“Come on, Holly.” Now he was trying to cajole me.
For a moment, I contemplated being honest with him. But then I realized that we had no foundation for honesty and it was too late to build one now. Dropping the disguise would just extend the game I’d grown tired of playing. “I think I’m done, Peter.”
“You haven’t even touched your food.”
Our relationship had started with me worrying that he would discover the real me and leave. Why should it end on the same note?
“No, I mean with you. I’m done,” I said quietly. I got up and removed my coat and bag from the back of the chair. I stood there for a second and then said, “I wish you all the best.”
“Holly—”
“No,” I said with finality.“I honestly do wish you all the best. But we’re done.”
“Who’s going to pay for this?”
“You are.” I smiled. “Take care of yourself, Peter.” I turned and walked out of the restaurant to the cheering from the couch in my head.
My cell phone rang as I put the key in the front door.
“May as well get it over with,” said Betty Jane inside my head. “He’s probably calling for your credit card number and breakup sex. It was a nice little performance, but I know you.You’ll back down like you always do.” She sharpened her nails with an emery board.
I pulled my phone out of my bag. She had not lost her impeccable sense of timing. I pressed the answer button and said, “Hello.”
{ 29 }
It was nine in the morning. I stood on First Avenue, wrapped my scarf a little tighter around my neck, and pulled down my hat.The bitter cold ate through my winter coat. Even though the weather forecast called for blue skies, the windchill made thirty degrees feel a lot more like twenty. My breath formed like a ghost in front of me while I walked down the street replaying last night’s phone call in my head.
I had recognized the number, but hearing her say my name had still startled me.
“Listen, doll,” said Brenda Barry, my former agent, in response to my surprised hello. Then she continued without pausing. “I got a call from the studio.They want you there tomorrow morning, at ten sharp, to run through story concepts.”
Brenda hadn’t spoken to me since I demanded she stop sending me on those demeaning auditions. She had lectured me and then unapologetically told me that she couldn’t afford to make an enemy of Walter Torrent. I knew that meant that he’d told her to humiliate me. And if I wasn’t going to suck it up and take it until Walter recovered, she and I were through.
“Wha—”
“Holly,” said Brenda, “I don’t want to hear any reason why you can’t make it.”
“Tell her to send our car,” Betty Jane exclaimed inside my head. “We must arrive in style.” Her palms met under her chin and she covered her mouth coquettishly with the knuckles of her hands.
“How?” I let the word dangle there as I tried to find the rest of the question. I’d heard that Walter said he didn’t care if God himself wanted me back, I would never do voice-overs for The Neighborhood again. Who trumped God?
“Never mind how. You be there tomorrow. I’ll call a car service.”
“No, thanks.” I was still dazed. “I can get myself there.”
“You!” sputtered Betty Jane inside my head. “How dare you rob me of my entrance.” This unbridled anger was becoming commonplace for her.
“Gotta run. Good luck.” Brenda hung up.
In a cold, flat voice, Betty Jane said,“You can rot in hell, Holly Miller. My voice will never come out of your mouth again.”
“Is that a promise?” I retorted. Even though the haughty words sounded good, the tiny flame of hope flickered and faded. Betty Jane’s was the voice Walter loved. If she didn’t speak, the session would be a déjà vu of my last day on set.
When I woke up the next morning, I asked myself, Why go? And the answer was because even though my career had been taken down by a wrecking ball named Betty Jane, I was still a professional. They had booked me, so I’d show up. On time. I checked my watch. Plenty of cushion to get down to Chelsea Piers. Ready?
Inside my head, Betty Jane opened an eye and then quickly shut it, but she didn’t budge from her bed. Sarge and Aiden were dressed as usual in their matching navy peacoats, and the Silent One was wrapped and up for walking meditation.
When we reached the street, I felt a rush of longing for the old days with Ruffles narrating.Today’s course was perfect.With her guidance, I could have done a gold medal run to the subway station.Without her, I did only a silver, but I made it to the station without incident.
When the F train pulled in, the Committee’s living room switched to a subway train inside my head. Betty Jane continued her pretend slumber, so her canopy bed was in the middle of the Committee’s subway car—pink satin right in between the poles. I noted with satisfaction that the garbage strewn in my car was mirrored in theirs. It brushed right up against Betty Jane’s white dust ruffle. When we boarded the M23, the scene in my head switched to a bus. Betty Jane’s bed dipped in the middle to fit in the aisle. The canopy pressed upward like a steeple and crushed against the ceiling. I ruminated on the strange world I lived in as the bus ferried us down to the Chelsea Piers.
The same guard who used to cover for me when I would sneak out to smoke greeted me with a wave of his hand.“Will we be seein’ you around here again?” he asked.
“Hopefully,” I said brightly.
“Good luck then.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and waved as I continued on.
In the lobby the receptionist said,“Hello,” and handed me the story line. I scanned it. Betty Jane’s eyes sprang open. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Mike.
“Hey,” I said shyly.
“Hey,” he said. His hand was still resting on my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
I held his gaze for a moment, and then looked down and said, “Honestly, I’m a little scared. I can’t do Violet today.” Inside my head, Betty Jane threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Then she stood up and stalked out of the room with the bed disappearing in her wake.
