“That’s a wrap for now,” and then louder, “Cut!” I let my eyes wander to Jake’s face. And then he mouthed to me silently, “I love you.”
My stomach flipped. Seriously? Did I read him right? But then he added out loud, “I love you, Star, I love you, Meryl! I love all of you for the best day’s filming ever!”
And I fell back down to earth again. Wondering if I’d ever hear those words for real.
“TAKE FIVE, EVERYONE, we all need a quick break. Actually, let’s say fifteen minutes.”
Leo grinned at me. “Good day, my friend, good day.”
“You did great, Leo. Love those sharp shadows you set up for Paul. Meryl looked fucking crazy. And Star—well, what can I say?”
“She’s great actress—perfect casting, Jake. That last scene? you could not hear pin drop. Wanna grab beer?”
I smiled. I loved Leo’s Russian accent and how he got expressions muddled up. “Sure, let’s go to my trailer.” I yelled out so everyone could hear, “Back in ten, everyone.”
Leo and I made our way through the lot and, once in my trailer, I slumped onto the couch, while Leo took some ice-cold beers from the fridge and grabbed some snacks from the kitchenette. He threw the packets on the table where I had my feet parked. I was dog-tired but at the same time high on excitement and energy. Star was showing me what she was made of. Fuck, that girl could act. She was resilient but vulnerable at the same time. She turned me on in every way—mentally, physically, emotionally—but the Reason chip inside my head kept spelling it out loud and clear, No, Jake. Leave her alone. She’s a young girl. Too young. A goddamn virgin, on top of it all.
Leave. Her. Alone.
“Looking forward to Badlands?” Leo asked, ripping open a bag of potato chips.
“Yeah, a lot. Except—”
“What?” he sat down and handed me a beer.
“Things are going to be a bit different. You know, with Cassie on board.”
“So who is Cassie chick you told me about? She cute?”
“Not really. I mean, yeah, pretty, but not the type to turn heads.”
“Fuck, man? I thought you went for babes?”
“I told you, Leo, I’m done with babes. I’m done fucking around. But at the same time I’ve been going crazy being abstinent. I’ve decided I need a real girlfriend. Someone stable. Intelligent. Someone I can trust with my life.”
“Your life? You flying to Mars or something?”
“Just a nice, friendly, clever woman to keep me sane. No drama, no crazy games, no drugs or parties. Just a sweet, uncomplicated, easygoing girl. We’ve known each other forever. We’re old mates. She’s always been there for me. Crazy about me.”
“Cool, so Star’s game? . . . I mean, free?”
I froze. The idea of anyone, least of all Leo, touching Star, caused a rush of adrenaline to kick into my system as if I were running from a bear or lion. “Very funny, Leo. Leave my cast members alone.”
“Anyway, not sure what Cassie thing is all about. You like Star,” Leo said, nodding his head like he knew it all. “Star’s girl for you.”
“Off limits, Leo,” I said, realizing that I’d obviously made my feelings for Star apparent. “I told you. It ain’t gonna happen! That’s why I sent for Cassie—should be arriving any minute now. I gave her a job as Continuity so she’d have something to do. I want to see if I can make a real relationship work. A real girlfriend/boyfriend thing.”
“And then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you get bored of Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes? After five long minutes?”
“She’s very clever. Went to Oxford, has a degree in Classics. She’s smart, I won’t get bored—she’s a great conversationalist.”
Leo burst out laughing. “Yeah, pussies can really talk.”
“There’s more to life than great pussy, Leo. Look, we’d better get back to the set. I want a muted, very arty look for the next scene, in keeping with that last angular shot of Meryl. Love what you did by the way, Leo—the ideas you gave Paul. I thought he was the best DP I’d ever had but man, you’re doing great stuff, Leo. Keep this up and you’ll be working for me for as long as you want.”
BACK IN MY TRAILER, I waited for Dr. Deal—Narissa, as she preferred to be addressed. The paparazzi were trailing me everywhere, ever since they’d gotten wind of the fact I was living at Jake’s house. “Hollywood’s most beautiful young couple,” they said. “THE NEW BRANGELINA?” another headline said—“WATCH THIS SPACE.”
