by Cora Davies
"I have to go, can I call you when I'm done?"
"No." Hailey felt the venom in her voice.
"If you're gonna be busy, just call me when you can." Eric was already standing up. He was not even going to make the time to hash this out.
"I don't think I want to talk to you again," Hailey said. She slammed the laptop shut. Her heart was pounding in her ears as her body shook in anger. He spied on her! He tried to gather, what? Intel, like this was some damn movie? This was her life. Her very real life. Her very real life that was dug into and spread about for him to see.
She looked at her dresser drawer that held the most recent letter from the Michaels brothers. Did they find her because of this? If not, did Eric understand how easily this could have fallen into their hands?
Hailey marched down to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. She twisted the cap off and took a long drink off of it before setting it down on the table. It was warm in the house and moisture already started to bead down the side of the bottle.
After Eric left, her mom had asked Hailey if she was sure she did what she wanted by giving him the movie rights? Wouldn't that put them in each other’s lives at least until after the movie premiered? Hailey had told her no, she was paid for the rights, and that was the extent of her involvement. Hailey gulped her beer until she felt the pressure closing her lips. She set the beer back on the table.
It had only been days before Eric sent the first text. He asked her to write the screenplay. When she finally convinced him that screenplays were not in her wheelhouse, he moved on but still found reasons to call her or send her emails a couple times a week. Then they moved on to daily contact. It had sneaked up on Hailey before she realized it. He had gotten under her skin.
She missed him, and he knew it.
He asked her if she would like to visit the set when filming started in a few months. He said he would understand if she could not, but he'd love to see her. Pick her brain. Go over the script in person. Was he screwing with her? Whatever it was, whatever he was doing, it was over now.
After finding this envelope, there was no way she could go back to what they were. Which had become nothing more than friends. He was the reason she had gone out with the banker. She had some questions she needed to ask him for research, but she could have easily set up a meeting in his office for that. When he asked her out to dinner, Eric and Tricia's kiss flashed through her mind, and she said yes.
It was a first date that she knew would go nowhere; she also was in love with someone else.
She was in love with Eric Fucking James and she hated herself for it.
Hailey opened another beer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Six Months Later
Bette Rizo grabbed Eric's hand. The light reflected on her red hair making it look as though it glittered. Tears were shining in her blue eyes, and Eric forgot who she was for a moment. How did she do it? He tried to love her with that much passion, but he could not find it within himself.
"I love you," he said moving a strand of hair from her forehead. "I don't think I really understood what it was. Especially not when I said it the first time back when we were kids. But I felt it. I know it has grown with each year."
"I love you, too," Bette whispered and the tears finally spilled over her bottom lids. One droplet dangled from an eyelash. Perfect. Eric touched it with his finger, then dried her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her. Music grew louder until it consumed them and the light darkened. Soon, it was only the two of them in the spotlight as the world faded away.
"Cut!" Marco Palaze yelled. Marco was the perfect director to film The Passenger's Control. He was madly in love with his wife of thirty years, so he always knew the perfect thing to say to Eric when his head was too far up his ass. Which was exactly where it was planted most days. Eric pulled away from Bette and winked at her as she flipped him off. He only winked at her to get her to flip him off. He thought it was hilarious. She and Hailey would make great friends; if he could ever get them in the same room.
"We're done for the day," Marco said. Eric walked directly to the stage door. "Two more weeks, Eric! Do you have it in you?"
Marco yelled but Eric did not answer. He better have it in him. They were all here because of Eric. They were here because he had to make this fucking movie. This movie that had been his obsession, and was almost the death of him. They had to make a few changes to the storyline to allow wiggle room for Eric's age, but other than that, he thought it was a fitting tribute to Hailey and Paul. He wanted her to come visit the set, but she would not answer his phone calls. She would not return his emails. She hated him, and it ripped at him every time he had to step on set. Especially when he spent every day with a fake Hailey. Bette, dressing like Hailey and saying her damn words, she was eating at him.
He wanted this movie more than anything, and now that he had it, he wanted nothing more than to be done with it. Everyone on his crew knew it. He was trying his best to hold it together. Not only for Hailey, but also for his company. Then there was also Raymond who Eric had to prove himself to. Raymond, who had become a nagging sound in his ear at all times. He was afraid of Eric embarrassing the family name. Yet again.
He did not understand why Raymond was always so worried about embarrassment. It was Hollywood-not Washington DC.
Eric threw open his trailer door and walked directly to the bottle of scotch. He opened his laptop and checked for emails from Hailey in vain. There were never any, but it did not keep him from looking every fucking day.
"Pour me one too?" Eric almost dropped the bottle on the ground at the sound of a man's voice. He turned and was surprised to find Jon Duncan standing in his tiny living room. The man looked slightly less savage than he had in the tabloid pictures, of course, anyone would look savage after months lost at sea. He did not look like the same preppy man Eric remembered with his unkempt hair, scruff on his face, and a deep tan. He wore sandals, cargo shorts, and a loose white t-shirt.
"Damn man, how are you?" Eric poured a glass and handed it to his old friend. "I wondered when you would come by and see me."
