On The Way Down

by Fox, Ella

  “Not at all. I’m all about the mixture of salty and sweet so I always get butter and grape jelly.”

  “And crowds?” I asked.

  He grimaced. “I deal with them because I have to but given a choice I prefer small groups.”

  I couldn’t think of anything to say as we stared at each other in silence for several moments. The absence of conversation felt weird, so I picked up the book he had on the table. Since there was no jacket on it I had to turn it to the side so I could see the spine. A grin spread across my face when I saw the title. Like me, he was reading Interview with the Vampire.

  “I’m reading this, too. Coincidence?”

  “Yeah, no,” he answered a little bashfully. “I saw you reading it and I realized I’d only ever seen the movie. I’ve heard the book is—”

  “A trillion times better but then that’s almost always the case,” I said excitedly. “Books paint the entire picture—movie adaptations can only provide a quarter of that.”

  The way he looked at me made me feel self-conscious in a way I never had before. Realizing what I’d just said, I blushed.

  “True Dark was one of the exceptions to that,” I blurted. “I liked the movie better than the book.”

  His head went back a little as he looked at me with obvious surprise. “You’ve seen True Dark?”

  I wished for invisibility, but since that wasn’t within the realm of actual possibility, I had to answer. I traced my finger around the lid of my Styrofoam cup as I nodded. “Several times. I also, um, bought the video.”

  His eyes brightened with surprise and, I thought, delight. “So you were the one person who bought it,” he teased. “I always wondered.”

  “I’m sure more than one person bought it,” I assured him.

  I wasn’t all that sure, actually, but I didn’t want to make him feel bad.

  “My mother, father, uncle, manager, and agents don’t count,” he laughed.

  I liked that he said all that matter-of-factly, not in a way that begged for attention or validation.

  “People missed out. True Dark was amazing—it was just before its time. I bet someday it’ll be seen as a classic.”

  “You should tell that to the studio heads that ran me out of town on a rail.”

  I shrugged. “Being the head of a studio isn’t synonymous with taste. Keep in mind that Citizen Kane and The Wizard of Oz weren’t hits when they released, either—but millions of people can now quote lines from each. By any measure they’ve both gone on to become wildly successful.”

  The right side of his mouth curled up as he listened. “You’re not wrong about the taste thing. For the most part all any of them care about is revenue. I get paid three hundred percent more for the things I’m shooting now because the studios have all decided that what people really want is lighter fare. The five people who liked the indie films I did all think I’m a sellout now.”

  My expression froze because I’d thought something very similar. I hoped I didn’t look as guilty as I felt.

  “At the end of the day I’m just a guy who wants to work. The years I couldn’t get an on-screen job to save my life sucked. I’ll take corny Westerns and shitty fire movies over staring at the walls in my house or reading scripts for my family any day of the week.”

  That made sense. It also made me feel like an idiot for having judged what type of person he’d be by the cheesiness of his movies. What the hell did I know?

  “I’ve got a plan, though,” he continued.

  “What is it?”

  His eyes sparkled as he grinned. “I’m going to do some more blockbusters, bank the money, stock up on goodwill, continue making important connections, and then open my own production company. Something that caters to making great movies about real things. There’s an audience out there—but until it gets tapped into regularly, movies like Fire Swimmer will continue to dominate the field.”

  It made sense, so I nodded. “How long do you think it will take?”

  Garrett eyed me over his cup as he took a sip before setting it back down. “At least five but probably more like ten years.”

  I was surprised since I’d thought he’d say two or three years. Things in LA always seemed to be running at turbo speed. “That’s a hell of a commitment.”

  He shrugged. “It’ll be worth it. I could do the old Hollywood thing and throw in with my family but that’s not me. Part of the reason I didn’t book any roles during what I call the down years was because I refused to work in that way with my family until I had some success on my own. I was famous for doing a show with my mom—if I’d kept making TV or films with them, I’d never have gotten any real traction. Also, I know they’d love me to come on board to the company but we have different tastes. They’re known for putting blockbusters out and that’s not the long-term direction I want to go in. If I were part of the company, I know my parents would side with me over my uncle any time I tried to push something different through, which would start unnecessary drama. At the end of the day we’re all comfortable doing different things and I want to keep it that way. My parents taught me that long-term success in Hollywood doesn’t happen overnight. I’ve got to build a reputation and that’s not going to happen quickly.”

  In that moment I was jealous of his plan and his certainty. Garrett had direction—but other than getting out on my own, I didn’t have any long-term goals. I didn’t like what that said about me.

  “What’re you thinking right now?” he asked.

  I startled as I realized that he was studying me.

  “Huh?” I asked, stalling for time.

  “You looked like you were thinking something that annoyed you.”

  I winced. “It’s stupid.”

  He tilted his head and gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher. “You don’t strike me as stupid.”

  “You’d be wrong since I was thinking that I’m stupid enough not to have a life plan,” I sighed. “Listening to you talk about what you want to do made me realize I don’t have that certainty about anything. The guidance counselor at my old school was so frustrated with me about that. She said I needed to decide whether I wanted to have a career or if I felt called to be a wife and a mother.”

