The Actor's Secret

by Susan Stevens

  "You got lucky multiple times," he winked at her. "And in the beginning, you did think I was a diva. And the requests they have for you are going to be no more stupid than the things I need. They'll send you for Starbucks, not for knee braces."

  "I don't know how to manage a team!" she protested. "This is my first set, ever, remember? My first gig. I was just getting comfortable!"

  "Babe," he put down his water glass and reached for her hand. "Sephora. Listen to me. You have to take this offer if you want it, you have to. And don't even think of me."

  "What?"

  He shook his head.

  "No, I mean...Don't consider me a factor in your choice. We aren't breaking up, this isn't dramatic. It's simple. I'm grateful for however long I have left in my career, and I've already had an awesome one, but the facts are that it's not going to last forever. My career is at its end, whether by age, or health or the fact that they finally get sick of me and black list me. But yours, babe, yours is just beginning. You are young, and stunning, two things that help in this industry, on either side of the camera. And you are being offered the opportunity to rise, and you need to take it, because it likely won't come again. They have long memories of who turned them down in this town. So take it, and do your best, which will be awesome. They wouldn't have offered it to you if they didn't already know you could do it. Don't even consider me."

  "But what will you do?" She asked, squeezing his hand.

  "I'll get by. I'll figure it out. This show is getting boring anyways."

  "Garrett!" she cried, but he laughed.

  "You have to take it!"

  She sighed, nodding.

  "I know. I know. It's just going to be hard. Especially being apart from you. When I'm with you...it's like...I finally found where I belong. My whole life, growing up in a small town, I felt different, displaced. Like I didn't belong. And then I came here to the big bustling city, and everything felt right. And then I touched you for the first time and..."

  "It felt like coming home," he finished her sentence, and she nodded. "I know. Trust me, I've been around the block more than once and I don't wax poetic with girlfriends in my trailer, usually. Everything will still be here waiting for you when you get back, including me. I promise."

  "And what if I turn into a big diva snob myself and don't want this?" she teased him. His face stayed serious and he tapped the ring she wore on her hand.

  "Then this still holds. No matter what."

  "Thank you," she whispered, looking into his eyes and then meeting his lips, and melting into his body. Everything felt right. It was like coming home.

  ***

  Sephora looked up at the departures board at the airport. Her plane to Victoria left in an hour, which meant she had another forty minutes of sitting in the lounge doing nothing. She had gotten up at 4am out of habit and been three hours early for her flight, kissing Garrett on the cheek for one last goodbye and sneaking out of the bed.

  Sitting in the comfortable arm chair and grateful for his generosity that let her upgrade to first class, she opened her laptop, about to connect to the wifi and browse some mindless site. Just as she did, her cell phone rang.

  "Hello?"

  "Sephora, good you aren't on the plane yet. Can you please talk some sense into Garrett?"

  It was Richmond on the other side, sounding peeved off, speaking through clenched teeth.

  "Sure," she said, settling back and praying it wasn't anything too serious. There was scuffle on the other end of the line and then Garrett's voice came on, the background noise quieter, telling her he was in a private place. "Whatcha doing?"

  "Causing trouble," she could hear the grin in his voice. "I couldn't just start behaving now that you're gone, could I? or they'd really start to be suspicious."

  She laughed, putting her laptop on the table beside her.

  "Well, don't burn down the set or anything," she replied, crossing her legs.

  "I don't know, maybe."

  "What scene are you doing today?" she asked.

  "24-a."

  "Hmm," a twinge of homesickness hit her. Just yesterday, she had been on that set, speaking that language and around people that she knew and loved. But now, she was hours away from a new adventure beginning. "Do you know your lines?"

  "Nope," he said. "Which is why Richmond is screaming. Apparently improv isn't good enough."

  "You devil," she grinned, looking up at the departure board again. "Hey, I got to go, my flight just changed to boarding. And thanks to you, that means I go first."

  "Ok," he said, and seemed to be about to say goodbye when he changed his mind. "Hey. I love you."

  "I love you too," she said, softly, wanting nothing more than to be beside him. Instead, they said their goodbyes and hung up. Sephora slipped her phone into her pocket and picked up her carryon, wheeling it towards the departure gate.

  She searched for her ticket, eventually finding it in her pocket and handing it to the stewardess.

  "That's a beautiful ring," the stewardess said, glancing at it as she scanned the ticket. "Did somebody special give it to you or is it more of a thing for yourself?"

  "Um," Sephora looked at her hand. "It's kind of both."

  The stewardess gave her a smile, handing back her ticket.

  "Lovely. Welcome aboard, and have a nice flight."

  "Thank you," Sephora said, running her finger over her ring. "I think I will."

  Chapter 3

  Across the Ocean

  "Are you kidding me?" Sephora stared at the P.A. In front of her, stunned. "Because it's green?"

  "Apparently he only eats yellow apples," the girl squeaked. Sephora sighed, and buried her head in her hands.

  "Ok, I'll deal with it. Go and order a car for Brad, his call time is 3pm."

  "Ok," she shuffled off and Sephora looked at her clipboard, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the list.

