by Kyanna Skye
THE END
The Ape’s Redemption
“That’s a wrap, everyone!” The director yelled from his seat behind the slew of cameras. “Great job, really great! And, can I get a round of applause for our leading lady, Lucy Harrison!” The rest of the cast and crew started clapping, whistles of praise shouting out into the balmy Los Angeles air to wrap around her, forcing her to grin even wider. She gave a graceful wave, silently thanking everyone for their hard work over the past few months of filming.
Sometimes, it’s still hard for her to believe that she’s come so far in just a few short years. From sleeping on a ratty old couch to being a lead actress in a big box office film. It truly was a dream come true. Nobody thought she could do it, not her mother back in her small, rural hometown of Reedville in the middle of nowhere America, and if she was honest with herself, for a long time she hadn’t believed that she could make it either. But hard work and perseverance had finally paid off and now instead of Lucy Harrison, unemployed and basically homeless, she was Lucy Harrison, successful actress and movie star.
She’d gotten her first big break on the stage, a small time play in an independent theater but that role had opened up her world, and the path to where she is now. And she hadn’t looked back since. She turned to head towards her trailer to get out of the slinky wardrobe she was currently in but a voice calling her name stopped her.
“Miss Harrison? Um, Miss Harrison?” The sound caught at her, tugging her towards its source standing just outside the barricade that was put up on the entire set after a too eager fan tried to break into her trailer. She looked over, searching for the owner of the voice.
“Miss Harrison?” It called again, and she traced her gaze around the small crowd of people trying to catch a glimpse of Hollywood magic. Finally, she moved her gaze down, and down a little more until she spotted the little girl. Barely tall enough to reach the top of the wooden barricade she had blond hair pulled up in pigtails and bright blue eyes that stared up at Lucy with keen admiration and a whole lot of shyness.
Lucy sent her a soft smile and walked closer, ignoring the gasps and oohs and ahhs coming from the crowd as she knelt down in front of the little girl.
“Please, call me Lucy.” She whispered, trying to ease the little girl’s obvious shyness. “What’s your name?”
“My– My name is Olivia…Olivia Trenton. You’re so beautiful, and you are my favorite actress ever in the whole world.” Olivia blushed, and Lucy stifled the delighted chuckle not wanting to make her feel any more uncomfortable.
“Olivia, you’re beautiful too and thank you so much. I always love to meet a real fan.” She thinks momentarily of the creep who tried to break onto the set but dismissed it. It was all part of the price she paid to do what she loved, act. And she wouldn’t change any of it for the world.
“Lucy, will you…will you sign this picture for me?” The little girl held up the glossy photograph, and Lucy gladly took it and the preferred pen, signing her name with a flourish across the bottom corner and leaving a note as well. To Olivia, my biggest fan, always remember to follow your heart no matter where it might lead you.
Lucy handed back the autographed photo only to get belted in the face with…something. She frowned down at the small, white, puffy object that had just bounced off her forehead and picked it up. What the hell? It was a bit of popcorn. She looked up just in time to get hit with several more pieces. Olivia was still standing there, this time with a bowl of the ammo and more and more pieces of the stale popcorn were being pelted at her.
“Hey, what are you…?”
“Lucy. Lucy, wake up!” A voice said, but it wasn’t the girl's voice any longer.
“What? What’s going on?”
“Lucy! I’m serious. You need to get the hell off my couch. Now!”
Lucy’s eyes snapped open, and she took in her surroundings with a sense of disappointment as reality settle in once more. Bleak. Lonely. And damned uncomfortable. She shifted on the couch she’d been relegated to last week trying to avoid the misshapen lumps in the old piece of crap…er, furniture. Probably shouldn’t call the only home she has left in the world crap, but there it is. Ever since Lucy hadn’t been able to make rent her roommate Tina had found a replacement, someone who could actually pay the rent and had gladly kicked her out of the only other bed in the small apartment and onto this old, terribly uncomfortable couch.
