by Pike, Leslie
I don’t know if he’s teasing me, or making fun of me.
“Don’t you worry about it. I don’t put any more in my mouth than I can handle. And I’ve got a big appetite.”
As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I know it sounds bad. I didn’t mean it the way he’s probably taking it. Because he’s looking at me as if I said something dirty. His expression is making me want to laugh. So I look away and start eating. He doesn’t take advantage of my stupid comment, and that alone makes me like him more. He’s just watching me eat, and he’s grinning. I start to get the giggles, just as I realize I’ve put one too many spoonfuls in my mouth. I was too interested in not having to talk. Oh no. He sees what’s happening and smiles at my predicament.
“Maybe you better learn to swallow, Esme.”
That’s it. I’m going to blow. I grab the hemline of my shirt and bring it up to my mouth. I laugh my food right into it, and I think I may have snorted a little out my nose as well. It’s not until I stop laughing, that I realize I may be flashing a bit of my bra. What a crass thing to do. I quickly wipe my lips and bring my shirt down, holding the mess in the bucket I’ve fashioned. Now what do I do?
“I’m so sorry. That was unforgivable,” I say, and mean.
He’s enjoying this to no end.
“There’s no need to apologize. I like a woman who can appreciate a good meal.”
“I think I was appreciating it a little too much.”
“No such thing. I don’t think enough of us practice the art of appreciation,” Finn says.
“Do you?” I ask.
“Most of the time. But I have been known to undervalue the gifts in front of me. Nobody gets it right every time.”
I wonder what he’s talking about? Jack Alden, aka Father Adrian, pulls up a chair at the table. Kizzy follows close behind. They’re talking to each other as they sit down. But I stand, before either of them can talk to me.
“Excuse me, I’ve got to go change.”
“Why? What happened?” Kizzy says.
“Jack, Kizzy, you just missed the half-time show,” says Finn.
I pick up a grape from my plate and throw it right between his eyes. Bullseye.
Chapter Ten
Finn
It’s always good to get the first day of shooting behind you. I think we all feel the same. You anticipate a project for months, sometimes years, and it’s not a given that any film is going to actually get made. No matter who’s involved, or committed to making it happen. It can fall apart when you least expect it to. It can fall apart at the very last minute, when your bags are packed. It can fall apart if the producer’s mistress doesn’t get a role. That happened to me when Bliss and I first moved to Los Angeles. Changing investors, actors, commitments and a thousand other components can take you from a sure thing, to a pipe dream. So having this first day in the can makes it real. It’s all fantasy until the cameras roll.
That’s something everyone in this business learns fast. Disappointments are what we have to be able to conquer, because it’s always going to be a part of our world. You don’t get the part, the film’s not going to be made, someone bullshitted you to your face. Get over it. Because when things do go your way, all the perks that come with it offset the price paid. To an outsider, any complaining on our part sounds ridiculous.
Today disappointment takes a break. I think this film has a real chance at leaving its mark. Jack and I have some powerful scenes, together and apart. The one we filmed today was exceptionally good. We both knew it, and so did Steven. He had a big smile on his face when he said, “Cut!” I think his directorial debut has an opportunity of being something big. At least today, he was able to bring out something special in his actors. I hope he’s enjoying the moment. Sometimes the pressure of the job makes us blind to the fun. Not me of course, but most. Today it felt like all the stars were lined up in our favor.
Even the lunch break was enjoyable. That Esme. I haven’t quite figured her out yet. I don’t know why she’s so capable of occupying my thoughts. We’d never be a good match, not even for a night. She’s too young for me. Not so much in years, but in experience. I don’t think she’s seasoned. Not in life, and not in relationships. By the time I was her age, I was confident and capable. She seems adept at her job, but she’s most definitely not confident. She’s shy, and most likely sexually repressed. She doesn’t feel comfortable around people, and I’d guess that’s from living a sheltered life. I bet she was the little princess in her family’s world. Where mommy and daddy shielded her from any unpleasantness. But even so, for some reason I find her hard to ignore.