"Yeah?" Jon asked swirling the drink.
"Yeah," Eric took a sip. "Look, about the movie-"
"What were you going to do? Let them drop Hype City?" Jon drained his glass, and then grabbed the bottle and filled his cup again. "I heard they had to convince you a little. You had a little conscience for a minute?"
"Just for a minute. I-" Eric stopped himself. What was he going to say? He fell in love? He thought he could be a better person?
"A chick?" Jon grabbed a box of crackers out of the kitchenette and sat down next to Eric at the small table.
"Is it that obvious?" Eric asked and Jon opened the box, dumping half the box of crackers on the table. Jon looked thinner than Eric was used to seeing him. Six months on an island will do that to someone.
"It's always a woman." Jon gazed thoughtfully into the empty space in front of him. He looked sad, and Eric felt troubled for the man. He heard Jon had not been quite right since coming back almost a month ago.
"How are things going with your wife? I imagine it's got to be hard to come back to find things have changed?"
"You heard, huh? What I came back to, it was..." Jon snorted. "It's going to take a little bit of time. But you know, we made a commitment. That's not something you throw away."
Jon's voice was bitter. Most of Hollywood knew what kind of woman Jon's wife was. It seemed like everyone knew except Jon. But now that he had returned from an... extended vacation, he might be starting to notice.
"So this woman gave you a conscience, and you what? Ran away with your tail between your legs?" Jon asked. He stuffed a handful of crackers in his mouth and crumbs stuck to his beard.
"More like I fucked up, and she's never talking to me again." Eric took a sip and watched Jon chew.
"So you show up, and the locks were changed?"
"No, more like she won't return my calls, or texts, or emails, or anythi
ng." Eric flicked a piece of cracker crumb that had made its way to his side of the table.
"What about face to face?" Jon asked.
"What makes you think she won't slam the door in my face?" Eric thought about showing up, banging on her door. Making a grand romantic gesture. But would she think it was just more make-believe? More pretending like in the movies? Would she actually open the door and talk to him? Or would she continue to blow him off? "I've thought about making a grand gesture."
"Yeah, grand gestures. I think about it all the time." Jon swirled the scotch in the bottom of his glass and studied it.
"With your wife, or with the uh..." Eric had heard the rumors. He saw the interview with the woman Jon had been stranded with. She denied anything happening between the two of them, but 6 months with only one other person was a long time.
"Don't you start with me, too," Jon said, but for the first time since they sat down, Eric saw life in Jon's eyes. A piece of the man who used to be there. "I'm just saying if she makes you a better person, and there is no legit reason why you can't be together..."
"Yeah, yeah." Eric poured himself another glass. "Why don't you tell me how the hell you survived six months on an island without Wi-Fi and a fucking bar?"
Jon laughed and the two men clinked glasses. Jon and Eric talked for several hours about his time on the island, and what had happened to both men in the years since they stopped being friends. But all the while in the back of Eric's head, he could not help but think about what Jon said about grand romantic gestures and being a better man.
***
The last two weeks of filming flew by faster than Eric could have hoped for. He kept Hailey on his mind, and he made it through each day. Now, here he was at the wrap party. He had to keep his head on straight; he was flying out to see Hailey in the morning. He made up his mind. Grand over-the-top gesture it was. Too bad she still was not answering his phone calls.
"Eric, great job man." A slap on the back snapped Eric out of his thoughts His co-star, Jacob, a squat man with a receding hairline stood nearby. Eric smiled at him.
"Thanks, you did great too. This was quite the film." Eric looked around the room. Most of the cast and crew were there. Some were dressed up, probably going to celebrate elsewhere later tonight. Some were in business casual or sweats. Eric himself had opted for a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He considered taking the jet into Denver tonight instead of waiting until the morning.
Someone, Hannah no doubt, had the party catered by a Chinese restaurant from the West side of town. It seemed like only the crew was eating. As always. Even Bette in the corner-heavy set by Hollywood standards, but beautiful by the world's standards-was not eating. Eric rolled his eyes.
She caught him looking at her, pursed her lips, and walked over to him. She did not look happy, but honestly, he was getting a little used to her I-smell-shit expression.
"Eric." She looked around, and then decided to sit next to him on the couch. "This is a lovely wrap party."
"It's low key. We should have gone bigger with it being the company's first movie, but I guess I dropped the ball. Where's the boyfriend?" Eric looked around. Bette's boyfriend had been a staple on the set the past month. He was a very unhappy writer with two highly awarded books under his belt. They were literary, long, and the most boring things Eric had ever attempted to read. Naturally, the man thought he was a god.
"We broke up this morning," she said sneering. She eyeballed Eric's plate of finger foods. He could practically hear her stomach growl over the music and chatter floating above their heads. "He had some interesting flaws I did not know about. An obsession really."
Eric pushed the plate across the coffee table towards her. "Yeah?"
Bette did not reach for the plate, but licked her bottom lip. "I don't eat fried-"
"Come on. Do you really think your career will end if you eat a fucking meatball?"
Bette looked around then grabbed the smallest skewered meatball from the plate and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back and Eric heard her groan. If she was not such an ice princess, he might find her attractive.