  I shuddered remembering how angry her words had made me—like there were only two options. Business attire or barefoot and pregnant. Christ, even Barbie had more options than that.

  “That’s shitty guidance,” Garrett grumbled. “Your mom said you’re a junior, which means you’re sixteen, right?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ll be eighteen in August. I started kindergarten a year late.”

  He smiled like that was the best news he’d heard all day. “Well, at seventeen I knew nothing about what I wanted to do long term. Not really. In all honesty, I only realized what I really wanted to do after Fire Swimmer came out the year I was twenty-three. Before that I was a nauseatingly annoying douchebag who spent a fucking lot of time bemoaning the loss of my celebrity status.”

  He used air quotes when he said that.

  “Was getting it back everything you wanted?” I asked.

  Garrett frowned as he thought it over. “Well, it’s… different. First, I realized I’d never really been mega famous before. Not the way it is now. Still, I don’t know how I’d feel if I hadn’t had some level of experience with it before Fire Swimmer came out. I look at the whole thing as a side effect that has to be dealt with, and that makes it easier to take. I need people to want more of me—to care about my movies—in order to take the next steps. So, yeah, being famous is sometimes lame but the alternative would take me away from my goals. Right or wrong, fame opens a lot of doors that otherwise would remain closed.”

  I understood his point but I could hardly wrap my mind around what being famous would be like. On the other hand, I totally got what he was saying about using it to his advantage. “It makes sense to use the fame to reach your goals,” I said.

  “Now that I know what I want it does. But at seventee
n I’d have told you that I just wanted to act for the rest of my life. Now, at twenty-six, that it isn’t the be all and end all for me. Give yourself time and you’ll find your way. People act like by the age of fifteen everyone should know exactly what they’re going to do for the rest of their lives and should be primed and ready to throw themselves into high school so that they can get into the perfect college and make that specific career happen. Personally, I think that’s bullshit. Sure, some people know when they’re young—but in my experience more people have no fuckin’ idea.”

  I snickered. “I’m definitely in the no idea category.”

  “Sometimes the clues are there, we just miss them. I love movies and I’ve always had controlling tendencies—so production and, at some point directing, are perfect fits for me. Tell me what kinds of things you love to do.”

  I started picking at the thin paper napkin I’d gotten with my bagel. “Given a choice, I’d probably read all day. I love to dance—to lose myself in the music and the beat. I can sew, bedazzle and bead any outfit, but that’s more just an effect of how I was raised than it is a love of doing it.”

  He grinned. “You could work for a publishing house, go to design school or do some choreography. And, uh, while I think your guidance counselor sounds like a douche, if having kids or being around children is your dream, you could work with kids.”

  The first option interested me, the second was mildly appealing, the third was probably beyond my skill level, but the fourth was a hard no. I was a virgin for a reason—and that was also why I didn’t go to parties that involved alcohol. Jewel might not have taught me much but for as long as I could remember the one thing she’d been adamant about was telling me not to get pregnant young.

  “No to the kids,” I answered dryly.

  As Garrett chuckled, I thought about my mother.

  “If you’re truly smart you won’t do what Goldie and I did and get knocked up like a little fool,” she liked to say. “If you have kids at all, wait ’til you’re older. Otherwise your life will be ruined by some little brat.”

  I’d heard every single word and internalized each one. Jewel had ruined her life by getting pregnant with me. You could only hear that so many times before you internalized it. By the time I was ten I’d decided that if I ever had kids at all, I wouldn’t have them before the age of thirty-five. Back then I wanted to be the kind of girl who’d lose her virginity on her wedding night. While I no longer thought that was going to happen—I was human, after all—I wasn’t going to hold onto my virginity forever but I was going to play it smart and get myself on the pill first. If I had children it wouldn’t happen while I was young.

  “The point is that you don’t have to decide now,” Garrett continued. “Live a little and then make your choices.”

  Shutting the door on my walk down memory lane, I nodded. “You’re right. And for the record, you’d have made a really good guidance counselor.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, a warm, rich sound that made my heart skip a few beats. When he sat back and smiled at me, I knew I was blushing. “Thanks,” he said. “I think.”

  “It was a compliment,” I assured him.

  He smiled at me and I smiled back, and in that moment something happened. We stared at each other in silence for several seconds before he shook his head and hastily asked me about what school was like on set. Three minutes later he announced he was finished, at which point he went to the trash can and threw away his cup before he came back to the table and picked up his book. “I’m going to head out but I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  His departure seemed abrupt, and I wondered if it meant he’d had enough. I smiled and did my best to appear as if I wasn’t bummed that he was leaving. “Thanks for the guidance,” I said.

  He took a step back and smiled. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  “Bye, Garrett.”

  I forced myself to look away once the door closed behind him and did my best to pretend things didn’t seem duller in his absence.

  Chapter Seven

  May 1998

  I left the coffee shop a few minutes later. I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my day but since I had the car I planned to enjoy the freedom. If nothing else, Moab struck me as the type of place a girl could easily get lost in.

