by H. L. Logan
My first instinct was to push her outstretched hand away. On second thought, I took the shot and downed it before turning and bolting the hell out of there.
I was done.
Done with my shitty job. Done with scraping by. Done with my stupid dream of being an actress. Done with Jessica.
***
My head ached as I sat up. The bottle of cheap wine I’d drowned my misery in was not being kind to me. Memories of the night before flashed in my mind. I let out a groan as I remembered telling Jessica off and storming out of work. With my luck, she’d be telling everyone in the industry to never hire me—actually, I was pretty sure she didn’t even remember my name, so maybe I was safe there.
‘If you wanted to kiss me so bad, all you had to do was ask.’
Ugh, the self-centered princess really did think the world worshipped at her feet—that men and women alike would die for a chance to mash faces with her. Give me a break. I rolled over again, groaning. Had I been too much of a bitch?
I sighed. It wasn't really her fault I’d blown up. I didn’t know what had come over me. Sure, I’d always been hot-headed, but I’d completely lost it on someone who probably didn’t deserve that from me. Lately my life had just felt so… hopeless.
I was one missed rent payment away from being forced to move back to New Hampshire and live in my parent’s basement until I could find some soul sucking corporate job to rot away at until I turned a billion years old. Actually, that didn’t so bad compared to my current situation. I was so exhausted by scraping by.
My phone started ringing, making my head ache even more. I didn’t have the energy to engage in conversation, so I let it go to voicemail. When I played the message back, I almost dropped the phone at the sound of the voice of Emily Harp from Aorta Studios.
“We loved your audition. The tears you conjured for the performance were so authentic! We’d love to have you play the love interest of Jessica Black in Real Love.”
4.
Jessica
Oliver was still sleeping in my guestroom the next morning. He often stayed the night to give the paparazzi opportunities to photograph him leaving my house. It was almost sad how easy it was to fool them. I guess people will always believe what they want to believe, and the public adores a love story.
Sara had been passed out on my couch when Oliver and I had stumbled in past midnight. She was still there, so I was trying to be quiet. My home was cozy, which I loved, but it also meant there wasn’t a lot of room to make noise when people were sleeping.
I’d been up since six, barely able to sleep because I’d been so excited. I’d called Aorta and told them we had to book the spunky woman who’d auditioned the day before. I’d been impressed by her acting, but when she’d declared how important the movie was to her, I knew I’d found the actress I’d been looking for. I wanted someone who felt the same as I did about the movie, not just someone looking to fill an open role.
I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but her short hair and stylish suit made me think she might be into women—well, that and how badly she’d wanted to kiss me. That was kind of a give away. It was great that she’d feel as passionately about the movie as I did. I only hoped I could bring the same level of authenticity. That spunky girl had become one more person I didn’t want to let down with this movie.
I sat at my desk highlighting and adding notes to my script, but I had so much gleeful energy exploding from me that I couldn’t resist spinning in my chair. When the spinning came to a dizzying halt, Oliver was standing in front of me, rubbing his eyes sleepily, hair still stiff with gel from the night before and sticking up in odd places.
“You’re having a good morning.” He laughed.
“Sure am!”
“You’re scaring your poor puppy.” He pointed to Cleo who was eyeing me suspiciously from behind Sara’s sleeping body on my couch.
“Oh, she’s used to it.” I patted my knee and Cleo ran to me, digging her claws into my sweatpants as she clambered up onto my lap. I looked up to Oliver. “Are you hungr—wait, why are you laughing?”
“I’m not.” Oliver covered his mouth before bursting out, “What the hell are you wearing?”
“I like to be comfy when I’m at home.”
“Jess, those ratty sweatpants are ten sizes too big for you and torn to pieces from Cleo.”
“And I look adorably casual in them, thank you very much.” I stuck my nose in the air.
“I’m with Oliver on this one,” Sara mumbled sleepily from the couch. “Not your best look.”
“Hey, screw you guys!” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And here I was going to tell you I had breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen.”
“Forgive our transgression!” Oliver threw himself posterior on the floor in a groveling bow.
Sara’s head shot up from the couch and she and Oliver bolted into the kitchen so fast they practically left a cloud of dust behind. Cleo bounded after them, curious what their excitement was about. I laughed and joined them in the kitchen where I’d left bacon, eggs and toast warming in the oven.
Oliver and Sara scarfed down the breakfast, laughing so hard that they nearly choked. That was another thing I liked about Oliver. He and Sara always got along. As a rule, we didn’t even tell family about these fake relationships, because you never knew who’d let a secret slip. But Sara was closer than family to me and the only person in the world I’d trust with any secret. Besides, I hadn’t told her Oliver and I weren’t dating. She just knew me so well that it was obvious to her.
I’d ‘dated’ a few actors in the past who’d really gotten along badly with my best friend and it made the whole ordeal a nightmare. If they had been real boyfriends, I would’ve just broken up with them, but somehow it was more complicated when spending time together was a professional consideration.
“What’re you two laughing about?” I asked, scooping a bit of omelette into Cleo’s bowl.
“Just planning our breakup,” Oliver said around a mouthful of toast.
