The Actor's Secret

by Susan Stevens

"Aye, well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it. But really, babe, after being head of production on a big time movie, are you really going to come back to the show?"

  "I don't know," she squeaked. 24 hours ago, life had been so clear and obvious. Now, it seemed like even the next hour would be too hard to figure it out. "I guess I'll um... I'll talk to you some other time."

  "Yep," he replied and there was another long pause. Usually, they filled these pauses with "I love you", and then hung up. But now, there was nothing left to say. "Bye."

  "Bye," she whispered, and hit end.

  She stood for a full minute, staring straight ahead blankly, and then the tears came freely.

  Sephora had never really been a crier, at least not like this. She had always been one to shed a few tears and then brush them aside, telling herself crying wasn't going to accomplish anything.

  But this time, she felt her young heart crack in half and she couldn't stop the reckless sobs that poured out. She was making such noise that she drew in Marc, who immediately rushed over.

  "Hey! Hey, girl, what's the matter? What's happened? Are you hurt? Sephora, what's the matter?"

  She took a few huge gulps of air, trying hard to get words out.

  "Garrett...Garrett..." She couldn't make it past his name and Marc glanced at the headline that was now on the table.

  "Oh my God, is he ok?"

  Sephora nodded, and wrapped her arms around Marc, her wails getting louder. Marc wrapped strong arms around her back, and pulled her close, easing her down so they were sitting on the edge of the table.

  "Baby, baby, hush. Tell me what happened. It's ok. It's ok." He was startled by her endless sobs and she tried to get a hold of her self.

  "Garrett broke up with me!" She finally managed to wail. Marc couldn't help but chuckle.

  "Is that all?"

  "All?" She looked at him, horrified.

  "Wait, this isn't because of the pictures of you and I, is it?" Memories flooded back to him. "Because if it is, I'll call him myself and say it was nothing."

  "No....yes...sort of," she wiped the tears away. "He's not jealous or anything, he knows that was nothing. But like...he also knows that I'm having fun, and that..." She stopped. She couldn't tell Marc the real reason, not without giving away Garrett's secret. So instead, she switch tactics. "We're living separate lives, and we both are so different....we just...he...I..." The tears started flowing again and logic left her.

  Marc rubbed her back gently, making soothing noises.

  "Hey, baby, don't worry about it. Its totally his loss."

  "Hmm?" She sniffed.

  "I mean, look at you. You're smart, you're beautiful and young and you're on the rise super fast. He's the idiot in this situation. You're going to be just fine."

  "I don't know about that," she replied, doubtfully. She knew that she probably looked a mess right now, with her hair every which way and her eyes red. Her face was probably blotchy and her nose was likely the shade of a clown's, but Marc just smiled at her, gently holding her hand.

  "Garrett's old, and on his way out. You have much bigger fish to fry," he said, reaching up to brush away a tear. She managed a smile, meeting his eyes. She had never noticed that he did have beautiful eyes, brown speckled with green spots. Come to think of it, Marc was not at all a bad looking person, with a youthful boyish face, and dark brown hair that was spiked and styled. He was taller, taller than Garrett, his body filled with lean muscle. Even hugging him, Sephora could feel the muscles ripple as he shifted slightly. He was probably in his mid-twenties, just a few years older than her, with a mega watt smile and eyes that sparkled.

  With his smile bestowed on her, she started to feel better already, sitting up straighter and wiping the tears away.

  "There ya go, nothing to it," he said. "Listen, I know I'm not a chick, but if you want, this weekend, I can take you out to see a chick flick and then we can go to this great frozen yogurt place I know, near the theatre. You'll love it."

  "Uh..." She thought a moment, and decided anything would be a good distraction from what just happened. "Yeah, sure, I would like that. Thanks, Marc."

  "Hey, its me who should be thanking you. No one ever wants to see chick flicks. All my guy friends are like, "what the hell is wrong with you, dude?'"

  She threw her head back and laughed at that.

  "Its a date!"

