by Claire Adams
“Really?” Danna asks without inflection.
“Yeah,” I tell her, undaunted by her grumpiness, “the role was to be an extra in some low-budget kids movie, but the director liked her look and bumped her into a speaking role. That’s how she got her start.”
“It’s nice to hear that not everyone goes for the blood pacts and the soul-selling in order to get their foot in the door like you did,” Danna says. “By the way, I’ve got a thing for the two of you next week if you can. It’s a new show on prime time—”
“I don’t want to be doing so many interviews and drop-ins while I’m working on a movie,” I remind Danna. “Seriously, it divides my focus and I don’t have the time for it.”
“I can get you out of it,” Danna says, “but I think they’re going to insist on your costar.”
“Why would they want her and not me?” I ask.
“Hey, now you’re starting to sound like my client again,” Danna says. “Oh, and Penelope called. She said that she’d love to see you this weekend if you’ve got the time. If not, she says she understands, but I kind of got the feeling something was going on there.”
“Any idea what kind of something?” I ask.
“She didn’t say,” Danna answers. “If you ask me, it’s probably something to do with that asshole she’s married to.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Nice try,” Danna answers.
She hates the question. The few times I’ve gotten her to answer it for me have been when I’ve slipped it haphazardly into the middle of a conversation.
As you can see, though, it doesn’t always work.
“You look good,” I tell her. “You’ve got some color to your cheeks.”
“Will you stop?” she asks. “You know I hate it when you do that.”
“What are little brothers for?” I ask. “It’s our job to torment our older sisters.”
“Any chance there’s any leeway for the fact that I’m less than five minutes older than you?” she asks.
“Not really,” I tell her. “Anything else going on?”
“Yeah,” she says, “there’s been a woman standing at the buzzer to the gate acting like she’s not sure whether or not she should press the button.”
I flip around and look out the window.
I can’t tell too much about the woman, as I’m looking at her through a gate and from a distance, but Danna was right. I was hoping it was just a jogger who needed a break to tie a shoe or something like that, but the woman is definitely here for one of us, and Danna’s not the breadwinner of this particular house.
“What should I do?” Danna asks.
“Just stay inside,” I tell her as I pull the phone out of my pocket, “and if things start getting crazy, call the police.”
I hand the phone to Danna and, although she tries to stop me, I manage to work my way free of her grip, and I walk out the front door.
There’s got to be something I can do to increase visibility from the front door to the mailbox.
“Excuse me!” I call out to the person staring at the buzzer.
I’m expecting the woman to run or go for some kind of weapon, but she just turns and walks up to the fence.
“Damian, I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go,” Penelope, Jamie’s mother, says.
“Shit, it’s you!” I exclaim. “Hold on a second and I’ll let you in.”
I make my way to my side of the gate and type in my code on the little keypad to open it.
The gate slowly grinds over the concrete as it opens. I should really get that thing fixed: it’s missing a wheel.
“What brings you here today, Penelope?” I ask. “I didn’t miss your call, did I?”
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to hit the buzzer,” she says. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, as she comes through the gate and we embrace on the other side.
“It’s Ed,” she says. “He’s had another heart attack and the doctors are starting to act like he might not be coming back from the hospital this time.”
“That’s terrible,” I respond.
Ed.
Fucking Ed.
Ed is Jamie’s father, and there wasn’t a moment since I met the guy where he could find it in himself to tolerate my existence.
When Jamie and I first started dating, Ed would refer to me as “that guy you’re slumming it with,” despite the fact that my family was just as well off as his. I think Ed was one of those fathers who would rather his child had never left home.
“How are you holding up?” I ask.
“About as you’d expect,” she says. “Damian, I’m devastated, but what makes me feel even worse is the knowledge that you and he still have all these terrible feelings toward one another. I was hesitating at the buzzer because I didn’t know if you would be ready to hear what I have to ask you.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
In the distance I can hear sirens.
“Shit, Danna called the cops because we thought you were…” Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to tell that particular story right now. “We thought you were someone else,” I tell her. “Why don’t you come in and we’ll get everything straightened out.”
Penelope follows me into the house, and as soon as Danna sees her, she drops my cell phone and rushes over to give Penelope a hug.
“Could you do a favor for me and tell the police that we won’t be requiring their assistance?” I ask my sister as she compresses Penelope’s internal organs.
“Right,” Danna says. “Sorry about that. We thought you were someone else.”
“Yeah, Damian told me,” Penelope says, looking somewhat disoriented.
“Ed’s in the hospital,” I tell Danna.
“Oh no!” Danna says. “What’s going on?”
After we convince the cops that nothing’s actually wrong, Penelope fills Danna in with what she’s already told me. “After his last bypass, the doctor told us that Ed’s heart may not be strong enough to handle another attack, so they put us on the organ donor list, but it was never an immediate thing until yesterday when it happened,” Penelope says.
