How to Hide a Hollywood Star

by Avoca Gardener

  I was flushed and embarrassed before I’d even found that line on the page. Rush stepped up close and pointed it out to me. Our elbows knocked and there was nothing funny about it. He smoothed a hand down my arm in a kind of sorry gesture and that wasn’t funny either. It made my knuckles itch to—smack him or stroke him or, holy crap!

  I put the script up in front of my face and read the line. “What do you mean he sent you?”

  Rush said, “Say it to Shane, Andi.”

  I said it again, flatly, looking directly at Shane who was laughing at me.

  “Mr Franklin would like you to come home,” said Shane. He might’ve speaking an alien dialect. This was ridiculous.

  Russ said, “Andi.”

  My eyes went back to the page. “Um.” Longest pause in history, during which the words seemed to cha-cha on the page. “Why does he c—c—care where I am?” Oh shit. Care only had four letters. I was good at words with four letters. I usually said them involuntarily. There were a couple of fifties in the swear box to prove it.

  “He wants you to be safe, Mrs Franklin.”

  I kept my eyes on the page. “Why can’t you call me Patrice? You know that’s my name.” Why hadn’t I gone to bed earlier? Or fallen into a coma.

  “It’s better if I call you Mrs Franklin. More professional.”

  “You care about professional?”

  The script said. ‘Damon nods’. I looked up. Shane laughed.

  “Andi,” said Rush. He shot a look of impatience at Shane.

  My eyes went back down. “Um. What else do you care about, Damon?”

  Shane said, “I care about you, Mrs Franklin.”

  “Really? The c—c—cuckolded wife of your boss.”

  Shane laughed. God, this was excruciating.

  Rush’s hand came down on my shoulder. “Andi, take it again. You’re doing fine.”

  “I’m not,” I snapped.

  “I’ve seen worse,” said Arch from his place on the lounge.

  “You’ve done worse,” said Shane.

  “Remind me why I hang with you?” said Arch.

  “And they call themselves professionals,” said Rush, but he was laughing with the other two. “Where are we?” He smiled at me. I wanted to kick him.

  Shane came in with the next line. “Don’t do this, Patrice.”

  “Do what?”

  “Let me do my job. Let me take you home.”

  “So take me home. But not to him. I’ll go home with you.”

  “Ah. You can’t do this to me. I don’t.”

  I looked at Shane waiting for him to finish, he nodded at me, I looked down at the script. Bugger I was supposed to cut him off. “That’s right you don’t have a mind of your own. You only think the thoughts my wonderful, faithful husband tells you to think. But your eyes. It’s your eyes that do all the talking. I see what they say. They’re not so professional.”

  “Patrice,” Shane said, sounding annoyed, like he’d stubbed his toe and needed someone to blame.

  Rush said, “Wait. Shane, she’s got you off balance, you’re not expecting her to be so emotional or to be coming on to you so strongly. You’re not scolding her, you’re in love with her, but you can’t let her see that.”

  Shane sighed. “Right, but there’s hardly anything in my lines.”

  “Use your body. Show us how she’s getting to you.” Rush turned from Shane. “Andi, run the next line, it starts ‘See, you do know how to say my name’. You’re angry with your awful husband and you want to take it out on Damon.”

  I was angry. I was angry with Rush and with myself. This wasn’t my job. I wasn’t being paid for more mass scale humiliation. Rush already had me doing enough things I hadn’t signed up for. I said my line, “See, you do know how to say my name. You know how to tell me you want me. You just don’t know how to follow through.”

  Shane moved around me. “There is no following through.”

  I watched him warily. I already knew my line. “Why not, we’re adults.”

  His whole body stiffened as though he’d had terrible news. I almost reached for him, then remembered myself. “That’s right. Play the stoic. Lie to yourself. Lie to me, but by all means remain professional.”

  He put a hand to his head as if he was trying to hold his thoughts together. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Quick glance down. “I know a man who’s afraid when I see one.”

  “Good. Good,” said Rush.

