Spur of the Moment

by Theresa Alan

  “I’m so sorry.” She didn’t say anything for a beat. “You’re going to look for a new job, right? I mean when you’re feeling better.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Rob, I love you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  He shook his head.

  “Please don’t go back to fighting fires.”

  “Chelsey, it’s what I do. I love it. I’ll have some time off to get my leg fixed up and then I’m going back. It’s got good benefits, it’s a good job.”

  “But it’s so dangerous. I don’t want you to go back.”

  “Last time I checked you didn’t get to make the decisions for me,” he snapped.

  “I didn’t . . . I’m just worried about you. I love you.”

  His expression softened. “I know you do. I love you too.”

  Chelsey sat next to him all day until he was cleared to go home. She held his hand the entire time. She had feared she’d lost him; now she never wanted to let him go.

  37

  In the Shadows of the Limelight, Part Two

  Ten days had gone by, and still no word from Jay.

  Marin had long days at work to keep herself occupied, but there was so much time she spent on the sidelines, waiting to perform, and she was left with far too much time to think about him.

  She tried to spend her time waiting to perform memorizing her lines, but she was having a hell of a time concentrating. Typically they got their lines the morning or the night before they were going to shoot. She did her best to remember her lines and her cues—she had no idea what anyone else was saying. She also had to work hard to remember her marks—twice Jessica had stepped too far forward or too far to one side of her marks and earned the fiery ire of the director and cameramen. There wasn’t time to re-shoot a scene several times. You got a rehearsal and then you got in front of the camera and got it right.

  Worse than being alone with her thoughts and insecurities and what-ifs (What if he forgot what hotel I was staying at? What if I never see him again? What if he wasn’t really attracted to me?) was having to chat with her fellow actors. Devin was cool—she’d been in the business for a while and hadn’t let the success of getting on a TV series go to her head. Bennett didn’t say much, so he was okay, but Jessica and Aryan-nation Conrad and what she had formerly considered to be cute Alex (his arrogant personality had rid her of any attraction to him) had managed to develop egos of superstars in no time at all rather than the beginners they actually were.

  They had no trouble talking about themselves, but any time Marin tried to steer the conversation around to more general topics—the situation in the Middle East, the film and television industries in general, pop culture, or world events—they were at a loss.

  The three women had a five A.M. makeup call and had to be on the set by six. By one o’clock when they called a lunch break, Marin felt like she was going to pass out from hunger. The studio had, as usual, brought in a miniscule salad with an ounce or so of various low-fat protein—fish, skinned chicken, turkey breast.

  This was ridiculous. The guys got real lunches; the women were given twigs and tomatoes and fat-free flavor-free dressing.

  “Is there any way I could get some bread with this?” Marin asked the assistant who’d brought them their lunches. The assistant looked at her as if she’d asked for a platter of baby brains. “A sandwich? A bowl of soup? Another salad? Anything?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Marin would just have to remember to pack her own lunches. She’d meant to do that, but by the time she staggered home to bed every night and checked the phone to see if he’d called, she was too tired and too disappointed to go to the grocery store. Or to do anything more than go to bed, thinking about what she’d done wrong, wondering why he hadn’t called. It had been ten days. Ten! She’d never gone ten days waiting for a call from a guy.

  The assistant brought Marin a fruit salad. Marin sighed. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  “So what did you think of how I played my scene?” Jessica asked. Jessica’s character, Marissa, worked as a waitress by day. In the scene that had been shot this morning, Marissa had encountered a group of drunk businessmen who at first hit on her and then when they were rebuffed, started joking with each other, saying things like, “I don’t know, Jerry, don’t take it too hard, you can do better than a waitress.” “Hey guys, I bet she’s not really a waitress, I bet she’s really an actress.” Hearty laughs all around. “Oh no, I’m sure she’s working on her master’s degree.” “Probably studying to be a doctor.” More laughs.

  It was all very meaningful because earlier in the day, when Jessica/Marissa hadn’t gotten the part she’d auditioned for, she was wondering if she really was an actress or she was going to be waiting tables for the rest of her life, and if so, was it time to throw in the towel and start working on a different career?

  “I wanted her to look hurt, obviously,” Jessica was saying, “but I, um, also thought she would show a certain degree of resolve beneath her hurt feelings. A glimmer of steely determination. Did you catch the way I lowered my voice an octave to suggest both that I was trying to keep from crying, sort of that husky pre-tears thing, and that I was coldly indifferent to their hurtful remarks?”

  “You did great,” Marin said.

  “It was a good scene,” Devin said.

  “I don’t really think Marissa is a victim, you know? I think, um, she’s a fighter, and I really wanted to convey that to the audience. It was really such an acting challenge.”

  Marin and Devin exchanged a look. They were grateful when lunch was over and they had to go back to work.

  Marin got home from work at 9:30 that night. The light on the phone in her hotel room was blinking.