“This happened yesterday?” I ask, as Danna picks up the phone and explains the situation to the operator on the other end of the line.
“Yeah,” Penelope says. “I would have called or stopped by earlier, but I’ve been trying to stay real close with Ed since his collapse.”
“No worries,” I tell her, “but do you really think Ed is going to want to see me?”
“Of course,” Penelope says, “he’d love to see you, only…”
“Only he still blames me for Jamie?” I ask.
“I’m sure that if you come by the hospital, the two of you can work it out. Damian, I wouldn’t ask, but he has so little time left, and I know he doesn’t want to see his life end with any grudges still intact,” Penelope says.
“I get that,” I tell her, “and I think you’re doing a wonderful thing. I just don’t know if he’s really ready to let go of what he thinks happened.”
“Has he said anything about Damian?” Danna asks.
Danna and Ed met on a few different occasions, but never seemed to develop an opinion of each other until after Jamie’s death. Once that happened, Ed blamed me, so he hated Danna. Danna is my sister and a decent person, so she thought the way Ed was treating me was unfair, so she started to hate him.
Around and around it goes.
“You know Ed,” Penelope says. “He’s never going to admit that he’s made a mistake until there’s no other option but for him to do it. Please,” she says, “he may only have a few days left if they can’t find a new heart for him.”
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
Danna says, “I think the least you could do would be to head over to that hospital and try to make amends.”
“That’s the problem,” I tell her. “He’s going to want me to admit that it’s my fault she�
�s dead, and as far as I’m concerned—sorry, Penelope—he can screw himself. I’m not going to have him drag me through hell just so he can feel a little better about things.”
“Damian!” Danna scolds. “The man’s in the hospital. I don’t really care what you think he is or isn’t going to do. The decent thing is to go in there and pay him a visit.”
“I’ll try,” I say, turning to Penelope. “I’m slammed with work, though.”
“Yeah, you just got off a vacation,” Danna scoffs.
“Yeah,” I say, frustrated, “I just got off a vacation. I have to head by the studio in about an hour, so it might have to wait until tomorrow.”
“You’ll go?” Penelope asks.
I sigh.
Penelope was always a bit quieter than her husband, but what she lacked in communication skills, she more than made up for by being one of the sweetest women on the planet.
When Jamie and I told her parents that she was pregnant, Penelope jumped out of her seat cheering. She was so involved with everything. To tell you the truth, I was actually kind of starting to get sick of her: she was around to provide Jamie with guidance so often.
After Jamie died, Ed declared that neither him nor anyone else in his family would ever speak to me again for what I did. That night, though, I got a late phone call from Penelope, letting me know that as long as she had breath in her body, we were family.
There are a lot of things that I would do for Penelope, almost anything, but going in there to take Ed’s abuse and blame over the death of his daughter, who I happened to love more than anything, isn’t really my idea of a way to spend an afternoon.
Still, it’s for Penelope.
“Yeah,” I tell her, “I’ll go in tomorrow.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” she says and comes over, giving me a long hug. “You’re not going to regret this,” she says. “I promise. Visiting hours are between 10 and 6. If you let me know when you’re coming by, I can meet you out front and we can go up to the room together.”
“That should work,” I tell her.
“I should be getting back,” Penelope says. “Danna, I hope you know that you’re more than welcome, yourself.”
That’s not going to happen. While Danna was quick enough to tell me that I needed to go and look for some kind of détente, there’s no way she’d ever go into that hospital room herself.
She tends to take grudges even more seriously than I do.
“Thanks for the offer,” Danna says, “but I’ve been having a bit of trouble getting around recently, and I wouldn’t want to slow everyone down.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that you’re not doing well,” Penelope says, “but if you can, I still think it would be great if you could both make it before…before…”
I was really hoping we could get through this without seeing Penelope cry.
Since Jamie’s death, every time I’ve seen Penelope cry, it just takes me back to that hospital room.
So now Penelope’s crying, and I’m doing my best to comfort her without crying myself.
“She loved you, you know,” Penelope says. “You were the world to her.”
“I loved her, too,” I tell Penelope.
“So did I,” Danna says.
Penelope wipes her eyes and releases me from her embrace, shifting her attention to Danna. “Yes, she did,” Penelope says. “She loved you both very much, and I’m so glad she had the two of you to brighten her life while she was here.”
I do miss Jamie. I probably always will.
I offer to give Penelope a ride back to the hospital, but she declines. “Thank you for the offer,” she says, “but I’ve got to go back to the house to pick up some stuff for Ed and then the kids are coming in, so I should probably just go.”
“All right,” I tell her.
We say our goodbyes and I promise again to go by the hospital tomorrow, though I’m looking for some way, any way, to get out of it.
Penelope leaves and not long after that, it’s time for me to head back to the set.
