by Josie Brown
I’m guessing he did.
* * *
The whole trip took less than twenty-four hours.
My name was called, and the tiny role I’d played in making Azkaban’s whereabouts known was lauded with hoops, hollers, and claps from a roomful of eggheads delirious over their newfound notoriety, an additional outpouring of grant funding, and too many bottles of Cristal. As I walked to the speaker’s podium to collect my plaque, all I could think about was the fact that no one I loved was here to celebrate this with me.
I wished Leo were still alive.
I wished Louis wasn’t so selfish.
I wished Mick was still in my life.
* * *
In the Hollywood you know, here’s how the love story ends:
As she steps off the plane, there he is, waiting for her, contritely, with a bouquet of roses in his arms and a lopsided grin on his face.
She smiles beatifically, runs into his arms, and kisses him longingly.
The camera pulls back, the shot fades to black, and the credits roll, validating what the audience has been conditioned to believe:
All endings are happy.
In the Hollywood I know, here’s how my love story ended:
My plane was met by Jeremy, not Louis.
And he was not carrying a bouquet of roses. He did, however, have a copy of Liz Smith’s column in his hand, which carried the item “Rebound! Louis and Tatiana Give It a Go, Again!” Next to it was a file photo of the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Louis feels it’s best that the two of you go your separate ways. He no longer feels that you are loyal to him, or that you even care about him and his career.”
Jeremy’s tone, albeit tinged with the right degree of sincerity, was stern enough to indicate that he would brook no form of emotional outbursts.
I was too stunned to emote, anyway.
Realizing this, Jeremy immediately launched into his canned spiel—something I was sure he’d have plenty of opportunity to practice in the future.
“Obviously by your current actions you no longer put Louis first in your life. While that hurts him deeply, he will weather this disappointment and move on with his life as best he can.”
He was hurt deeply? He was disappointed?
He was moving on with his life . . . without me?
“I took the liberty of packing your things and sending them to your Venice residence.”
As I stood there staring at the newspaper item, Jeremy scurried away as fast as he could.
This is where you learn that not all Hollywood endings are happy.
Which is why I had to grab my gear and get the hell out of Hollywood that very minute.
* * *
Despite being home to the sprawling Joshua tree, which derives its name through biblical reference, the thousands of square miles that comprise the Mojave Desert certainly is no promised land. Not only is there no Ritz Carlton in which to flop and order room service, but there isn’t even an EconoLodge in which to hang your hat—that is, unless your destination is Edwards Air Force Base Shuttle landing or the tourist-friendly Red Rock Canyon.
And anyone looking for me certainly wouldn’t have found me there.
Another little-known fact: In February, while temperatures can get as high as 75 degrees, they can also go as low as a frigid 32 degrees, so it is advisable to bring your thermal underwear and a well-made sleeping bag when sleeping out under the stars.
Which was what I planned to do, for at least a month or two—or however long it would take me to lick my wounds over losing Louis and lousing up the rest of my life.
And last but certainly not least, should you decide to sleep outside, know that you will be sharing these wide open spaces with hungry coyotes, venomous rattlesnakes, and tarantulas—although hardly lethal, certainly not shy.
Of course, Mick knew none of this as he drove into my campsite, cold, hungry, almost out of gas, and deathly afraid he was lost and wouldn’t be found until all that remained of him was something even the coyotes wouldn’t want to touch.
When I saw him, I’ll admit it, I could have murdered him myself. And no one would have known the better.
Of course, my only regret would have been that he hadn’t brought Christy with him so I could have wrung her neck, too, the traitor. I knew it was she who had given him my whereabouts, because only she had the exact GPS coordinates of my location.
“Jeez! I thought the desert was always hot,” he began. Although it was just now turning dark, he was already shivering. That would teach him to trot out into the Mojave with nothing more than Tommy Bahama Hawaiian shirt and shorts.
“And I thought I was alone. What do you want?”
“To take you home, silly.” Hearing the howl of a coyote, he ducked. “And the sooner, the better.”
“Feel free to turn around. Me, I’ve already got plans for the evening.”
“I can see that.” He walked over to my telescope, already set up on its tripod, and took a look through the eyepiece. “Wow! Look at what you can see already, and it’s not even totally dark!”
I pushed it out of his hand. “Look, Mick, I’m here because I want to be here, not there.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m through living the Hollywood lie. I’ve had my fill of actors, and industry types—and writers, too, I might add! You’re all too wrapped up in your egos! ”
To toss off the hand he put on my shoulder, I took a step back. “L.A. is a measly fleabite on the ass of the world, and there’s a whole, big universe out there. Or haven’t any of you noticed?”
And I was just warming up. “Besides, wouldn’t you prefer to take Samantha?”
“Samantha wasn’t there for me. She was there for Louis. The two of them hooked up again in London.”
“I know. I saw them together there. But I thought it was to break up with her.”
“Well, they made love that night.” He paused, embarrassed. “And she got pregnant. She flew here and arranged to meet him at the Bel-Air because she thought he should know.”
“I never knew about—about the pregnancy!”
Mick nodded. “I figured as much. I didn’t think Louis had the guts to tell you. I certainly didn’t feel that it was my place. And besides, since you had already made up your mind about him. I didn’t really know if that would have made a difference to you, anyway.”
