by Eden Butler
We moved to the center of the club, to the back, picking the same drunk sorority girls he’d “bitch called” earlier and they joined in line, rumps circling and moving, feet dancing as we moved through the crowd, wearing them out, exhausting ourselves until every seat was empty, until we had them all in our palms, laughing and singing with the music.
“Damn,” J.J. muttered in my ear when we returned to the stage, clearly pleased with how we’d worked the crowd. One glance at Jojo and Cooper and the laugh in his tone got lighter. “Damn. We’re good at this.”
“We are.” When he kept watching me, soaking up the cheers and applause, I tilted my head to the side, curious about that soft smile on his face. “What?”
“You know, Miss Raine, I like you,” he promised, grabbing my hand to lead me into a bow. “I think I’m gonna keep you around.” J.J. kissed my hand, squeezing it as the applause went on and we left the stage.
***
Later, after I’d sent my highly inebriated roommate home in a taxi, and when the club had only a handful of stragglers left with the stamina to stick around, J.J. and I shared a few shots with Cooper and Jojo and, it turned out, the brand new starship captain of Cooper’s new series AURA, Will Callahan.
“So,” Coop started, attention flicking from me, back to J.J. as we sat side by side across the table. That Will guy ignored the blonde wannabe enough that she hung onto every syllable that left Coop’s mouth, smiling too much, leaning a little too close to him until, I noticed, Jojo shot up one eyebrow, defusing any ideas Wannabe had about her husband.
“So,” J.J. replied, downing a shot like he wasn’t remotely pumped up from the show he’d just wrapped and the fact that his Bucket List director was paying attention to him. Next to my dangling foot on the stool, I felt the quick shake of those fancy shiny shoes of his, but didn’t mention it. “So,” he repeated, then cleared his throat when I knocked a knuckle to his leg, hoping he’d stop the infuriating foot shake. “Jojo says you guys are thinking of moving to…”
“Oh, sweetie, cut the shit, okay?” Jojo’s smile went wide as she reached across the table to grab J.J.’s hand. “I brought my husband along tonight because we’ve had a hell of a time casting for the new show. Inside of five minutes of meeting you last week, I knew you were something special.”
“Jo’s right,” Cooper said, nodding at J.J. like he was thinking things he maybe wasn’t ready to share with the rest of the class. “You belong on a sound stage or a set, man, not in some tiny karaoke bar.”
There were a dozen different expressions crossing my friend’s face just then. Watching him now, I recognized most of them. Time spent with J.J. was education enough to know what he was thinking. Six months ago when I walked into this bar after weeks of trying to find anyone that would have pity on a poor dumb eighteen-year-old from Waco and give me something resembling a job, J.J. had. The expression he’d given me that day, I later realized, was his “oh, honey, you’re a hot mess,” look of suspicion.
“You can start on evenings, but not nights yet. Those shifts are for the vets here.” He’d given me a once over, head shaking. “I assume you’re here to be an actress?”
His attitude had been a little off putting, but I quickly realized the man’s bite wasn’t remotely as vicious as his bark. “I’m here, right now, to get a paycheck. That’s on today’s agenda.”
He’d laughed at my cheeky, too-exhausted-for-politeness snark then handed me an apron. Since then, whenever I was tired or frustrated or couldn’t even make it inside a casting call, J.J. would smile, jerk his chin at me as though to say “suck it up, princess.” And when Coop Vilmont had finished flattering J.J. by telling him how talented he was and how perfect he’d be for the part on AURA, a fact my over-confident friend knew, and focused his Emmy-winning attention on me, it was that same, “suck it up” expression J.J. shot my way.
“And what’s your story, Texas?” Coop seemed amused by his small joke and that Will guy smiled as well, catching my eye for a second. “You’re an actress. You have any luck yet?”
“No,” I said, feeling exposed with everyone’s attention on me. Then, just like that Taunte Clarice’s voice chimed in my ear.
“Who are you, mon pet?” she’d ask a dozen times a day.
“Raine Mora Quinn.”
“Yes, child. You remember that. You have your papa’s smile and your mere’s nerve. Don’t let anyone make you forget that.”