“Can you do Harriet?” said Mike.
“If they want her,” I answered in Ruffles’s voice. From the lines they’d given me, it looked like they were considering expanding Harriet into a larger part. I was afraid to ask him, though.
“That one sounds perfect.” Mike squeezed my shoulder and then took his hand away. The heat from it lingered for a few more seconds and I wondered if it was bad to date your boss. “I am not going to lie to you, Holly. If ratings weren’t dipping, and fans weren’t writing in, you wouldn’t be here.”
“I understand,” I said, biting the inside of my mouth.
“I’ll push the Harriet story line first. Just steer clear of Walt’s World until things get back on track.”
My stomach plummeted to my feet.
“To torment like always,” said Mike.
I laughed and relaxed.
“Good luck, and see you in there.” He gave me a little tap with his fist on my upper arm. Aiden used to do that when I had to go confess some misdeed to my mother. I felt my shoulders relax.
“Thanks,” I said with a small smile.
About ten minutes later the receptionist said, “Holly, they’re ready for you now.”
I entered the room.The same one I had done my first reading in. That day seemed so long ago, and that girl was gone. I looked around to see who was there, greeted the casting director, the director, and Walter. Mike walked in. I said hello to him and then stood there waiting for what was next.
Mike looked at the script and said,“Why don’t we start with Harriet?”
Walter nodded his head and grunted, “Fine.”
He’s not bitter. Then the words diva, entitled, and I made you rang fresh in my head. I inhaled deeply and launched into the lines they had given me earlier. I moved around the room, punctuating my monologue with hand movemen
ts where appropriate. Walter sat there nodding. Once or twice he asked me to change the pace or tweak a tone.
“Bravo,” said Mike.
“I’ve been working on this voice in my spare time,” I said. “I’ve expanded the range quite a bit.”
“Let’s hear it,” said Mike.
I did the same monologue I had done for the parents and kids at the play the week before.When I closed in on the finish, Walter was leaning all the way forward on his chair. I put my palms on the table and slid forward, saying my last lines almost inches from his face.
Walter clapped and said, “Fantastic!” Then to Mike he said, “This fits right in with the idea to push out this character a bit more.”
Funny,Walter had always preferred the Violet character. I have him. Cue the band.
“Okay, let’s switch now to Violet.”
My feat became a false note. Mike shook his head slightly.
Betty Jane appeared in the Committee’s living room and said sweetly, “I’ll do the voice.” I adjusted my breathing to match Betty Jane’s breathy Southern drawl. “Oh, no, sugar,” Betty Jane gushed, “you need to let me have control. It’s the only way.”
I had been doing Ruffles’s voice without shifting, so I ignored her and read the first line.
My knees drooped. All blood rushed from my head. I heard slacks slide across leather as Walter and Mike shifted in their chairs. I can’t go through this again.
“Sugar, we can be on top once more,” Betty Jane said sweetly. “But . . .” she said sharply. Here we go. Whoever said Southern belles are sweet never encountered this sour pie. “I have some requirements.” Betty Jane pulled her mirror out of the drawer and started to inspect her pores.
I watched Walter as I listened to her. His impatient body language screamed, I told you so.
“All I am asking for is our original agreement with some teensy-weensy adjustments. If you just say yes, we can work out the finer points later.Without Milton,” she added hastily.
Everyone waited. All eyes were on me. I remembered the scene last July, when Betty Jane refused and I stood there stupidly, just like I stood there now. The only difference was that then I had the protective glass of the booth between me and them.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Picked up my glass and sipped some water. Betty Jane also sipped something.
“Holly, honey, it’s just li’l ol’ me. I’m on your side. I just want us to be back where we belong again.” Betty Jane smiled and fluttered her eyelashes.
I closed my eyes again. Opened them. Looked at the lines.“I—”
“Walter, let’s table this,” said Mike.“We have a lunch meeting in Tribeca and about ten minutes to get there.” I swear I saw Mike wink at me. I said a silent thanks.
Walter checked his watch. I held my breath. Betty Jane fluffed her hair. Being late was Walter Torment’s middle name. My knees shook. I put out my hand and tried to steady myself on the table. It slipped on the sheets of paper. They skidded off the side and floated to the floor.
Betty Jane said, “Darlin’, all you have to do is nod your head.Then everything will go back to the way it was.”
I squatted down and collected the scattered script. As I picked up the pieces of paper, I thought about how much I loved my job. The work was creative. It turned my eccentricities into something that people actually liked. I missed the fan mail. The calls from my agent saying so-and-so company said they wanted Violet from The Neighborhood to do the voice-over for their commercial. It was tedious work for sure, and the scheduling made everything hectic. But I missed every single minute of it.Then I thought about my two Emmys and wanted another one. I wanted ten more. I wanted people cheering for me when I rebounded from scandal and adversity. The award show still rankled, but I could change it all right now by ceding control to Betty Jane.
I straightened the script. Walter’s Prada shoes reminded me that the enmity between us was mutual. But Walter was not wrong when he’d said he had made me. Of all the diners in all the world, he had had to walk into mine.This made me smile.