  Shane’s head flicked around. He suddenly seemed twice his usual height and bulk. He said, “I’m not afraid.” But I could see how he could be very frightening if he chose to be.

  I said, “Prove it,” but my voice came out all uncertain, instead of tough bitch like I suspect the script called for. I shot a look at Rush, but his eyes were fixed on Shane.

  Shane said, “I don’t need to prove anything to you,” but he stepped right into me, his chest brushing my shoulder. By the look on Rush’s face, Shane was proving something.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I told you, to bring you home.” His voice was like a balm: cold on sunburn, relief on chaffing.

  I dropped my eyes back to the page. “You don’t think if I wanted to go home to that lying, cheating bastard I would?” I looked up, Rush’s eyes were locked on me. I was so hot, humiliation was melting me, I might leave a wet puddle on the floor.

  Shane put his finger under my chin and turned my face to his. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want. But you can’t stay here.”

  I delivered my last line of the scene wondering how I still had breath left to do it. “Take me home.” I don’t know if Patrice suddenly felt like crying but I did.

  Arch said, “Whoa.”

  Shane picked me up and squeezed me to his chest. “Again.”

  I looked at Rush. One train wreck a night was enough for even him surely. But he was grinning. “Go again.”

  “No, I—”

  “Come on, Andi. Pleeease.” Shane put me down. “I’m just getting the hang of this.”

  Rush circled around behind me and I jumped. “Come on, Patrice, let’s screw with Damon.”

  I took a deep breath. I was stuck with this. Screw you, Rush. “What do you mean he sent you?” I said. Not flat, not vague. Full of annoyance at Rush for this and everything he’d done to me, was still doing to me, mucking with my emotions.

  “Mr Franklin would like you to come home,” said Shane.

  “Why does he fucking care where I am?” Oh, now I was so annoyed I was adding my own swear word combos, bugger the cost.

  Shane blinked in surprise, then frowned. “He wants you to be safe, Mrs Franklin.”

  “Why can’t you call me Patrice? You know that’s my name.” The lines were more familiar now I could snap them out.

  “It’s better if I call you Mrs Franklin. More professional.”

  Patrice was taking her anger out on Damon, I could take mine out on Shane. “You care about professional?”

  “Stalk him,” said Rush, a soft voice in my ear. “Make him uncomfortable.”

  I walked around Shane, making him turn to follow me. “What else do you care about, Damon?”

  “I care about you, Mrs Franklin.”

  “Touch him, Andi,” said Rush.

  I put my fingertip to Shane’s shoulder and drew it slowly, slowly down his arm while I looked in his baby blues. “Really. The cuckolded wife of your boss.”

  He wasn’t laughing now. His voice got all thick. “Don’t do this, Patrice.”

  I’d reached his hand. I lifted it and pressed our palms together. “Do what?” I didn’t feel so awkward anymore. This was kind of fun, because Shane was looking at me as though I was actually sexy.

  He made a growling sound. “Let me do my job. Let me take you home.”

  Rush said, “Make him chase you.”

  I dropped Shane’s hand and turned my back on him, looked at the script. “So take me home. But not to him.” I looke
d up, straight into Rush’s face. “I’ll go home with you.”

  “Ah. You can’t do this to me. I don’t—”

  Rush gave me the most curious of smiles, I tried to process it as I said the next line. “That’s right you don’t have a mind of your own. You only think the thoughts my wonderful, faithful husband tells you to think. But your eyes. It’s your eyes that do all the talking. I see what they say. They’re not so professional.”

  “Patrice.” This time I could hear distress in Shane’s voice.

  “See, you do know how to say my name. You know how to tell me you want me. You just don’t know how to follow through.”

  Shane was behind me now. Close, I could hear him breathing. “There is no following through.”

  If I leaned back, would he hold me? “Why not, we’re adults?” I looked at Rush. He nodded, encouraging me, as if he knew what I intended. I leaned back. Shane folded himself around me for a second, two. I held my breath. He straightened up and moved away. I turned to look at him. “That’s right. Play the stoic. Lie to yourself. Lie to me, but by all means remain professional.”

