GLASS: A Standalone Novel

by Arianne Richmonde

  “More than happy,” Pearl added.

  I covered my hands over my eyes and let out a long sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” Samuel asked.

  I uncovered my relieved face. “Nothing, just wondered what this meeting was all about,” I answered, “wondered if you were dissatisfied in some way.

  Samuel handed me a flute of champagne. “I’ll cut to the chase. Simon’s gotta go.”

  “But so much is in the can already,” I pointed out. ‘In the can,’ meaning already shot—I was beginning to sound like a pro. “Everyone’s been talking about coming in under budget, we—”

  “I’m coming back on board,” Daniel interrupted. “With full artistic license to shoot the film how I envision.”

  My heart was pounding—so much information. “Which is?”

  “The sex scenes in black and white, which gives me leeway to be more . . . more creative, more experimental.”

  “More experimental?”

  “Would you be willing to be filmed nude?” Pearl asked me. “In other words, your nudity clause, Janie, would be null and void. Daniel would need the freedom to shoot at his own discretion. That would need complete trust on your part.”

  I sat there, speechless.

  “You’d have a closed set, of course,” Pearl added, “a privacy patch et cetera—I’m sure costume has explained all this to you and—”

  “Janie, it’s in my interest, and in the producers’ interest, to make you look good,” Daniel interrupted, “and . . . what’s the right word . . . classy.”

  I took a sip of champagne, thinking of the “privacy patch”, a skimpy bit of flesh-colored fabric that would barely cover my hoo-ha. No toast had been made and people had already started drinking, as if it was a done deal. “I don’t understand. I mean, Mr. Myers, what made you have a change of heart? I thought you and Daniel disagreed on the look and feel of the movie, and that’s why he pulled out.”

  “Firstly, Janie, call me Sam. And secondly, in my line of business it’s important to recognize when you’re wrong. I misjudged you—which I was happy to admit—and I misjudged the project. I had originally wanted The Dark Edge of Love to be a blockbuster, to compete side by side with Fifty Shades—”

  “Which we all know is impossible,” Pearl cut in. “Not only do they have an immense budget, but an unlimited fan base, impossible to compete with. That’s why we came to the conclusion our movie needs to go in the opposite direction and return to Daniel’s original concept. Artistic, with a European feel to it. Sam is the first to admit he got sidetracked, but he’s a hundred percent with us now.”

  I remembered Samuel Myers tax loss analogy. This mind changing would have cost them serious dollars. Maybe they didn’t care. “Why does that go hand in hand with nudity?” I asked.

  “It just does,” Daniel said. “I can’t be getting hung up over a right boob side shot or a centimeter too much of your ass.”

  “My ass?” The reality of it hit me. Black and white or not, my petite ass would be plastered across HD screens across the world, some of them, twenty feet high. My little tits, not lush melons, not even peaches, but tiny, unripe cherries. And my bony frame that, in my mind’s eye, suddenly didn’t seem like part of Star’s sexy ‘brand’ packaging after all. “I don’t know,” I wavered. “I don’t think I’m right for the part.”

  “You’re the only one for the part,” Daniel said, his tone emphatic. “I’m not interested in doing this project without you, Janie. As I said, I want a theatrically trained actress, someone who can improvise, someone who can sustain one, long, fifteen minute take.”

  “What about a body double?” I offered, suspecting Daniel wouldn’t go for it.

  “Defeats the purpose. This film is about acting, about passion and love, not about body parts. I can’t be spending more time faffing about in the editing room than on set.”

  “What about Cal?” I asked. “Will he be shooting nude too?” I’d heard about what actors had to wear: a “cock-sock” to cover up their private parts. I tried to picture Cal in a cock-sock, getting an erection and it springing off like a slingshot.

  Daniel cleared his throat as if he were about to speak but then stayed silent. He looked at Samuel.

  “Look,” Sam said, “the truth is, and the truth can hurt sometimes . . . it’s like watching a wooden puppet and prima ballerina perform together. The wooden puppet is cute, but he’s still made of wood. The prima ballerina is flesh and blood, she’s alive—you know what I’m saying?”