  A year and a half ago, she had been a newbie production assistant herself, having moved from a small hick town to big city Toronto to work on a hit TV show. She was assigned to work with the show's lead, Garrett, who was famous for being difficult and storming off.

  Except, as she found, Garrett was not difficult because he was a diva. Garrett's temper tantrums and erratic schedule were because he was trying to hide a muscle degenerative condition, one that caused nearly every symptom on the planet and took so much out of him on bad days. On good days, though, he was charming, sweet, generous and attractive. In helping him hide his secret, they had fallen in love.

  And love was easy when they were working on the same show together. But Sephora's reputation began to grow, and when she was offered the chance to be head PA on Spielberg's new movie, full of a star studded diva cast and a tight deadline, she knew she couldn't turn it down. However, it meant being across the country from her boyfriend, and things weren't the way they used to be.

  She checked her phone, hoping for a text from Garrett this morning. It was 9am in Victoria, which meant 6am in Toronto. He'd have been up for an hour and almost on set by now, and yet she had heard nothing.

  She sent a quick message bidding him good morning, and then went off to deal with a lead actor who refused to eat the apple on camera.

  ***

  By the end of the day, Sephora was exhausted. The apple problem was the smallest thing she had to deal with all day.

  By the time she put her keys into the hotel room door, she was ready to go straight to bed. However, it was only 5pm in Toronto, and she wanted to tell Garrett about her terrible day.

  Hitting #2 speed dial on her phone, she called his trailer. She didn't want to call his cell because he might be filming or busy. But if he was sitting around in his trailer, they could chat freely.

  "Hello?" Came the gruff Irish accented voice that she missed so much.

  "Hey!" She flopped on the bed, a smile taking over her features. "What are you doing?"

  "Sitting," he replied, shortly. She raised an eyebrow.

  "What's wro
ng?"

  "Nothing, babe, I'm just tired."

  "Oh. Rough day?" She immediately put all concerns about her own day away.

  "Same old, same old," he muttered. "You done for the day?"

  "Yep. A bit late, but we're staying on schedule, which is what matters."

  "That's good," an awkward silence took over the phone line.

  "So...about this weekend," she said. They both had the weekend off from filming, but they had yet to decide if he would come to her or she would come to him.

  "What about it?"

  "You should come out here. There's a thousand beautiful places I'd love to show you."

  "I don't know," she could hear him rustling around. "I don't think so, babe, I've been sick lately."

  "Oh," she pouted. "Well, I can come out there, then? We can just spend a weekend at home, chilling. I don't mind."

  "I'd rather just sleep it off. You should go out and have fun, you haven't had a weekend there yet. Party it up, meet some people, network."

  "Oh..." She paused. This wasn't the plan. "But I thought we could..."

  "Maybe next week, hmm?" He asked. Something made her back down. Whatever was happening, he clearly didn't want to see her. And maybe he was just tired and wanting to spend a weekend asleep. He had been working hard lately. But something told her it was more than that.

  "Anything wrong?" She asked, and he grunted.

  "No, I told you, I'm just tired. I got to go, babe, they're calling me."

  "Oh. Ok....I'll um, talk to you later. I love you."

  "I love you too," he said, and hung up. Sephora had a feeling that this was the first true thing he had said the whole conversation.

  Sighing, she hung up the phone and lay back, closing her eyes.

  It had been a month since they'd seen each other, minus Skype dates and tabloid photos. The first week she had left, he had sent her the first tabloid article with her name on the top, detailing Spielberg's production team. They had been lucky in the sense that their relationship had mostly been kept a secret the first while, so that they could get to know each other in private. Now, there were occasional photos of them together, which she found ironic now that they were so far apart. Luckily, since the paparazzi had found out after she left, there was no media frenzy.

  Getting up, she pulled off her shirt and slipped off her skirt, heading to turn on the shower. One thing she loved about staying in hotel rooms was the infinite supply of hot water. Her apartment at home, currently being Sublette by another PA, tended to run out of hot water in ten minutes, making long relaxing showers impossible. When Garrett stayed over, they showered together out of need, not out of romance.

  Not that the romance wasn't there. When they were together, it was electric. Her chest ached with missing him so much. Every time something funny happened, she wanted to run and tell him. She saw others holding hands, walking around, and it made her jealous.

  Just 2 more months, she told herself. Just 2 more months.

  She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water rush over her. 2 more months wasn't so bad, she'd be ok. Or so she thought.

  ***

  "You're dating Garrett, right?" Marc, the head of crew, asked her. They were in a noisy club on Saturday night with the rest of the crew, celebrating a successful work week. He had to yell over the music to be heard.

  "Yep," she replied, looking up from her phone. She had been texting Garrett at that very moment. It reminded her of the days when they were still in the flirty stage. She would go out with her friends, dressed to the nines and send him pictures all night long. He would respond with cheeky comments and compliments, their excitement heightened by the secret they had to keep. Those days, her phone battery would die in half the night because of the excessive messaging. Today, she could barely get three words out of him.

  "For how long?"

  "Um...almost a year and a half. We met on the TV set."