  This time when he put a hand to his head he looked tortured. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know a man who’s afraid when I see one.”

  Shane said, “I’m not afraid,” but he was slightly hunched and rolled his head on his neck as though it was sore, as though he was tormented.

  “Prove it.”

  He focussed on me, expression so grave I felt shivers run up my arms. “I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I told you, to bring you home.”

  This time his voice sounded broken, cut up into shards of anguish. It made me drop mine to a whisper. “You don’t think if I wanted to go home to that lying, cheating bastard I would?”

  Shane took both my hands and tugged me towards him. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want. But you can’t stay here.”

  I looked into his beautiful face and for a moment I forgot we were playing. “Take me home.”

  A smile split Shane’s face. He spun around, punched the air, “That was awesome. Can we do it again?” He grabbed my hands and turned to Rush, “Maybe I can do this. What do you think?”

  “I think Patrice has a big problem,” I broke in. I shook my head. I had a problem. I’d lost my place in the world there for a moment.

  “Not bad,” said Rush. “Let’s go again.”

  We did the scene again and this time before I even opened my mouth, Shane was the tortured bodyguard. He wasn’t using the script and every word he spoke was delivered with a deliberateness that left me scrambling to get my next line out without stumbling over it.

  Rush stayed close to me, prompting my lines, murmuring directions, telling me to lift my chin, shake my head, touch my hair and turn my body. He had me tense at Shane’s heartfelt ‘Patrice!’ and step away at his ‘there is no follow through’. He was so close and he moved with me, occasionally brushing his hands against my hips. It was like we were dancing and yet his presence was so subtle I could still be completely focussed on Shane.

  We did it a fourth time and I didn’t need the script anymore. I no longer felt angry or silly or wished a fire would roar up from the valley and consume me. I no longer prickled at having Rush stand so close either.

  Somewhere between the fifth and sixth attempts my competitive spirit kicked in. This was more fun than jockeying budget spreadsheets and no one was laughing at me.

  Shane had worked up a sweat in the heat of the late night. “Andi, will you run it with Rush? I want to see what he does with it.” He lifted the edge of his t-shirt to wipe his brow, showing off washboard abs. “Then you and I can do it one more time before we hit the sack.” He grinned, waited to see if I reacted.

  I ignored him and saw Arch shake his head and smile. “Subtle as a sledgehammer.”

  Shane laughed, “Had to try it.” He sat beside Arch. Rush took Shane’s place and I said my opening line, “What do you mean he sent you?”

  It was disorienting to have Rush in front of me, speaking the lines, instead of behind me, guiding me or just watching from the side. When he stepped into my personal space I couldn’t help but gasp. His Damon was different to Shane’s, less physical but more intense, more brooding and far more dangerous.

  When he locked eyes with mine I felt my temperature rise, when he coolly assessed my body I shivered. I wanted to slap the superiority off his face and have him kiss me softly all at the same time.

  I became Patrice locked in a struggle to save herself from her simultaneous distain and desire for Damon. I was in big trouble if Rush could have this effect on me outside of this performance.

  I was almost panting when we reached the end of the scene. I couldn’t look away from him but Rush seemed unaffected. He simply gave himself a little shake as though clearing Damon from his body and smiled at me. “You did good.”

  Shane leapt up and gave me a bear hug. “He’s an asshole. I will not compete with that.”

  “That was amazing,” said Arch. “Pretty damn sure my Patrice would have been a wash out. Feeling a lot insecure now.”

  He copped a smack across the back of the head from Shane. “You start feeling secure playing a sexy bitch and we have to have that talk again.”

  “You should think about it Shane, seriously think about it,” said Rush, “but in the morning, I’m out.” He stifled a yawn. “Thanks Andi. I know you didn’t want to do that, but you’re a star. Goodnight.” He headed for his bedroom. I went the other way back to the dining table to shut down my laptop. Now I was oddly reluctant the night was ending. I’d had fun being Patrice, being edgy and flirty and the centre of attention.