Well I was watching this space and getting tired of seeing blank.
It all started after the “episode,” when Jake made sure that we were never alone together. Restaurants or friends’ houses, or he invited them over to his place—anywhere but in an intimate situation. He had encouraged me to invite my own friends too; Janice and Mindy—anyone who wanted to tag along. We were quite an entourage. Leo, and half the crew, hanging out—Jake and I were never alone. Still, the press now knew where to find me because I was no longer hidden away. If we went out we’d always get back to Jake’s house before midnight—we were hardly burning the candle at both ends, and no drinking. But it was tiring even for me: the consummate party girl. Tiring mainly because I was no longer doing drugs or drinking, so I was aware of time passing as if in slow motion. Being with him but not able to touch him. Knowing that the precious moment we’d shared had been a one-off, a blip as far as he was concerned, never to be repeated.
At the end of each evening, Biff would escort me to my bedroom and literally, like some strict chaperone, turn out the light. I yearned to stay home alone with Jake, the way we had before the “event” –no such luck. Some nights I was tempted to run away, just to force him to come looking for me—to react, show me he cared, but the house alarms were on so if I snuck out of a window, I’d get caught. Besides, sometimes I’d hear his car start up—he was going somewhere after “lights out” but would never tell me where.
My shrink gingerly tapped on my trailer door, jolting me out of my Jake thoughts. “Come in,” I called out. She entered, carefully climbing the steps, her smooth silver-gray bob, piecing blue eyes, and pencil skirt suit gave her an air of Vogue model sleekness. Well, an over 50’s Vogue model.
“You could fit a family of six in here,” Dr. Deal remarked.
“Yeah, well, the trailer which I was raised in was less than half this size. Thanks so much for coming—it’s getting kind of crazy with the press—they’d follow me to your office, for sure. I really don’t need the ‘STAR DAVIS SEES SHRINK’ headlines right now. Come sit down. Something to drink? Tea, coffee, juice?”
“Some water would be lovely.”
“Still, sparkling? Flavored?” I headed to the kitchen area.
“You’re being treated like royalty I see,” she said, looking around, “any old water is just fine.”
I poured her a Perrier. “Ice, lemon?”
“No thanks.”
“We’re going on location tomorrow—to South Dakota to the Badlands—so this will be my little sanctuary for a while.”
“Is that why this trailer’s so big, because there are two of you?”
“Two?”
Narissa nodded.
“Oh, I get it,” I said, “you’ve been listening to the news, huh?”
“I had no choice. I like to keep up to date with my clients. You cancelled our last three sessions so I figured there must be a reason. Too involved to see me—that was my guess.”
“Work, that’s all. No boyfriend. Don’t believe what you read.” I sat down and handed Narissa her water. “Look, Narissa, this whole ‘Star Davis goes through men like Kleenex’ is so not true. I mean, okay, I’ve had a string of boyfriends but really nothing serious. Sexually speaking, anyway.”
“I’m not here to judge you, Star.”
“I’m a virgin,” I blurted out, “and that’s a fact. It’s something I keep to myself.”
Her pale blue eyes regarded me with fascination as if I were some r
are, on-the bridge-of-extinction species.
“I’m not kidding,” I added.
She leaned in—her elbows planted on the table, and looked me hard in the eye. “Then why? Why are you letting the world believe otherwise? You’re still only nineteen. Being a virgin is something to be proud of, not deny.”
I shrugged. “I really don’t want to be the poster child for Virginity with a capital V.”
“But you’re happy to be the poster child for . . . for . . . ” she didn’t finish her sentence.
“Remember Brooke Shields?” I asked. “Her superstardom was before I was born, but we did a job together a few years ago—she played my mom. Lovely person. I checked out her old commercials on YouTube—you know, I always like to see the work of my co-stars before we start shooting. 1981, she was lying on the floor seductively, her jeans tight as hell and said—straight to the camera—‘You wanna know what comes between me and my Calvins? Nothing.’
