by Andi Osho
‘Chance tax,’ said Azi as she cluttered about, preparing Jemima’s drink, ‘because he probably won’t show his face in here anymore in case he bumps into you.’
‘Well, that’s not exactly right. He said he was getting ready for a training thing…’ said Rania as Azi shot her a glare.
‘A training thing he’s doing to avoid bumping into Jemima!’ she snapped and with an indignant swish, she disappeared into the back room.
Rania gave Jemima an apologetic shrug. She picked up the metal jug Azi had abandoned and continued steaming the milk.
A second later Azi stuck her head back around the doorway, ‘And she’s having that to go.’
‘Yes, my love.’ Rania smiled forlornly at Jemima as she replaced the mug with a take-away cup.
Jemima backed away from the counter, shaking. She pulled out her phone going straight to Rebecca’s last message. Her hand waivered before typing, I’m in. This wasn’t running away. It was pragmatism. Why stick around if you’re not wanted – anywhere.
‘Here,’ said Rania, putting Jemima’s coffee on the counter before beckoning her close. ‘I saw him heading to the park for a break.’
Jemima looked up at her as she gripped the cardboard holder. Rania was sweet but it was too late.
‘Cheers,’ she said as she added two more names to her list of people to escape.
‘Don’t forget, Jem, the park,’ said Rania.
Jemima shrugged and left.
Out on the pavement she took a sip of her coffee, its sweet, milky warmth taking the edge off her sorrow. She looked at Chance’s practice, her eyes drawn, as always, up. Could either of them tolerate a goodbye? Of all the people entangled in this mess, he was the only one not angry with her – she hoped. With America now a certainty, a final farewell to Chance could be the best full stop to this sorry car crash she could expect. Just then the 11a bus rumbled past her. She knew its route well. After the post office it took a right and went straight past the park – their park. She hesitated for a moment, then made a dash for the bus stop.
Jemima held the railings, her breath shallow. As she scanned the children’s playground and ornamental garden, she spotted Chance. He was sitting by the pond, pulling apart a sandwich and throwing scraps to a hungry congregation of pigeons. She walked around to a side gate and approached him.
‘Made some new friends,’ she said nodding towards the pigeons.
He looked up and a smile broke which he quickly buried.
‘Hey,’ he said going back to ripping up his sandwich.
‘I, umm, I just wanted to say sorry you got caught up in the thing on Sunday,’ she said, hovering awkwardly by his side.
An apology was a safe place to start given she owed one to pretty much everybody. Chance shrugged, tossing the remainder of his lunch aside. One by one, the pigeons waddled towards it. Jemima wished her life were that simple, just carb-loading and trying not to step in your own shit.
‘From the little I heard, it sounded like a nightmare,’ he said, dusting crumbs off his hands.
‘A nightmare would have been preferable. You can wake up from those,’ said Jemima as she tore at the rim of her coffee cup. ‘Someone with less scruples than you suggested I did it.’
‘Miles?’ Chance asked.
Jemima looked away. Discussing Miles was like discussing the Titanic with passengers on the QEII. No one would feel better after that.
‘Simi mentioned him the other night. Said he was your big love and that you were back together.’
An uncomfortable silence descended as Jemima foundered.
‘So is it true? Are you back together?’
‘We’re not but…’ she begun then stopped.
It wasn’t that simple. Now she was committed to a new choice, to standing still – in LA. She had given Rebecca her word; a promise had been made. Soon deposits would be sent and flights booked. And after that, there would be no more running away. No reneging. She would put down roots and finally stand still, out of everyone’s way.
‘Well so you know, nothing happened with Simi. She got a bit tipsy so I carried her home and nodded off on the couch,’ said Chance.
‘What you two do is none of my business,’ Jemima said, regret quickly following as Chance recoiled.
‘Well, aren’t I the dumb arse,’ he said, standing.
‘The thing is, Chance. I’m going to America, a house swap,’ said Jemima standing too.
‘You don’t have to explain to me,’ he said turning for the exit.
‘I know,’ said Jemima, gently pulling him back. ‘I want to. All my life I’ve been running away. It’s time to put down roots.’
