After four weeks of meeting Ellie, Gabe had invited himself to stay over at her place and had never left.
Like her, he was pursuing an acting career and spent his evenings “honing his craft,” though it was really him and a few wannabes frequenting the same coffee shops and nursing the same drink for hours. Ellie had never been invited.
In the time I’d known him, Gabe had not booked one acting job and the only employment he’d managed to hold down was at Universal Studios, where he dressed as Norman Bates, the character from Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960’s thriller Psycho. It didn’t seem that much of a stretch for Gabe to don that overly frilly, grey dress and wield that rather large, plastic knife at the visiting tourists, scaring the heck out of them from the upper windows of the Bates Motel.
More alarming still, Gabe seemed to stay in character long after his shift was over. A few weeks ago Ellie and I had met him for dinner at Universal City Walk, but when Gabe turned up at Margarita’s Mexican Restaurant, late as usual, he was still wearing Norman Bates’ mother’s dress. When Ellie finally found the courage to broach the subject of ‘when was he going to change into his own clothes?’ Gabe seemed genuinely surprised and sulked for the rest of the evening.
Of course every girl went through a bad boy phase, but Ellie must have been having real self-esteem issues to think this was acceptable. She’d perpetually dated for years and it was hard to remember the last time she’d been single.
Ellie needed to find a better man. Someone who’d love her as much as she loved him and treat her right. So while I continued to both comfort and support her, there came relief her relationship was over.
“Have you guessed where we’re going yet?” I said, trying to change the subject.
Ellie let out a sigh.
“You’ll like it,” I said. “Promise.”
“I’m not congruent!” She twisted in her seat to better look at me. “If some itsy bit of me doesn’t truly believe I deserve happiness, I won’t be.”
“I don’t think the universe works like that.”
“Oh, but it does. Remember that yoga retreat I went on last summer? The instructor told us we have to be one hundred percent invested in whatever it is we want, or something will go wrong.” Her eyes widened. “It won’t happen.”
“You mean doubt?”
She nodded.
“Maybe you had doubt for other reasons?” I glanced her way. “Sometimes good people do bad things. It’s human nature.”
“You really think Gabe’s good? I thought you didn’t like him?”
“You and l are like sisters. Any man who doesn’t treat you right--”
“He’s trying to find himself.”
I scrunched up my nose, wondering what that really meant.
“You think he’s lying?” she asked, her tone tense.
I wanted to tell her it was probably something men told women to lessen the blow of a break up, and get them out of the room without incident after stringing their girlfriend along when they never had any intention of committing.
“You think he’s met someone else?” she said.
“I didn’t say that.”
But she had and the silence that lingered did its bit to emphasize her words.
Ellie sniffled. “Didn’t that dating book you gave me last year, Boyfriends are Zombies, mention something about men pulling away when they sense you’re ‘the one.’ Then they bounce back like an elastic band.”
I braked hard at the intersection.
And waited until it was clear to proceed. “Well, if it’s meant to be.” I sounded like my Grandma Rizzoli.
Ellie’s eyes lit up. “Gabe will change his mind.”
“Or maybe you will,” I threw in.
We left the city behind us, weaving along the wide road that soon opened up to wider, greener spaces. On either side of us was a variety of tall, dense oak, walnut, and sycamore trees.
“Griffith Park?” she said, realizing. “I love Griffith Park.” Tears flooded down her cheeks. “What if I never meet anyone quite as perfect as him, ever again?”
I twisted the rearview mirror so Ellie could see her reflection. “You’re beautiful, talented, and kind. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
She adjusted the mirror back into position and wiped away smudged mascara.
We drove the rest of the way in silence.
Once out of the car, we heard organ music, a classic fairground waltz reaching us through the trees.
Ellie’s face lit up.
To our left was a magnificent carousel with a candy-striped roof. An array of bulbs illumined the expertly carved wooden horses, all of them wearing bejeweled bridals and ornate saddles.
“I forgot this was here!” Ellie’s cheeks flushed with delight. “Can we go on it?”
“That’s why I brought you here.”
She turned to face me. “You’re an amazing friend.”
I wrapped my arm around her and gave an affectionate squeeze, leading her down the steep pathway.
“I feel terrible,” she said. “I’ve been going on about Gabe and completely forgot to ask how your first day went?”
“I think I’m going to like it at Gemstone,” I said.
“Did you see any famous actors?”
“Not yet.”
“Isn’t George Clooney on the lot?” She threw me a smile. “It would be so cool to see him.”
I gave my best fake smile.
“Snap a photo if you see a celeb,” she said.
“Then I’d be fired.”
With the coming of dusk, the park was deserted, which gave the place a dream-like feel. We strolled through the carousel’s gate and made our way over toward the glass fronted pay booth. I dug around inside my purse and removed two dollars and slid the notes toward the twenty-something, bored looking attendant with a lazy eye and over-gelled hair. He took the money, pulled the side leaver on an antique looking cash register, and then put the cash inside. He ripped two tickets off a roll and slid them below the glass window.