I’m about to turn in my day’s wardrobe, when I spot Paul coming out of BB’s trailer. He’s been MIA all day. It looks like BB is interested in taking over as Paul’s pathfinder. That’s fine with me. I’ve done my part in opening his eyes. Now he has to make sure he looks. They spot me.
“Paul, I’m out of here. You coming with me?”
BB playfully grabs a handful of Paul’s ass. “No. He’s coming with me. Literally.”
“You two are like baboons. You have to come up for air every so often you know,” I say. I feign anger, but I’m actually glad for the man. As long as he doesn’t fall for the wild one. She’s not a woman who would like being with one man.
“It’s hopeless. I’m her libertine.” He puts his hand to his heart.
“What exactly is that?” she says.
“I’m morally unrestrained when I’m with you.”
“That’s exactly as I want you.”
“At least tell me you’re coming to the tavern tonight. We’re meeting around seven. You know where it is?” I ask.
“I do,” BB says. “We’ll be there. I want to meet Jack and Steven’s wives.”
“Ok. See you then.” As I walk away, I leave one parting thought. “Try to enjoy yourselves.”
Never has advice been so unnecessary.
I approach the wardrobe truck and see the long line snaking outside. But Kizzy sees me and signals for me to just hang my things on the rack. Once again, it’s good to be the star. I make a gesture, of putting a phone to my ear. I mouth the words, “I’ll call you.” I want to make sure she knows about tonight and brings Esme. But I’m not about to announce to the extras that we’ll be partying at a certain bar. Not that I’m a dick, but if they all show, there’ll be no tables for us. Or, management will make them move, and then we’re the entitled pricks. Kizzy nods and gets back to her work. I’m outta here.
* * *
I toss my keys on the entry table and head for the shower. I love this condo. I feel as comfortable here, as I do in my own home. Who wouldn’t? We’re smack dab in the middle of one of Americas’ favorite playgrounds, and protected in this gated retreat. The entire place is heavy with wood. Beams, tables, beds, not to mention my dick. Architectural Digest should do a spread. They could call it “Wood Country”.
I peel off my clothes and start the water. This is a shower for two, or three as the case may be. We christened BB’s a few days ago. But today, I’m alone with my thoughts. And they go to one thing. Drinking. The taste and feeling of my little backslide lingers, like a ghostly image in a photograph. It was a onetime thing. I chalk it up to wanting to help Paul get laid. And I didn’t have a single drop yesterday, so that’s good. My will is greater than my desire. As I rinse off, I remind myself to be on guard tonight. Danger, Will Robinson.
I dress and sit on the leather couch making my calls. First Kizzy. There’s no answer, so I leave a voice message.
“Hi, it’s Finn. Hope I see you and Esme tonight. We’re meeting at Tempo on Main, around seven. Remember darlin’, girls just want to have fun.” I disconnect.
Next I call my dad. He answers on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Son! How was your first day?”
“It was good. I think we have a winner with this one.”
“Of course you do. You’re in it. How did Pau
l do?”
“We have nothing to worry about there. He’s fine, and discovering lots of new interests.”
“I’m not surprised. You two are always up to mischief. Well, everything’s good here. Your house is still standing, and so is your Da. I like it here.”
“Good. Do you like it enough to ever move? I’d love to have you closer to me.”
“No way. I love my own spot. There’s only one way I’m leaving that place, and I think you know what that is.”
He laughs as if the thought of his death would amuse me.
“Stop it. That’s a long ways away,” I say.
“Maybe. Who knows? Everything in life can change in a moment.”
I know he’s right. He’s absolutely right.
“So what are you two up to tonight?” he says.
“We’re meeting some people at one of the taverns downtown.”
As soon as the words are spoken, I wish I could take them back. There’s a pause before he speaks.