  Do not get excited. Do not get excited. It was probably her mother. Out of nowhere, suddenly her mother had started taking an interest in Marin. Joan had acted as though all these years Marin had performed in plays with school, with the Iron Pyrits, and even for pay at Spur of the Moment had been a silly hobby of Marin’s, something to kill time. Now that her daughter had gotten recognition from real-live players in the industry, it was finally real to her, not some silly side interest. Joan reported how she was bragging to all her friends about Marin’s success, and kept telling Marin how proud she was.

  Marin called for her messages. “Hi Marin,” the message began. Marin’s heart seized. It was a male voice. “This is Jay Prochazka. We met about a week ago.” Try ten days. Ten long days, buddy. “I was wondering if you would like to get together Tuesday. I’m on the road a lot, so let me give you my cell phone number.”

  Marin wrote down the number and considered. Should she call him right now? She had to be on the set on Tuesday; Friday was her day off. Please dear God, let him be free on Friday.

  Before she could decide whether to call him right away or not, her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Is this Marin?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Jay. How’ve you been?”

  “I’m great! How are you?” She was so happy, she couldn’t keep the joy out of her voice. She knew she should play it cool, but she was so excited she was practically jumping up and down—well, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet anyway.

  “Did you get my message?”

  “I just finished listening to it. I just got home.”

  “So are you free Tuesday?”

  “I have to be on the set Tuesday. Friday is my day off this week.” Please be able to get together Friday, please be able to get together Friday . . .

  He sounded a little miffed. “I’ll have to check my schedule. I’ll get back to you. I’ll call you soon. Talk to you later.”

  He’d hung up before she could say good-bye. God she hoped he’d call her back. She couldn’t believe what a short, strange conversation that had been.

  Marin looked around the room. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want to get ready for bed. She didn’t wa
nt to be washing her face or brushing her teeth when he called.

  10:03. 10:07. 10:11. 10:18.

  Okay, maybe she should hop in the shower. He’d definitely call while she was in the shower.

  So she did. She showered like it was a timed Olympic sporting event. She washed, shampooed, brushed her teeth and was out of the shower in four minutes flat. He hadn’t called.

  10:46. 11:02. She couldn’t sleep. She was too wired. He’d meant he would call her back tonight, hadn’t he?

  Two endlessly long hours after his first call, he called back. “It’s all been arranged. Friday will work out just fine.”

  “Great. So what have you been up to?”

  “You know, I’m on the road and could lose the signal any minute. Do you mind if we catch up Friday?”

  “Oh, of course. See you then.” Marin hung up. It was 11:30 at night, and she was delirious from lack of sleep and excitement, but that had been such an odd conversation. Some guys just didn’t like talking on the phone. That was probably all there was to it.

  The next day at work, Joey the cameraman pulled Marin aside as other members of the crew fiddled with the lighting.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  His eyes scanned the room to make sure no one could overhear them. “Watch your back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just be careful. Jessica . . . I’ve overheard her a few times trying to talk Don into giving her some of your lines. She’s saying stuff like you’re not focused and it would be better if her character said these things than your character.”

  Marin was surprised by how much this stung. “Was she successful?”

  “No way. She keeps missing her marks. If anything, her character will get less and less to say.”

  “Thanks Joey.”

  “You’re a good kid. I know this is all new to you. I’m just saying, you can’t trust anybody.”

  Marin was unsettled. She was used to improv, where everyone was equal and everything was done for the group, not for the individual. It hurt that Jessica would go behind her back like that. This dog-eat-dog world was going to take some getting used to.

  At noon on Friday, Jay picked Marin up at the hotel in an Aston Martin Vanquish.

  “Nice car,” she said, trying not to gape.

  “I like it. I thought we’d do a picnic at a park. What do you think? I’ve got a basket all packed,” he said.

  “I’m happy to eat anywhere as long as I get free food.”

  “It’s a deal then.”

  As he took off down the road he asked if she liked working in television.

  “I love it. It’s insane and exhausting and there is all this politics and backstabbing and everybody is out for themselves, but I love the acting so much. It’s just so exciting. If the series doesn’t get picked up, I don’t know how I’m going to go back to working a boring temp job.”

  “It’s important to love what you do.”

  “Did you love doing what you did?”

  “I loved it, I really did. But for about four years there, all I did was work. I ate at work, I slept at work more times than I want to remember, I lived for work. I had no life. I kept getting dumped by my girlfriends because they were sick of me spending more time on my job than on them. I enjoyed building a good company, but now I’m happy to just enjoy life.”

  “Have you always had money?”

  “My parents did well. My dad was also a businessman and entrepreneur. My mom came from money, too, and investing it was what she did for a living.”

  “So they gave you the money to start your business?”

  “I started out with $10,000 of my own money and a computer. Eventually some venture capital, including some from my dad, helped me grow the business. I think Dad was a little cautious about giving me money at first because—I wasn’t the best student, let’s put it that way. I’d gotten into some trouble, a lot of trouble actually, and he wanted to see that I had really straightened myself out. I think working so hard is what straightened me out. I had something to really focus on besides just having a good time. Of course, now I’m back to just enjoying life and having a good time.”