Narissa looked blank.
I clarified, “The commercial she did for Calvin Klein Jeans when she was still a teenager? Playing on the whole virtue, virgin thing? And at the same time being an international sex symbol?”
Narissa nodded—a confused expression etched on her face.
“I don’t want a whole big deal made, you know? It’s kind of perverse, people speculating on your virginity when you’re in the public eye. It’s my private life! Virginity doesn’t sound so rock ‘n roll, either. I mean, come on, my last job I played a stripper—if they’d thought I was all innocent I would never have gotten the part. You can’t give them too much information or it goes against you. Why do gay actors pretend they’re straight, for instance? Because if people know they’re gay they won’t get to play the heartthrob. Rock Hudson, Montgomery Clift?—you think they would have been kissing Liz Taylor if everyone had known they were homosexual? And there are plenty of modern-day, gay movie stars—just that the general public have no idea who they are, and these actors go to great lengths to keep it that way. Same principle goes for me. I don’t want to lose cool parts based on people’s preconceptions of me. Let them think what they like—I know who I am.”
Narissa locked her eyes with mine. “Do you, Star? Do you really?”
There was a loud tapping at the door. Saved by the bell. Her last question threw me. Did I know who I was? Actually, if I were to be honest with myself, no, I didn’t.
“Yes?” I called out. My trailer door opened and a face peered in: a woman, somewhere between the age of twenty-five and thirty. She had short brown hair, in a sort of pixie cut. Thin. Skinny actually. Converse hightops. Torn jeans. Attractive, but no big deal. I wondered what she was doing here—I’d never seen her before.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m looking for Jason. So this isn’t his Winnebago?” Her accent was very British. Winny Baaygo. She dragged the syllables. Vey “posh” . . . Downton Abbey style.
“Jason? I don’t know a Jason and I’m pretty familiar with all the crew’s names. This is the lot for Skye’s The Limit. Are you lost or something?”
She was fiddling with the door handle. “Oh, right, I forgot. You all call him Jake. Sorry, I should have introduced myself. You must be Star. I’m Cassie. Jason’s—I mean Jake’s . . . um, well . . . other half, so to speak.”
A wave of nausea washed through me. “Other half of what?” I heard myself say. Cassandra laughed edgily. I didn’t invite her inside. “Nice to meet you,” I said in a sugary tone but not extending my hand. “I’d invite you in, but I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
“Oh, yah, I’m sorry, how rude of me.”
Yah, what the hell kind of talk was ‘yah’?
“Well, I’m working on this film too,” she said, “so we’ll see a lot of each other, I suppose.”
I swallowed hard—my throat felt like wood. How much worse could things get? “What’s your job?” I asked, trying not to sound as if I wanted to punch her in the face.
“Oh, I’m the continuity girl. Filling in for Susan while we’re in the Badlands.”
I wanted to say, calamity, not continuity.
She giggled and put her hand over her mouth as if she’d made a faux pas. “Hah! that’s not very P.C., is it? In America, I mean. Nobody says ‘girl’ anymore, nor ‘actress.’ I’m Continuity.” Cassandra—her cheeks flushed with embarrassment—looked at Narissa for support. “Bye,” she said awkwardly, giving a little wave, and then she skipped off the steps. Bouncy. Jolly. Annoyingly “perky.” I hated her already. Continuity? I wanted her to continue right back to England, and never come back.
Jake was really named Jason? It didn’t suit him one bit. Made me aware of how little I really knew him. I gave her a feeble smile, trying not to be a bitch. It wasn’t her fault that she was in my way. Or was it? When had Jake summoned her into his life? Just recently, as Biff seemed to think? Or had Cassandra—Cassie—been around the whole time? When he had me splayed on his couch, his head between my legs, was she already his girlfriend then? I wondered exactly how and when she’d materialized on the scene. My scene. Where she abso-fucking-lutely did not belong.
“P.C?” I mumbled.
“Politically correct,” Narissa said. “I take it she’s the competition?”