  ***

  Sephora felt her days were empty without Garrett's constant text and calls. It didn't help that somehow, the psychic paparazzi (or so it seemed) picked up the news of their break-up. Everywhere, there were pictures of the two of them, in broken heart shaped boarders, with the word 'Split', plastered across the top. She had long ago stopped figuring out how the paparazzi knew what they did, they just always did. She had once told Garrett that this is what it must be like being on The Truman Show, with everyone watching all the time. He had asked her how she knew that wasn't the case, and she had smacked him playfully.

  Her heart panged at the memory as she got up at 9am on Saturday. Marc was due at 10am and she wanted to get enough coffee into her system to feel alive.

  For the first couple of weeks in Victoria, she was severally jetlagged. The 3 hour time difference meant that on early set days, she was actually getting up at midnight her time, for a 5am Victoria call time, and attempting to go to bed at what was 6pm Toronto time. Now, she finally was beginning to feel adjusted.

  Marc arrived at 10am on the nose and she answered the door in jeans and a tee-shirt, her hair in a pony tail.

  "You look cute," he said, handing over a plastic bag. She took it, confused.

  "What's this?"

  "I promised ice cream and chick flicks. To start the day, an ice cream sandwich for breakfast."

  She laughed, pulling it out of the bag and unwrapping it. Oreo ice cream sandwiches were her favourite, and she wondered how he knew that.

  "Thanks," she said, taking a big bite. He gave her a thumps up.

  "Ready to go?"

  "Yep!" She grabbed her bag and headed out the door. It felt so freeing, to go out like this, just casually. Whenever she went out with Garrett, she had to make sure she was dressed to the nines. If she didn't want a thousand photographs of herself in it, than she didn't wear it.

  They walked out of her apartment and down the street. Marc had suggested a double feature, 2 chick flicks in a row, and she had agreed. However, their first stop of the day was a walk along the river, to feed the ducks. It was a local tourist attraction and Marc claimed people flew into the island just to hang out on the banks and feed the ducks. She didn't quite believe him, but it was true that there were a lot of tourists there, throwing bread crumbs and such.

  "I can't believe I'm doing this," she said, as he handed her a full loaf of bread. "Is this even good for the animals?"

  "They wouldn't eat it if it weren't good food for them. It's basic instinct," Marc said as he rolled a piece of bread in a ball and hurled it at the ducks. They went wild, attacking it. Sephora grinned. This was so simple. With Garrett, everything was fancy and complicated. Nothing was free, and although he paid for everything, she had never been able to drill into his head that sometimes amusing themselves was the best option. She had grown up in a small town, and had always found plenty of ways to amuse herself without spending money. Marc seemed to understand that.

  "Right, then by that logic, humans wouldn't eat McDonalds, and yet we do it all the time."

  "You have a point," he chuckled.

  They became so immersed in feeding the ducks that they soon had gone through almost the whole bag of bread. Sephora was about to open the second bag when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  "Excuse me, do you mind...?" A camera was put in her line of sight, and she assumed it was a tourist wanting her to take a picture. She reached her hand out, handing Marc the bread bag.

  "Yeah, sure, no problem," she said, and then suddenly a camera flashed blinded her.

  "Thanks, Seph
ora!"

  When the spots cleared from her eyes, she was able to recognize that this was not a tourist wanting a photo taken of themselves, but a paparazzi. And once one camera went off, others began to follow.

  "Hey, Sephora! Sephora!" They called her name, shoving cameras in her face. A crowd seemed to come from nowhere, and a few microphones went under her nose.

  "Is it true you and Garrett broke up? Why did you leave him?"

  "Whaaa..." She felt completely overwhelmed by all of this.

  "Who is this? Is this your new beau?" Someone looked to Marc as he slipped an arm around her waist. Marc leaned forward, speaking directly into the microphone and clearly not disturbed in the slightest.

  "My name is Marc, and I'm head of crew on Heart of Light. And just a few pictures please, we are on a date."

  "What?" Sephora turned to him, aghast. "This isn't a date!"

  "Sephora, did you leave Garrett for Marc?"