  "Wow," Marc took a sip of his beer. "How's that? Is he as difficult at home as he is on set?"

  "Um, sometimes," she grinned, finally deciding to just put her phone away and be social. "But most of the time, he's great."

  "He didn't want to come out this weekend?" Tammy, another PA, asked. Sephora shrugged.

  "Nah, he couldn't."

  "Well, then, forget him and let's have some fun!" Marc said, grabbing her arm. Sephora agreed, and followed him onto the dance floor.

  It took a week for the pictures to surface, so long that she forgot the whole thing happened. But then it was splashed across the front page of the entertainment section and she couldn't ignore it.

  The first thing she did was call Garrett, completely forgetting the time difference.

  It was 6am in Victoria, when she opened the papers, so it was the middle of the night in Toronto.

  "Uh?" Was how he answered the phone, with a grunt.

  "It's not what it looks like!" She practically shouted into the phone. Garrett grunted, surprised.

  "Sephora? What the hell are you talking about?"

  She took a deep breath, starting over.

  "Good morning, love."

  "What's going on?"

  "When you pick up the papers this morning, you will find pictures of me at a club with the entire crew of Heart of Light. And for one split second, apparently the wrong split second, with a guy who's head of tech. We were just dancing and what the tabloids show is completely different than real life, you know that. Anyways, I wanted you to hear it first."

  He groaned, and she could hear him rolling over.

  "Thanks for the 3am phone call, doll, but I probably could have figured that ok."

  "You're not mad?"

  "No. I think it's good for you to go out with people like that. You should be finding a life of your own, Sephora, the film world is ever changing and you don't want to be tied down to one thing."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, confused. "You think I'm clingy or something?"

  "I didn't say that," he replied.

  "Well, at least I'm not completely zombiefied. I've sent you about a billion texts in the last few weeks and I'm lucky if I get one word answers. What's wrong with you?"

  "Nothing!" He snapped at her. "I like my peace and quiet. And on that note, I'm going back to it."

  He hung up, angrily and she stood there, with the papers still in her hands, shaking with rage. Did he actually just hang up on her? Really? Never in a year and a half had he ever done something like that.

  She understood he was angry for being woken up, but it certainly didn't warrant that.

  She slipped her phone into her pocket, deciding to ignore him. This would pass, it always did.

  ***

  They didn't talk for two days, which wasn't like them at all. It wasn't until lunch time on the third day that she was paging through the papers and another article caught her eye.

  "Garrett rushed to hospital after a collapse on set"

  The headline was in bold, but there were no pictures. In a frenzy, she picked up her cell phone, and dialled his number. There was no answer.

  She hung up and tried again, but again it went straight to voicemail.

  "Garrett, call me, ASAP. Are you alright?" She tried to keep her voice neutral, but it was twinged with worry. He had never had anything happen like that on set, and she wished she was there, holding his hand and helping him through it. Instead, she had to pace the set, constantly waiting for her phone to ring.

  Every text, every vibration, every spam email made her jump. But there was still no call, until finally, at 5pm, it started ringing when she tried for the hundredth time.

  "Hello?" He answered as if there was nothing wrong.

  "Oh my God, are you ok?" She asked, panicking.

  "I'm fine."

  She didn't believe a word.

  "But you clearly aren't fine if I read that you've collapsed on set. What the hell happened?"

  "It was just as it said. Believe everything you read, do you?"

  "
Garrett!" She was growing increasingly frustrated with him.

  "It's fine kid, I got a little dizzy. I was hung over as hell."

  "Is that all?"

  "That's all. I'll fax you the blood test results from the hospital."

  "Arrrg," she still was having issues with believing him. "I should come home."

  "No, you shouldn't," he was firm on that. "You're happy out there, you're having fun. I don't want you to be tied down to this."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, stunned. "Are you breaking up with me?"

  "Maybe I don't want you around being so constantly God-damn clingy," he snapped.

  "I remember a day or two, Garrett, when you needed me every second. Are you kidding me? Clingy? What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "You can't tell me you aren't happy out there, and enjoying life."

  "I am," she didn't want to admit it, but the other night had been a lot of fun. She had been able to stay out late, without worrying if he was ok, and without wondering whether he needed her. She felt free.

  And Garrett had been horrible to her lately. She felt as if they were growing apart, as if life was now two separate things rather than something they shared.

  "So don't you see this is for the best?" His voice was quieter, the rage now gone. She didn't want to say anything, afraid that the deal would be done from the second she took a breath. But it was true, it would potentially be for the best. Perhaps they had been heading to this for a long time, and now was the final curtain call.

  "Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes as the tears spilled over. She looked at the claddagh ring on her hand that he had given her not so long ago. It was supposed to represent loyalty, love and friendship; things that he had promised her would exist no matter what happened to them. And in that moment that he had given it to her, she had believed him with every ounce of her body and soul. Now, however, she could see it was just an empty promise.

  "Right," he sounded as if he were trying not to cry himself. "So um...have a great life, Sephora. I do wish you the best."

  "What about if I come back to the show?" She burst out, before he hung up. "How are we going to deal with this then?"