With delight, I waved the tickets at Ellie. She took hers from me, seemingly cheering up, and shoved it into her jeans’ pocket. We climbed onto the carousel. I mounted a dappled mare, the horse’s carved neck stretching out in a frozen neigh, her mane rippling elegantly. Ellie chose the dramatically rearing striped black horse beside mine. We wrapped our hands around the poles sprouting out of our horses.
We jolted off, encircling swiftly, picking up speed, organ music providing a soundtrack to our throwback adventure. We both were lulled by the rhythm of rising and falling, lost in our imaginations, enjoying this rare escape from the ordinary. Looking out over the park landscape and beyond the towering trees, I promised myself to return here with Teddy.
Strands of golden locks flapped across Ellie’s face and she pushed them out of her eyes so she could see. It was good to have her smiling again.
When the ride came to a stop, Ellie insisted she stay on for another go and I hopped off to pay. Stepping up to the glass fronted booth, I exchanged another dollar for another ticket.
Choosing to sit this one out, I found a place on the bench inside the parameter from where I could watch Ellie whoosh around in a blur of neighing horses and bright colored lights. I rummaged through my handbag and found the snack bar I’d shoved in there earlier and peeled open the wrapper. It tasted good.
Ellie beamed at me each time she came back around, her cheeks flushed from the evening chill. I raised my snack, letting her know I had one for her too.
Standing a few feet away was the young cashier and he was stock-still, staring at me.
Uneasy, I took another bite and kept my focus on Ellie.
“Um…” he said, looking nervous. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, thank you,” I said, picking up on his disquiet.
My hand instinctively reached inside my handbag, pulling out my iPhone. I proceeded to stare at the screen, hoping he’d get the hint and walk away.
He made a slow
gesture. “You need to stand up and step toward me, slowly.”
My jaw tightened with annoyance at his inappropriate behavior. “I’m fine here, but thank you.”
Had Ellie not been on the ride, this would have been where I would have upped and left, but there was no way I was leaving her.
I tried ignoring him.
“You can sit over there if you like.” He pointed to the bench in front of his booth.
I gave a thin smile. “I’m happy here.”
It dawned on me he was the one controlling the ride, and right now my best friend was trapped, whizzing around, oblivious to the unfolding drama a few feet away.
He took another step closer.
I remembered the skills I’d picked up at my self-defense class in college, never believing I’d ever have to use them, and shot him a fierce look, raising my hand to warn him to come no closer.
“Don’t mean to scare you,” he said, “But you need to walk very slowly toward me. No sudden moves.”
Heart racing, I lifted my iPhone and aimed it his way.
“Did you take my picture?” he asked, his frown deepening.
With techno versatility I didn’t know I had, I texted the words: At Griffith Park. This...man...trying to murder Ellie and I!”
There. I’d captured the evidence the CSI team would thank me for later when they were digging up my remains, sniffed out by police dogs somewhere amongst the woodland that was to become my final resting place.
Organ music drowned out my yelp.
I steadied my trembling hands, deftly attaching his photo to my Facebook post.
Send...
My heart tried to beat its way out of my chest. “Listen, I know what you’re up too!” I rose and stood my ground.
He pulled a face. Confusion perhaps, but it looked more like evil intent.
“The police are on their way,” I bluffed.
“Actually, it’s animal control we need.”
Swallowing hard, I barely stopped myself from screaming.
I waved my iPhone. “Cops are on their way.”
“They don’t usually deal with this kind of stuff.” He offered a weak smile.
I wasn’t falling for it.
“Look, this isn’t the first time it’s happened,” he admitted. “And it won’t be the last.”
“Perhaps you don’t want to tell me anymore.”
His frown deepened.
“Stop the ride,” I demanded.
He lowered his chin. “Maybe we should wait.”
I wondered if it was possible to jump onto a speeding merry-go-round, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.
The boy gazed over my shoulder. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“How about you go back into your booth and leave me alone?” I rested my hands on my hips, remembering I’d read once if you appear confident it might be enough of a deterrent. “I know karate.” Actually I didn’t, but it was worth a try.
From behind me came a low growl.
Slowly, I turned to see a large coyote a few feet away, his head hung low and his black eyes locked on me, his lips pulled back in a snarl.
I turned back to face the ticket boy.
“Tried to warn you,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. Coyote bites are rare.”
The coyote sniffed the ground.
“He’s probably drawn to your snack,” he said.
I threw the rest of the bar behind the coyote. He sniffed his way toward it.
The boy ran toward the gate and slammed it shut, causing the coyote to bolt with my snack in-between its teeth. It fled across the park, disappearing amongst low hanging leaves.
I gave a sorry looking smile.
“They come out at dusk,” he explained. “It’s the picnickers. They feed the wildlife.”
Although this was all very interesting, I was only half listening as I tried to quickly access Facebook.
“You okay?” he said.
I let out a ridiculous laugh.
“Hey!” Ellie called out to us as she whizzed by.
“I’ll stop the ride.” Ticket boy returned to his booth.
My phone searched for a Wifi connection.
