by Grey, Parker
“Who are all these people?” Emma asks over the party’s noise.
She’s still pulling at her dress, trying to flatten it into place. The panties are long gone. I can tell by how the dress wraps around her ass, and I give it a long, slow stare before I answer.
“They’re all on the movie,” I answer. “They’re here to meet and plan. I like to get them all in a room together, somewhere away, outside of Los Angeles, so they can focus. Once I chat with enough of them, we can leave.”
“There’s so many of them,” Emma says. “What do they all do?”
I don’t want to point, so I just use my eyes and let Emma follow my glances.
“Director over there, in the ugly sweater. By the bar is the producer-slash-writer, and the one hitting on the waitstaff is the writer-slash-producer.”
“What’s the difference?” Emma asks.
“Who cares?” I say.
I keep looking around the room.
“Lead actor you met earlier. The lead actress is on the other side of the room, trying to avoid the actor, they don’t get along. The older woman with a drink in each hand is the coordinator. And over by the door is—”
Oh shit.
Marwin. What is he doing here? How does he even know about this?
The little bastard has spotted me, and here he comes, arms spread wide.
“Nolan Maddox,” he says. “This looks like a very expensive event. Don’t you ever wonder why my movies cost so much less to make than yours?”
“Hmm,” I rub my chin. “Do you ever wonder why your movies keep flopping and mine don’t?”
“And you think that gives you the right to spend my company’s money on parties for yourself?”
“It’s for the rest of them, so they can meet before they spend months working together. People work better when they like each other. Maybe that’s another reason your movies have been struggling.”
I see he wants to respond to that, but I keep talking so he doesn’t get the chance.
“Believe me,” I tell him. “I’m thinking of some other things I’d much rather be doing right now.”
Emma almost laughs next to me. She raises a drink to her mouth to hide her smile.
Marwin looks her over, starting at the ground and working his way up. My hand tightens around my glass at the look in his eyes, but I force myself to keep calm.
Don’t cause a scene at a fancy dress party with your boss, Maddox.
“Who is this?” he asks me, like she’s not standing there, fully capable of introducing herself.
A shrill voice rings out behind him.
“It’s that goddamn bitch!”
Kitty. Of course.
I step in front of Emma, my pulse pounding in my ears, a growl starting low in my chest. Kitty’s practically charging at us — not that she’s capable of doing me any damage.
“What the hell is what’s-her-name doing here?” she shouts, already sounding half-drunk. My spine goes even straighter, and I’m ready to defend Emma, but Kitty stops just behind Marwin, like she’s using him as her human shield.
“I will not work in these conditions!” Kitty says, her voice a long, high-pitched whine.
I grab Marwin by the arm. He winces but I don’t let go. I pull him in close, ignoring Kitty.
“You need to get her out of here,” I say. “What the hell does she mean?”
“I can’t,” Marwin says. “I already signed her onto the movie.”
My grip on his arm tightens as my stomach drops.
“My movie?” I hiss.
“It’s not your movie,” he snaps back. “It belongs to the company. My company.”
“Marwin,” Kitty whines. “You told me you fired her. That woman from the photo shoot. You promised me.”
“I did,” Marwin says. He looks back and forth between me and Emma.
“Wait,” he says. “This is her? This is the same person? The one I told you to get rid of? You disobeyed me.”
“That’s right,” I say.
“Well,” Marwin says, “you better pick your next words carefully. Do you have something you’d like to say?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I tell him. “But not to you. Emma, I want you to know that it doesn’t matter if this movie falls apart because of Marwin here, it doesn’t matter if I’m fired, it doesn’t matter if the whole thing burns to the ground.”
Emma has turned towards me, her face bright red. The whole party seems to be standing behind her, the actors, the waiters, everyone. They’re all waiting to see what will happen next.
I ignore them.
My eyes lock on to Emma and Emma only. The firelight reflects off her eyes.
“I love you, and that’s the only thing that matters.”
Emma steps towards me with complete self-possession, as if no one is in the room but us two, and I take her and kiss her, her lips on mine for a long minute. I step back and she’s looking up at me smiling, and I nod at her.
As I become aware of the room again, I hear a light smattering of applause from around us. The waitstaff is applauding. The guests look too stunned to react, and too afraid to take a side.
Whatever. That’s a problem for another time.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say to Emma.
The crowd parts around us and we walk for the door, until I realize that she’s not beside me.
“Hold on,” Marwin is saying, and in a flash of red I see his fingers around Emma’s wrist.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m rushing back, pushing people aside, and I grab his thumb and pry it off of Emma’s wrist. Once I know Marwin has unlatched and won’t pull her down, I slam my open palm into his chest, pushing him back.
“Don’t touch me!” Marwin shrieks. “He pushed me.”
Emma laughs.
“You were violent. We all saw it.”
Marwin smiles an ugly grin.
“You forget who these people are. They all work for me. Who do you think they’ll side with?”
Another voice answers, a familiar voice that had stayed quiet until now.