“Okay, Holly,” said Walter from the other side of the tabletop.
I almost knocked my head on the table when I stood up.
“Just say you agree and I will put that pathetic performance you just did to shame,” Betty Jane said with a snap of her fingers. Brightly colored lights appeared and began flashing around her. Sarge, Aiden, and the Silent One shook their heads. Betty Jane’s lights glowed more brightly, making their bodies appear as silhouettes.
Yes, I missed this work. I hadn’t known how much until I’d walked back in here and breathed life into their new story line. I wanted to come back.
“Holly!” barked Walter. I froze. “We’ll get on the horn with Brenda and work things out. I am in L.A. until next week. Production starts in March, and, given your history, I’m going to monitor things closely for the next few months just to make sure we’re good. When I get back, I want to hear what you’ve come up with for Violet.”
I exhaled quietly. Betty Jane snapped her fingers and the lights disappeared. I had a brief glimpse of mottled anger on her face before the mask convened it. She sat down indifferently and picked up her nail file.
“Thanks so much,Walter, for giving us this chance again.”
Aiden buried his head in his hands. Sarge looked angrier than I had ever seen him.The Silent One sat stone faced.
I decided to walk home from Chelsea Piers, and for once my chosen mode of transportation suited Betty Jane. As soon as we reached Twenty-third Street, she transformed the Committee’s living room inside my head into a mirror avenue, but with roped-off sidewalks, cheering crowds, and no traffic. Then a garishly decorated parade float appeared under her feet and began to roll down the avenue. Betty Jane’s attire transformed into a blue satin gown.The jeweled sunflower she wore at the Emmys was pinned to the fur wrap covering her shoulders and it matched the jeweled tiara she wore on her head. She cradled dozens of long-stemmed red roses in her left arm while she did her practiced wave with the right.The couch holding the others sat behind her like discarded refuse.
The walk home took about two hours. Betty Jane floated along the whole way, waving at the cheering crowds on her avenue, occasionally blowing a kiss. Snow started to fall when we reached Fifth Avenue. I watched the flakes drift to the ground and I thought about how these fragments become whole as soon as someone forms them into a snowball. By the time I arrived at the front door of my building I knew I was willing to do anything to have my life back again.
{ 30 }
I sat in Milton’s waiting room tapping my foot on the floor. I had given up on the New Yorker two minutes ago. I couldn’t focus on the comics today. Sarge, Aiden, and the Silent One sat in their mirror waiting room inside my head without touching their magazines either. I knew they were as nervous as me if Car and Driver and Catholic Weekly sat on the table. Betty Jane flipped casually through Vanity Fair. No doubt shopping for a whole new back-to-work wardrobe. Milton finally opened the door.
I rushed in and flopped onto the couch. The Committee scrambled for spots in their matching therapy room inside my head.
“I got called back for my show. I went to the studio yesterday. They wanted to do story lines for Violet and Harriet. I did Harriet; then Walter wanted Violet, but Mike saved me with a lunch meeting, so that is on hold until next week, when I have to come back in and read those lines. My agent called and my new contract is ready.” It all tumbled out in one breath. “I’m back.”
“You’ve been busy since we last saw each other,” Milton said, considering me. I hadn’t told him about doing Ruffles’s voice at the theater a couple of weeks ago. I wasn’t prepared for the aftermath.
“Not by choice, believe me.”
“And now? Now that you can do Harriet”—Milton gave me a knowing look, but I didn’t know what he knew—“what will you do about Violet?”
“Betty Jane said we can reimplement the old agreement and go back to the way things were.�
�
“Ah,” said Milton.
All Committee members sat very alert.
“She has a few modifications, though.”
“I said without him,” snapped Betty Jane inside my head.
“And what are those?” said Milton.
“I didn’t ask.” I shook my head.
“Why not? Don’t you think it’s a good idea to find out what you’re agreeing to before you agree to it?”
“I realized that if I have to go back to the way things were to keep that job, I’d rather wait tables.”
“What?” Betty Jane screamed inside my head.The other three applauded.
“I decided I’m going to call my agent and tell her I can’t do Violet.”
Milton’s face remained impassive, but the almost imperceptible glitter in his eyes belied something else as he waited for me to continue.
“You stupid, worthless worm,” said Betty Jane inside my head.“I made you, and now you would rather go back to waiting tables. How dare you.” She spit that last sentence out like it was rotten food.
“Responses?” said Milton.
“She is telling me I am a worthless worm. How dare I? The usual.” I sighed.
“How do you feel about that?”
“It’s a bit scary, risking my job.” Inside my head Betty Jane looked up with renewed hope in her eyes. “I guess I have to see how good my agent is. If she wants her cut, she’ll work it out for Harriet.” Betty Jane kicked a pillow across the Committee’s living room inside my head. “And if she can’t work it out, I can always do training videos and phone work.”
“Oh, agony,” cried Betty Jane as she paced the Committee’s living room, digging at her perfectly coiffured hair with her red nails.
I tapped my head and said, “She’s not happy.”
“I should think not,” said Milton.
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