  "No!" She put her arms up, trying to block her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a paparazzi slide up to Marc, standing very close. She was about to warn him when she heard words she wasn't supposed to hear.

  "Thanks for the tip, buddy."

  "What!" She roared at Marc. "Is that what this is? You tipped them off? Are you kidding me?"

  "Sephora, no, I..."

  "Oh my God, never get into acting, you're the worst liar ever!"

  She turned on her heel, and ran, thanking God she had worn running shoes today. The nearest escape was a local water taxi, which she practically jumped into, startling the driver.

  "Take me away from here, as fast as possible!" She barked at him. The driver glanced at her, and then shrugged, ambling up at then starting the motor just as the mob of paparazzi approached, waving their arms and screaming her name.

  "You famous or something, love?" He asked her. She glanced at him. The driver was an older man, portly with a snow white beard, and a tranquil expression on his face.

  "Not really."

  He shrugged.

  "Doesn't matter to me, love, one way or another. Never understood why people cared so much about another person's business."

  "Me neither," she sighed, relaxing. She sat on one of the seats, staring out into the water. The motor was purring and they were getting farther and farther away from shore. Cutting through the water at top speed, with the wind in her hair, she began to relax, leaving the world behind.

  Until her cell phone buzzed in her pocket.

  She ignored it, assuming it was probably Marc calling her back. It stopped buzzing and she felt the tension leave her body, as she began to breathe freely.

  And the it started again.

  Sighing, she reached into her pocket about to turn it off. She glanced at the caller I.D. and her eye brows shut up. It was Marcy, the head PA on the TV show back in Toronto. Although she and Marcy had worked well together, they weren't close, and hadn't really talked since she left.

  She answered the phone, confused.

  "Hey, what's up?"

  "Girl, you have to get back here, ASAP!"

  "What?" She plugged a finger into her ear, trying to drown out the motor.

  "It's Garrett, he's a mess. No one has been able to even get him to work in 2 days. He's been a hot mess over you and it's damn near killing him. You got to get back here and fix this."

  Sephora sighed.

  "Marcy, I don't know if you've heard from the thousands of tabloid reports, but Garrett and I aren't together anymore. We broke up and..."

  "Do you still love him?" Marcy demanded. Sephora opened her mouth, making a strangled sound.

  "What?"

  "I said do you still love him?"

  "I...uh," she closed her eyes, trying to make her mind slow down enough to form an answer. When she opened them, the first thing she saw was the Claddagh ring, sparkling in the sun light. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

  "Yes, I still love him."

  "Then get your ass back here right now. Expense it to us if you have to, but get on the first plane."

  "Yes, ma'am!" She replied, and hung up. She turned to the driver, her heart pounding.

  "I need to get to the airport!"

  His brow furrowed.

  "This is a water taxi. I can take you part of the way, to the mainland, but that's it. Water doesn't flow to the airport, missy."

  "Yeah, I know," she rolled her eyes. "To the mainland then. And step on it."

  "...wouldn't it be faster just to go back to Victoria airport?" He asked, and Sephora coloured. She had been so caught up in the dramatics that she hadn't been logical.

  "Oh yeah. We can do that then."

  The driver shook his head, turning the boat around.

  "You young starlets can never make up your mind."

  Sephora smiled at him as she settled back.

  "Oh no, my mind is completely made up," she replied. She only hoped Garrett felt the same.

  ***

  At the Victoria Airport, Sephora rushed through the doors. It was so different than Toronto, so much smaller and less busy. There was only a single person manning the ticket desk as she ran up.

  "I need a ticket to Toronto, right now!"

  The girl behind the desk raised an eyebrow.

  "One way or return?"

  "Uh...one way. For now. Whatever leaves now!"

  She clicked some keys, amused.

  "You running away from something?"

  Sephora shook her head.

  "Running to something. Or someone."

  "Ah," the girl nodded. "We have an Air Canada to Toronto that leaves in 25 minutes. Baggage has closed but..."