“I can answer that, mate,” says our gray-maned movie star. “I’m siding with Maddox. It’s the truth.” The crowd around him nods in agreement.
“Well,” Marwin shrieks, “you’ll have to pick. Him or me. Who do you want to work with?”
The star smiles.
“Really?”
“Thanks Thorne, but I can take care of myself.” I step in between them. “Marwin, I think it’s time for me to take a hiatus. A honeymoon, maybe.”
Emma speaks up.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m quitting this job. There are other things I’d rather be doing.” I wink at her, and she beams back at me.
I take her by the hand. We walk together past Marwin, and the now silent crowd parts for us. I know all eyes are on us as we head out the door. Once we’re outside, walking back to the cabin, Emma is practically skipping the whole way. I’m happy too, but she doesn’t realize the trouble we’re in. Marwin isn’t finished with us. He never drops a grudge, and we’ve given him quite a big one.
But for now, I just want to enjoy the moment. So I grab her wrist, spin her around, and hoist her over my shoulder.
Emma shouts, then her surprise turns to laughter as I carry her to the bedroom at last.
Chapter Fifteen
Emma
Once we’re back in Los Angeles the trip in the mountains seems almost like a dream. Sometimes I think about how it ended — the party, the fight — but all those memories are overshadowed by other memories. More vivid memories. Sweatier memories.
Of course, being in Nolan’s Los Angeles home is dream-like in its own way. Not like I expected. I imagined opulence, shining, gaudy, mirrors and tall ceilings, arches, nude statues… I don’t know why, I guess I had been imagining some Hollywood producer’s home from some movie I had seen.
But in fact, it was nothing like that. It was neither too big nor too small
, an airy, comfortable house with a cactus garden — “native plants,” Nolan said — and simple, beautiful framed sketches on the wall.
“I like to buy sketches by great artists,” Nolan told me the first time I stepped inside. I was admiring a portrait in his living room.
A man and woman, their bare backs curved in simple single lines.
“I prefer the sketches to finished paintings. It reminds me that even the best artists don’t make masterpieces overnight. Even they change their minds, change course. Like me. I never thought I’d settle down. Now…”
I didn’t let him finish the sentence. I didn’t need to. I just needed him.
So we fucked.
And for a few hours, we forgot the problems around us, the people who wanted to hold us back, the world stacked against us. We just saw each other.
We saw each other rolling from the couch to the floor, and across the bedroom and back. We worked our way through every room of the house, it seemed.
“Oh, yes, yes,” Nolan groaned, standing above me, and I moaned back at him as I arched across the couch. We had landed on the couch again, right back where we started, and that was where we finished.
Now here we are, lying on the floor, panting, and I wish we could both stay on this floor forever, but of course we can’t.
Now’s the time.
There’s a question that’s been swirling in my mind, a question I’ve been afraid to ask, because I’m afraid I already know the answer. It’s been on my mind the whole trip back, as we flew from the mountains back to the city, and as we landed in Nolan’s yard.
I tried to put it aside, but I can’t, so it comes spilling out of my mouth suddenly and unprompted.
“Did I screw up your life?”
Nolan rolls over to look at me, a little worry on his face.
“The way things turned out. Quitting your job.” It pains me to say it. “Are you unhappy?”
Nolan smiled.
“Only one thing can make me happy, and that’s seeing you happy. That’s the truth.”
When he says it, I believe him.
But then what’s that look of worry that never left his eyes?
Chapter Sixteen
Nolan
When I leave the house I can still taste Emma on my lips. But the taste turns sour when I see the car parked outside my locked gate. There’s nothing suspicious about that, I tell myself.
But then I see a bit of movement behind the dark tinted glass.
Someone is watching the house.
I call my security people and tell them to keep a close watch. But I know that whoever’s watching the house won’t bother her.
They’re here because they wanted me to see them.
I could knock on the window, exchange a few words, but I’d probably end up pulling the hired asshole behind the wheel out through the window. That’s what they want me to do. Cops would be called, articles would be written.
I drive out of the gate, past the car, and see him pull out behind me. Sure enough, he's got a camera. He wants to provoke me, get something he can film. So I don’t give it to him.
He has my address.
That means someone gave it to him. I think I know who.
Marwin’s home is a mountain of mismatched pillars and ugly mass-produced statues. The grounds are too big, the house is too big, so he went out and bought as many big things as he could find to fill them. I find him sitting behind his desk, which is too big, and makes him look like a child peeking over the dinner table at a restaurant.
“Come to beg for your job back?” Marwin asks.
He’s fiddling with his cell phone, flipping it high in the air.
“No,” I tell him. “I’ve come to tell you that if you don’t back off of me and Emma, I’m going to leave you a broken crying mess.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marwin says.
“Don’t ever lie to me again,” I whisper.
It scares him. He’s holding his breath. “I know you. I know you’re having us followed. I know you’re plotting something.”
“Ooh,” says Marwin. “You’ve got me in a tough spot.”