  I made some neat piles of stuff on the table ready for tomorrow. I could hear Shane and Arch in the other room.

  “Everything he touches hah,” said Arch.

  “Doesn’t exactly inspire me to put my oar in,” grumbled Shane. “When you see it done like that.”

  “Good luck telling him.”

  “Shit, I’m not going to tell him. I’m gonna get Andi to do it. Not quite everything he touches is so loved up. Never known him to be so rattled by a woman other than Cecily.”

  What? I knocked an empty coffee cup over. Did I hear that right? Rush rattled by me? Shane was wrong. That man was cool as polar frost. As calculating as Patrice’s bastard husband. It was me that was rattled by him. And I didn’t have a bodyguard to protect me from it.

  19: Ambiguities

  The next day passed in a flurry of activity. Brick and Elizabeth arrived mid-morning. Helen picked them up from the airport and brought them to the house. They’d be staying with her.

  “Andi, thank you so much for asking Peter to come along and for me the break is a treat,” said Elizabeth.

  “Unexpected,” said Brick, who I could tell was trying hard to hide his anxiety about the new situation.

  “You’ll certainly be earning your keep Brick, but you can take a few extra days of holidays later to make up for coming back to work early, is that alright?”

  “A few extra days, yes,” said Brick.

  “He’s very excited, but he’s nervous about meeting the others,” said Elizabeth, lowering her voice for my ears and then her mouth dropped open. I turned to see what she’d reacted to and found Rush in the hallway.

  “Rush, this is Elizabeth and Brick Aitken. Brick will be helping me with the event administration.” I stepped back to allow Rush through.

  “Good to meet you both.” He shook Elizabeth’s hand then put his hand out to Brick, but Brick reacted by jumping away quickly and pinning himself against the wall, dropping his eyes to the wooden floor. Rush flashed me a sharp look and immediately dropped his outstretched hand.

  “Brick, that’s an unusual name,” he said, filling the awkward silence.

  “It’s Brick’s little joke,” said Elizabeth, stroking her son’s arm to comfort him. “It
comes from an old saying, thick as a brick. I call him Peter.”

  Eyes still down, Brick said, “I like to be called Brick because people think I’m not smart, but I am smart, so it’s like saying the joke first. If you say the joke first, it doesn’t make you sad.”

  “That sounds very wise,” said Rush.

  I ushered Elizabeth and Brick through to the dining room where we’d set up a temporary office. Rush grabbed my elbow and jerked me to a stop. “He’s disabled?”

  “He has an intellectual disability.” I shook his hand off and stared at him, challenging him to say he had a problem with it.

  “You should have told me?” he said frowning.

  “Why? Does it matter if he can do the job?”

  He shook his head, “Of course not, but if I’d have known I’d have been more careful not to upset him.”

  I nodded, suddenly embarrassed. I should’ve briefed Rush about Brick. But I’d let my confused feelings about him get in the way of being smart so all I’d managed to do was make things awkward for Brick. Oh, replacement swearword—vomit!

  What was it about Rush that made me lose my perspective and make bad decisions? I had to get a grip and stop my instinct to see only the worst in him or want to fight him.

  I managed Brick’s introduction to Shane and Arch much more sensitively by briefing them first and letting Brick set the pace. He was soon comfortable with everyone and once I got him to work on the details of the event he looked positively happy.

  Meanwhile, Arch was showing Elizabeth around the house. She trotted along behind him with a spaced-out grin on her face reminding me that we’d probably have to deal with that reaction more in the coming days as we started to work with the local business people.

  Our quiet getaway swiftly became a busy professional workplace with a procession of people in and out, talking about the wine lists, dessert selections, lighting grids, planning permissions, the building program or song lists and band rehearsal schedules.

  Every time someone new came to the house there was a shock reaction. In middle of nowhere there really were three Hollywood stars, fresh from partying in Sydney and they really were working alongside the locals to raise money to rebuild the hall.