“Well, be careful, Finn. And be strong. I know what temptations can do to a man’s resolve.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m in control. It’s just a get together, and I’ll be having my Seven-Up.”
“Ok, son. I know you won’t mess with your sobriety. You’ve worked too hard to go back to that life. And look how it’s paid off.”
I know he means well, but I’m not in the mood for a lecture.
“Well, I’m going to get off this thing. I’ve got to shower and dress before I head out. I’ll call tomorrow, ok?”
“That’s fine. Have fun tonight, and we’ll talk then. Peaceful sleep, son. And blessings follow your dreams.”
We disconnect. That’s what my father has said to me every night of my life. Whether I’ve heard him or not.
* * *
Tempo is a large, popular watering hole in downtown Park City. It’s a little bit country and a little bit rock n roll. It’s for those who like to dip their toe in the country stream, while still dancing to an occasional Stones classic. I see lots of cowboy hats, but they’re the kind you buy in an expensive ski shop. I doubt there’s an authentic cowboy anywhere here. Just a few playing dress-up for the night. Mostly tourists letting their alter egos out.
There’s a sign to the left of the stage that announces Open Mic Night is on Thursdays. Thank God it’s Monday. The five-piece band is playing “All My Ex’s Live in Texas”. Long wooden tables line one half of the crowded dance floor. On the other side are more intimate tables for smaller groups.
It’s about eight when I walk in. and it looks like the party’s been going for a while. I see my friends from the set. They’re unwinding. At the furthest table to the right, I see Jack stand up.
“Finn!” He waves me over.
As I make my way to the table, I spot the assembled cast. Bliss and Steven, Nicki and Jack, Renee and a few stunt guys. And sitting across from Kizzy is Esme. She looks so pretty tonight. This is the first time I’ve seen her dressed like a girl. I can only see the top half, but that’s good enough for me. She wears a light blue sweater, and her hair is unbraided. It falls beautifully over her shoulders. She smiles, as I pull the chair from the table behind us and sit next to her.
“Hello all,” I say.
“We started without you,” Jack says.
“Finn, wait till you see the daily’s. Renee and I watched them, and you and Jack hit it out of the park. If you’re not careful, you’re going to make me look good,” Steven says.
“It was a spectacular beginning, men,” Renee adds.
“But don’t you think it was me, more than him?” asks Jack.
“Maybe in your dreams old man,” I kid.
“Fuck you, you Irish leprechaun.”
Nicki cuts in to our fake argument. “OK, you were both equally the best actors ever. Never in the history of the movie business, were there such tremendous talents. Now, can we dance?
Jack takes a kiss from her, and they move to the dance floor.
“See, that’s why I love that woman,” Bliss says.
The table resumes its various conversations. A barmaid comes up behind me.
“Can I get you something, Mr. Kennedy?” she says it like we’re in a James Bond movie, and she’s the Bond girl offering me so much more than a dry martini.
Esme stiffens up a bit. She sits a little taller. Interesting body language.
“I’ll have a Guinness. Thanks. And bring the table another round,” I say.
So much for my vow. But I’ll have just one. My will is greater…oh, fuck it. The barmaid leaves without a reaction from me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bliss staring at me. And I feel the daggers. She’s surprised I’m having one ‘feckin beer. I’m not yours to watch over any more darlin’. I’m not going to look at her. The rest of the table’s too busy making merry to give a shit. I turn to Esme and Kizzy.
“How was your first day, Esme?”
“It was great all except the spitting my food out part.”
God, her smile is killing me.
“Really? You didn’t enjoy that? I kind of did,” I say.
Kizzy’s watching us closely, but her attention shifts when a young guy comes up behind her and leans in.
“Dance?” he asks.
Kizzy’s up in a flash, leaving Esme and I to ourselves.
“Come on, let’s dance.” I get up and take a hold of her soft hand. She looks panicked.
