Trouble Me

by Beck Anderson

  “Good morning, sunshine.” Tucker sips a Frappuccino. Not only is he already up, he’s already been out and back. There’s a green iced tea on the kitchen island for me and one for Andrew.

  “What are you doing up? You all aren’t shooting until late tonight I thought.” I pick up the tea and sip it. Oh, it tastes so good. “I love you for many things, Tucker, but right now I love you for this tea.”

  “I’m up because I get up this early almost every day. I can’t help it.”

  “Night shoots and nights out with movie stars necessitate sleeping in sometimes, don’t they?”

  “Sometimes. Most times, no. What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to run.”

  “Good for you. I’ll go get my shoes.” Tucker points down the hall. Jeremy’s practically living in the media room too, but he goes out places at night and stays who knows where. He’s put his other clients on with junior agents at his agency, turning all of his attentions to his star. Which means he’s here. All the time. I feel sometimes like the dorm mother. I like having them all here, though. Might as well have every important person in my New York world in one place.

  “I was going to go out on my own. I’ll be fine.” I need the time alone, I add silently.

  “Nope. Andrew wouldn’t forgive me if something happened to you and Hiccup. You get an escort.”

  “I could see if Mari wanted to come with me. She’s probably running early this morning anyway.”

  “I’m going. End of story.” He trots off after patting my head.

  I sip my tea and get my sneakers on. So much for alone time.

  Tucker’s back. “I can do the official bodyguard thing and run behind you. I do that for a lot of my female clients. They get nervous with me running next to them. Say I’m too fit.”

  “I don’t care about that. I’ve been in a funk, and I need to shake it off. I don’t want to slip into depression. It’s not a pretty place for me to be.”

  “Let’s go whip up some endorphins, shall we?” Tucker smiles and jogs a little in place.

  “Let’s.”

  We get out of the building without incident, but almost immediately I’m happy Tucker came along. The street is relatively quiet. It’s also awfully shadowy. Dumpsters and parked vans and construction scaffolds throw large, dark squares on to the sidewalk.

  We jog along next to each other and don’t say anything.

  I feel okay, but it’s getting more and more uncomfortable to run. The baby is tucked in his safe little floating fortress, but his palace and all the extra cushion around it are getting awkward to tote around.

  Then we get to the stairs to the High Line. I don’t even try to jog them. I just want to climb, slow and steady. Every time I step up, the pain stabs behind my kneecap. The clicking is back too.

  “Kelly Jo, is that your knee making that sound?” Tucker looks at me.

  I stop. I have to stop. It hurts too bad. “Yes. It hurts, Tuck.”

  “So, don’t climb up any more stairs. Let’s just go back to street level.”

  “I want to get up there, though. It’s what I need.” I start to cry.

  “Why are you crying? It’s okay. Things change while you’re pregnant. The ligaments are probably off. Pulls your kneecap too far to one side. No big deal.”

  “I need this. I have to run. I can’t be that sad again. I’m supposed to be strong for Andrew right now.”

  I sit on the step and just let it go. This verges on the infamous ugly cry.

  Tucker stands next to me. He rubs my back for a minute. “There, there, Kells. Just breathe.”

  I suck in a deep breath and stand up.

  “There’s an elevator two blocks over. Let’s go do that.” Tucker points down the block. “Less pain, same pretty view.”

  “Tucker…” I can’t finish.

  “Hey. You have my word. I will help you through this. No one else has to know. Not even Andrew if you’re worried about worrying him. I swear, the two of you spend so much time simultaneously trying to protect each other, it’s exhausting to watch.”

  He wraps an arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “I know a guy who can check out the knee too. That part Andrew is going to want to know about. But again, no big deal. We can do this. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I wipe my face on my sleeve and edge back down the few stairs I’ve made it up. The kneecap clicks with every step.

  This sucks. I don’t do well without running. We’re about to find out how poorly it’s going to go this time.

  The next morning, Tucker announces our visit to the doctor as we eat scrambled eggs around the kitchen island. His voice is so neutral, I almost miss it.