  “Who’s the puppet and who’s the ballerina?” I asked. I had a good idea but wanted to hear it from his lips.

  “Cal,” Daniel said, his voice a hammer.

  Pearl smoothed her pencil skirt over her fine legs. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose—she didn’t need them. “Look,” she began, “Cal is very, very handsome, and for a soap or light comedy he’s perfect, but seeing you together just . . . just . . . it’s like oil and water, it isn’t working.”

  “It’s not his fault!” I blurted out. “We’ve had zero direction from Simon. Cal is a good actor, he just needs direction!”

  Daniel shot me a look, which I couldn’t read.

  “Cal’s gotta go too,” Samuel stated without remorse. “He’ll get his full fee, don’t feel badly for the boy.”

  A chill spiraled through my limbs. Cal would be devastated. I felt somehow that it was my fault, that I was responsible. Had I upstaged him? Had I unwittingly made him look bad? “He’s a good actor,” I repeated. “He’s professional, reliable, he’s a nice guy!”

  “We don’t give a damn about nice,” Sam hurled out. “We want menacing, we want dangerous.”

  “We need drop-dead sexy, not just good looking,” Pearl added. “I did ask my husband if he wanted the role, but . . .” –she winked at me—“but we’ve gone down another avenue.”

  “Another avenue?” I echoed, my heart still pounding at the thought of stripping naked in front of Daniel, directing me to do anything he wanted, to have ‘artistic control’ over my body—considering he pretty much already owned my mind. “What actors have you considered?”

  “Just one actor,” Pearl said, looking at Daniel as if for his approval. I’d heard the name of Brandon Taylor being bandied about, the latest hotshot movie star who everyone was raving about. Perhaps they’d choose him to replace Cal.

  Sam took a long gulp of champagne. “We’ve decided he would be the best thing for the movie.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Me,” Daniel rumbled. “I’m going to be your leading man, your co-star. I’m a trained actor, might as well put my skills to use. Yes or no, Janie? You need to decide.”

  I sat there, silent, gob-smacked by the humdinger news. Had I heard this right? Not only was Daniel Glass going to now direct The Dark Edge of Love but he was also going to REPLACE CAL AS MY LEADING MAN! I could feel my limbs trembling. Not tickle induced laughter this time, no, but terror. And I had been doing so well! I thought of Cal, waiting for me, planning a weekend away. Of how relieved I was, just an hour ago, to be mentally free of Daniel—to be getting on with my life, moving forward.

  And now look.

  “I don’t know,” I said in a quiet voice. Samuel, Pearl, and Daniel were waiting, their gazes fixed to me for a concrete answer: was I going to bare all in this movie? Strip myself of my nicely worked out nudity clause that had been gone over with a fine toothcomb by one of Hollywood’s finest entertainment lawyers? Strip myself in every way.

  Samuel’s voice was a cleaver to my rumination. “Look, Janie, I like you. We can up your fee. Not by a lot but—”

  “It’s not the money,” I broke in.

  “Sam, Janie doesn’t have to decide this very second!” Pearl said. “Let’s finish our drinks and take a rain check.”

  “What about Cal?” I asked.

  “Cal will be just fine,” Samuel said.

  Any second now I would see Cal. There was no way I could look him in the face, knowing what I knew, and no
t share it with him. I was disgusted by their cavalier attitude. They all had immense wealth and stellar careers. Amazing how people with everything forget what it’s like for the rest of us who have to fight for our chances. And the money wasn’t the whole of it; this part was a big break for Cal—for any actor. Losing it would be devastating even if he did still get his paycheck.

  “He’s waiting for me,” I let them know.

  Pearl glared at Samuel. “I told you we should have talked to Cal first,” she whispered.

  Samuel threw up his arms in the air. Or tried. His tight suit jacket restrained him. “We don’t even have an answer from Janie yet, how could we have spoken to Cal first?”

  Daniel turned abruptly to me. “Cal’s waiting for you? What? Here?”