“Oliver’s gonna tell the press you cheated on him.” Sara snorted into her orange juice.
“Hey, don’t make me look heartless.”
“She’s kidding.” Oliver shook his head. “But we do need to think of something. Maid for You hits theatres next month and I’d really like to actually start dating someone—no offence.”
“Can’t we just say we grew apart?” I shrugged.
“Sure, if you’re afraid of a little drama.” Sara wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“No, no drama!” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “My publicist is already on my ass about generating bad press.”
“Is this about Real Love?” Sara picked at the crust on her toast.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said it like that.”
“Sorry you’re getting a hard time about it.” She frowned. “People are idiots.”
“Cheers.” Oliver clinked his glass against Sara’s. “Hey, maybe we should tell the press we broke up because you’re into women.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” My eyes went wide.
Sara laughed. “I’d be more than happy to be an accomplice in the lie!”
“Shut up, both of you.” I sat down sulkily in the corner with my only ally, Cleo. “No one would even believe it when photos were taken of me with my next boyfriend.”
As I said that, a small pang hit me in the heart. Funny, I spent my days surrounded by the sexiest men in the world, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a real boyfriend. I mean, I wasn’t exactly lonely. I had Sara and Oliver, who was amazing as a friend, but we didn’t click on that deeper level that you did with a soulmate.
I hadn’t felt a soulful bond like that in a long time. Probably not since I’d been a teenager, and in retrospect, who knew if those feelings were real or just hormones playing tricks on my mind? I’d actually stopped dating, for the most part. Maybe it was hard for me to know who to trust these days.
“Is y
our phone ringing?” Sara grabbed my buzzing phone from the table, swallowing heavily as she said, “Uh, it’s your mom.”
She set the phone gingerly back on the table and pretended she hadn't seen it. Oliver gave her a quizzical look, but she shook her head subtly.
“What if you dumped me because you thought you were holding my career back?” I said to change the subject.
“Hey, I like that!” Oliver exclaimed.
“Just promise we can still be friends.” I winked.
“Oh, I can’t wait to be rid of you for good.” Oliver grinned. “But I’ll probably run into you when I’m hanging with Sara.”
The two clinked glasses, laughing, and I scowled, but couldn't help laughing too. Sometimes my fake boyfriend and best friend got along a little too well.
***
The next month and a half blurred by quickly as I poured over scripts and prepared for the premier of Maid for You, which unfortunately didn’t end up being the blockbuster the producers had hoped for. I guess the public wasn’t as hungry to see me scrubbing floors as Paramount had predicted. When Oliver and I ‘broke up,’ it was rumored that we’d fought over how badly the movie had done.
Truthfully, I wasn’t all that consumed by how much the movie flopped. I put my best effort into everything I did, and that alone was enough to make me proud. But I’d come to a point where I had a hard time caring about silly comedies. I wanted to create a film that would make a difference in someone’s life.
Real Love took over my mind until I could say the lines in my sleep. Literally. Oliver woke me up one morning because I was shouting out lines from the climatic moment of the movie. That had actually sparked our ‘breakup,’ because he couldn’t stand staying over in my apartment when I talked in my sleep. We didn’t have to stay together for the movie anymore, so there was nothing forcing us together.
Of course my publicist wished I’d stayed with Oliver a little longer, but whatever.
I was completely single-minded when I arrived at Aorta Studios for our first table reading. I was going to devote every bit of energy I had to this movie.
Cleo yapped from her carrier as I sat in my chair next to the director, Braelyn, and waited for the other actors to arrive. It was an extremely small cast, most of the scenes taking place exclusively between me and… err, I’d forgotten the woman’s name. Was it Maria?
A loud sneeze echoed behind me. I turned to see her green eyes all scrunched up. Amelia! That was it. Amelia Earhart.
“You brought the dog?” she groaned.
“Was I not supposed to?” I put a protective hand on Cleo’s cage.
“Forget it, I’ll pop some Benadryl.”
Then I remembered her mentioning that some people were allergic to dogs and I realized with embarrassment that she’d meant she was allergic to dogs. She sat down, looking exhausted and took a packet of pills from her pocket, popping one without any water. She ran a hand through her stiffly gelled hair, messing up what would’ve been an extremely tidy style. She wore a grey suit that hugged her slim frame and gave off a vintage vibe. Despite having such a beautiful face, Amelia didn’t seem to have any interest in looking prissy or feminine. She had the kind of unique look that would’ve turned heads wherever she went, just for how confident it made her seem.
“I’ll check and see if the others are waiting out front,” Braelyn said, popping up out of his chair.
Amelia and I sat in awkward silence. There was something about the way she was looking at me that wasn’t right. Like I put a bad taste in her mouth.
“So is Amelia Earhart a stage name?” I asked curiously.
“No. It’s my real name,” she said tensely before casting us back into heavy silence. Finally, she sighed, dropped her gaze into her lap and muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I was rude to you when I saw you at the club. I hope there won’t be any awkwardness between us, considering...” She swallowed heavily. “Considering we’ll be working together.”