On my way out the door, my phone starts to ring.
“This is Damian,” I answer.
The line is quiet. I check the call, but it’s active.
“Hello?” I try again.
“Oh my God, it’s really you, isn’t it?” a woman’s voice asks.
“Who’s this?” I ask.
“I can’t believe I actually got through,” the woman says. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
It’s Rita: it’s got to be.
“How did you get this number?” I ask.
“I was thinking,” the woman I suspect to be Rita says, “you and I should plan a getaway together.”
“Listen, I don’t know who you are or what it is that you want, but I need you to leave me and my family alone,” I tell her.
“I’ve always wanted to see the Galapagos Islands,” the woman says. “When do you think we should go?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I tell her.
“I know I can come on a little strong,” the woman says, “but that’s just because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
“If you’ve never felt this way about anyone, how do you know that you come on a little strong?” I ask her. While she’s thinking up a reply to the question, I continue, “I think that I’m far from your first obsession, and I’m sure I won’t be the last. What you need to realize is that what you’re feeling for me—it isn’t real. You’ve got to leave me alone.”
“I expected this sort of thing from your sister,” the woman on the phone spits, “but I never thought that I’d have to convince you that dreams are worth chasing.”
“This isn’t a dream,” I tell her. “You’re the architect of a nightmare.”
“The architect of a nightmare…” she says. “I just love the way you talk!”
“Who are you?” I ask.
“You’ll recognize me by the black dress and the silver choker,” she says.
“Where?” I ask. It seems like one of those things that would be good to know.
The line’s already dead.
I grit my teeth and open my car door. Before getting in, I take a look around. I’ve got anything but a clear view, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone outside the perimeter of the property.
Finally, I get in my car and just go.
I don’t know how it is that people like Rita get to be so far gone without anyone noticing, but they do. A lot of times, people try to minimize the things their family and friends do—not that I can imagine Rita’s got a lot of friends.
I’m sure if anyone who knows Rita knows of her obsession for me, they just think it’s an innocuous celebrity crush. I’m sure they’d be the first to declare their surprise if they found out what she was actually doing.
Oh well, Trey’s waiting for me in the parking lot, so I should be safe enough for now. As for Danna, she knows how to get into the panic room if she needs to—not that Rita would ever make it through the front door with those guards we hired.
I’m lost somewhere in my thoughts when Dutch walks up to me.
“How was the trip?” he asks.
“It was okay,” I tell him. “Are we about ready to shoot?”
“Get to makeup and wardrobe,” he says. “We’re behind schedule.”
“Oh, hey,” I tell him, “talk to me later when you’ve got a minute. I’ve got an idea for the film.”
“Great,” Dutch says, smiling with only half his mouth. “I’ll see you on set.”
Dutch will usually listen to an idea, but unless it’s something that came directly out of his head or directly off of the pages of the script, he’s not likely to change any of his plans.
So, I get to makeup and I get to wardrobe and I take a few minutes to make sure I’m solid on my lines. When I feel comfortable enough there, I find Emma.
“Hey,” she says. “Today’s the big day, huh?”
“What do you
mean?” I ask.
“Well,” she says, “it’s not every day you get to kiss on film with a Hollywood starlet.”
She must be in a good mood.
“Yeah,” I answer, “not every day. So, I had some last minute thoughts about how we should play the kiss—”
“Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to do that,” she says.
“Do what?” I ask. “If you think you’re going to be able to make it through this script without the two of us filming, you’re out of your mind.”
“Not that,” she says. “I’m just saying that I think I can get through this scene without the guidance of Damian Jones.”
I smile.
“All right,” I tell her, “if you really think you can do this thing solo. I will remind you, though, that I have won all kinds of awards and people usually listen when I give them acting advice.”
“That’s got to be hard on them,” she says, “listening to all that drivel and still having to act afterward.”
“Oh, ha ha,” I mock.
“Jones, Roxy, they’re ready for you,” one of the stagehands calls.
“You ready for this?” I ask. “We didn’t really prepare the way we were going to, so—”
I’m interrupted by Emma’s mouth falling on my own. Her arms wrap around me, and she’s breathing heavy as her lips move over mine.
The kiss lasts about 10 seconds, but every one of those moments is an entirely new feeling, a new rush of blood and endorphins, a new opportunity for me to completely forget everything else in existence.
She pulls away, says, “Yep, I think I’m good,” and makes her way to the set.
Holy shit.
I normally wouldn’t even think this way, but I might have to throw the scene a few times just so I can feel that again. What was that?
Chapter Nine
Ethanol and the Demands of the Theater
Emma
I think when I got to the set my first day there were a lot of people who were asking themselves and each other if I could really hack it in a major motion picture, but in the three weeks after Damian and I got that first onscreen kiss under our belts, people’s perspectives on me seem to have changed.