“This is getting so ridiculous, Lucy,” Tina sneered down at her, still tossing the occasional kernel of popcorn, “You haven’t been able to pay rent in over a month. I’ve let you stay here, but I have a new roommate now, one who actually gives me money for the space they take up rather than just acting like a parasite.”
“A parasite!” Lucy says, trying to defend herself but it makes it hard when it’s the truth, however unkind. But life had been cruel for her these past few months. She hadn’t been able to find any sort of job and the little savings she did have had dwindled long since.
“Yes, Lucy, a parasite. I’ve told you this before, but you need to find another place to live.”
“How can I? Without work? Without any money?” Lucy pleaded, fighting back the torrent of self-loathing.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you should try and get a job.” Tina threw a bundle of papers in Lucy’s lap before turning away with one last sneer. She’d never been the nicest person, but as long as Lucy paid the rent at least she was civil. Now even that thin veneer was gone leaving Lucy exposed to her razor sharp tongue.
She glanced down at the papers. They were the classified section of the newspaper but just like the hundreds of other times she’d scoured the pages what jobs were hiring were few and far between, and she wasn’t qualified for the ones that were looking.
Lucy turned the paper over, and her eyes fell on the situations wanted column. Most were thinly veiled ads for prostitutes, or companies looking to hire paid escorts. For the barest second, she wonders if she could go down that dark road but shakes it off. It will never happen, not her. She may be sleeping on a couch and seconds from being homeless, but she had more pride than that, more respect in herself.
The words of her mother echo in her ears. The night she left home they’d had a major fallout, and her mom had told her this would happen. That Lucy would move to LA and end up on the streets. That she would never achieve her dream of being an actress. She bites back tears as the reality of her situation once more sinks in and as she does a post at the bottom of the page catches her eye. In big, bold letters it reads Caretaker. No experience necessary. Must live in. Compensated well.
Despite herself, Lucy read the words of the ad again, unable to look away as a spark of curiosity tumbled through her. The idea of a job and a new place to live was enough to almost make her mouth water at the temptation. Could this be the answer to the last few excruciating months?
Lucy searched for any more information about the job, but the ad in the paper is only those few brief lines, nothing more. No address, no company name. She squinted, holding the paper even closer to her face. Wait a minute. There’s a phone number in the unbelievably small text at the very bottom. Without letting herself second guess her actions, she hastily grabbed a pen, tearing off a little empty corner of the classifieds and scribbling the number.
A thrill shot through her but a second later, doubts began to swirl. What would she be caring for? Or who? The posting has no other information. It could be anything at all.
Well, no way to find out until I dial the damn number, she mumbles to herself as she glances over her shoulder. Luckily Tina is ensconced in the bathroom, and the sound of the shower running means she’ll be in there for at least another twenty minutes. Not that it would have mattered, she tells herself as she reaches for her prepaid cell phone. It’s all she can afford at the moment, and she releases a sigh of thanks that she still has some minutes left. She glances at the closed bathroom door one last time. She’s also thankful that she won’t have to make this call with Tina’
s snarky, cutting comments and mean looks cast in her direction. Especially if it ends up being nothing.
You don’t know until you call. That’s right. Before she can give herself any more time to stall, she quickly punches in the number and holds the phone to her ear. It rings and rings, for so long that she wonders if it was a fake number but finally a crackle on the other line announced that someone picked up the phone.
“Uh, hello?” Lucy says when no other sound comes from the line. “Hello? I’m calling about the listing for a caretaker position that was posted in the LA Times classified section?”
Another few seconds pass by, and she almost hangs up as her heart starts to sink. But a sudden voice stops her.
“Your name?” It’s a male voice, rough but cultured, and oddly intimidating even over the phone.
“Lucy…Lucy Harrison.”
“You will come in for an interview,” It was not a question, “Do you know where Kershing Street and Lake is?”