  “Yes, he’s just outside the door.” A look of perplexity swept across the director’s face. “We’re seeing each other,” I added. The words flew out of my mouth. Maybe I wanted to punish Daniel in some way. Let him know he didn’t own me. No, I had other options; men who weren’t still living in the past, and using women for sex to make themselves feel better. Men who weren’t control freaks. It was crazy that Daniel would be playing the lead of Jonathon, even though I knew several actor/directors had had huge success wearing both hats: Robert Redford, Sean Penn—the list went on. But still, Daniel taking control in this way unnerved me. I had already sublet my apartment—I couldn’t go back to New York right now anyway. I had made a commitment to the bank to pay off my sixty thousand dollar student loan. Saying ‘no’ to The Dark Edge of Love would turn my life upside down.

  But if I said ‘yes’ my life would still be turned upside down. In a different way.

  Pearl got up. “Well, I’m going to ask Cal to come inside and we can talk this over. I’m very happy to offer extra severance pay, from my own pocket if need be. None of this is his fault.” She walked toward the door.

  I didn’t care to see Cal’s disappointed face when he found out the bad news, so I excused myself to use the bathroom. I guess that was cowardly, but there it was.

  I stayed in there as long as possible. I heard low voices, muttering, no expletives or anything, just benign murmuring, like white noise. I splashed cold water on my face, and when I went to use the toilet, blood in my panties made me realize that all this stress had brought on my period a week early. That happened sometimes when I was stressed—my period might last a day only. And I was sure feeling stressed now. Was it always like this, this thankless, feckless film business? Or was it only Hollywood? Actors being exchanged like commodities without any thought for how that person in question would actually feel? No wonder actors became demanding when they got to be famous. Their way of saying “I won’t take this shit anymore! Finally you can treat me like a human being.”

  I rummaged about in my purse and luckily found a tampon. Washed my hands, found some French hand cream and, after several minutes killing time, stood with my scented, moisturized hand on the doorknob, braving myself to return. I still hadn’t made up my mind.

  I needed more time.

  I tentatively turned the door handle. Daniel was right there, in the corridor between the bathroom and Samuel’s office, his face suddenly in my face, his blue blue eyes windows, not to his soul, but to mine. They undid me every single time. Left me open, vulnerable, and weak. Lightheaded. My heart racing out of sequence.

  “Janie.” He pinned me against the wall, his gaze raking me up and down. He stroked my cheek with his thumb, letting it linger along the edge of my jaw. “Please say yes.”

  “Daniel, I—”

  “I need you, Janie.”

  “Your wife would have been perfect for this role, but not me,” I fired out, and immediately wished I hadn’t opened my mouth. I sounded bitter, bitchy and jealous. Which of course, I was. Jealous of a dead woman. Get a life, Janie!

  “If only you knew.” One side of his mouth lifted at the corner sardonically.

  “If only you knew how you’re doing my head in!” I shot back. “How do you think this is for me? Yes, no, yes, no. Finally I’d gotten the swing of things with Cal, and boom! You’re back in the picture!”

  “This is all about Cal?” he asked, incredulously. “Cal?”

  “What just happened now? In there while I was in the bathroom?”

  “He was let go.”

  “Why don’t people tell it how it is? He wasn’t ‘let go,’ he was unceremoniously fired!”

  “He’s fine, Janie, believe me. If that film had been made in the direction it was going, it would have ruined his career. And yours. I saw the dailies. It was a pile of shite.”

  “A pile of shite?”

  “The Irish have a poetic way of saying things and yes, it was a pile of fucking shite.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. But my heart was pounding through my chest and out the other side having Daniel so close. He knew exactly what he was doing. Using me. Using me to get what he wanted. He knew I was obsessed with him, it was written all over my face, in every breath I took. He wanted me as his little marionette to dance to his tune while he waltzed about Hollywood, or whatever capital he happened to be in, shagging Natasha Jürgen lookalikes. I’d heard more on that front. Jake had heard rumors too about the Daniel Glass Shagathon.

  “So you’re my knight in shining armor coming on his galloping steed to rescue me from this ‘pile of shite?’ ” I said, sarcastically.