It was my turn to hold out my hand to him. “I don’t know if it would have, either,” I murmured.
Mick winced at that. “Well, you know Louis: he turned on that infamous Trollope charm and convinced her that a baby would ruin his career—and ruin them ever reconciling. He got her to agree to have an abortion. He even called Genevieve in front of her and arranged everything, including sending Malcolm to pick her up and take her to the doctor’s office that afternoon. Nice guy, huh? Then, after they made love, he left the cabana on the pretense that he had to make a call to the studio. Instead, he just walked out on her!”
I had to sit down. He sat down beside me, his eyes never leaving mine. “I was the call Louis made. He asked me to come over and stay with her until Malcolm got there. He called it a ‘mercy shag,’ to appease her for the time being, and to keep her from approaching you. Of course, by the time I got there, she was hysterical. She threatened to commit suicide. I got Louis on the phone. He was with Randy. He refused to get on the phone with her. Instead, he told me to tell her that if she didn’t follow through, he would never allow her to see him again.”
Mick paused. “I guess that’s when you saw me holding her.”
I was silent for a moment. Then I whispered what I needed to know: “Mick, did you ever make love to her, with Louis?”
His pain made me wince. “Hell, no! My God, Hannah! That was Randy!” He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. ”Is that what you thought?”
“I didn’t know what to think! Particularly after I saw you holding her—”
He came over to me and pulled me into his arms. “I don’
t remember it being anything like this.”
Holding me as if he’d never let me go, he kissed me.
No, I now knew it had been nothing like that . . .
When he finally pulled away, he turned to face me.
“Look, Hannah, you and I both know that only in the movies would someone like Louis come to his senses and get the girl. Heck, I know it because I’ve written enough of those scenes. Well, this is no movie. It’s real life. It’s your life.”
He stood up, pulling me along with him. “That kind of guy doesn’t deserve you. I deserve you. And whether you believe it or not, Hannah, you deserve me, too.”
Well, of course I deserved Mick. Every girl deserves a Mick.
And a night in the desert, making love and looking up at the stars.
When I woke in the morning, he was already awake, just watching me, with a smile on his face.
It was nothing like the predatory, calculating way in which Louis had watched me that first time we met.
Very matter-of-fact, Mick asked, “Will you marry me?”
I answered, “Perhaps.”
“I’ll just take that as a yes . . . Oh, and by the way, you do have a dress for the Oscars tonight, right?”
We made love again.
* * *
I can tell you firsthand that it’s great to be with someone when they win their Academy Award.
It’s also great when the guy you love holds up that award and thanks you—his fiancée—for walking into his life . . . even if you were not wearing any shoes at the time.
And believe it or not, Mick thanked Louis, too, for being, as he put it, “the only actor living who could have embodied our hero.” Considering the fact that Louis had played a real bastard, I had to agree with him.
Louis, who (gladly, I’m sure) walked the red carpet by himself, since Tatiana was on some runway in Rome, didn’t flinch a muscle at Mick’s acknowledgement, but I guess he was flattered.
Then again, he wouldn’t have gotten the joke.
It’s also wonderful when the man in your life shares something that you never knew about him—and consequently, never knew about yourself. For example, in my case, I never knew that Mick had originally written the screenplay with Leo in mind, when he’d first gotten to Hollywood some twelve years ago. But Leo had turned down the role!
Upon hearing that, I suddenly realized that, despite all my love and adoration for him, Leo had never been perfect.
He hadn’t been a perfect father, and apparently he’d made some really dumb business decisions, too.
And you know what? That was just the way it was.
Nothing I could have done would have changed Leo: his flaws had been his own, and despite them, I should have no shame in loving him—just the way Mick loved me, flaws and all.
From Mick, I finally got what I always wanted: Approval. Trust. Loyalty. And absolution.
By now I’m sure you’re wondering: Did Louis win his Oscar?
No. It went to Sean again.
Poor Louis. He was stunned, but he was a real pro and kept a smile on his face.
Believe it or not, I felt sorry for him. I wanted to tell him not to worry, that he had the chops to pull it off again someday.
If he chose to focus on his craft instead of his libido.
If not, well, if Leo taught me anything it’s that you have to live—and die—with the choices you make in life.
To think if Leo had agreed to do the role Mick had written for him, I might have met Mick earlier in my life.
Now, what would that have been like?
Not that it matters. One way or the other, we were meant to be together.
I suppose you could say it was written in the stars.
Table of Contents
Part One: Luminosity
Chapter 1: Black Hole
Chapter 2: Supernova
Chapter 3: Open Cluster
Chapter 4: Welcome to the Galaxy!
Chapter 5: Equilibrium
Chapter 6: Penumbra
Chapter 7: Comet
Chapter 8: Parallax
Chapter 9: Perihelion
Part Two:Stardust
Chapter 10: Perturb
Chapter 11: Moonstruck
Chapter 12: Worm Hole
Chapter 13: Zenith
Part Three: Resolution
Chapter 14: Absolute Magnitude
Chapter 15: Out of Orbit
Chapter 16: Retrograde
Chapter 17: Eclipse
Chapter 18: Meteor