  He drove to Hancock Park in Los Angeles, a mostly residential neighborhood. He drove down a secluded back road. It had a gate, but the gate was open. They drove quite a ways down the windy road, and Marin noted the tennis court, the enormous swimming pool, and the gorgeously landscaped lawn. He stopped in an out-of-the-way spot filled with trees, sumptuous flower beds, and a small creek. This is where he unfurled the blanket.

  “Wow, this is beautiful. Why is there no one here?” she asked.

  “It’s a private park.”

  “What do you mean private?”

  “I mean this is my backyard.”

  “You’re joking. But where is your house?”

  “You know when we came to that gate and the road forked two ways? If you went the other way, you’d come to the house. You can see it if you look over that way.”

  “You’re not referring to that sprawling mansion-castle-like thing are you?”

  “Yep. My landscapers worked hard to make it as secluded as possible.”

  “Yeah, the forest does a nice job, but what with it being, what, 30,000 square feet, it’s a tad hard to conceal entirely. Just how much did you sell your business for?”

  “Quite a lot. Anyway, the house is only 22,000 square feet.”

  “Oh, I see, only 22,000 square feet smack dab in the middle of one of the most expensive cities in the world.”

  “I also made a lot of good investments. I got out at the right time.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Wine?”

  “Please.”

  “Do you like caviar?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Pâté?”

  “Bring it on.”

  Her parents were filthy rich, but they lived in New York, and while they owned two floors of a 9,000-square-foot penthouse, they had no yard to speak of. Even on their vacation home in Martha’s Vineyard, they had just a little scrap of lawn to call their own. Marin was used to wealth, but not this kind of wealth. She did her best not to let on how impressed she was.

  “I said I didn’t go to guys’ houses on a first date, but I have to say, you’ve piqued my curiosity. Want to give me a tour?”

  “Actually, I have other plans for this afternoon, if you don’t mind.”

  38

  The Scoop

  “Do you need some more water? Are you still hungry? Do you need more pain medication? I know you said you’re fine, but you don’t have to pretend to be strong for me.”

  “Chelsey,” Rob groaned, “I’m not an invalid.”

  The phone rang. Chelsey didn’t make a move.

  “I will live for the length of time it takes you to pick up the phone.”

  Chelsey decided he was right and crossed the living room to retrieve the phone. “Hello?”

  “I miss you,” Ana said.

  “I know, I miss you guys, too.”

  “You are coming back to performing next weekend, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I feel so guilty. I leave Rob alone all day when I go to work, I just can’t bear to leave him alone at night.”

  “So I guess meeting for drinks tonight is out of the question. It’s just, with Marin in L.A. and you incognito . . . I’m desperate for female companionship. I know I have friends from high school and college, but they’re not my bestest bestest friends like you and Marin.”

  “Oh, I wish I could, but I don’t think I can. I need to watch Rob . . .”

  “Who is it?” Rob called.

  “Ana. She wants to go out for drinks. I told her I can’t go.”

  “Chelsey, are you bonkers?” he said.

  “Hold on, Ana.” Chelsey covered the phone receiver.

  “Go out. I mean it Chelsey, I love you, but you’ve been smothering me.”

  “You need me. What if . . .”
/>   “Chelse, I have your cell phone number. If I fall and can’t get up, I know who to call.”

  Chelsey got back on the phone. “Apparently my patient thinks I’ve been smothering him. It’s all lies of course. Evidently the fact that when I’m home I won’t let him cook for himself, get his own glasses of water, or fetch pain medication, he thinks I’m being overbearing.”

  “Is he getting around okay?”

  “Yeah, actually, he’s doing well.”

  “Leave. Out, woman!” Rob bellowed.

  “All right, I’m being ordered to get out of this house and have drinks with you.”

  “Excellent. Meet me at the Funky Buddha at nine.”

  “Actually, why don’t I pick you up in my new car?”

  “You got a new car?!”

  “Yeah. I got six thousand bucks back in insurance from the Honda, which was plenty for a down payment. I bought a Saturn. The insurance is really low because it’s one of the safest cars out there, and I figure with my recent displays of driving skills, or lack thereof, safe is probably good. It’s not the sexiest car, but still, I’m all excited about it.”

  “Okay, pick me up at ten to nine. I’ll trust that you can get me to the bar in one piece.”

  At 9:02, they ordered cosmos and promptly began to dish.

  “So did ya hear about Marin?” Ana asked.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s in love.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “With a good-looking millionaire.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. Listen to what they did for their first date: He took her to his estate for a picnic. He has this sprawling yard that looks like a botanical garden with trees and a creek and a swimming pool and a tennis court, and they have a picnic by this creek with all the kind of expensive exotic foods and fine wines you’d expect from a millionaire. What am I saying, he must actually be a billionaire.”

  “That bitch.”

  “My sentiments exactly. So then he takes her up in a hot air balloon. His own private hot air balloon, and they do that for a couple hours and then he takes her on his private plane—”