by H. L. Logan
I grinned as I said goodbye before taking the call, sure it was just a debt collector. Except it wasn’t; it was another agent. I could barely make sense of what was happening.
From my conversation with the second agent, I found out that the latest trailer for Real Love had been released and was apparently stirring up a storm online.
I chewed my lip as I debated with myself, finally deciding to watch the trailer. It wasn’t like I wanted to recreate my memories with Jessica. In fact, I was over Jessica, living my new life of apparent stardom. But still, watching the trailer couldn’t hurt, right?
I pulled the video up on my laptop, a strange feeling stirring in my stomach. Seeing myself acting was so weird, but I couldn’t help feeling proud of the way I carried the character off. The screen flashed to an image of Jessica’s hand on my thigh and cut away quickly. My heartbeat quickened.
Our lips together.
Her hands in my hair.
I slammed the laptop shut.
I was over Jessica. So over her. Over the second guessing and the hurt she caused me with her lies and acting. I was over her.
How many times did I have to say that to myself before it became true?
22.
Jessica
“It’s been two months since that little jerk broke your heart.” Oliver skewered a breakfast sausage on his fork. “You should’ve at least had a hookup by now.”
I winced. I didn’t want random sex with someone I barely knew. I wanted a connection. I wanted Amelia. But I’d screwed all that up and maybe she was better off without me.
“I guess I don’t move on as fast as you do.” I gave him my best smile to hide how much I was still hurting. In Oliver’s world, the best way to get over a breakup was to get into a new relationship—which he’d done, almost immediately after Mel smashed his heart into pieces. He and his new girlfriend were happy and I was happy for them, but I didn’t work quite the same way. My relationship with Amelia had felt like the first real connection I’d had in a long time.
Part of me was dismayed to see that Amelia’s career was really taking off. I’d seen online that she’d scored a big role in a historical film that was destined for the Oscars. I was happy for her, happy that her dreams were coming true after she’d worked so hard to achieve them. I just hoped she’d never stop being herself. How long had I been in the business before I stopped being me?
“You guys ordered without me?” Sara walked up to our table at the cafe, looking indignant.
“Sorry.” I smiled at her. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve barely eaten.”
“She’s still nursing her broken heart,” Oliver explained as he slid his chair over to make room for Sara at the table.
“Sorry, I know it’s rough getting over someone,” Sara said as she sat down.
“It’s not that.” I sighed. “I think Amelia might have been right about me.”
“Jess, you’re amazing, and you deserve to be happy. None of what she said about you was true,” Sara said.
“Except it was true,” I pressed. “I am a phony. I never do anything without considering how it will affect my image.”
“That’s just part of the job. We all do it.” Oliver shrugged and popped a bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth. I got the feeling he didn’t understand. Sometimes people in the business lost sight of what normal life was.
“I get what you’re saying,” Sara broke in. “You want to be your authentic self, and you don’t know how to balance that with your work life.”
“Yes!” I practically leapt up. “How are you always better at describing my thoughts than I am?”
Sara laughed. “I’ve known you too long. Trust me, knowing what’s on your mind is a curse more than a blessing.”
Oliver snorted a laugh into his orange juice, nearly choking on it.
“Actually, I wanted to ask you something. I was wondering if you’d like to be my date for the first screening of Real Love at IndieFest this weekend.” I picked at my napkin. “I mean, I made the movie for you. Only seems right that I invite you to the premiere.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” Sara stifled a giggle. “Sorry, but how many times do I have to tell you you’re not my type?”
“Fuck off.” I reached over the table to punch her in the arm, knocking over a jar of table syrup, which Oliver caught just in time before it spilled all over the table.
“Jesus, you two.” He shook his head.
The moment of chaos was suddenly interrupted by my ringing phone. I checked the caller ID. My mom. Anxiety rolled through my gut.
I hadn’t spoken to her since Amelia had cussed her out. In all honesty, it’d been a huge relief to have a few months free from her guilt and criticism. She’d even stopped bothering me for money, though I still covered her household bills. I looked at the number on my phone again. Even if my parents were shitty sometimes, they were the only parents I’d ever have.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” I said, standing from the table.
Outside the cafe, I answered the phone, bracing myself for the conversation to go in a direction I wouldn’t like. There was a long silence after my initial hello and then my mom finally spoke.
“I’ve been doing some thinking.” Another long silence. “About what you said the last time I was at your house.”
“Yeah?” I rubbed the back of my neck, still unsure of where this conversation would go.
“I want to apologize.” Her voice softened, but it sounded like she was struggling with each word. “I understand I’ve gotten a bit… ambitious with your career in the past, and perhaps I haven’t respected your boundaries as much as I should have. You’re an adult now and I should treat you that way.”
That’s only what I’ve been saying for the past five years, I thought, but instead said, “I appreciate that you finally realize that.”
A small part of me wondered if she was just saying what I wanted to hear, but I knew what a struggle it was for my mom to apologize. There was no way she’d bring herself to do it unless she truly believed she was in the wrong.
