When Nikki reappears to take us home, Lindsey’s face falls.
“I can’t believe you guys have to go already,” she moans.
“We might be able to come back tomorrow,” Gia says. “You want to hang out again if we do?”
“Are you kidding?” she laughs. “Yes!”
We wave goodbye and follow Nikki back to the staff room and then out to the car park. Just before we reach the front gate, I see Tattoo Girl wearing her new necklace and acting like she doesn’t love the attention her friends are giving it.
I’m so awesome.
“It appears you two were a big hit,” Nikki says. “Chrissie, have you ever considered a career in social work?”
“Hey!” Gia protests. “Don’t headhunt my publicist! I need her!”
“Well, on the off chance Gia one day decides she doesn’t need a publicist, would you think about it?”
“Maybe,” I say. “It was fun talking to Lindsey. I didn’t even mind hanging out with Jenny and her friend. They tried to act all cool and distant, but I hope I still helped in my own way.”
“You did. You guys were great. I sometimes think the girls respond better to my friends because they aren’t officially trained in the biz. It’s like they think if we have a name badge, we’re out to brainwash them or something.”
“Well, I’d love to come back tomorrow, and I think Chrissie would too,” Gia says.
I nod my agreement.
“That would be lovely,” Nikki says.
I beam. I know that doing a job like this isn’t just about making small talk with a child for an hour, and obviously it’s not a replacement for having my own kids, but it’s a start, and it’s an opportunity I can seize right now.
This road trip has so far been an unexpected detour, but it feels like it was supposed to happen.
I love it when things turn out like that.
TWENTY-ONE
We drive back to Nikki’s, stopping on the way to get take-out from a Caribbean café near the beach. At the apartment, Nikki pours us large glasses of homemade sangria and invites us back out to the balcony to listen to the waves crashing on the sand while we eat.
“I really admire what you do,” Gia says to Nikki.
“Well, we all have our callings. Yours is just a bit more unusual than everyone else’s,” she replies, winking.
“I know. But hey, I sell baby food now too.”
“Yes! I saw that when I went to Whole Foods recently. You’ve done so well. Not that I’ll ever be a customer of yours, I’m afraid.”
“No, but if your sister ever settles down and has kids, she might need you to shop for her.”
“That’s true,” Nikki agrees.
I must be staring at Nikki because she turns to me.
“Just to clarify, I don’t have any children, and I don’t plan on ever changing the situation.”
“Really? Do you mind me asking why?”
“Lots of reasons. But mostly because I feel that my time would be much better spent helping others in need. Having my own would add to an already overcrowded world and take attention away from those who need it. Besides, I love my late nights and spontaneous trips to India. My lifestyle is not compatible with children, and I worry I would resent having to forfeit all the things I like doing if I had one of my own.”
“Wow.”
“Do you think I’m weird?”
She asks it in a genuinely curious way. Like she wouldn’t be offended no matter my answer.
“Not at all! I mean, how many people just have kids because they want to fill a void in their life, or because they don’t have anything better to do? That doesn’t seem particularly healthy to me.”
As I’m saying it, the question that has already occurred to me more than once raises its head. Am I one of those people wanting to fill a void?
“True. But I’m sure there are also many people out there who think things through and bring well-adjusted humans into the world. I admire those ones.”
“Have you always felt that you didn’t want kids?”
“Pretty much. Although, there was maybe a split second last year when I wished I owned a machine that allowed me to have parallel lives so I could try out a couple of different paths. Just for a little while. I very occasionally wonder what I’m missing out on, but not enough to actually do anything about it.” She laughs at herself.
“I think I know what you mean,” I say. “But in my case I would have liked a time machine so I could go back and make sure my husband was one hundred percent sure he wanted to marry me.”
“Oh my. So I take it you’re not together anymore?”
“That’s right. I’m trying to sort out the divorce, but he won’t sign the damn papers.”
Gia cuts in. “Chrissie, I think we should forget about Corey tonight and just enjoy our time away.”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m just saying…”
“I know.”
I’m not upset that Gia is asking me to forget about Corey, but this whole conversation has got me thinking. If I like kids so much, why am I not in a job that improves the lives of the ones already here? And I’m not just talking about helping someone sell baby food.
Nikki excuses herself to go to the bathroom and Gia looks at me.
“Are you okay, hon? Sorry if I seemed a bit confrontational just then.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just contemplating what you and Nikki said.”
“Listen, you and Nikki are two very different people, but it might do you good to see a well-adjusted woman who is leading a fulfilling life in a non-traditional way. I’m not saying you should give up on the idea of having kids, but just try not to dwell on it. I know you’re thirty-five and the idea of getting back out into the dating world is scary, but trust me when I say you’re going to be fine.”
I squeeze her arm. “Thanks, Gia.”
Nikki returns, sitting down and picking up her sangria.
“I’ve decided something!” Gia says suddenly.
“What?” Nikki asks.
“I want to go dancing!”
Nikki laughs. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
I jump up. “Let’s do it. I’ve never been dancing in LA. You guys will have to show me around!”