“Um, no,” I repeated, picking up what remained of the whiskey in the shot glass. “Well, yes. Mostly regional commercials. Nothing you’ve probably seen. You know…cars…”
The table shook and everyone jumped as Will slapped his hand to the surface. “Oh, shit! You’re the pink elephant!” His voice was loud, even too loud for the noisy club no matter how thin the crowd had become. He snapped his finger, pointing right at me as he nudged Coop, a big smile on his face. To my right, J.J. wouldn’t look at me, but I didn’t miss the low snort of laughter he tried to hide behind his glass. “Mama Cash’s Dirt Cheap Rides?” When I only stared at him, Callahan’s smile faltered but only until Coop slapped the table himself, also pointing at me as though he’d just recognized me.
“Oh, God! It is her. Mama Cash’s Pinkie.”
“Yeah. I’m the pink elephant driving the old hippie van.”
J.J. joined in the laughter and I knew by how loud the three men got, that my face was flaming red. Sometimes it sucked being a pale Irish girl.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Jojo fussed, fighting her own smile. “We all have to start somewhere.”
“True enough,” Coop said, waving Callahan off when he kept laughing. “But you know what? You stood out. Pretty damn hard to make yourself stand out from behind pink face paint and a long trunk.”
“It’s the eyes,” Will said, still smiling as he looked at me. “They’re the color of bourbon.”
“Guinness,” I said, shrugging. “My dad says they’re the color of aged stout.”
Will leaned in, ignoring the Wannabe when she stood up from the table and marched to the bar. “Well, he wasn’t wrong, was he?”
The smile he gave me wasn’t meant to be an enticement. It was genuine, friendly, without a hint of lewdness. I realized right then that I liked how Will’s entire face lit up when he laughed. I liked how he did that openly, as though he didn’t care who saw him being relaxed. There was no pretense there, not like the other carbon copy actors and industry types I saw a dozen times a day.
It was that open, honest humor that made Will attractive, and it was his rugged good looks and tempting mouth that brought out my own unguarded reaction when he teased me.
“Guinness eyes, a great mug and legs that stretch for miles, even if this one makes you look like a smurf.” Will nodded at J.J., exaggerating a long look at my friends’ nearly 6’4 frame.
“Judge me by my size, do you?” I quipped in my best Yoda voice without really thinking. Instantly, my face warmed when Will, Jojo and Coop all stopped to stare at me. It had happened a lot in my life; my geeky Star Wars or Harry Potter quotes stalling a conversation or giving people a moment’s pause. Things would go one of two ways: either folks would give me a side eye and awkwardly mutter something about having to call it a night, or they’d wave their own geek flag and we’d be cool.
Will’s mouth twitched, then he leaned towards me, and became very serious. Leaning on his elbows, he nodded as Coop and Jojo watched us.
“The force is strong with this one.”
Shoulders lowering, I felt the worry and tension leave me as everyone joined in with their own Star Wars quotes, even - especially - Cooper Vilmont..
“Great, kid. Don’t get cocky,” Will said when I corrected his assertion that the Millennium Falcon was a fighter ship, not a cargo vessel. Coop replied with a, “I find your lack of faith disturbing” when Jojo criticized George Lucas’s writing after someone mentioned the prequels.
“We don’t discuss those,” I advised Jojo, making her laugh as Wil
l sat back, giving me a once-over that left me a little flushed.
“What?” I finally asked him, fidgeting in my seat.
“I like you,” he said reaching across the table to shake my hand. “Let’s be friends and quote Star Wars and laugh at lesser mortals.”
I took his hand, my own smile growing when he gave it a hearty shake. “Deal,” I told him, wondering if he could feel how sweaty my palm had grown.
“Beautiful,” Coop said, tapping me on the back. “We’re all friends and Will thinks Raine is the bee’s knees.”
“She is,” J.J. said. “Our Rainey is something special.” J.J. drew an arm around my shoulder, giving me a squeeze. “She’s got that thing, you know?”
“What thing?”