‘In LA?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about your roots here, your family, your friends?’ he asked.
‘You saw how royally I’ve screwed that up. I need a fresh start,’ said Jemima.
‘Well, I hope Beverly makes it,’ Chance said, his tone softening. ‘I liked her.’
A despondent smile briefly crossed his face then he turned to leave. The moment he was out of sight, Jemima’s knees buckled and she slumped back onto the park bench, too in despair to even cry. LA could not come soon enough. Now she was almost at rock bottom it was time to call Shaheena. Delaying the descent any longer was more agonising than simply thudding to the floor. She dialled, awaiting the inevitable.
‘Bloody hell, Jemima, where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for three days!’ barked Shaheena. ‘Anyway, more importantly, guess who got caught in the gender-neutral toilets at the Hudson Hicks party getting a blowie off of—’
‘Aren’t agents supposed to be discreet?’ Jemima interjected.
Shaheena gasped. ‘When have I ever been indiscreet?’
Jemima bristled, ‘You told Miles about filth fest.’
Shaheena went quiet.
‘He tricked me! Said he was interested in selling the TV rights for you!’
‘Shaheena, just tell me what Meagan’s lawyer said.’ Jemima no longer possessed the energy to even reprimand her.
‘Meagan’s lawyer? Whatchu talkin’ ’bout, Willis?’
‘You sent a text about lawyers,’ said Jemima losing the will to live.
‘Yes, I blinkin’ did. Okay, are you sitting down?’
‘Yes,’ said Jemima bending forward to give the executioner a clear view of her neck.
‘Right. First of all, Hudson Hicks want you to come in and discuss ideas for more Beverly books. If you have any stories up your sleeve, I would pull them out tout de suite because my waters tell me there could be a two, possibly three book deal in the offing,’ Shaheena giggled.
Jemima blinked, trying to take in her words. A moment ago, her entire career was heading for the bottom of the ocean but somehow it had been thrown a lifeline.
‘Shaheena, that’s amazing. I—’
‘That’s not even the best part. You know IPC who do all those book adaptations? They’re doing Clash of the Crown next and rumour has it, The Cave as a limited series. Well, they’re interested in buying the rights to the Beverly Blake franchise,’ she squealed.
Jemima sat up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘They want to turn Beverly Blake into a series. We need a contracts lawyer coz this is money moves, girlfriend!’
Shaheena whooped down the phone but before Jemima could join in the celebrations, reality sunk in. If the girls were going to veto the book, a TV adaptation would be out of the question.
‘That’s great news, Shaheena, but it’s not going to work,’ said Jemima.
‘What? You no likey money?’ said Shaheena. ‘Jem, this is it. You’ve made it. There’s nothing standing in our way.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jemima, ‘about that.’
Chapter 45
Meagan
Meagan watched her printer slowly spew out each page of Simi’s Clash of the Crown contract. All the while, behind her she could hear Simi fidgeting.
‘Still no furniture?’ Simi said into the void.
‘Oh my God, I’ve been robbed,’ Meagan gasped sarcastically before snatching Simi’s contract from the printer.
Though she wished she could verbally eviscerate her, Meagan had to keep Simi onside. After Todd declared himself out of the lawsuit earlier in the week, she was her last ally.
Meagan pasted on a rigid smile and handed the contract over. ‘You set for filming on Saturday?’
‘They’re flying me to Dublin tomorrow afternoon,’ Simi said looking around for a flat surface, eventually smoothing out the paperwork on the nearest wall.
Meagan watched Simi jiggle her pen to draw down the ink, embarrassed. She didn’t even have a horizontal surface for clients to sign a few crumby papers on. This is what her life now amounted to – a shitty, deskless vacuum.
‘Just sign pages three, eight and ten. I can fill out the rest,’ said Meagan suddenly wanting Simi to leave.
‘I’ll fill it out. You don’t know my new address,’ Simi said, shuffling through the contract.
Meagan frowned. Who was this efficient, business-like Simi and what had she done with her bubbly, fun friend?
‘So, are you excited?’ Meagan asked.
‘No notes, okay?’ said Simi eyes still on her paperwork.
Meagan swayed, momentarily speechless.