Nikki mock sighs. “Okay. Come on then. But be prepared to be dazzled by my moves.”
Gia claps her hands together. “I can’t wait!”
***
The next morning, after a delicious breakfast at Nikki’s favorite French café, Gia and I drive up to Burbank where Lion’s Den Studios are located.
As we brave the morning traffic, I recline back in the passenger seat and think about how much fun I had last night. We went to three different nightclubs, one that even had a VIP section containing several A-list actors and actresses. And one of the actors actually made eye contact with me! I’m not one to name-drop though, so I won’t. (Oh, all right, his last name may or may not be what you call a baby goose.)
The rest of the time, Gia, Nikki and I danced up a storm, ignoring everyone else. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.
At the end of the evening, I crashed out on Nikki’s pull-out sofa, while Gia squeezed into Nikki’s bed with her.
I haven’t even thought to check my emails or contact Corey to see whether he’s followed through with the papers for the sale of our apartment. I’m just going to adopt the attitude that everything will happen when it’s supposed to. There’s no use trying to force him to act a certain way.
Over breakfast, Gia and I brainstormed how we might actually get into the studio, but we didn’t really come up with anything. Gia explained that there is a solid brick wall surrounding the property, and they don’t allow the public in for tours.
I look out the window, trying to think of alternative options.
“Hey, did you ever visit Jack when he was working with Peter?”
“Yeah. But that was a long time ago.”
“Do you think there’d be any crew who hated him and would want to help you out?”
“I don’t know. Probably. But I have to admit I didn’t really talk to the people who worked on movie sets back then. I was always just wanting to spend time with Jack when he could fit in a break between takes.”
“Were there any cafés nearby where crew went to eat?”
She purses her lips together, frustrated. “I wish I paid more attention. I really don’t remember.”
When we reach the studio, we park as close as we can, but it’s still a five-minute walk to the front gate.
“Do you remember any of this at all?” I ask.
“Now that we’re here, yeah. Not that it’s really helping.”
I understand what she means. There aren’t any shops or cafés nearby. Just the big wall she mentioned earlier, and an entrance protected by a boom gate and security guards.
“Where do people go to eat?”
“Well, if they’re on set, they get catering or head to the diner inside. And I guess they just drive into town if they want to go somewhere fancy.”
“What are we going to do then?”
Gia sighs. “I don’t know. I’m not a miracle worker, you know.”
I stare in the direction of the front gate and watch as a car drives out, turning in our direction. It’s a young woman. Hmm…
“Hang on a second,” I say. A plan is slowly forming in my head.
It’s another few minutes until a second car rolls out, this time containing a bunch of men who all look close to retirement.
I think I can hold out for something better.
“What are you doing?” Gia follows my gaze.
“You’ll see.”
Finally, after a few more cars leave, I see one that might do the trick. I run into the middle of the road and hold up my hands.
“Chrissie, what the hell?” Gia shrieks.
The driver seems to be distracted by his phone and almost doesn’t see me. At the last minute, he looks up and slams on the brakes. There’s a loud screech of rubber, and a cloud of tire dust surrounds me.
The driver does not look happy. He flings open the door and jumps out.
“Lady, what the fuck are you doing?”
He’s wearing an expensive suit. Probably an exec. Very sleazy looking. Perfect.
“I’m sorry, I dropped my contact lens and I didn’t want anyone to run over it.”
“You could have been killed!” he says, clearly agitated. “Was it really worth risking your life to save a stupid bit of plastic?”
“I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking.” I bend down and pretend to scour the asphalt.
“How can you lose a contact lens out here? What were you doing?” He now seems a bit confused. It’s better than irate at least.
“I’m Gia King’s publicist.” I point at Gia, who is still standing on the sidewalk, looking mortified.
He glances over, not particularly interested at first. But as soon as he realizes who it is, his face lights up.
“Hey, I know you. You used to be married to Jack Dean.”
Bingo. This might be even easier than I hoped.
“Don’t remind me,” she mutters.
“No, no. Jack and I go way back. I mean, I know he’s a prick, but he’s a damn good actor. I’m sure we must have crossed paths at some point. Do you remember me? Mike Duncan?”
Just then, a car beeps behind Mike. We’ve created a bit of a traffic jam.
“Hang on,” he says. “Let me just get out of the middle of the road.”
He ducks back into the driver’s seat and moves his car to the side. Gia frantically urges me over.
“I did good, huh?” I say, joining her.
“No! I have no idea who he is,” she whispers. “Help me!”
“You’ll be fine. Fake it,” I hiss back.
Mike rejoins us.
“I was the executive producer on Sunset Island. Ring any bells?”
She squints at him. “Uh, were you at Connie and Kyle’s party after the Oscars back in '09?”
His face lights up. “Yes! You remembered!”
She smiles, and I see her shoulders sag in relief. “Well, it was a long time ago. But I like to think I never forget a face.”
I love Gia. She always pulls through.
