Stars Collide

by H. P. Munro

  Freya lowered her head and wound her arms back round Jordan’s waist gulping slightly as her fingers encountered the smooth skin of Jordan’s back instead of the soft cotton of her scrub top.

  She composed herself as the scene marker snapped closed in front of the camera.

  “You did everything you could,” Jordan said stroking Freya’s soft curls. “We can’t save everyone.”

  Freya allowed a now familiar sob to escape. Her entire body felt drained from spending the majority of the morning crying, “Did I?” She pulled herself out of Jordan’s embrace, “I’m not so sure.” She placed a trembling hand to cover her mouth as she pushed herself off the sofa and ran towards her exit mark, stopping once she was clear of the cameras and line of crew.

  Jordan rose with Freya as if their bodies were pulled together magnetically. She had done this action instinctively the first time that Freya had broken from her embrace during their rehearsal. When Freya moved away she felt a void that surprised her and had automatically risen to follow her. The director had loved her reaction and it had stayed as part of the scene. Counting to three in her head she allowed herself to drop back down onto the sofa and sighed making sure that her face delivered the nonverbal dialogue of the scene.

  Forty minutes later, Jordan and Freya were finished and walking back across the lot. Freya yawned loudly stretching her arms behind her head as she walked. The effort of spending the morning in a perpetual state of distress had tired her out and she was desperate for a shower and a nap.

  “So are you still okay for Saturday?” Jordan asked smiling acknowledgements to the crew as they walked. “I know you’re not big on parties.”

  Freya dropped her arms down and rolled her shoulders, “I’m not, but it’s not every night that your fictional about-to-be-girlfriend has a birthday party.”

  “Excellent,” Jordan grinned jumping in front of Freya and shimmying as she walked backwards. “Remember the theme is musicals.”

  “I remember, don’t worry,” Freya smiled. “You sure it’s okay if I bring someone?”

  “Absolutely,” Jordan fell back into step beside Freya. “However, I’m not sure what the etiquette is on bringing a date to your future fictional girlfriend’s birthday bash.”

  Freya laughed as they reached the point where they would separate to go to their trailers, “Try saying that again five times, fast.” She grinned as Jordan stuck her tongue out playfully, “Anyway this is not a date, it’s a friend.” She lowered her voice and used a flirty tone, “Could it be that my future fictional girlfriend is jealous?”

  “Jealous! Moi?” Jordan laughed clutching her chest. “I’m perfectly secure in our fictional about-to-be relationship, it’s you that has the jealousy issues remember.”

  Freya giggled and shook her head, “Well me and my fictional insecurities will see you on Saturday, birthday girl. Really good work today, thank you.” She smiled and skipped off towards her trailer, her mood suddenly lighter following her brief conversation with Jordan.

  Jordan chewed her lip watching Freya skip waving her arms wildly as she went. “Jealous,” she mused, recalling the tight feeling in her chest when Freya initially asked whether she could bring someone to the party, she laughed at herself and shook her head. She walked towards her trailer still speaking to herself, “What the hell do you have to get jealous about Jordan?”

  ***

  “Will you just calm down Freya, we’ve got plenty of time,” Dan rolled his eyes as his friend continued to fidget in the back seat of the cab. “We’ll be arriving fashionably on time since you made us leave so bloody early,” he sighed.

  “I thought you British are all about manners and such like,” Freya grumbled leaning forward to check the line of traffic in front of them.

  “We British, as you so delightfully put it, are all about pretending that things are okay when you really want to punch someone,” Dan replied. “Slight difference, oh and cups of tea. We’re all about the tea.”

  Freya laughed feeling herself relax slightly as her fingers grasped around her small purse and the flat box that contained Jordan’s gift.

  “So what did you get her?” Dan asked indicating towards the box.

  “Just a picture,” Freya replied nonchalantly and switched her attention out of the window hoping that Dan wouldn’t press further.

  Dan narrowed his eyes realizing there was more to the gift than Freya was letting on. He knew better though than to try to pry it from her now, he would simply wait until she’d had a few drinks and then interrogate her. “So am I coming as your friend or beard tonight? Just so I know if I have to man up, so to speak,” Dan smirked nudging Freya with his elbow.