Lucy mentally drew a map of the city. She didn’t know it totally yet, having just moved there a little under a year ago but she knew those street names. And where they intersected was one of the most exclusive and expensive areas in all of Los Angeles. Her brows shot up in surprise. What the hell kind of job would she be interviewing for?
Before she could get out any sort of answer, or ask any of the questions that were circling around her head the man on the other line of the phone was rattling off an address and a time to be there, less than an hour from now.
“Be prompt.” Were the last words and then a click on the other line when he hung up. Well, that was kind of weird, Lucy thinks to herself as she slowly lowers her phone. An hour. That will give her just enough time to get cleaned up, try and scrounge up a passable outfit and catch the bus that would take her across town. A small, hopeful smile broke across her face as she jumped up from the couch and went to get changed.
Fifty-five minutes later exactly she was standing, staring in awe at one of the most magnificent and secluded houses she’d ever seen in her life. Lucy wasn’t even sure if it was appropriate to call it a house. Palace? Mansion? Whatever it was it was enormous and centered on a property that seemed to stretch for acres to either side of her. It is so heavily forested that she almost felt like she was walking through a hidden jungle as she made her way up the winding path to the front door.
She raises her hand to knock on the door but before she can even make contact the door swings open. An incredibly tall man in a somber looking black suit stares down at her.
“Miss Harrison?”
“Um, yes. Hi, I’m Lucy.” She sticks out her hand in greeting, but it's ignored as the man turns around, heading back inside. It’s obvious that he expects her to follow.
“This way, please.” He says, not even bothering to look back as he heads up a winding set of stairs.
“Sir, I, uh, would love to find out more about the caretaker position? Would you be needing–.”
“I won’t be needing anything.” He interrupts her. “Mr. Trent is this way. He will be conducting the interview.”
His tone cuts off any further questioning but apparently he is just another employee of this Mr. Trent. Well, at least I have a name now. That was a hell of a lot more than she had a few seconds ago.
We finally reach the third-floor landing, and he opens a large wooden door into a dark room that seems to be some sort of office or study. There are walls lined with books and a massive oak desk to one side. Behind the desk is the man that must be Mr. Trent. The image in my head of an elderly man stooped over and feeble immediately disintegrates as a tall, muscular man who couldn’t be more than thirty stands to his feet and walks around the desk to lean against the front.
His golden eyes seem to glow in the dim light, and I can’t look away from the intensity I read in their depths. His striking features and broad shoulders do something wicked to my insides, twisting them in such a way that it’s hard for me to draw enough breath to introduce myself. Finally, he takes mercy and speaks, easing some of the tension.
“Hello,” his voice is like sweet, thick syrup, low and smooth as it runs over me, “I am Owen Trent. You must be Lucy?” His gaze is still burning into me, and I barely manage a nod. One corner of his mouth quirks up into a soft, lopsided grin and suddenly all of my focus is there.
“Terrance, you can go. I think you’re intimidating our guest.” The tall man who led her here gave a quick nod and turned to leave without another word but somehow she knew that he would be standing just outside the door, waiting and ready at a moment’s notice in case his employer needed anything.
“Lucy, I have several questions for you, and it’s important that you answer them honestly.” The tone of his voice changed suddenly from syrup to sandpaper and a buzz of irritation finally lets Lucy find her voice.
“I don’t lie, Mr. Trent.” She said, drawing herself up to her meager height of five foot five, a good foot shorter than his own. He didn’t even bother to apologize, just jumped right into a slew of questions.
“Who is your family? Where are you from? How much is your annual income? And your family’s? Are they wealthy, or poor?” Before she can even get her mouth open to answer his way too personal questions, he’s continuing his assault, “What’s your romantic life like? Any boyfriend? Any close friends? What kind of wardrobe do you have? What is your dress size? You do wear dresses, don’t you?”