“I wouldn’t forget one like yours, honey. Anyway, I’m sure I already asked, but what exactly are you two doing out here?”
Gia looks lost for words, so I take over. “We were supposed to meet up with Malcolm Garcia but he cancelled on us just as we were about to go through the gate. So now I guess we’ll just head home.” I pull a sad face. “It’s a shame, though. We’re staying out at Venice and the idea of heading straight back into that traffic is unbearable. I could kind of use a coffee before we left.”
He looks at his watch and then back up at Gia’s long legs, which are displayed to full effect in her trademark heels and miniskirt. At least since her makeover, the heels and skirt are now neutral colors.
“You feel like a coffee?” he asks Gia.
“Actually, that would be lovely. Thanks, Mike.”
I pretend to consult my phone. “Just remember, we do have that thing at two.”
“Oh, of course. But that should be fine. Mike, Chrissie will be busy working, so it will just be you and me catching up.”
“Fine with me, darling. Why don’t you both hop in my car and we’ll drive in together? Save time?”
“Sounds good.”
I slide into the back seat, playing up my role as celebrity publicist. Gia also embraces the challenge and channels her inner diva, climbing elegantly into the front passenger seat.
Following an illegal turn, we drive back to the studio entrance. A security guard looks down at us through the window.
“Ran into some friends, Fred,” Mike says. “Just going to grab a coffee.”
The security guard looks bored.
“I’ll need their IDs.”
Mike turns to us. “Sorry, ladies. You heard the man.”
I dig out my driver’s license and hand it over. Gia does the same. Mike looks at Gia’s photo and whistles.
“That is the hottest damn license photo I have ever seen.”
Gia doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by the way her jaw clenches that she probably wants to punch Mike about now.
The guard makes a note of our details on his clipboard and then hands back the licenses with a couple of lanyards.
“Wear these at all times and don’t wander off into any restricted areas,” he warns.
“Of course not.” Gia stares at him as if to say do you really think I’m one of those poor schmucks who are actually impressed by movie studios?
His composure falters for a second, but he hastily restores the standard blank expression well known amongst people in security and the FBI.
The boom gate goes up and we drive on through.
My heart thumps excitedly. So far, so good!
Mike pulls into a spot marked for VIPs and swaggers out, leading the way to the studio diner.
He addresses Gia. “When was the last time you were here?”
“Oh, probably not since Jack worked on Death Run.”
“That was a while ago. You’ll be pleasantly surprised to find how much the food has improved since then. They finally ditched Connie, that old dragon who ran the place back in your day. She was useless. I can’t believe it took them ten years to fire her.”
“I don’t think I ever came here,” Gia says. “I used to just eat whatever was in Jack’s trailer.” She talks as though eating at a diner is beneath her. I have to stop myself from giggling.
Mike opens the door for us. He must be on his best behavior because he doesn’t strike me as a particularly chivalrous guy. I follow Gia in and we all sit down at a small round table near the window. A waitress comes over with menus.
“No need for that, Darla,” Mike says, his voice dripping with condescension. “We’ll have th
ree coffees and a plate of your famous pastries.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. Gia doesn’t even drink coffee.
“So, who’s this Malcolm Garcia?” Mike asks. “I thought I knew everyone who worked out of here, but I don’t recognize the name. Is he new?”
“Oh, yeah,” Gia says. “He’s an up and coming director. We’re tossing around some ideas for a movie.”
“Nice.”
“Everyone’s saying he’s the next Peter Carson,” she says casually. “Although, I’m not sure Peter would appreciate the implication he’s no longer current.”
I pretend to be busy with my cell phone, trying not to be obvious as I check Mike’s reaction.
“Ha. Anyone would be better than Peter Carson. The guy’s a dick. Wouldn’t deal with him for all the money in the world.”
“Really? How come?”
“Oh, nothing worth getting into. Why? You want to consult with him? I could recommend a dozen better guys out there.”
I stifle a snort. I’m pretty sure there aren’t many directors better than Peter Carson. Definitely not a dozen.
Mike shoots me a suspicious look. I pretend that I’m trying to clear something stuck in my throat.
He looks back at Gia.
“Oh, I was just wondering what I should do if Malcolm fell through. Who else do you suggest?”
“Trent Gruber, for one.”
“The one who directed Flash Cars?”
“Yep.”
“Perhaps…although I don’t think he’d be quite right for the project I’m doing. Say, how about you give me your card and I’ll email you the specifics when I get home. I could definitely use your insider knowledge.”
He grins. “Sure, darlin’.”
Our coffees and pastries arrive. I gulp down my coffee and nibble on a pastry, although I’m still full from breakfast. Gia doesn’t touch anything. Mike doesn’t seem to notice and noisily slurps his drink. He leans back and surveys Gia.
“So what happened between you and Jack?”
Gia raises an eyebrow. “You don’t read the news?”
“If you’re referring to the time he slept with Amber Howard, then I’m still asking. Surely you knew when you signed up for the job as Jack Dean’s wife that he’d still be fucking other women?”
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