  She glared at him while jerking her head towards the cab driver, then through gritted teeth Freya hissed, “Friend.”

  Picking a cream thread from his letterman sweater that had dropped onto his tight black jeans, he realized that Freya was wound tighter than he’d originally thought. “Seriously, sweetie you need to relax,” he smoothed. “It’s just a party.”

  Freya’s glare softened as she recognized that she had been taking her nerves out on Dan pretty much from his arrival at her home. “Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly and sighed.

  Watching streets pass by she reasoned with herself that she was just nervous because this was the first time she’d socialized with anyone from work after the pool incident and not because it was Jordan’s party that she was going to. However, she was very aware that Jordan was the woman who before joining the cast of Front Line had been her celebrity crush, and that getting to know the woman behind the character she played just meant that the crush was in danger of becoming something more if she didn’t keep a tight check on herself.

  “I do think it’s rather delicious that you chose these outfits for us,” Dan mused.

  “Why’s that?” Freya asked, knowing that she would probably regret asking the question.

  “Well think about the lesson that Grease tells you. In order to get the ‘one that you want’, you have to either take up running or dress like a slut and start smoking.”

  Freya smacked his arm in mock outrage, “Are you calling me a slut?”

  Dan rubbed his arm absently, “Oh get down off your high heels. No I’m not calling you a slut.” He shook his head, then turned to look out of the window, waiting the perfect amount of time he added, “Dressed like a slut maybe. An actual slut, no.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with you.”

  The cab pulled up outside Jordan’s modest Spanish-styled cottage in West Hollywood. Freya took a breath, opened the car door and, wobbling slightly on her over ambitious heels, stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  She stood waiting at the stairs leading up to Jordan’s front door while Dan paid the cab driver. She bent over with laughter as he turned and walked to her imitating John Travolta’s strut from Grease. “So Danny, how do I look?” she asked in an Australian accent, giving a slight twirl and fluffing up the blonde wig covering her own hair.

  “For the fourteenth time since I came to pick you up, you look…” Dan scanned his eyes up taking in Freya’s red stiletto sandals and her long legs encased in tight shiny black leggings that looked like they had been painted directly onto her skin. Moving his head up he came to where Freya’s trim waist looked even smaller by the belt encircling it. Finally, he nodded his head as he studied the tight black top that stretched across her torso pushing her breasts up and leaving her shoulders exposed, “Like a very expensive prostitute dahling.”

  “Dan!” Freya wailed.

  “Egg!” he mimicked back. Then taking pity, he gave her a smile, “You look perfect as Sandy sweetie, seriously,” he kissed her forehead then took her hand leading her up the stairs and pressed the doorbell. “I swear Olivia didn’t look as hot as you look. Although to be fair she wasn’t rocking the cameltoe look,” Dan said absently as he checked his quiff in the window of the door.

  Freya looked down at her crotch horrified. “Cameltoe!�
�� she shrieked. As the door opened to reveal Jordan, she looked up her face froze in horror. “Mazel tov,” she yelled excitedly, pulling the gift she held tight against her thighs hoping that Jordan hadn’t heard her previous exclamation.

  Dan snorted loudly at his friend, “Hi, I’m Dan. Thank you for allowing me to come to your party.” He held out his hand which Jordan shook smiling warmly. “I have to say you look, exquisite,” Dan remarked holding Jordan’s hand up to examine her costume. “Doesn’t she Freya?”

  Freya found that her mouth had suddenly become extremely dry and her tongue appeared welded to the roof of her mouth as she drank in the sight of Jordan dressed in a crimson corset. Fine black lace detailed the garment’s panels, which lead down to a short ruffled skirt. The outfit was an updated and more risqué version of the outfit that Anna had worn in Monday Girl. Freya had just got to Jordan’s legs, which were decorated by fishnet tights, when Dan’s query reached her ears.

  “Amazing,” she managed to choke out, feeling her cheeks burn. “Slightly more revealing than my grandmother’s corset,” she paused, her face pulling into a grimace. “Now that’s not a phrase I ever expected to say.”

