While We Were Dating

by Jasmine Guillory

  She appreciated that he wanted someone to knock it out of her hand, and not for her to keep dropping it everywhere.

  “And we want to exploit Anna’s natural comedic talent—we’ve all seen how funny she can be, and this is a way to get people to not just remember the commercial, but remember the phone, too.”

  That might just be flattery, but it worked—she did have natural comedic talent, damn it! And she hadn’t gotten to show it in a while. She started to ask a follow-up question, but the conference room door swung open.

  “Our apologies, everyone.” Two white men and one white woman all walked in and joined the Black guy—Ben, that was his name—at the head of the table. “You all know how it is, trying to fly into SFO first thing in the morning, so much fog. We can do quick introductions and then—” The one white guy who was clearly in charge had been looking around the room as he talked, and he’d looked past her at least three times, until he’d finally realized who she was.

  She always loved that moment.

  “Hi, I’m Anna Gardiner,” she said. “Are you the rest of Ben’s team?”

  The guy in charge obviously did not enjoy being characterized as on Ben’s team. She wondered if Ben would have done the presentation if they hadn’t been delayed. If this was his understudy in the spotlight moment, he was taking full advantage of it.

  “We’re the rest of the team from Legendary. Wonderful to meet you, Ms. Gardiner. I didn’t . . . We didn’t . . .”

  “I decided to come along today at the last minute. Nice to meet you, too.”

  There was a flurry of introductions, and then the rest of the Legendary team sat down on the other side of the table. The guy in charge started to stand up, but the woman whispered to him, then nodded at Ben. Ben smiled at everyone in the room again and kept going.

  “One thing we really noticed as we watched the ads of your competitors was how often women are an afterthought—they’re around in the ads, but so many of their concerns aren’t.”

  Mr. Guy in Charge couldn’t keep quiet for even a full minute.

  “What Ben means to say is that we’ve seen a real gap that we can fill here, and we think Ms. Gardiner—as relatable and . . . confident as she is—is the person to fill it.”

  That long pause, that look he’d given the tech dudes—by “confident” he’d clearly meant “fat.” Did he realize she was still in the room?

  “Ben, what do you mean by ‘so many of their concerns aren’t’ around in the ads?” she asked. She preferred to just pretend she hadn’t heard that dude talk.

  Ben looked right at her.

  “I’m so glad you asked that, Anna.” He smiled at her, a little crinkle in his eyes. She could tell he knew she’d cut his boss off on purpose. “I did a lot of research about how and why women feel like they’re being ignored by phone companies, and there was a lot they had to say.”

  He’d been so careful to say “we” the whole time, but she noticed that “I” slip out just then. It made her like him even more. She smiled back at him. She had to flirt with this guy a little. She needed to have some fun with this, after all.

  “Thanks so much, Ben,” she said when he’d finished answering her question. “That was very thorough. I can tell you’ve done your research on the concerns of women.”

  He shot her a grin before he turned back to his PowerPoint.

  For the rest of the time they had, the company people peppered Ben with questions, and he answered them all well, though his annoying boss felt the need to jump in repeatedly, too.

  When they were done, they all passed around their business cards.

  “Thank you all,” Chad—or whatever his name was—from the tech company, said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you, it was great to meet all of you,” Anna said. Ben and Vanessa both smiled at her—the one friendly, the other shy—on their way out the door. She didn’t pay attention to what anyone else on Ben’s team did.

  She sat through the rest of the presentations, and they were all fine, but none impressed her as much as the first one. However.

  She looked around at the group from the tech company.

  “I liked the plan from Legendary the best. But if they get it, I want that first guy . . .” She flipped through the stack of business cards in front of her. “Ben Stephens, I want him to take the lead.”

  They all nodded at her, but she couldn’t tell if they were nods just to pacify her or if they actually agreed with her.

  “I liked him the best, too,” the guy who hadn’t said a word so far piped up.

  “We have to take this upstairs for them to make the call,” Chad said, “but we want to make this decision quickly, because we know you have a relatively short window for filming.”

  She nodded and stood up.

  “Excellent. Please let my reps know as soon as possible. It was lovely to meet you all today.”

  She stood up to go, leaving the stack of business cards on the table.

  On second thought . . .

  She slipped the top card into her purse.

  Two

  Anna texted her parents from the back seat on the way from Silicon Valley to Oakland.

  I’ll be there in time for a late lunch!

  Her parents’ house was out of her way, but she tried to never go to the Bay Area without seeing them. Her mom—a school principal—was off for spring break this week, and her minister dad had said he would come home for lunch to see her. It was still a slight sore spot for him that she wasn’t coming home for Easter this year, but she hoped he didn’t harp on that today. She’d used work as an excuse, but the real reason was that visiting her dad’s church was too hard these days. Everyone made a big deal out of her—she had to say hi and take selfies and sign autographs for the whole congregation. And she was used to all of that, it was her job, but when she was with her family, she wanted to just be with her family. She wanted to be Anna Rose, not Anna Gardiner.

  The car pulled up to her parents’ home an hour later. The front door was open before she’d even made it to the porch.