He tosses the cell phone again and fumbles it as it comes back down, swatting it into the table. Marwin pushes back his chair in anger and stands up.
“Not much I can do to punish you, is there?” he hisses. “I can’t take away your money or your car or your film credits. But your little girlfriend…”
“If you touch her—” I growl, pounding on the desk.
“Oh no,” Marwin says from behind that giant piece of furniture. “I wouldn’t do anything like that. Besides, I don’t have to. It only takes a few calls, and then I can be sure she never works again. Losing a career, that’s something you don’t recover from.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” I say.
Marwin grins, his face ugly despite his blindingly white teeth.
“I already did.”
This time the table doesn’t stop me. I climb up and over it and grab the little asshole by his shirt. He tries to scramble away from me and backs himself up against his window.
I’ve got my arm pulled back and ready to strike when I see the glowing red dot reflected in the glass behind him. I turn around and look over the door. A camera.
“Too bad,” Marwin said. “I was really hoping you would hit me on camera. Oh well, I guess we can’t have everything.”
“What do you want from me?” I hiss at him.
“I want you to leave Emma. As long as you’re with her, I’ll make sure she never sells a photograph. And I’ll know if you’re with her. You know I can find out. So it’s up to you. Be with her and stifle her, or leave her and set her free.”
I let Marwin’s shirt slip through my hands. Then I turn to go. As I pass under the camera, out of its sight, I stick my foot out and kick the power cable from the wall. The red light on the camera fades black, and as it does, Marwin’s eyes open wide.
“There,” I say. “Now you’re really alone with me.”
“Wait,” he says. “Wait, hold on!”
I barely hear his words as I cross the floor again, around the massive desk, back up to him, this time unknown to anyone but the two of us in the room.
“Hold on, let’s talk,” he says, as I push him backwards, holding him by his collar to keep him from falling, until he’s backed up into a potted plant at his knees, and I lean over him until he’s sitting in the wet dirt.
“This isn’t a negotiation,” I tell him. “This isn’t business anymore. What’s going to happen next, there’s no coming back from.”
And I leave him there in the mud.
Chapter Seventeen
Emma
It’s strange being in someone else’s home without them. At first I just roll around in Nolan’s bed, but when the morning light finally reaches my face, I figure that I better get up.
Nolan keeps a coffee maker in the bedroom, which only confirms my suspicion that he’s a genius. It gives me the motivation I need to finally climb out from under the covers, step over to the credenza, and hit the button. While the coffee’s brewing, I open up his closet and find a robe.
Of course he owns a robe.
I pull it on, even though the sleeves flop out past my hands.
I flap the sleeves back and forth in the mirror and almost crack myself up, so I get my phone out, strike a funny pose in Nolan’s robe, and snap the pic. What do you think of my new look? I text Nolan.
Then I take my coffee and I wander through the house. His dining room is neatly arranged, and his office is messy. He has a big TV in front of his desk, and I think it’s funny to imagine Nolan watching television in his office. Then I realize that he probably uses it to screen movies for work.
The dry heat hits me hard when I slide open the glass door to the back. Still morning but hot already. I wander the path down the hillside, past the cactuses and yucca plants, to the pool at the bottom of the hill.
In the heat it looks in
viting. I wish I had my bathing suit. Then I glance around, look at the high fences around Nolan’s land, and realize that the pool is private. This isn’t the cramped neighborhood I’m used to, where my neighbors are practically hanging on my window ledges.
I drop the robe and dive naked into the pool, and it feels as cold and amazing as I hoped it would. If Nolan walked in right now I wonder what he would think. I kind of hope he does.
But after thirty minutes of swimming laps, my skin is pruning and the cold water no longer feels so exciting. Still no sign of Nolan. I climb out, feeling a little silly standing naked and dripping outdoors, and quickly pull on the robe.
Did Nolan get my picture?
I flick open my texts. It’s marked read, but there’s no response.
He must be busy. He left last night and never came back. He only texted me around 11 that he would be working late.
I guess when he says he’s working late, he means really late. Nolan must work a lot.
I roll it over in my mind while I shower. It’s very unusual, but I choose to believe him.
When he gets back, he’ll be exhausted. I should do something for him. Maybe have some food waiting for him when he gets back, some kind of pleasant surprise.
Once I’m out of the shower, I pull on my shorts and t-shirt. They’re a far cry from the gowns I tried on in the mountains, but I’m glad to have them back.
I check my phone again. Still nothing from Nolan.
But there is a disappointing email about a photography job I didn’t get. One of Nolan’s contacts. They had sounded optimistic before.
Oh well, there will be others. Keep your chin up.
Before, that email would have ruined my day. It’s funny how all those problems seem far away. The credit cards, the collections calls.
Here, in Nolan’s house, it feels like none of that can touch me.
A chime from my phone tells me that my ride’s here. I step outside and listen to the electronic lock slide into place automatically. The gate opens before me and closes behind me as I walk out to the street.