  Daniel ran his tongue along his lower lip then nipped it between his teeth. “That’s right, I’m your knight in shining armor. You’ll look beautiful the way I’m going to shoot you. Long languid takes, black and white for the sex scenes but with maybe a dash of color. Red. On your lips. Or red panties. Or a lone red rose in a vase. The color can be added later in post-production. Grainy black and white. Low lighting. Slow mo. You’ll look fucking amazing. A class act. What do you say?”

  “Why? Why did you change your mind?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Because I heard they were making a fucking meal of it and I couldn’t stand to see your career go down the toilet.”

  I digested what he said. Still, it wasn’t enough of an explanation. “Why you as the actor? There are lots of great theater actors you could choose from for the role of Jonathon. Why you?”

  “He’s not called Jonathon any more. The character’s named Finn now.”

  “The improvisation has started already, has it?” My tone was sarcastic.

  “You bet.” He leaned in closer and let his lips brush lightly against mine. Oh God. “We can start improvising right now,” he murmured into my mouth.

  “Why you?” My echo was a whisper, I could hardly breathe—he’d sucked the air clean out of my lungs with his proximity.

  His blue eyes seared into me. “Because I don’t want any other man fucking touching you.”

  It took several seconds for me to process his words. Professional jealousy? I could feel my heart swell. Not in a good way but in an I’m-going-to-have-a-coronary sort of way. But I wouldn’t let him get off so easily and manipulate me with a click of his finger as he was so used to doing. I wanted him to feel. To hurt.

  “Well I’m seeing Cal. We’ve started dating,” I half lied.

  His eyes turned dark, a flash of fury, and it pleased me to no end. I felt lightheaded and dizzy even. Let him experience the stab. Let him know what it’s like to think about me having sex with someone else, the way I have envisioned him fucking all these busty blondes.

  “There’ll be no dating Cal,” he stated, as if it were a fact.

  I raised my brows, haughtily. “Oh no? What makes you so sure?”

  “Because he’s getting on a plane in an hour. I’m having a car take him to Van Nuys, where he’ll catch one of my jets to New York.”

  “One of your jets?”

  He flicked his wrist in a dismissive wave as if his wealth was of no importance. “My father had an automobile parts empire. I still have shares in his company, and eve
ry now and again I take advantage of the perks it has to offer.”

  “So you’re putting Cal on a jet? Why? So he can’t get in the way of filming? So I won’t be able to concentrate on anyone but you so you can control me like malleable putty for your work of art?” I was out of breath, my tirade a torrent.

  Daniel gripped my wrists. “Janie, why are you so blind? So stubborn? Isn’t it crystal clear?”

  “It’s as clear as glass. I know who you are, Daniel Glass! You’re a megalomaniac who wants everyone to tow the line. You don’t want me for me, you want me so that I can make you shine. Polish your ego ‘til it gleams! Be your little star student actress while you nurse your . . . your . . .” I wanted to say ‘blonde bimbo addiction’ but I stopped myself. His wife was blond and I sounded like a psycho talking ill of the dead. Besides, she’d been anything but a bimbo. Anything but. I actually put my hand over my mouth so I didn’t make a total jealous bitchy fool out of myself.

  Daniel’s lips curled up: a lopsided smile that almost looked like a smirk. He seemed not only amused, but pleased by my outburst.

  “Janie, Janie, Janie. My little Janie Juilliard. Such a feisty little Kate, aren’t we? Claws out, ready to fight and scratch. Such a wild shrew! Am I going to have to tame you? Whip you into shape? Take you over my knee and spank you?” –then he whispered in my ear—“fuck some sense into you?”

  I could hear myself cry out as my body went limp. I literally crumpled to the floor at the idea of Daniel spanking me and fucking me. Had I heard him right?

  Maybe not, because the next thing I knew, I blacked out.

  Part Two

  Broken GLASS

  1

  WHEN I WOKE UP I had no idea where I was. The last thing I remembered was I’d blacked out, Daniel’s sexy voice in my ear, threatening to take me over his knee and spank me and fuck some sense into me.

  My head was fuzzy. Where was I? I wasn’t at Star’s. At Daniel’s place? Had he taken me here and done unspeakable things to me? If so, why couldn’t I remember? It was night, yet the room was not completely dark. I jerked up from the bed but got myself tangled up; I had an IV in my arm. What the hell had happened?