  “So, Kelly and I are going to swing by NYSMI today.” His look tells me to go with it.

  Andrew raises an eyebrow over The New York Times. “What?”

  “Columbia Orthopedics. Her knee’s bugging her a little, so we’re going to get it checked out. We should be back in time for me to take you to set.” Andrew can’t drive with his shoulder all torn up. He rarely drives in New York, anyway. Tucker handles it. Janus rides shotgun for backup. Tucker says he’s the one decent guy on Apotheosis’s payroll, and I think he’s including Jordan Aaronson, the dick.

  “When did this happen?” Andrew looks at me.

  “It’s been clicking for a while, when I go up and down stairs especially. Since we got to New York. It’s starting to hurt more just lately.” I leave out it’s more of a deal now that I have to run to survive the way I feel after your accident.

  Hunter shovels eggs into his mouth, holding the plate level with his face. “You need to lift, Mom. Strengthen the muscles around the knee.”

  Tucker speaks up. “Nothing to worry about. The guys will take a peek at it and may tee up some PT too. Don’t want the little mama hobbling along with the waddling.”

  I smile. Tucker is a saint. “I’ll go get my stuff.”

  We leave the parking garage in a nondescript Camry. Our car changes almost every day, now that the paparazzi have camped out since Andrew’s accident. Tucker’s taken to driving a different rig when it’s just me or just the kids. Before, if Andrew hadn’t been spotted in it, the car didn’t draw much attention, and we could actually keep it for a week or two. But after the accident, each one of us seems to be a heightened target.

  No one follows us from the building this morning, thankfully. The orthopedist’s office is by MOMA, south of the park. We park in the adjacent parking garage.

  Ironically, there are steps. Tucker walks next to me down the long parking garage stairwell. “There couldn’t be an elevator working. Of course.” His voice is sympathetic. He pats me on the shoulder.

  By the time we get to the office, my knee screams in protest. The receptionist ushers us into an examination room right away. Tucker insists upon it, for the privacy. He still gives people too much credit. I really don’t think I’m recognizable on my own. I don’t get approached in stores or on the street. Unless I’ve been in Andrew’s immediate company, I’m still luckily anonymous.

  I sit on the exam table and fill out paperwork. “Tucker, you don’t need to be in here with me. Despite the disaster I’ve been lately, I do normally take care of myself. I did it for quite a long time before I met Andrew, you know.”

  “I know. But isn’t it nice to not have to? Just once in a while?”

  The man is a psychic. The ability to abdicate, on a few things, feels nice. It feels nice to be taken care of. Maybe not the most “I am woman, hear me roar” attitude, but I had to roar for myself, lonely and afraid, for two long years. I know I can do it, and I’ve proven to myself and everyone else I am strong and I can handle the big, bad world all by myself. It’s not a terrible thing to let it go and let someone else handle it. Not a bad thing at all.

  “Just once in a while,” I tell him. “You’re right. And I want you to know how lucky Andrew and I both are to have you in our lives. I’m sure you know, but you’re so much more than a bodyguard. I mean it, Tuc
ker.”

  “Don’t get me all verklempt in the doctor’s office. Rudy will come in, and I’ll be embarrassed.”

  “Rudy?”

  “He’s my bud. Your new doctor. I know he’s no best-friend’s-husband Joe, but he’s the best at knees on the East Coast. He fixed me up almost ten years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing big. I got tackled by a crazy fan onstage at a client’s concert. The dude took me out sideways, at the knees. Tore my right meniscus all to hell. Man, did it hurt.”

  “You weren’t covering Andrew.”

  “No. This was back when Andrew was a normal famous guy, not a nuclear famous guy. He had some soap opera fan club crazies, but they usually just wanted him to sign underwear. I didn’t have to do crowd control everywhere he went. It was usually just appearances or movie premieres. I had other clients then.”

  “Do you miss that?”

  “Not a bit. I’ve worked for some other sweet people, but there are a lot of celebrities who need the most protection from themselves. I could tell you stories.”

  I don’t get a chance to ask. The door to the room opens, and Rudy appears.