"I wanted to tell you about it." Bette finally finished chewing and pushed the plate away from her. She kept her eye on it, though. "His obsession was unhealthy and I don't know if anything will come back to bite us in the ass."
Eric was used to actresses and their drama, but he found Bette's words amusing. "What does he have to do with biting us in the ass?"
"We started dating about the time I got the Addy role. He said he saw me off-Broadway, and wanted to take me out for dinner. I agreed, and we spent most of the night talking about the script and the movie. I didn't think anything of it at the time, because I had just got the role, and honestly, I was excited to talk to anyone about it." She paused and scraped a small black dot on the top of her tan high heels. "It actually became all we talked about, and I thought he was being supportive. But..."
Bette smiled sarcastically and reached absentmindedly for the plate. Eric knew she was hungry. She popped another meatball in her mouth and looked around the room.
"I hear, around the office, not out there," she gestured toward the door meaning the press and the rest of the world, "I hear you're pretty close to the original author."
Eric nodded. "You could say that."
She patted her knee, a nervous tick Eric had noticed the first week working with her. "Did she ever mention Guy to you?"
"Your boyfriend?"
"Ex-boyfriend," she corrected firmly. "Her ex-boyfriend, too, it turns out."
"Shut up," Eric said leaning back on the couch. He could not imagine Hailey with someone like Guy at all. He was entirely too pretentious and full of himself. Nothing like Hailey. A shit ton like Eric used to be, though. Like he still was the longer he was away from Hailey.
"He wanted to date me because he thought she would be on set at some point. Can you believe that? He wanted to see her again." Bette reached for the plate, and then seemed to realize what she was doing. She grabbed a saltshaker lying on the table, unscrewed the top and dumped it on Eric's food. He made a sound and she shrugged her shoulders. "He wrote her a book, and I guess she wouldn't read it. Sent it back. It sounds like a creepy situation. Then he tells me that she has a restraining order against him, can you believe that?"
Bette took out her phone and began to type. A moment later her personal assistant was at her side. "I left a manuscript in the front seat of the Rover, be a dear and run down and grab it for me?" Though Bette had spoken sweetly to the girl, the young assistant jumped as though she had been scalded. There was a darker side to Bette, Eric was sure of it now more than ever.
"I was upset, and I read through the first few chapters. I was going to throw it away when I remembered you were friends with the woman." Bette shook her head and made a disapproving sound. "Disturbing stuff. You should give it to her to add to her case file or whatever on the restraining order."
Eric took out his own phone and sent Hailey a text for what felt like the millionth time. He had no faith in her returning his message.
Guy Templeton is looking for you. Do you know him?-EFJ
While they waited for Bette's assistant to return, Eric made polite conversation with a couple that sat down with them. They were bank-rollers, though he could not remember their names for the life of him. They were more interested in speaking with Bette than Eric, and when his phone buzzed he did not hesitate to look at the screen. For only a moment, he considered that Hailey might have sent him a message back. But, it was the name of the couple who sat across from him, the message sent from Hannah. He looked over and saw her eagle-eyed gaze. Like a second mother to him, she was on top of everything.
Bette's assistant returned to the couch and handed Eric a frayed looking manuscript. He opened it and Bette grabbed his arm. She spoke quietly in his ear. "I wouldn't-not here. If you're friends with her, some of this will send you to a dark place."
Now the anticipation to read the of
fending book hit Eric even stronger. "I'm sorry about your breakup, Bette."
"Don't be. Like I said, he was only dating me in hopes of running into her. And, he wanted to see me dressed up like her lead character, too." She shuddered. "The things he would imagine while I was wearing those dingy jeans and ugly shirts. I hope she writes her next character with more style."
"That was one of my favorite things about her," Eric said as he realized it for the first time. Six months back in Hollywood and around all these plastic people was enough to make him want to return to Hailey's simplicity. That and the taste of her lips. The feel of her soft breasts. The sound of her laugh. Eric rolled the script up in his hand and stood. Bette followed him to her feet.
"You're an asshole Eric, but it was good to work with you." Bette hugged Eric gently, patting him on the back. "I think we made a great project."
"I do, too," Eric said as he tried to match the compliment, but his mind was already lost. Why would Hailey have a restraining order on Guy? Did he hurt her?
He walked out the door and down to the garage. As he waited for the parking attendant to bring his vehicle to him, he began to pace. He needed to read this book. But first, he needed to get on a plane back to Denver tonight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hailey watched as Risa walked down the stairs wearing a too short skirt and black halter-top. The black makeup was still present, as was the black hair dye. Hailey was glad to see her daughter's grades could go up, her attitude could improve, but she still dressed exactly how she wanted. Except for the too much skin. She did not appreciate the too much skin.
"Back upstairs." Hailey pointed back upstairs. She almost laughed as her daughter jumped a foot into the air.
"Mom!" Risa froze at the bottom of the stairs, surprise on her face. She obviously did not notice Hailey in the dark living room. "Why are you sitting in the dark? That's entrapment!"
"Oh my god, no. No, it's not." Hailey pointed again. "Cover more skin, and then you can go out."