My friend’s smile went so wide just then that his eyes nearly closed shut. “It.” The “suck it up” expression from earlier was gone and I met J.J.’s smile with one of my own.
“You both do.” Coop nodded at us, then waved a hand around the club. “Funny little place hiding good talent behind the smoke and watered down drinks.” He stopped for a moment, his gaze shifting between me and J.J. as Jojo tugged on his arm to whisper in his ear. Then Will leaned closer, nodded at something Coop said before he sat up, smiling. For some reason, my heart started pounding, like I was a kid gazing longingly into the window of a candy shop, and the confectioners had just looked up and noticed me staring.
“Here’s the deal,” Coop finally said, resting his elbows on the table. “Raine, I got nothing for you right now except some background filler characters. Even then, I’m hesitant to use you for filler.”
“Oh,” I said, not liking the lead up, convinced that Cooper Vilmont was like a dozen other directors giving me the “you’re too Irish” or the “you’re not exotic enough” bullshit that had kept me from good jobs for the past six months.
“I want to save you for something special,” he amended, winking at me and that one look had me forgetting the mounting disappointment.
“J.J., though, I want you to read for AURA. If you’re interested…”
The loudmouth didn’t bother hiding his excitement. Cool, suave J.J. was gone and excited freak peeked out from behind that cool exterior. “Bitch! If I’m interested?” He seemed to realize what he’d said, eyes going wide and round, but Coop wasn’t offended by the moniker. He and JoJo, in fact, found the curse funny, slapping J.J. on the shoulder when he stood to shake their hands.
“Hell yes.”
Just then, I wished I could freeze J.J. in that moment. Him smiling, laughing, just on the edge of something brilliant and beautiful. To me, it seemed as if his dark skin was glowing, and the glint of humor and happiness in his eyes as he carried on, laughing and talking, made him seem invincible, flawless.
Will caught my eye. Maybe it was the way I had been looking at J.J. as he pushed Will aside to bend Coop’s ear. Whatever it was made Will smile and I decided that it was an even nicer smile that I had first thought. When he got up from his chair to let J.J. take control of the conversation, and slipped into the seat next to me, I got the distinct impression that Will was genuinely happy—as happy for his own life to begin as J.J. was, and that thought had me smiling, too.
“So, Pinkie, you think your friend will make a good second in command for me?” I liked the way Will looked right at me, as if I were the only one in the room, like he really did want to know what I thought.
“I think J.J. will change your life. Just like the show will.”
“I’m taking your word for it,” Will said, pulling a half empty bottle of Jack from the middle of the table. “Here. Let’s toast to new beginnings.” And we did, all of us, cheering on the show, the night and the promise that began in that smoky bar.
That night felt like something surreal, a magical twist of luck and fate that wound itself tightly around us. We’d look back on it, all of us, and remember that what happened later, the friendships that grew between us, the successes we all had, began that night. You hear about stars aligning, and bringing good luck to those who look up in the skies to see. But that night, we were the stars in the sky, and we were infused with all that the future had to offer.
INTERVAL
Will: Are we going to discuss it? I feel like we need to.
Raine: IF we discuss it…
Will: And do it again?
Raine: IF WE DISCUSS IT…it’s only because we were equally embarrassed. Right?
Will: No. I wasn’t. And I want to do it again.
Raine: But we aren’t kids. Besides, Ellie and I found a new apartment. No more workouts in Coop’s home gym.
Will: You gotta admit, it was the best air-performance of ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ ever.
Will: Right? Hello? Come on, Pinkie, answer me. Come on, admit it.
Raine: Your performance was superb.
Will: So was yours, even after I caught your air guitar. You move like The Purple One.
Raine: Well, yes, I do. Thank you.
Will: Does this mean we can do it again?
Raine: Any damn time you want.
***
Will: Never challenge me to a drinking game. I’m from Vegas, lady. I will always win.
Raine: Please, mister. I remember how blindingly drunk and forgetful you get when there is tequila. Hello, blackout of 2012. Lightweight. Besides, I’m from Texas. We eat Vegas man-boys for breakfast.
Will: I’m not scared.