  Jordan laughed, “Well thank you and welcome.” She moved from the doorway to let them enter.

  Dan motioned to Freya to pass first and, as she walked past him glaring, he whispered in her ear, “You’re okay on the camel front, I was teasing.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs as she entered Jordan’s home.

  “This is for you,” Freya smiled handing Jordan the box that contained her gift. “You have to keep it until tomorrow to open,” she said frowning and not releasing the box.

  Jordan laughed, “I promise. I will open it on my birthday and not before.”

  Freya narrowed her eyes, sizing up whether she believed Jordan or not.

  Jordan gave her a wide-eyed nod and Freya grinned letting go of the box, “All right then, I believe you.”

  “You look…” Jordan raised her shoulders as she tried to find the right word to describe how Freya looked in her costume, before allowing her shoulders to drop as she finally settled on the word. “Fantastic,” she smiled broadly.

  Dan watched with interest as the two women looked at each other smiling, their eyes saying what their mouths were unwilling to. Finally, feeling like a third wheel, he coughed, “Are we the first to arrive? Freya has a habit of making me early for things.”

  “No,” Jordan shook her head startled that she had appeared to lose herself momentarily when Freya smiled at her. “There are others here, come on through.”

  Jordan placed Freya’s gift carefully on the table in her hallway and led the way towards her living room.

  Entering the room Freya nodded hello to a couple of people from work. She smiled as she spotted Dianne and Belinda deep in conversation. On the show their characters were adversaries but in real life they were close friends. Dianne was dressed in black as Elphaba from Wicked, her face and hands painted green, while Belinda was dressed as Glinda and was looking resplendent in her white skirt, jacket and tammy.

  Handing Freya and Dan flutes of champagne Jordan nudged Dan’s arm, “So Dan, Freya hasn’t told me how you two know each other.”

  Dan accepted the champagne and tipped it forward slightly in acknowledgement. “Cheers to your birthday,” he smiled raising the glass to his lips and took a small sip. “Oh she keeps me very much out of the limelight,” he smirked. “It’s almost as if she’s ashamed of me as her husband.”

  “Husband?” Jordan spluttered. “I didn’t realize that you were married.”

  She looked between Freya and Dan in surprise. The tight feeling that had occurred in her chest when Freya mentioned bringing someone had returned, but this time it had a vice like grip on her and it was taking all of her effort not to clutch the area.

  “Were married,” Freya clarified, glaring at Dan. “We were married, a loooooong time ago,” she smiled apologetically at Jordan.

  “Jordan,” a disembodied voice shouted from somewhere in the house. “Where’re the napkins?”

  Torn between going before Sabrina wreaked havoc in her beloved kitchen and continuing the conversation, Jordan dodged back and forth on her three-inch heels. She finally decided that a Sabrina tornado whipping through her cupboards demanded her attention more. She turned reluctantly to Freya and Dan, “I should go, Sabrina and my kitchen are not a good mix, excuse me.”

  Freya spun quickly smacking Dan as she turned. “What the hell are you doing Dan?” she hissed. “I said friend. Not beard. Friend!” she emphasized with another smack to Dan’s arm as she spoke.

  “Did you see her face?” Dan whispered back.

  Freya’s eyes widened, “I saw her look shocked, which is not unusual considering I’ve never mentioned being married. Seriously Dan, I could kill you sometimes.”

  Dan shrugged, “Must have been mistaken, because I could swear that Miss Thing there has a soft spot for you.”

  Rolling her eyes she gave Dan one last thump, “Don’t try and meddle Dan, I’m warning you.”

  “So what did you get her?” Dan asked cautiously, deciding that his curiosity outweighed the commonsense approach of ensuring that she had imbibed sufficient alcohol to get a direct answer.

  “I told you, I got her a picture.”

  Dan watched Freya’s face with narrowed eyes. “Oh good Lord Freya you got her a ‘wouldn’t I be a wonderful girlfriend and you should leave the world of penis and run to me gift’, didn’t you?”