As if she hadn’t shocked me enough, she went on, “I would be deeply honored if you’d allow me to attend the premiere of Real Love. I know this is important to you and I want to be there to support you.”
“I—wow, umm, yes. I’d love if you could make it.”
“Jessica?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” She said it so quickly it caught me off guard. “Even when I’m not being the mother you wish I was, I still love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
I said goodbye, feeling more content than I had in months. I’d been working through years of counseling to try to get to that conversation from my mom. To think, all it actually took was Amelia calling her a bitch.
I paused with my hand on the cafe door.
I missed Amelia’s hotheadedness. I missed how bold she was, how openly she wore her feelings. I missed everything about her. Just when I’d thought I was starting to get over her, a wall of longing hit me.
I still loved her.
And in that moment, I didn’t know if I could stop loving her. But it was way too late to say I was sorry for giving her mixed messages about our relationship. And even if I did, what was an apology worth? She’d been right, I was an actor right down to my core. How was Amelia ever supposed to trust me again?
I walked back into the cafe, plastering a smile on my face to hide what I was feeling, but as I sat down, I realized I shouldn’t be hiding what I was feeling. Wasn’t that the whole issue? I needed to change. I needed to be authentic.
I looked up at Oliver and Sara and said something that came to me so suddenly that even I was surprised by my words. “I’m going to quit acting.”
“What?” Oliver nearly spit his coffee all over the table.
“Honestly, acting has brought me nothing but grief my whole life.”
First the business had ruined my relationship with my parents,
then it ruined my relationship with Amelia. I didn’t know how to stay in this business while still remaining myself, so getting out of it was the only solution.
Sara examined me seriously before saying, “But you were so excited to be making movies that could make a difference in people’s lives.”
“Maybe I needed to be looking at my own life.” I stared down at my plate of barely touched breakfast. “Some of the stuff I’ve been doing, the lying, the pretending, it’s not good for anyone—me or the people in my life.”
“Is this about Amelia again?” Sara asked.
“Yes—and no.” I shook my head. “She made me realize I don’t want to be the person I’ve been pretending to be. I’m not sure I even like the person I’ve been pretending to be.”
“What you’re talking about is pretty drastic.” Oliver’s brow furrowed with concern.
“I know,” I said. “But I think it’s what I need to do to be happy.”
And maybe, maybe, maybe, I was entertaining a small delusion that if Amelia realized that I’d quit acting, she’d know I’d changed. I knew getting my hopes up was setting myself up for heartbreak, but the truth was, I would’ve given up everything just for a chance to have Amelia back in my life.
***
Cameras flashed as Sara and I stepped out of the hotel and into the waiting limousine. Rosebridge was a small town and the riverside streets seemed to be exploding with the extra guests the film festival had drawn. I shut the limo door on the mob and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wow, I didn’t know the star treatment was so sweet.” Sara leaned back on the leather seat and poured herself a glass of chilled champagne. “How is this the first time you’ve asked me to be your date?”
“You’re not my date, you’re my entourage.” I swiped the bottle of champagne from her and took a long drink.
“Easy,” Sara cautioned. “You nervous?”
“About what? Seeing Amelia again or announcing to the world that Real Love will be the last movie I ever make?”
I wasn’t even concerned about the film doing well. I knew that Amelia and I had created something spectacular. The audience would love it and there would be a theater full of marketers from huge studios who would bid on the distribution rights for Real Love. I’d never been so sure of a movie’s success and yet so afraid to attend a premiere.
“Hey, you’ve got me here.” Sara bumped her shoulder against mine. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
“Thanks.” I exhaled a small amount of tension.
The chaos of cameras returned as we pulled up to the film festival. I peered into the crowd, wondering if Amelia had arrived yet. I knew I’d see her at the interviews after the screening tonight, but I had no clue if she’d even look at me, let alone speak to me.
My heart raced as I thought of the announcement I planned to make at the interviews in a few hours. I hadn’t told my mom yet, and I had no clue what her reaction would be. Giving up the career she’d worked so hard to build for me could destroy all the recent gains we’d made in our relationship.
I had to do it anyway.
And not just because of a desperate hope that it might win Amelia back. I had to start being myself.
I opened the limousine door and stepped out into the crowd of paparazzi and reporters. Sara stood by my side as we walked towards the theater set up to screen Real Love. Her calm demeanor helped to keep me grounded as people swarmed me for photos and autographs. I just tried to stay in the moment and not let my thoughts drift towards Amelia or my announcement.
But then, just as I was entering the tent, a second limo pulled up and Amelia stepped out. Her hair was neatly gelled, suit hugging her slender frame, green eyes even more gorgeous than I remembered.
23.
Amelia
My breath left me when I saw Jessica standing outside the theatre. Why did I still have to feel my heart racing when I saw her? Why did I have to fight the desire to throw myself into her arms? Why did I still have to love her?
