left. She nursed me through some difficult times and I owed her a great deal.

  Following a few more line readings, I was out of there and on my way to the beach. I put my sunglasses on and dropped the top on my convertible. It was a sunny, though brisk, day in January. I zipped up my light jacket and pulled out of the studio, feeling high on life. My cell phone buzzed in the cup holder and I debated whether to acknowledge it. Deciding it could be important, I glanced at the caller ID before connecting.

  “Hiya, Latham. What’s new?”

  “You looked gorgeous last night, that’s what. So you didn’t win. You still grabbed a lot of attention. My phone’s gotten quite a workout today because of you.”

  “Really? That’s always good. Any theater? It’s been a while.”

  “Tell you what.” I could sense he was moving me to speakerphone as he spoke, most likely so he could pace the length of his office as he talked to me. That meant he was about to negotiate, so I prepared myself accordingly. “You take this absolutely amazing film offer that’s fallen onto my desk this morning, quite capable of changing your career forever, and I’ll find you a project on the Great White Way as soon as it wraps.”

  That didn’t sound too bad at all. “What’s the film?

  “A Seymour Jensen script the studios have been fighting over. Universal landed it and has signed Frank Lawrence to direct. Ready for the fucking amazing part? Frank Lawrence wants you. He loved you in Tenth Avenue and his teenage daughter is a fan of yours from your Clean Slate days. The studio has already sent an offer and I gotta say, kid, it’s a nice one.”

  My head was swimming. This was a lot of information to take in. “Wait, you mean he definitely wants me? No screen test, no audition?

  “That’s what I’m saying. The offer’s been made.”

  “Can I read the script?”

  “I’ve already sent a messenger over to your hotel. It should be there when you get back. You’re gonna love it. It’s right up your alley, funny, ensembley, and smart.”

  “Great. I’ll read it tonight and call you.”

  “Jenna, there is one thing I should mention, and don’t make this a deal breaker.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What is it? Are they shooting in a Third World country? I’m a city girl, Latham, but I’m tougher than I look.”

  “Adrienne Kenyon has already signed on to do the film.”

  I took a moment and answered him calmly. “Probably not a good idea.”

  “Jenna, wait. Read the script and remember, this is business. Don’t let some ancient history you have with this girl screw up a great opportunity for you. This is big studio work.”

  “Latham, I haven’t seen her in years. I just don’t think it would be the most comfortable working environment.”

  “Fair enough. If you read the script and still feel that way, then I won’t say another word about it. We’ll tell Universal no and find you stage work in New York, just like you want. Deal?”

  He was asking the impossible, but I knew there was only one way to get out of this with him, and that was to shut him up. “Fine. I’ll read it, but I can probably tell you now—”

  “Read it,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking for. I’ll call you tomorrow morning for your answer.”

  I put the phone down and gripped the steering wheel hard. Adrienne. It hadn’t been the easiest thing to move on from her four years ago, but I’d done it. At the time, I didn’t take into account the fact that her face would be splashed everywhere I went, especially when her career really took off following her injury—television, magazines, and in the past couple of years, several big box office movies. It wasn’t long following our breakup before Adrienne was officially out in the media. I’d stared at photos of her and various women on the red carpet at premieres or on their way to high profile parties and it was difficult. I didn’t think poorly of Adrienne, and wished her well, but it was hard to think about those days, so I didn’t let myself. I’d been so naïve back then.

  When I arrived for lunch, Lanie was seated at a window table overlooking the bay. She seemed lost in thought and didn’t notice me sneak up behind her and place a kiss on her cheek. She turned around, lighting up as she saw me.

  “Oh my God, kiddo, look at you. It’s been too long.” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a warm embrace. “I’m pissed you lost last night,” she said into my ear. “Who should I call?”

  “Don’t be.” I found my way to the chair across the table. “I’m not. You look amazing, by the way.” She did too. Her hair was highlighted and longer than I’d ever seen it, plus she sported an awesome looking tan. She seemed relaxed, happy.

  “Thank you. So do you. Hollywood must put something in the water.”

  “I can’t believe I’m finally in your city. It’s gorgeous here.”

  She looked out the window, taking it in. “This is home. I just wish I could stay longer. I have a workshop for an off-Broadway thing in two weeks. Back to NYC, baby.”

  “I’m jealous. I miss theater. I haven’t danced in forever.”

  “Shut up. You’re making the big bucks in Hollywood. Don’t tell me you’d give up that paycheck to go back to creaky old theaters and poorly lit dressing rooms.”

  “Oh, the money’s nice
, don’t get me wrong.” I laughed and took a sip of my iced tea.

  “Any new projects lined up?”

  “Umm, no, not exactly.” I decided to tell Lanie about the offer Latham had called with but waited until we’d had a chance to catch up a bit more.

  She cut into her grilled tilapia and studied me. “Something’s up. I can always tell with you, you know. Spill.”

  “Latham called with a part in a movie Frank Lawrence is directing. It sounds amazing but…” I met her eyes. “Adrienne’s doing the film.” I folded my arms on the table and leaned forward.

  “Ah.” She put her fork down. “That’s a tricky one. Working with an ex. Have you decided what you want to do?”

  “Yeah. It’s easy. I’m not doing it. It’s just that…” I exhaled slowly. “I’m all rattled now. Why does that still happen?”

  “Because you were hurt when she ended things. I was there, remember?” She took a moment, and it looked like she was trying to find the best way to say what came next. “I think you should consider doing the film. Hear me out before you say anything. Would it be so terrible to do this great movie, and maybe even have the opportunity to have a conversation with Adrienne? Maybe it’s just me, but there seems to be a part of you that never got over her. Closure might be, I don’t know, helpful.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and it was slightly infuriating. “That couldn’t be further from the truth, Lanie. I was over her years ago. What we had was short-lived and it ended badly. End of story. It’s not like she was the great love of my life.” I’d told myself this over and over again through the years on an as needed basis. “Can we, maybe, change the subject?” I was getting frustrated and felt no need to go back down this well traveled path. “Let’s talk about you, little miss. How’s Benjamin?”

  “Funny you should ask. He sends his love.” And that’s when I saw it. Lanie wiggled her ring finger and the great big rock that adorned it sparkled back at me. I reached across the table and captured her hand, bringing it closer to study the diamond on her finger.