  “Is there a shop for that sort of gift? Hallmark should make a card with that, they’re missing out on a niche market,” Freya replied lightly hoping that Dan would let it go.

  “Tell me you didn’t get her something thoughtful and meaningful and adorable,” Dan sighed.

  “Okay I didn’t get her something thoughtful and meaningful and adorable,” Freya parroted back, knowing that her gift could easily fit any of those categories.

  Dan rolled his eyes and looked over towards where Jordan was now standing with Sabrina, “She keeps looking over you know.”

  “Who?” Freya replied nonchalantly.

  “What do you mean who?” Dan scoffed. “Your soon to be getting a restraining order against you co-star, that’s who.”

  Freya laughed.

  “In fact I think she might be talking about you.”

  Freya looked up at Dan, desperate to turn around and look but not daring to, “What’s she saying?”

  Dan rolled his eyes and gave Freya one of his condescending looks, “Wait a minute until I move this lock of hair behind my ear so my bionic hearing can pick out what she’s saying. Who the hell am I, Jaime Sommers?”

  Freya scowled at her friend. “I never got that. What was her hair made from…lead?” she mused.

  “Whose hair?” Dianne asked as she joined Dan and Freya.

  “The bionic woman,” Dan smiled directing the conversation away from Jordan and her possible feelings. “Freya is about to go into one of her rants about the lazy interpretation of super powers on TV in the seventies. Make sure your glass is full, it’s a good one. I’m Dan by the way.”

  ***

  Jordan stood chatting with Sabrina while taking any opportunity she could to look over to where Freya stood laughing with Dan and Dianne. She could not seem to help herself. Freya captivated her, she felt her spirits lift whenever she was in her company and it was becoming more and more difficult not to be around her.

  “So who’s the hottie with your lesbian lovah?” Sabrina smirked.

  Jordan choked on her drink, “What?”

  “The hot guy that’s with Freya, the one you can’t stop looking over at?” Sabrina indicated with her eyes, arching an eyebrow.

  “That’s Dan, Freya’s ex-husband and I’m not looking over at him,” Jordan snorted taking a swig of her champagne.

  “So who are you looking at while practically salivating?” Sabrina furrowed her forehead, looking over towards Dan and Freya. “Wait, I kne
w it, you ‘like her, like her’ don’t you? Is that why you were stressing about kissing her? I know we joked about not worrying about the wrapping before but I didn’t think you were serious about it,” Sabrina almost hopped on the spot at her realization. Always ready to tease her friend she started singing softly, “She’s the one that you want, ooh, ooh ooh.”

  “Sabrina, seriously I-” Jordan was cut short as a roar went up across the room as the music was turned off.

  Greg was standing over beside Jordan’s piano his Phantom of the Opera mask now pushed up and resting on his head. “Ellis, time for a song,” Greg shouted. “We need a piano player. Can anybody play?”

  Dan was standing waiting on Freya saying she could. Sighing at his friend’s reticence he grabbed her elbow and thrust her arm into the air waving it back and forth until Greg caught sight of her.

  “Dan, I haven’t played in ages, put my arm down,” Freya growled.

  “Excellent the Golden Child can play,” Greg shouted, using Freya’s much hated press nickname, given to her as her birth coincided with both parents receiving their first Best Actor Oscars and her grandfather’s life time achievement award.

  Greg waved his arm over towards where he was standing, “Get over here Easter and tinkle Jordan’s ivories.”

  Freya shot one last look of anger at Dan as she walked over to Greg and sat nervously at the piano. She could feel her hands get moist at the thought of playing in front of people. Suddenly she felt as though she was nine years old again and about to play at her piano recital. She felt two hands rest on her shoulders and instantly relaxed as she caught sight of Jordan’s red nail polish in her peripheral vision.

  “Do you want sheet music?” Jordan asked leaning forwards to grab a book from the top of the piano.

  Freya gulped slightly at having Jordan’s cleavage beside her head. “Yes please,” she squeaked.

  Jordan flipped the book open and positioned the music on the piano’s stand.

  “This one okay?” she whispered as she pointed to a song, not wanting to make Freya feel uncomfortable if she was not able to play it.