  Rudy apparently was a wide receiver in a former life. He’s as tall and wide as Tucker. I feel puny next to them. I may even feel compelled to go lift some heavy things just to fit in.

  “Good morning! How is everyone today?” Rudy gives Tucker a hearty hug.

  “My man, my man. Long time no see!” Tucker glows. Clearly these men are made for each other. I wonder if Rudy’s interested. Tucker should have a boyfriend. He never lets me set him up. Part of that could be that I don’t really know anyone to set him up with, not anywhere except Boise.

  “And this must be the fabulous Kelly. How are you?” Rudy shakes my hand, holds on to it for a moment.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Tucker tells me you’re not so hot.” He’s still holding my hand, but reaches behind him to pull up a rolling stool and sits in front of me on it.

  “My knee is bugging me. And I really like to run. It keeps me sane.” I shrug.

  He looks at Tucker and smiles. “She is adorable. You were completely right.” He laughs. He’s a big laugher, with his head tilted back and his mouth wide, eyes crinkled shut.

  Tucker looks at me. “I only said adorable things about you. I promise.”

  Rudy chuckles again. “You’re in the right place, Kelly. I want to take a look at it and see about maybe an MRI. Then we can decide what’s next.”

  “MRI? While I’m pregnant?”

  “It’s the safest alternative. Way safer than a CT. We’ll get one good look before I decide if I need to scope it or not. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s have a look.”

  I pull up the leg to my yoga pants, and Rudy tenderly probes around my kneecap.

  “You know, the way your body weight gets redistributed when you’re pregnant, just that might be enough to set this off. Your hips spread a bit and the angle from knee to hip changes.”

  “The clicking didn’t really start until I was here in New York.”

  “Lots more stairs to climb. Subway, buildings, you know. Plus everything here is paved. I bet you ran on trails mostly in Boise. Nice healthy dirt.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Well, let’s schedule the MRI, and lay off the running until then. When I know more I’ll give you some specific things to do to build the muscles around the knee, but I want to wait until I see what’s up.”

  I will not cry, I will not cry. I breathe in. “No running?”

  Tucker looks at me, smiles. “You can do this, Kelly.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately, no running. What’s in your building? You have a swimming pool? Do that, and maybe an elliptical, but if it feels funky on the knee, don’t do that.”

  “This sucks.” I can’t be all chipper about it.

  “I know. Tucker tells me it’s really your go-to stress reliever.”

  “It’s how I combat depression. Number-one way.”

  “I feel you. I get SAD every year. The time change and short days suck the life out of me.”

  He’s the happiest person I’ve ever seen. I don’t believe it. “You personify sunshine. You’re Rudy of Sunnybrook Farm. Come on.”

  “I lift, I run, and I do yoga. I get acupuncture too. You should try that. I have a guy I really like. That might be something you can do with Andrew too. He should get after that in a couple weeks. It’ll help with the nerve damage on his shoulder blade.”

  “I don’t know if he’s even gotten that far. That sounds like a good idea.” I know Dr. Joe at home is all about the acupuncture.

  Tucker stretches. “I’ll go with you. My knees could stand some poking too.”

  “Kelly can do it for knees and for depression. That means extra needles.” Rudy laughs again.

  “So, no running.” I sigh.

  “Nope.” He hands a slip of paper to Tucker. “We’ll do the MRI in-house. See you next week.”

  I don’t know about this. No running. I chew the inside of my cheek while I process this on the way to the car. Tucker’s quiet.

  “Well, Miss Kelly, should we hit the tea shop before we get home?”

  “Sure.”

  “Hey. Remember, we’re going to do this together. No big deal.”

  I nod.

  He stops short at the bottom of the stairs. “I have a brilliant idea. You’re going to love me for this.”

  “What?”

  “What about some girl time?”

  “What?”

  “Tessa and the terrible triplets. Think of all the fun you could have with your best friend and her three little monsters. The American Girl store, Natural History Museum, carriage rides around Central Park, dress up and Madeline’s tea at the Carlyle. Let’s invite them to visit.”