  “Anna!” Her dad had a huge grin on his face. “It’s always such a treat to get to see you, even for only an hour.”

  Anna couldn’t keep the tears from welling in her eyes as her dad pulled her in for one of his big bear hugs.

  “Great to see you, too, Dad. Where’s Mom?”

  She walked with her dad into the kitchen, where her mom was exactly where she’d expected her to be—standing behind the stove.

  “There’s my girl,” her mom said, and came around the counter to give her a hug. “Are you hungry? I made soup! Black bean and kale.”

  Anna pretended not to see her dad’s grimace. Ever since his heart attack a few years ago, her mom had forced him onto a mostly vegetarian diet and a new exercise regimen. Ten years ago, that black bean soup would have had a big ham hock in it, and definitely no kale. But kale or no, Anna knew it would be delicious.

  “Sounds great, Mom.”

  Anna walked around the counter to take down the soup bowls from the cabinet. She kept trying to buy her parents a new house, but at times like this, she was kind of glad they kept refusing to let her. This was still the same old kitchen where she knew where everything was. It was nice to come home to that.

  They ate outside in the backyard. Her parents had let her pay for their backyard to be redone, at least. Her brother, Chris, had helped her spin that to them: she was doing her part for her dad’s recovery, giving him a place to be outside, and not wanting him to dig around the garden by himself anymore, and her mom had said yes without consulting her dad. He’d been annoyed, but he’d gotten over it.

  “It’s so good to see you, honey,” her dad said. She noticed that he was almost done with his soup, despite his pretense. “You look good. But how are you doing, really? And then, how is ‘Anna Gardiner’?”
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br />   She laughed. Her parents always said that name in quotes, like “Anna Gardiner” was some completely different person than their daughter, Anna Rose. And while there was some truth in that—Anna Gardiner never would have put sour cream in her black bean soup, for example—increasingly it was hard to know where Anna Rose ended and Anna Gardiner began.

  “Both of us are good, Daddy,” she said, holding tight to his hand. “Working hard these days. Just trying to make you proud.”

  He scoffed.

  “Like I could ever be anything other than proud of you, sweetheart. But really. These past few years have been hard.” He didn’t phrase it as a question. He didn’t have to. “Are you happy in this Hollywood life?”

  Anna leaned back in the deck chair and looked out at her parents’ small, but cozy backyard. When she and Chris had been younger, there had been a kiddie pool out here—now there was a big grill and her mom’s ever-growing garden.

  “Getting there,” she finally said, in response to his question. “I’m not unhappy, at least, not anymore. I’m taking care of myself, I promise I am.” She looked pointedly at him. “Are you?”

  He laughed.

  “I’m fine! Stop worrying about me! Your mother takes care of me, and I’m happy to stay busy with the church.” He put his spoon down in his empty bowl. “Speaking of that—no, don’t sigh like that, young lady, I’m not going to tell you to go to church; you’re an adult, that’s your own decision. But I am going to ask you what else you’re doing, to help people who aren’t as fortunate as you.”

  Anna folded her napkin and avoided his eyes.

  “Daddy, I’m doing a lot—I give money to charities up here whenever you guys or Chris ask me to, and there are a bunch of charities in L.A. that I give to as well.”

  He brushed that aside, like she knew he would.

  “Money is wonderful, honey, and I’m glad you’re in a position to give, but you know that’s not what I asked. We raised you to be hands-on about this kind of work, you know that.”

  She sighed again. She should have been prepared for this.

  “I know. But I’m still getting back on my feet; trying not to overdo it. Like you should be, by the way.”

  He patted her on the hand.

  “Sometimes looking outside of ourselves can help, you know.” He stood up. “I’m getting more of this soup; tell our daughter to stop worrying about me,” he said to her mom.

  As soon as he walked back into the house, Anna turned to her mom. She had that familiar kind-but-no-nonsense look on her face.

  “He’s okay,” her mom said without her having to ask. “He has a doctor’s appointment in a few weeks, and I’ll let you know how that goes. He’s still doing his exercising, and we eat well at home, but I can’t watch him all the time, Anna, and I don’t want to. He does lots of visits, and you know, people like to give him food; sometimes he drives around all day, and I have to pretend I don’t see the fast-food wrappers in his car. But I said I want him to still be around for our retirement, and he’d better be taking that seriously.”

  Anna was glad her mom had given her this opening.

  “Okay, so maybe that could be—”

  Her mom laughed.

  “Oh, Anna, no, I never should have said that. Please don’t start on me again about wanting us to retire early. We are taking more time, though—I’ve convinced your father to take some time off for my birthday. We’re going to go to some national parks in Southern California—we can relax and do some hiking but still stay somewhere nice. I’m even taking a few days off work, during the semester, can you believe it?”

  She couldn’t believe it, actually. Maybe her parents were closer to retirement than she’d thought.

  “Oh, that’s great to hear. Just . . . keep me posted. You know I worry.”

  Her mom just looked at her, and then the two of them burst out laughing.

  “Yes, Anna,” her mom finally said. “I know you worry.”