‘I… I…’ she stammered. ‘All I was going to say was, having Crown on your CV will impress your new reps.’
Had this been any other client, Meagan would have left a size-four footprint on their arse as she booted them out of her office.
‘I don’t have a new agent,’ Simi confessed, handing back the signed papers.
Meagan’s tummy fluttered.
‘I see,’ she said searching for what to say.
‘Well, I better get going. Got to pack,’ said Simi slipping her handbag into the crook of her arm.
Meagan shifted her weight. Part of her wanted to tell Simi good riddance. She wanted to point and laugh from the bleachers as Simi tried to make it with no agent, but even Meagan knew that was coming from her hurt.
‘If you don’t have a new agent… I can still, you know,’ Meagan hazarded.
‘Meagan…’
‘No more notes. Promise. My only job will be making sure the world knows how brilliant you are and once they meet Cake, they will,’ said Meagan.
Standing in the middle of her bare office, she had never been surer of anything. She loved the woman standing in front of her and would do whatever it took to keep her in her life. She wasn’t going to let ten years of friendship slip away just like that.
‘And we’ll keep business and friendship separate. It got messy but we can clean that up. I want you as my client and I need you as my friend. You’re the best, you frigging idiot,’ said Meagan as tears flowed.
She searched Simi’s face for a sign, but this time, her expression was unreadable.
‘What do you want from me, Sim?’ said Meagan throwing up her arms in frustration.
‘I don’t know!’ Simi said. ‘Just, stop. Stop… pretending to know everything and how to do everything… Stop acting like you don’t need anyone, that you can do it all yourself. Everyone needs someone. You are a beautiful, capable, intelligent, generous black woman but no one said you have to do it all alone. Everyone around you wants to support you but you never let us in. Not me, Jem, Todd, anyone! If you don’t need us, why do you even have us in your life!’
‘It’s not that simple. I’ve been on my own since I was 16. I relied on someone once and they let me down. Never again,’ Meagan said, her body tightening as memories crowded her.
‘Meagan,’ said Simi, a firmness in her voice, ‘Parker was a married man. You were too young to understand but he wasn’t yours to rely on. You must see that.’
Meagan trembled at the mention of his name. But as much as she wanted to scream, Simi’s words were true. Parker was never hers and she’d got burned not because of what he had done but because of what she’d expected. And after, she’d re-orientated her whole life because of that.
‘I don’t know how to do it any other way,’ said Meagan, ‘I don’t know how to let people in.’
‘There is no how. You just allow the people waiting to be there for you, to be there for you,’ Simi said reaching out to Meagan.
As Simi’s words sunk in, Meagan’s noble island, which she’d dwelled on for so long, began to feel like a lone mass drifting out to sea. Unable to sustain her remoteness anymore, Meagan collapsed into Simi’s arms, each clinging to the other for dear life.
‘I’m scared, Sim,’ sobbed Meagan.
Simi enveloped her arms around her. ‘That’s why I’m here.’
And with that, Meagan let go fully, falling into Simi’s kind embrace.
An hour into her newfound vulnerability, Meagan was still finding her feet. One thing she was sure of, to make this journey she needed Simi by her side. And as she looked around her sparse office, she realised, friendship was the only thing she had ever needed. But now she and Simi had begun to get themselves onto an even keel, it was time to get down to business.
‘So my legal team will be getting in touch with Jemima tomorrow,’ she began, reaching for the paperwork her solicitor had left with her.
‘You and Todd are really going to sue her?’
Meagan laughed drily. Was there any other option? The punishment had to fit the crime.
‘Well, Todd bailed but two plaintiffs are still enough,’ Meagan continued.
Simi looked at her confused. ‘Two?’
‘Yeah. Me and you.’
‘But—’
Annoyance brew within. Did Meagan once again have to explain why this was not just necessary but justice.
‘Simi, you are about to do the biggest show of your career. Even for the small roles, hack journos will sniff around for gossip like a mutt up a poodle’s arse. As your agent and your friend, I’m telling you, we have to shut this down,’ she ordered, laying on her best Meagan glare.