“Huh?” I shook my head. “Sorry, but I don’t remember you being rude to me.”
“So you don’t even remember running into me?” She pressed her lips together. I really had no idea what was making her so angry.
“Of course I remember you talking about how important this movie was to you, but I don’t remember you being rude to me.”
One of her brows raised and she looked at me like Cleo was tap-dancing on my head.
Braelyn rushed back into the room and flopped back into his chair. “Looks like the rest of the cast isn’t making it. There was a bad traffic accident.”
“Is everyone okay?” My mouth fell open.
“Yeah, yeah, no one’s hurt, but there are huge delays.” He waved his pen around dismissively before tucking it behind his ear. “We’re just going to skip ahead to one of the more intense scenes between the two of you. Jessica, could you start reading from the fifth line on page twenty?”
I knew the script well enough that I didn’t even have to flip to the page before I started speaking. My voice dropped to a slow, sassy tone that I felt matched the care-free character.
“I just want to know what it is you’re so scared of,” I said.
“You already know,” Amelia shot back without missing a beat. “You act like you know everything about me.”
I grinned cockily. “I wanna hear you say it.”
“You wanna hear me say it? Fine. I’m scared I’m gonna fall for you and you’re gonna leave me with nothing but a broke-ass heart. That what you wanted to hear?”
I looked over to Braelyn, who was frowning.
“Could we get the two of you closer?” he said, eyes squinting. “I wanna get a feel for the chemistry in this scene.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Instead of running around the long table to sit next to Amelia, I did a half-leap and slid over it into the chair next to her. She practically jumped away from me. Were her hands shaking?
“Okay, Amelia, read your last line again.” Braelyn said, arms crossed over his chest.
Amelia’s voice shook this time, but it only made the line sound better. “I’m scared I’m gonna fall for you and you’re gonna leave me with nothing but a broke-ass heart. That what you wanted to hear?”
“Just the first part.” I grinned, putting a hand to Amelia’s cheek. Her eyes went huge and darted down to my lips.
“Well I meant all of it.” Her voice shook even more now. There was something so perfect about the fear in her eyes. The tension between us felt beyond real. We were only doing a table reading, but it felt so right to go all the way with it. I let the space between our lips grow smaller and smaller as I prepared to deliver my next line.
“Sorry I’m late!” The door burst open and the older woman who was supposed to play my mother rushed in.
Amelia leapt up from her chair. “I need some water. I need to use the bathroom. I need...” Her words cut off as she ran out the door.
5.
Amelia
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. This isn’t a big deal. You’re just going to walk back in there and kiss another woman. Nothing huge about that. Drunk girls do it all the time at parties. Why shouldn’t I be able to do it too?
My legs felt weak again and I had to lean against the wall next to the water cooler as I gulped from the little paper cup. Why the hell was this so hard for me? Was it kissing a woman that was getting to me, or was it that the woman was—
“Hey, there you are!” Jessica jaunted down the hall, blonde hair bouncing with each step.
“You didn’t leave because of Cleo, did you? Sorry, I totally didn’t realize you were allergic.”
“Forget about it.” I drained the last of the water and crushed the paper cup in my fist.
“What’s wrong?” Jessica’s brows knit together. “You’re not sick or something, are you?”
“How is it so easy for you?” I blurted. “I mean, you were just about to kiss me without even thinking tw
ice!”
“Ah!” Realization spilled across her features. “I get it. You’re afraid to kiss me!” A huge grin spread across her face that made heat spread through my body.
“I’m just… I’ve never kissed a woman before, okay?”
“So it’s scary for you?” She looked like she was stifling a laugh. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“How is it so easy for you? Did you practice or something?”
She actually did laugh this time. “Well, I’ve kissed a lot of men for movies. Kissing a girl isn’t all that different. Sure, I’m not attracted to women, but I haven’t been attracted to all the actors I’ve kissed either. It’s just work.” She leaned against the wall and folded her arms over her chest, a serious look taking over her face. “That’s a big reason why I want to do this movie. I want people to realize that two people of the same sex being together, well, it’s just not a big deal. My best friend is a lesbian, and she’s always been there for me. I’d love if I could make the world just a little easier for her to live in.”
“Oh.” I blinked, as if seeing her in new light. “Wow. Umm, that’s kind of amazing.”
“But, hey, if you need to get over your fear, I’m happy to help you practice.” She put a hand to my shoulder. “Why don’t you come over after rehearsal and we can knock this out together? It wouldn’t be a bad thing for me to get used to kissing someone with lipstick.”
“Umm, sure.”
Did Jessica Black just ask me to come over to her house and make out with her? Did I just agree?
***
Nerves didn’t begin to describe my anxiety as Jessica’s car sped down the highway with me in the passenger's seat. I was grateful she’d offered to drive, seeing as I’d sold my car to pay for rent that month. I hadn’t gotten fired from my night job after all—apparently Jessica never told management about my regretful outburst—but my shifts had been cut back to almost nothing since I’d asked to go home early. Tiny as my paychecks from this movie would be, I couldn’t wait for them to start rolling in. An extra couple hundred bucks a week would be a godsend to a person in my position.