“Oh no. I’m not really…I mean I can’t…maybe we can just talk,” she stutters out her fear.
I’m not taking no for an answer.
“Get up. It’s going to be fine. I’ve got you.”
The barmaid delivers my beer, and I take one big swig. Esme reaches for her cocktail.
“Me too,” she says, and takes a healthy sip.
I lead her to the dance floor. The band is playing a really good cover of Tim McGraw’s “One of Those Nights”. This should be an easy one for someone who’s not comfortable dancing. I keep a hold of her hand and slowly start to move to the music. We’re an arms distance apart. Just slow and easy, keeping time to the beat. She’s looking down at her feet, but just for a few moments. All at once she looks up at me and let’s herself go. Now this is a surprise. Not only can she dance, but it’s graceful and sensual. Woooooof.
I know I’m smiling. She’s losing herself in the music, as only someone who understands timing and rhythm can. You can only be this good, if you can become part of the musical equation. You’ve got to believe you’re a part of it, not something outside. She must be a regular at the clubs, wherever she comes from.
The song ends and morphs into the bands next choice. It’s “Breathe”, Faith Hills iconic love song. I don’t give Esme a choice. I bring her body to mine. She doesn’t resist.
“One more,” I say.
“I’m glad it’s a slow one, I’m kind of out of practice.”
“You could have fooled me. You’re really a good dancer.”
“I’m an alone in my bedroom dancer. When nobody’s looking.”
She just smiles and drops her chin in embarrassment. We finish the song, with barely another word spoken. It feels right just to be silent. When the song comes to an end, I make a suggestion.
“Let’s grab a private table.”
“Ok. Should we get our drinks?”
“No. We’ll order another.”
I spot a table for two, on the far edge of the room. It’s away from the dance floor and away from the prying eyes of our friends. As I lead her toward it, I see Paul and BB making their way to Jack’s table. Hopefully they’ll stay there. I don’t want any interruptions. No cock blocking. No BB telling Esme stories of our threesome. I wouldn’t put that past her. And that would definitely put a damper on things. We sit and I signal a barmaid, who quickly responds.
“What can I bring you?” she says.
This one’s strictly business. I look to Esme.
“I’ll have a beer,” she says.
“Have you ever had a
Guinness?” I say.
“No. That’s what you drink, right? I’ll have one of those.”
“Make it two.”
As the girl leaves, I’m looking over Esme’s outfit. Head to toe, she’s looking good.
“This is quite a change from your Bronco’s outfit. Not that I don’t approve of that. You look adorable in whatever you wear.”
She’s turning red now.
“I thought it would be nice to dress up a bit. My grandmother bought me this sweater as a going away present.”
“Going away from where?” I ask.
“Fairplay, Colorado.”
“How’d you end up here?”
Her face darkens for a moment.
“It’s a long pathetic story. Too long to tell. But the bottom line is I decided to start fresh in life, and I needed to get away from where I lived. Kizzy offered me a job, and I took it.”
“You’re very young to have to start fresh. Were things really that bad?”
“Age has nothing to do with it.”
“Do you have a boyfriend? I can’t imagine you wouldn’t.”
“I’m in the process of getting a divorce. No man would be interested in dealing with my baggage. And I wouldn’t want them to.”
“Now you have me intrigued. Tell me about it.”
“My life isn’t intriguing. That’s the last word I’d choose to describe it. Not compared to yours, or any of the people I’ve met here so far. I’d much rather hear about you. Tell me how you became an actor.”
For the rest of the night, whenever I tried to learn more about her past, I got shut down. She’d change the subject, or suggest we dance. It’s amazing how many excuses women can come up with, when they don’t want to talk about something. And Esme used them all.
I may have misjudged this one. I think I was way off the mark, when I took her for a pampered princess. Her shyness isn’t a result of inexperience, but of bad experience. Just who is this broken angel? And what kind of asshole made her run?
Chapter Eleven
Paul