Simi cleared her throat but said nothing and Meagan seethed. As usual, she would have to take this on by herself – the story of her life. Why did she think today would be different? she bridled as her thoughts spilled into a resentful eddy. But then, she stopped herself, dumbfounded. Her loner mindset was so ingrained she was almost powerless in its face. She reeled at how quickly the anger had surged as though it had a life of its own, possessing its own spiteful intent.
‘Sorry, Simi. Old habits.’ Meagan shuddered.
‘It’s hard, Meag, I know,’ said Simi laying a reassuring hand on her.
Meagan smiled. ‘Look, I can’t force you to join this lawsuit. It’s your call.’
Simi puckered her lips side to side, weighing her decision as Meagan waited, her breath bated.
‘Jemima was out of line,’ Simi began.
‘Exactly.’
‘But it’s a big step. Plus, it’s expensive and she is… sorry, was our best friend,’ Simi continued.
‘I’ll take care of the money and if we win, which we will, she’ll have to pay our expenses anyway,’ said Meagan trying to rein in her frustration.
‘Not that it’s about the money,’ Simi pondered.
Meagan balled her toes inside her shoe, wanting to scream in Simi’s face but she held it in. That was old Meagan. New, sensitive Meagan would give Simi all the time she needed – whilst biting her new, sensitive tongue.
At last, Simi slapped her hands on her thighs. ‘I’m in. I think. Yes, I am. Let’s shut it down.’
‘Yes, mate!’ yelped Meagan, high-fiving Simi.
Strong-arming people had always been Meagan’s go-to tactic. She was stunned to find there were actually other ways to get what you wanted. She would have to try this patience malarkey again sometime.
‘This is the right thing, Simster,’ she said, clocking Simi’s downturned demeanour. ‘It’ll be fine.’
Meagan leaned in for a fist bump.
‘Cool. I think. Yes, cool,’ Simi said, tapping her fist against Meagan
’s.
Chapter 46
Simi
Simi waited until she was alone before letting out a giddy squeal. After weeks of bizarre auditions, notes, waiting and uncertainty, she was finally on location. She laughed as she twirled around her huge trailer, arms outstretched, her fingertips not touching a single wall. After a few bounces on her sofa, she inspected her kitchen including a fully stocked fridge, and her bathroom, complete with power shower. This trailer was nicer than her first flat and all this for someone doing just one day of filming. As she soaked up her surroundings, there was a knock at the door. It was Kelly, the production runner.
‘Ready for some breakfast?’
‘Sure. Where do I go?’ Simi asked.
‘No, I bring it to you, unless you’re not hungry,’ said Kelly about to move on.
‘No, no. I am. Umm, I’ll just have fruit and porridge… with some seeds. Aaaaand,’ said Simi pretending to ponder, ‘a bacon and egg sandwich with ketchup.’
‘Cool,’ said Kelly scribbling shorthand on her pad. ‘Also make-up are ready for you so if we could get you in your costume that’d be great.’
‘Copy that,’ said Simi with an unnecessary salute.
Kelly smiled before disappearing off to the next trailer.
‘Make-up are ready for me,’ Simi mimicked as another delighted squeal burst from her. Quickly gathering herself, she pulled her freshly pressed medieval tunic from its hanger. ‘Okay, one cake, coming up.’
Simi ogled the huge spread of salads and food warmers brimming with all kinds of deliciousness. She’d been waiting in her trailer fully made up and in costume for so long it was lunch time. With a full plate, Simi stepped onto the dining truck and looked around for her fellow kitchen wenches who she’d met in make-up that morning. Joining a new set was always daunting so having a mini-tribe made the day just a little easier. Having spotted them she headed over but as she was almost upon them, she noticed a familiar face towards the back of the truck. Without her usual nails, lashes and weave, she looked different but there was no mistaking, it was Sandra Scott. Sitting alone, picking at her food, she was far from the ray of sunshine that burst into audition rooms dazzling everyone. Today Sandra looked more like the shadow than the sun. Simi took a deep breath and shuffled between the tables towards her. She passed a huddle of electricians complaining about overtime, the director chewing his camerawoman’s ear off about their next shot and the make-up team laughing naughtily at an in-joke. Finally she reached Sandra.