  “Yes. I’m all about that idea. I love it, Tucker. Let’s call Tessa from the car.”

  Tucker takes my hand to help me climb the stairs. “This is why I am the man. You might love that Andrew guy, but I am a genius and truly the man.”

  “I completely agree,” I tell him. “You rock.”

  20: I’m Not the Only One

  I JUST WANT TO LIE DOWN. Really. I could wish for a drink, or a smoke, or to be wrapped up in Kelly’s arms, but as of right now, on set, the only thing that’s attainable, that’s allowed, and that won’t get me fired or on the path to ruin is to lie down and take a nice, long nap.

  “Tucker, if McDougal comes back, just whistle twice, one low, one high, and I’ll jump right back to my mark.” I turn away from the group of people I’m standing with and start inching my way to the low green velour couch that someone on the crew dragged over to the area by the food. I have no idea where in New York City this couch came from, seeing as how it’s now appeared in the middle of our trailers and set, but I don’t care. I don’t even care if it smells. My shoulder hurts, and I want to lie down.

  “Are we in a secret club? How about I just say, ‘He’s coming!’” Tucker even gets pissy from time to time. Between the two of us, we’ve probably had maybe fifteen hours of sleep in the past three days.

  “That works too.” I sit down on the couch and think about the best way to spare my torn-up shoulder when I fall into blissful slumber.

  “Andy!” I hear him before I see him. “Andy, aren’t you about to run through this scene?”

  Aaronson. He powerwalks over to me. I was so close.

  “McDougal paused us for a minute. He wanted to ask the second unit DP something. I think he just stepped into that trailer over there.” I point in the direction my director went, hoping to send Aaronson away.

  He stands over me, looking down. “I don’t want him. I want to talk to you.”

  I sigh. “Okay.” I stand up and try to look more awake. “What’s up?”

  Aaronson looks up to the heavens, takes a deep breath, lets it out, looks me straight in the eye. “Are you okay?”

  “My shoulder, no. Me? Sure. I’ll be
fine.” I stand up tall.

  He nods. “Good. Let me know if you need anything. Glad to hear you’re fine.”

  He turns and strides back the way he came. I look over at Tucker. Tucker just shrugs.

  “Tucker, I’ll be in my trailer. Come get me. Tell McDougal I needed to change the dressing on my shoulder.”

  “If that’s a legit thing I’m telling him, I can send someone in to help you fix it. The on-set nurse knows how to dress a wound. Her name’s Angie. She’s nice.”

  “It’s a lie. I’m going to go nap. I must lie flat.”

  He knew that before he asked me.

  I get in my trailer, and I’m so happy to be near a couch to lie down on, it takes me a minute to realize something is wrong.

  Lots of things are wrong. So, so many things are wrong.

  The inside of my trailer looks like it’s been attacked by a French whore. A classy, high-priced one, but still. There are swaths, miles and miles of fabric, all pink and gold and shiny, draped over the windows and covering the table—and the little trailer bench seats. There are candles lit everywhere. I smell perfume, something familiar and spicy, and hear music playing. Something I’ve heard before.

  My blood goes cold.

  “Amanda?” I call out.

  “In here, Andy.”

  As soon as the smells and sounds registered in my brain, one word came to mind: Cannes.

  Cannes the film festival. Cannes the place where Amanda and I hooked up and broke up.

  “You’re not in the bedroom, are you?”

  My trailer has a tiny bedroom at the back of it.

  “Of course I am. Don’t be an idiot. Come here.”

  I walk back to the door of the room.

  Amanda has a lighter in her hand. She touches it to the tips of the candles in a huge silver candelabra in the middle of a little table, set for two.

  “Stop.” I close my eyes in the hopes that she will disappear.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know what you’re doing, or thinking, but stop. Get out of my trailer, Amanda.”

  “I thought you’d like a little Cannes right here in New York. Remember our room? The balcony, where the sea air drifted in at night, the way the curtains billowed up with the breeze off the Mediterranean?” She gestures to all of the decorations she’s added.