  "I just have my purse!" Sephora held it up, praying she hadn't accidentally left a fork or makeup in it. Anything that wasn't allowed through security she was going to just have to throw out. The girl nodded, and asked her for I.D.

  Practically throwing her wallet across the counter, Sephora drummed her fingers on the desk impatiently. It felt like an eternity, but soon, she was handing over her credit card and her ticket was printing out.

  Bolting to security, she held her ticket out like it was the Olympic Torch.

  "My plane is leaving!" She practically yelled. The security guard only raised an eyebrow and took it from her, having heard these excuses a hundred times before. She threw her bag on the convey belt and hustled through to the other side.

  "Alright, miss, you're ok," he said, pointing to her gate. Sephora had been imagining a huge terminal, like in Toronto's Pearson airport, where she had to run for ten minutes to make it. Here, however, the terminal only had a few gates. What stopped her was the breath-taking view through the glass windows. In the distance, the rocky mountains loomed, pale and foggy. There was a peace and tranquility to Victoria that she would never get back in Toronto.

  "Right," she turned to the security guard. "Thanks."

  Taking her ticket, she strolled to her gate, handing it to the Stewardess and wandering onto the plane. Her seat was right in the bulk head, not ideal, but the point was that she had made it.

  She pulled out her phone, selecting Marcy's contact.

  "Be on the ground in 5 hours," she texted.

  'Thank God," came the reply from Marcy. Just as she was about to reply, she felt the planes engines turn on.

  She powered down her phone and put it in her purse, leaning back. Whatever awaited her in Toronto was a mystery, and she was only ever certain of one thing; that Garrett would be there.

  ***

  Sephora was standing up in her seat when the plane touched down. She had already put her purse on her shoulder, and was actually enjoying sitting in the bulkhead, because it meant she would be first off the plane. Marcy had confirmed, when she snuck her phone on at descent, that she was waiting in the lounge for her.

  As soon as the seatbelt sign went off, Sephora practically flew to the door, and out of the plane. She hurtled her way through the lounge.

  Marcy was waiting for her just outside baggage claim, keys in
hand, and a grim look on her face.

  "He's in the hospital."

  "Again?" Sephora looked to her in alarm as they made their way to the parking lot.

  "Apparently his maid found him face down and called 9-1-1 on him. I don't know what exactly is wrong, but I know he's alive. Now," Marcy turned to the younger girl.

  "What's wrong with him?"

  "Wha?" Sephora looked at her. "How am I supposed to know?"

  "I mean," Marcy said as they got into her red Fiat. "Chronically."

  "I uh..." Sephora clammed up.

  "Look, girl, I'm not an idiot. This is more than him being a drunken diva. There's something seriously wrong and my guess is you know what it is."

  Sephora took a deep breath, burying her head in her hands. Finally, she looked at Marcy as they drove out onto the highway.

  "He has rhabdomyolysis. It's a degenerative muscle condition that also causes about every other symptom on the planet. It's why he left Broadway, he can't do it anymore, couldn't keep up with 8 shows a week. And it's why he keeps showing up late or taking a fit. He's hiding something he can't do."

  "Jesus," Marcy said, steering into traffic. "Is he dying?"

  Sephora nodded. Marcy took a deep breath.

  "Well then we better step on it."

  ***

  When she arrived in Garrett's hospital room, it appeared he was asleep. Ivs were attached to his arms and he looked a mess, pale and sweaty, his face contorted in pain. Sephora also didn't want to wake him, but he turned his head as she was about to leave.

  "Sephora?" He asked, his voice hoarse. She paused in the doorway.

  "Hey."

  "What are you doing here?"

  She took a step closer.

  "Just thought I'd drop in."

  "Right," he clearly didn't believe her. "Really?"

  "I..." She took another few steps until she was right at his bedside. "Baby, why are you pushing me away like this?"

  He met her eyes, and neither of them said anything for a moment. Finally, he let out a huge sigh.

  "You don't deserve this, babe, this mess that I'm becoming. Really, you don't. You should be out there, living the good life, the perks of a career in this industry. Not being dragged along by the sorry likes of me."