Raine: With hot sauce.
***
Raine: Remind me not to listen to J.J. when he swears his good friend from community college is “perfect for me.”
Will: So the date sucked?
Raine: He took me bowling. Bowling! Borrowed shoes, Captain. Borrowed. Shoes.
Will: Can he at least bowl?
Raine: I bowled a 288. He barely managed a 94.
Will: You didn’t even try to lose, did you?
Raine: What? And give some balding asswipe the false hope that he has skills?
Will: Point taken.
***
Raine: Is it true J.J. talked Coop into an entire Duggan backstory and you somehow will get a week off?
Will: It’s true. Our Mr. James is being a little too smug about the whole damn thing. I might have to knock him off his pedestal.
Raine: Just don’t mess with his hair. He’d funny about his hair.
Will: You think he’s hair is prettier than mine?
Raine: No one’s hair is prettier than yours, Callahan. Not even Ellie’s.
Will: I’m showing her this text.
Raine: You do and I pull out the pics from Tijuana. If I remember correctly, you killed with an Ellie imitation that made J.J. wet himself.
Will: I’m not scared of her... Okay…maybe I am.
Raine: Chicken shit.
Will: At least I have pretty hair.
CHAPTER THREE
PRESENT
We all deal with grief in our own way. Some of us, though, have a tougher time than most. Me? I deal with it the way I deal with everything upsetting in my life—by deflecting. Even now. Even here.
Erik Karlsson looked like a Viking god standing vigil over the fallen. Even now, when my heart was breaking, my morbid sensibilities saw not a grieving spouse, but a stony-faced hero standing guard next to his fallen mate, defying anyone who might yet attempt to take what was his.
Shit, I had a stupid, lame ass imagination.
“Deflection,” I muttered as I shook my head, and then startled slightly when I felt Jojo touch my hand.
“What?” She hadn’t heard me, thank God and I didn’t have the heart to explain myself. Not even Jojo would have understood that I was coping with my grief in a stupidly inappropriate way, but it was the only thing that kept me from completely dissolving into tears.
Of all of us, it was Jojo who had championed J.J. the loudest. It was Jojo who introduced him to Erik not long after AURA took off, when she’d stumbled across Erik’s work at a gallery in the Valley. I remember laughing at J.J. when J
ojo related how much he’d complained about being dragged to yet another art gallery in her ill-executed attempts to decorate the South Orange County mansion Coop had bought her for their twentieth wedding anniversary.
“He took one look at Erik and all of a sudden, J.J. was vastly curious about art and technique, wanting to know what it was that inspired him... as an artist. Uh huh.”
God. That had been years ago. Erik and J.J. had been married. Yes, they had already committed themselves to each other, forever, but still had jumped at the chance to say “I do” the second it was legal for them to do so. Now though…
My mind was wandering again, anything to keep it from accepting that I was here, and this was happening, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Something icy and biting had settled in the center of my chest, and I barely noticed Jojo’s fingers tightening around my mine. I glanced at her, realizing I hadn’t answered her question. “Nothing, it’s nothing,” I finally said, looking at the wooden bead board on the ceiling above us, at the plush, velvet cream fabric on the funeral home’s pews—anywhere that would keep my mind off the coffin at the front of the room. I slipped once, catching Erik’s eye, returning his small nod before he resumed his stoic vigil. I glanced beyond him, that damned white coffin coming into focus, and I shuddered as if I’d been caught without a sweater at Zuma beach in the cool L.A. spring. The urge to leave was overwhelming, to stay away until the service was over, to return only after the crying crowd had said their farewells, and only then slipping back to make my own separate peace, if that was even possible. But seeing Erik standing there, his back straight, his hands grasped together in front of him, the clench in his jaw being the only thing giving evidence of the depth of his own sorrow, and I knew I couldn’t abandon him, this man that J.J. had loved so openly, so passionately, so deeply. In my mind I heard Erik’s voice from the phone call last night; that thick accent soft and even, and yet so full of grief.
“You will speak, tomorrow? Please. Please. You were his vän. He loved you, yah?”