“Wha– What? Yes, I do,” Lucy was finally able to stammer out, “What does any of that have to do with the caretaker position I’m interviewing for?” A pique of anger at his questions has her shooting out some of her own, “Who will I be taking care of anyway?”
There’s a moment of silence from him before a slow smile spreads across his face in a way that has her whole body tingling despite her irritation.
“Why, me, of course.”
Why, me, of course. Owen’s words kept ringing in her ears even after two weeks. Lucy had given up hope that she would get a call back after that disastrous interview and the silence of the last couple of weeks was proof enough that she was right. What did he mean by that anyways? Owen Trent certainly didn’t seem like he needed anyone to take care of him. What would the job have entailed, sex?
She gave a mental shake of her head as she continued winding through the maze of backstage in the tiny, independent theater. She dodged swinging drapes and jumped over ropes hoisting lights and stage props with her mind still juggling the question. If that was the job, then she didn’t want any part of it, and she was glad they hadn’t called her back. Right? Then why was there a small part of her that felt…disappointed? Get a hold of yourself, Lucy! We’ve got an audition to nail.
“Hey, Luce, I didn’t think you were going to make it on time. The audition calls are about to start.” It was a small budget off-Broadway play, but any break would be sorely welcome. Her place on Tina’s couch was getting more and more precarious every day. Lucy looked up as Sarah, a girl that she had met several times before at auditions walked towards her.
“Hi, Sarah. The bus I was on broke down and I had to wait for the next one. It’s lucky I made it here at all.” Lucy said with a forced laugh.
“Yeah, lucky,” Sarah said with a snide smile of her own. She’d made no attempt to hide her opinion of Lucy. That she was too small town to make it in the cut-throat world of LA, and that she wasn’t right for acting because she wasn’t stick thin. Sarah’s name is called from the front of the theater.
“Well, that’s me.” She says, already heading towards the stage.
“Good luck!”
“Thanks. You too.” Sarah throws her a quick wave before disappearing beyond the curtain. Lucy wonders briefly if she meant it. Sarah had invited her to several parties since she lived in LA and Lucy was still new and trying to figure everything out, but there was always an edge of competition to her that Lucy couldn’t figure out.
Sarah was tall and lithe with a thin figure that would have fit perfectly in any f
ashion magazine. Lucy knew that some guys did like her curves, Sarah’s friend Peter for instance who was usually at Sarah’s parties and always made it a point to flirt with her, in a nice, if shallow, fashion. She thought of herself as plain, and that she could stand to lose a few pounds. Maybe then she’d be able to get more roles. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to struggle quite so hard. She shook her head.
She actually did like her hourglass figure, but that wasn’t what people were looking for in their leading ladies, even if it should be. Lucy sighed, mentally replaying her audition lines in her head. It was one of her talents that had made being an actress seem like a good idea. She was able to look at a sheet of lines once and have them memorized, syntax, timing, enunciation and all. She had blown everyone in her small hometown away with her acting ability, but Reedville was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of LA.
Lucy looks up at a cue from one of the assistants that were running around the theater. It was just about her time to go on. She shakes off her doubts and her mother’s voice saying she won’t make it, mentally preparing herself for the character she’s about to transform into, someone so different from jobless, nearly homeless, and utterly destitute Lucy Harrison that it’s almost a relief.
The sudden ring of her phone makes her jump and the narrow, censorious look from the stage hand has her hastily grabbing for the cell and flipping it open.
“Hello?” Lucy whispers.
“Miss Harrison?” A familiar voice says. It’s Owen’s Butler, Terrance.
“Yes, this is Lucy.”
“Mr. Trent says you must come, now.”
“Wait a minute, what the hell–?”
“You must come now. That is all.” He hangs up the phone before Lucy even has the time to ask what’s going on, and what he meant.
“Harrison, Lucy Harrison?” A voice from the front of the theater calls and the assistant hisses at her.
“You’re up, sweetheart. Time to get off the phone.”