Our eye contact broke when a woman beside her put her hand to Jessica’s shoulder and drew her inside the doors. Jessica leaned in and whispered something in the woman’s ear and the hair on the back of my neck prickled. Was she Jessica’s date? They certainly seemed close.
Did seeing Jessica with another woman make me jealous? No—it fucking killed me.
I strode through the crowd and into the theatre, hoping I could find a seat at the back, but as soon as I sat down, a lady with a clipboard tapped my shoulder.
“Miss Earhart, the four seats at the front are reserved for you, Miss Black and your dates.”
“I don’t have a date,” I said in a much more surly tone than the woman deserved.
“We have a camera crew here to film your reactions during the screening.” She smiled tensely, trying to be polite even though I was making her job a lot harder than it had to be.
I sighed and stood, legs heavy as I walked to the front of the theatre where Jessica sat with her date. I took the seat further from her, leaving an empty space between us. Somehow I felt too close and too far from her at the same time. I tried to sneak a quick look at her date again, but ended up making eye contact with Jessica instead. I froze, heart pounding.
“Hey,” she said, smiling nervously.
“Hi.” I looked away.
“This is Sara by the way.”
I clenched my fists as jealousy tore through me again. I kept my jaw tight as I said back, “So I guess you were more into women than you were letting on.”
“What?” Jessica shook her head. “Oh, Sara and I aren’t dating.”
“Right.” I looked away again because I was so done with this. “I know the drill. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your pretty girl is just a prop.”
“Hey, thanks, you’re quite pretty yourself.” Sara leaned forward to speak around Jessica.
“You’re not helping.” Jessica pushed Sara back into her chair.
“There’s nothing to help,” I hissed as the lights dimmed. “You and I don’t have to talk.”
A spotlight pooled in the front of the room and the director walked out to say a few words about Real Love before the screening started.
“I just want to tell you that I’ve changed,” Jessica whispered, leaning over the empty seat to reach my ear. It was the closest we’d been in months and I just wanted to turn and kiss her. And I hated myself for being so pathetic.
“Good for you. I hope you're happy with yourself,” I said without looking at her.
Jessica whispered one last thing in my ear before pulling away, “I haven’t been happy since you left me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as the title music for Real Love began to fill the theatre. Why did she have to say that? Why did she have to make wanting her hurt so bad?
My chest became tighter with each minute the film played. From beside me, I kept hearing little hissing whispers as Jessica and Sara murmured back and forth. How fucking rude. You’d think an actress would know you’re not supposed to talk during a movie.
By the time my first kiss scene with Jessica came up, I was staring down at the floor, trying to keep from hyperventilating. I heard a small giggle from Sara and my fists clenched again. I wondered if Sara really was just a prop. It seemed like there could be a lot more between the two of them. Maybe Jessica had just said they weren’t dating so she wouldn’t embarrass me since I’d shown up alone. But since when did Jessica care about how I felt? I thought back to all the moments of tenderness, how caring and thoughtful she’d always been towards me.
Jesus, don’t think about that!
I kept my gaze on the floor, refusing to watch the romance playing out, but then I heard it: “I love you.”
I jerked my head up to see Jessica’s eyes looking down at me from the screen, so full of tenderness and love. Or at least, what I’d wanted to believe was love.
The shot cut to me and I whispered back to her, “I love you too.”
All the ox
ygen was sucked from the room. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t watch this. I couldn’t sit here. I couldn’t be this close to her.
I stood, bolting down the aisle like I was going to be sick. I didn’t care if I drew anyone’s attention, I couldn’t fucking do this anymore. I swore I heard Jessica call my name as I fled the theatre, and it only made me move faster.
Reporters mobbed me as I entered the twilight, and the flash of cameras made it hard to tell where I was going—where was I going? I just needed to escape.
“Amelia!” Jessica called again. I looked back to see her a few feet away, struggling to get through the crowd. Fuck, I couldn’t talk to Jessica. Not now, not ever again.
Across the street, a limousine sat idling. I couldn’t tell if it was the car I’d arrived in, but I didn’t care. I ran across the street, banging on the driver’s window. He looked annoyed as he rolled it down.
“I need you to take me back to my hotel,” I said.
“Do I know you?” The driver looked at me like I was crazy. Shit, it wasn’t my driver. I looked back to see Jessica bolting towards me.
“Uh, there’s a traffic cop over there who said she wants to write you a ticket.” I blurted without thinking. “Rosebridge has a law against idling.”
“What the fuck?” The driver leapt from the limo to look around for the woman I’d described. I ducked into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I heard him yell as I hit the gas.
Jesus Christ, what the fuck was I doing? Had Jessica driven me so crazy that I was stealing limousines to get away from her?
Apparently.
I looked in the rear view mirror to see both her and the limo driver chasing after me, Jessica taking the lead as the driver pulled out his phone—probably to call the cops.
Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
And then I realized, as I came to traffic circle, I had no clue how to drive a limousine. I jerked to a stop in front of the circle and tried to ease the car in, feeling a bump as I went over the curb. I took out a decorative shrub as I tried to handle the turn.