  An older looking white Jeep Wrangler pulled up behind my car and stopped as I was opening the door to get in. There were open spaces on either side of me so I hopped into my car and started it, hoping the driver would get the message. Looking back over my shoulder I saw that the driver wasn’t in the Jeep anymore. Before I could make sense of that, there was a knock on my window.

  Dammit, I thought, had the Jeep hit my car while I was in the coffee shop? If it had, Jewel would use it as an excuse to never let me drive her car again.

  The driver was knocking on my window for a reason and that was the first one I thought of. I let out a frustrated sound as I reached for the window crank to lower it. It was about halfway down when a familiar face peeked into the window, which caused my breath to catch in my throat. Garrett Riordan’s arm was rested casually on the roof of the Hyundai and he was leaning in to talk to me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “What’re you doing now?” he asked.

  “I was just going to drive around,” I answered.

  “I’m going to take the drive out Route 128 along the Colorado River. Do you want to come with me?”

  Did I want to spend more time with Garrett? That was a solid yes. I was nodding my agreement before he’d finished asking the question.

  “Cool. Lock this up,” he said with a tap on the roof of my car, “and we’ll get going.”

  Since I’d just gotten in and set my stuff on the seat it didn’t even take me thirty seconds to turn the engine off, grab my small purse, and then roll up the window. As soon as I had it up, Garrett opened the door for me. Holy crap, I thought, a gentleman.

  After I locked the door and put the keys in my purse I followed him to the Jeep. Once again he opened the door, but then he stepped it up a notch and helped me up into the passenger seat. Once inside the Jeep I noticed that everything from the dash to the roll bar looked well worn. With the top off it reminded me a lot of a car I’d see any of the surfer types at my school driving. I definitely hadn’t pictured Garrett Riordan driving something so casual.

  I didn’t have long to think about it. A few seconds after he closed the passenger door for me he was in the driver’s seat. Once he’d grabbed a pair of black Ray-Bans from the dash and slid them on he put his hand on the gearshift and got out onto the road. I could hear something playing very faintly on the radio. Curious about his taste in music, I pointed to the radio.

  “You want to turn that up?”

  He grinned as he reached for the knob that controlled the volume.

  I smiled as I realized what he was listening to. “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away is absolutely one of the best Beatles songs.”

  He swung his head to glance at me before he looked back at the road. “You like The Beatles?”

  “Is that really a question?” I laughed. “They’re The Beatles, Garrett. Of course I like them. I’d need my head checked if I didn’t.”

  His smile grew bigger. “You’d be surprised how many people think it’s weird that they’re one of my favorite bands.”

  “Ah. So people assume they’re a little before your time,” I teased, referring to his surprise that I’d been listening to Purple Rain the day he’d introduced himself to me.

  “I see what you did there,” he laughed.

  It didn’t take long for the main part of town to give way to windier desert road. The speed limit changed from thirty-five to fifty pretty much the second that happened, which meant my hair started whipping around. I laughed as I dug into my purse to pull out my favorite black velvet scrunchie. After taking down the half up style I’d done earlier in the morning I pulled my hair up into what was likely the messi
est ponytail of all time. Since the sun was shining so brightly, I took the opportunity to put my own sunglasses on. They were brown and looked very similar to Garrett’s—but the similarities ended there. Even though they looked like a real pair of Ray-Bans, I’d paid ten bucks for them at the Panorama City swap meet.

  “I wasn’t too enthusiastic about being in the middle of nowhere on a location shoot,” Garrett said as he navigated the road, “but I gotta give it up for Utah. Everywhere I’ve been has blown me away with its beauty. My family has been enjoying giving me shit about how wrong I was.”

  I found myself curious about his family. “Mom’s Little Man plays on Nick at Nite so I know your mom is an actress but until you mentioned it in the coffee shop I had no idea entertainment ran in your family. Have they produced anything you’ve done?”

  He shot a quick glance of surprise at me before looking back to the road. “They’re producing Guns Out. I just assumed you knew that since I’m ninety percent positive that you met my uncle Alan at some point this morning. He told me he’d be meeting you for the first time when he picked up your mom to go to Park City?”

  Talk about a light bulb moment. Jewel’s over-the-top behavior the day she found Garrett talking to me suddenly made perfect sense. I also realized that there were a few physical familial similarities, which was why Alan had seemed familiar to me.

  “I had no idea he was your uncle. Jewel never mentioned his last name to me.”

  He made a hmm sound as he continued driving. “Alan’s last name is different than mine,” he explained. “My dad’s father died when he was nine months old. His mom married Alan’s dad two years later.”

  I quickly did some math in my head, but couldn’t get the numbers to add up. “I guess your dad had you while he was pretty young then, huh? Because Alan looks like he’s in his mid forties.”

  “I fucking love that your head isn’t full of Hollywood trivia,” he laughed. “My mom is older than my dad, and back in the day it was quite a scandal. When they met, my mom was thirty-four and Dad had just turned twenty-two. My mom’s agent, manager, publicist, and the studio doing the film she was on at the time all demanded that she break it off, but she stood her ground and married him after a three-month courtship. They never looked back—and ten months after they got married, they had me.”