Ellie jumped off the ride, her hair disheveled and her face flushed with excitement. “That was awesome. How many rides did you pay for?” She stared over my shoulder. “Piper?”
“I’m trying to delete something.”
She had her own iPhone out now and was sliding her thumb across the screen. “Did you take a photo of me?”
My thumbs punched away on the keypad. “Um...no.”
Ellie’s narrowed stare studied her screen. “Piper, someone’s hacked your account.” She read aloud the words I’d written minutes ago, ‘At Griffith Park. This...man...trying to murder us!” Her gaze rose toward the ticket booth.
“It was a mistake,” I admitted, and then twisted the truth a bit.”You know how pesky auto-correct can be.”
Ellie’s attention fell back onto her iPhone. “Gabe’s posted something on your wall,” she said excitedly. Then her shoulders slumped and her brow furrowed with concern. “Gabe clicked like to your post.”
With one click, I unfriended him.
And it felt good.
CHAPTER 5
Resident Hero - Day 51 OF 60
Call Time: 06:00 am
Shooting Call: 06:30 am
Weather: Sunny
Location: Stage 9
At dawn, Gemstone was beginning to awaken with the day.
As the first nurse to arrive I set about the morning routine, turning all the lights on, ensuring the treatment rooms were well-stocked for patients, unlocking each and every cabinet, and checking that the emergency equipment was ready to go and in full working order.
I gathered the production call sheets from the fax machine that came in overnight and studied each one, noting on a clipboard when productions were estimated to start filming and calculating their expected time to call, which was usually twelve to fourteen hours after their initial crew call.
From Resident Hero’s call sheet, I ascertained their crew were due to start filming in half an hour on New York Street. This job was turning out to be everything I’d hoped, and the last thing I needed was to bump into Mr. Perfect, aka Le George, and get fired for seemingly stalking him. Natalie had mentioned that whenever there were two nurses on duty it was the most senior who attended celebrities when required, which I’d been happy to hear.
With the department ready for visitors, I took a seat in the staff room and tucked into my Trader Joe’s oatmeal and sipped my mocha light coffee.
Outside, the occasional truck rolled by, as early morning drivers delivered movie making equipment. Now and again a golf cart whizzed by.
Inside, I listened to the chatter on our security radio, hearing the guards being directed by the communication center to open up the many offices across the lot, as well as the stages, readying for the crews that would soon arrive.
After only two mouthfuls of oatmeal, the emergency phone rang.
I leaped up to answer it.
On the line, a security officer spoke calmly. “We have a medical emergency on Stage 9. Please respond.”
“On my way,” I replied, my gut wrenching with the idea I was going to my first response alone.
And then I remembered, Resident Hero was filming on Stage 9.
I replaced the receiver and sprang into action, running toward the front office and grabbing the emergency kit on the way out.
Navigating through the lot, I willed myself to be calm, the irony not lost on me that I was probably the only woman on the planet trying to avoid America’s number one sweetheart.
“Don’t be him, don’t be him, please don’t be him…” came my silent chant.
My brakes squealed to a stop outside the stage. I recognized Phil, the security guard who was waiting for me.
“That was quick,” he said.
“No pedestrians to dodge.” I grabbed my kit from the front seat.
/> “They got the stage wrong,” he said. “It’s next door, Stage 10. Come on, I’ll guide you in.”
I let out a nervous laugh that sounded a little too hysterical and artfully turned it into a cough. “Dust,” I muttered, trekking after him.
It amazed me how heavy the kit felt when I moved it around the department, but the moment the call came for an emergency it somehow felt lighter. I put it down to adrenaline, and wondered how long before I answered these calls without my stomach churning.
Natalie had told me the call would come out of nowhere and such was the nature of an emergency. She’d warned that very often I’d have no idea what I was heading into, though she’d reassured me the kit contained everything I’d need.
We arrived in the center of the vast stage and there, as had been reported, was a young man on the floor, clutching his ankle, his grimace lifting when he saw me.
Phil stood a few feet away, watching over me.
“Hello, love,” the patient said in an English accent. “You must be the cavalry?”
“That’s me.” I placed my kit beside him.
“It’s nothing really,” he told me. “Twisted my ankle. I’m Terri.”
“Piper.” I opened my kit and reached for a pair of non-latex gloves and pulled them on. “Did you fall? Hurt your back or neck?”
“No.” He lifted his right trouser leg. “It’s not serious. More annoying than anything. I insisted I’m fine but they wanted you to check me out.”
“No problem,” I said. “Let’s take a look.”
“I didn’t know there was such a thing as a studio nurse,” said Terri.
“There’s one on each lot.” I examined his lower left leg, running my fingers down toward his foot, checking for any sign of a deformity, bruising, or swelling. “Other studios have nurses too.”
“Well I’ll be,” he said.
“There’s thousands of people on the lot at any one time,” I added. “So it’s a good thing.”
“I’m lucky you’re here.”
“What would you say the pain level is?” I watched his face. “A little pain or a lot?”
Piper Day's Ultimate Guide To Avoiding George Clooney Page 4