“Competition?”
“Yes, the girlfriend of the man you like.”
“Do you mind, Narissa? I think I’m done with our session for now, I’m not feeling so hot. Was up at five, you know. Trials of the job. Can we take a rain check?”
“You’ll have to face the music sooner or later, Star, and I don’t think this is a good policy of yours, habitually ending our sessions before the allotted time is up.”
“Oh.”
“I think we need to talk about your relationship with Jake Wild.”
I wanted to roll my eyes but stopped myself. This shrink was relentless. “We don’t have a relationship, as such.”
“You’re living in his home, that’s a relationship, with or without sex.”
“Tonight’s the last night. I’ll be here in this trailer on location from tomorrow, and then moving back to my own house after we’re done filming there. He’s my director, that’s all.” I could feel my eyes moisten so I turned my head and, wiping away a tear, pretended I was smoothing back a lock of my hair.
“Then why do I sense such vulnerability when you mention his name?”
“I’m fine.”
“What do you want from the relationship? From him?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I guess I want him to—” I broke off. I want him to love me.
“Is this about control, Star? Or about genuine, heartfelt feelings?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and it was true. I wasn’t sure. I had always played with men and I couldn’t know if I felt crazy about Jake because he wasn’t falling for me, or if I really wanted him. All I knew was that the possibility of Jake loving another woman was making me feel sick to my stomach. And that every time he walked into a room, my heart rejoiced, and when he smiled at me my body tingled all over, and when he touched me I practically fell apart.
“Well,” Narissa concluded, looking at her watch, “I guess whatever your feelings are, you’ll have to put them aside because he has a girlfriend.”
I could feel a surge of fury spike my veins. “Then why are we discussing this?” I snapped. “Why are you trying to wheedle emotions out of me if it’s a lost cause anyway? Do you get a kick out of that?”
Narissa remained impassive—her icy eyes giving nothing away. “Of course not, Star. I just want you to be aware of your feelings and your motivations, that’s all. And once you understand the root of them, it will help you move on. We’ll speak about all this when you’re back from location. Good luck with filming and don’t do anything bad in the Badlands.”
I didn’t smile at her lame joke. I just said, “Don’t say good luck.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because in my business—in the theatre at least—wishing people good luck is bad
luck. You tell them to ‘break a leg.’ Once someone wished me good luck and I fell down some stairs.”
“Well break a leg then, Star.”
“Thank you, I will.”
“WHAT THE HELL do you think you’re doing?”
“Well hello to you, too, Star.”
“Are you alone?”
I looked at my watch. “I’ve got ten minutes. What can I do for you, Star?”
“Why are you playing games with me?” There was defiance in her eyes but they also shimmered as if she might burst out crying any second.
“Calm down, Star, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Get rid of her.”
“Who?”
“You know damn well who! Your girlfriend!”
I looked down at my storyboard and realized there was an important shot missing from the next scene—Star being around so much was making me lose concentration “My girlfriend is no concern of yours.”
“Yes, she is! I can’t work. I can’t concentrate!”
I laughed. “She’s been here all of two hours and you haven’t even started your next scene yet. In fact, unless I’m mistaken, your next scene is in the Badlands and you’re done for the day so why don’t you go home, take a shower and I’ll see you later.”
“Are you nuts? You think I’m going back to your house to listen to the bedsprings squeak while you’re fucking that . . . that . . . English—”
“Her name’s Cassie.”
“You’re a real heartless bastard, you know that?” she yelled, and then quietly muttered, “I hate you, Jake Wild.” She stood on the steps, at the doorway of my trailer, still not stepping inside, but not leaving either.
“No you don’t hate me. Come here, Star, let’s talk this over.” She was glowering at me, still in her prison uniform—her hair a ratty, tangled mess. Make up had made her look sallow and bruised but even so, she was still as beautiful as ever.
“Where is she?” Star demanded.
“In a meeting with the producers.”
“Here, on the lot?”
Falling Star (Beautiful Chaos #2) Page 2