  On the way back to the airport, she called her manager.

  “Anna!” Simon picked up the phone right away. “How did your power move today go?”

  She laughed. Simon had been very amused when she’d told him she wanted to make a surprise drop-in to the advertising pitches. He’d been her manager since she’d first started in Hollywood: they’d both been young and hungry when they started off and had grown and blossomed—and made a lot of money—together. And hopefully would make a great deal more.

  “Very well, actually. They shouldn’t have invited me if they didn’t want me to come. Oh, and about that—can you pass along a message that I want it to be Legendary, but they have to put Ben Stephens in charge? I told them that today, but you’re good at reinforcing my messages.”

  That put it mildly. Simon was very well dressed and seemed relaxed on the surface, but he was a tiger on her behalf. She trusted him completely.

  He was also one of the few people outside of her family and her closest friends to know about Anna’s paralyzing struggle with anxiety the year before. She was a lot better now; she hadn’t lied to her parents about that. She almost felt like the old Anna was back. Almost.

  “Will do. Who’s this Ben Stephens and why him? Someone you know?”

  It was very Hollywood of Simon to assume she wanted Ben in charge because she knew him.

  “No, but I could tell he’s excellent at his job, and he understands what I’m looking for, which is huge. Plus, he was the only Black person who presented all day. The other two firms both had someone sitting there, but it seemed like they weren’t allowed to speak. I know it’s all smoke and mirrors, but I trusted him as much as you can trust someone from an ad agency. But the ad campaign isn’t the main reason why I’m calling.”

  Simon laughed.

  “I’m all ears, but just a warning: I’m going to have to get off soon; I’m driving to a lunch right now.”

  Of course he was.

  “Two things,” Anna said. “First: What the hell is going on with Vigilantes? Have you heard anything? Is it even going to be ready for the premiere? Am I even going to be in the final cut? I barely showed up in the trailer, and there hasn’t been a peep from them about wanting me to do press. I’m getting stressed about this, Simon. I don’t even know if I lived or died! This uncertainty is killing me, no pun intended!”

  Vigilantes was the comic book movie she’d filmed a handful of scenes in the year before. They’d hyped up her role when she’d signed on to the movie, but the premiere was coming up soon, and she still didn’t know if the hype was real or imaginary. She’d had a director make her big promises before, only to cut her completely in postproduction. She really didn’t want that to happen this time.

  “I know,” he said. “I made some calls about this a few days ago. They never should have scheduled the premiere for June; the studio didn’t check with the directors on that. Their time line was . . . well, ambitious is the kind way to put it, and I’m rarely kind. They’re scrambling to get it done. I think at this point the trailer means nothing—they just had to have something to put out there. Everything is still up in the air, but the directors love you, so that’s promising. Don’t count yourself out of this one.”

  Well, everything about that filming had been chaotic, so it made perfect sense that it was even more so in postproduction.

  “Okay,” she said. “I just . . . really want this one to be a win for me.”

  She blamed that filming—not totally rationally—for her crisis the year before. That’s when the anxiety had gotten overwhelming. It had better have been worth it.

  “No matter what, this will be a win for you,” he said. “Like I always say, even if we can’t control what other people do, we can—”

  “Control the narrative.” Anna finished his sentence. “I know, I know. I mean, yes, help me control this narrative, but also, please keep me posted if you
find out anything more? And okay, the other reason I called: I read that script last night. For that film Liz Varon is directing. Simon—this is it. This is the one. I want this role. I have to have it.”

  He chuckled.

  “I knew you would feel this way. I’ll huddle with Maggie”—her agent—“and see what the story is there. Varon’s in the midst of filming another movie, I do know that, so they’re in no rush to do the casting. But she’s got deep pockets with this one, which is sometimes good news and sometimes bad news—as we both know, often that means someone else is making the decisions. But I want to make this happen.”

  Usually, when Simon wanted to make something happen, it happened. Anna felt her shoulders relax.

  “I do, too,” she said. “This role . . . this is the one to get me back to the Oscars. I can feel it. I was right last time, remember? I have the same feeling now, but with a difference: I’ll win this time. I know it. I want this role. Tell me what I have to do to get it.”

  “How could I possibly forget that you were right last time?” he asked. “Especially since you remind me of it constantly. Don’t worry, I’ll work on this ASAP. I have to run, but I’ll keep you posted on all of this. And I’ll make that call about the ad campaign right now. Ben Stephens, right?”

  “Right. Thanks, Simon.”

  Anna ran her fingers over the edge of Ben’s business card and smiled.

  * * *

  —

  The woman Ben met for drinks that night—Lauren? Heather?—was very nice, perfectly attractive, and seemed interesting, but he couldn’t concentrate on her. He kept thinking about Anna at the meeting that day—the interested look on her face while he was talking, that quick bark of laughter she let out at his best joke, and the sly grin she shot him after she cut off the head of his company and turned back to him. That interested look on her face . . . was it about him? Or about the idea for the ad campaign? Or did she just have resting interested face, and she hadn’t been thinking about him at all?

  It was probably that last one; she was Anna Gardiner, after all.