Captain of Industry

by Karin Kallmaker

  She navigated around a young woman out for a jog in a “Gay by the Bay” T-shirt and found herself falling into a sad funk. There was no sign of any kind of endorphins as her mood continued to sink into worry—and something else she didn’t want to name.

  It’s just nerves, she told herself.

  The crowds of tourists clogging Pier 39 sent her back the way she had come. She knew she should eat something. The fragrant streets of Chinatown lay between her and her hotel and dim sum was a fine idea. But when she reached the little hole-in-the-wall she’d found on an earlier visit her feet didn’t stop. She walked on, head down, fighting off a growing sense of fear and anxiety. Doubt. And regret.

  Footsore and completely run out of steam, she took stock of her reflection in the black glass windows of an office building. Her hair had escaped from under the ball cap in a crushed, lopsided mass. The sun and heat had flushed her face, which she hadn’t bothered to touch up after washing off the heavy stage makeup. Her sleeveless yoga top was damp at the collar and armpits.

  It was a long way from Chanel.

  She went inside anyway. This had been her destination all along, she knew that now. She lied to the guards about having an appointment, and told herself that she had no reason to expect Suzanne to even be in her office. Captains of industry were busy. Suzanne could be in La Jolla. Or Tokyo. Or Timbuktu.

  This was absolute madness.

  And ten years too late.

  Contrary to her fears, the receptionist must have judged her harmless because the double doors immediately opened. The adorable Jacques wasn’t there. Of course he would have moved on, Jennifer thought. A tidy young woman in a CommonTech polo shirt greeted her with only a hint of raised eyebrow under her kinky black bangs. “How can I help you?”

  “Is Ms. Mason in?”

  “Are you expected?” The receptionist was far too poised to let on whether Suzanne was even in the building.

  “No, actually. But if you tell her it’s Jennifer Lamont she might be able to find a few minutes. I’m in town unexpectedly.”

  The young woman cocked her head as if she was considering calling security.

  Jennifer belatedly shucked off her sunglasses and smiled. “It really is me.”

  The brown eyes widened. “If you’ll give me a moment to check.”

  Jennifer stepped away so as not to eavesdrop. She had no idea what the young woman was conveying, or to whom, and it was a long minute before she hung up and said, “Ms. Mason will be out in just a moment. If you’ll have a seat…”

  “Thank you.”

  The layout behind the wall of translucent glass looked much the same, though the carpet had been changed from gray to blue. She tried to hide that she was looking toward Suzanne’s office, and simultaneously resisted the urge to run for the stairs.

  “Jennifer?”

  She scrambled to her feet, heart pounding in her throat. Suzanne had come from the other direction. “Hi.”

  “This is a surprise.” Suzanne glanced at the receptionist who was busily tapping at her keyboard.

  Jennifer gazed up at her, words coming in fits and starts. “I’m doing a sitcom shoot, out of the blue. I was out trying to get some exercise, you know how that is, done for the day. Trying not to eat my way across the city. Suddenly I was in front of your building and took a wild, crazy chance that you’d be in.”

  Suzanne stepped in the direction of the elevators and Jennifer followed, all the while telling herself to stop babbling like a fool.

  “I thought maybe we could have dinner. Just, you know, a sandwich. Or coffee. If you have a few minutes.” She ran out of words. Her heart felt outside of her chest, in plain sight, dangling like a piñata.

  She couldn’t interpret the emotion the passed over Suzanne’s face and rippled through her shoulders.

  After an odd gasp for air, her voice clear and even, Suzanne said, “I don’t think there’s any point.”

  The polite smile was what pierced Jennifer to her core.

  It was years of training, hours and hours of vocal lessons that let her form a smile, quell the response of her tear ducts, and answer easily, “I understand.”

  She rang for the elevator, which immediately opened, said a cheerful “Thank you” to the helpful receptionist and pushed the button for the ground floor.

  There are security cameras, she reminded herself. Perhaps not clear enough to tell that she was taking in little gasps of air and whimpering slightly on the exhale. Keep it together, she told herself. Hold on.

  Hold on, she repeated, as she walked the blocks to her hotel, crossed the frigid lobby and kept smiling all the way into her room. Only when the door had closed did the wave of grief engulf her. She groped her way to the bathroom and cried over the sink, splashing water on her face, telling herself she couldn’t do this, it would show in the makeup chair in the morning. There wasn’t enough air to breathe. Eventually she fumbled through a scalding shower that didn’t ease her shivering.

  What had she been thinking? Ten years too late.

  Ten years too late.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “This brings back old times.” Jennifer slid into the booth across from Selena, setting her handbag and sunglasses on the seat beside her.

  “This was never our place.” Lena put down the Betty’s Diner menu she no doubt had memorized. As tailored as always, the only thing that wasn’t crisp and tidy was Lena’s short brown hair, which looked as if Lena still had the habit of running one hand through it while talking on the phone.

  “This is where you met Gail. I didn’t know that at the time.”

  “You were busy trying to get us photographed together again, for whatever reasons made you happy at the time.”

  Okay, they were going to pick at old wounds. Not that Jennifer had expected otherwise when she’d asked Lena if there was any possible way they could talk privately for ten minutes before she left on her ten-day press tour. “As soon as I heard Hyde Butler was in it, I was determined to get that part in Barcelona in spite of our history. It worked out.” The awards, the publicity and breathtaking box office for a “little” indie film—it had most certainly worked out for all concerned.

  “You have always been a better actress than a person.”

  “Ouch. Well, at least you think I can act.”

  “I’ve always known that.”

  Jennifer glanced at the menu then quickly at the tables nearest them. It was on the early side for lunch and they almost had the place to themselves. Even full to the brim, Betty’s couldn’t hold more than a hundred people—hardly a rave spot even though it had retro black, red and chrome diner chic. Their table was out of the sight of nearly all the others and was undesirably right outside the kitchen door where most people wouldn’t appreciate the noise. But, Jennifer realized, that meant food arrived unseen by other people, and she’d seen so many fat-shaming pictures in the tabloids of actresses near a pile of fries not to appreciate the location.

  Clever Lena, as usual thinking of all the angles. Given Lena’s extreme aversion to publicity, Betty’s was a great choice. And she’d met the love of her life here. Gail’s hilarious reenactment on Between Two Ferns of her face plant in Lena’s lap with a plate of chicken and vegetables had been viewed hundreds of thousands of times.

  Their waiter, who looked as if she had worked the breakfast shift and then some, took the order for Lena’s “usual” and then suddenly seemed to recognize Jennifer.

  “So that was an iced coffee with vanilla?”

  “Sugar free. Girlish figure and all that.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought you had to worry about such things.”

  Jennifer’s laugh was sincere. “I doubt there will be a single day of my life where I don’t. And yes, that’s kind of sad.”

  “I met somebody famous. You made my day. Thanks.”

  “You made my day too.” She shot a glance at Lena, clever Lena, who ran a powerful, successful production company and would never be a household
face, which was exactly what Lena wanted.

  Lena appeared to be deeply amused. “I’d forgotten how easily you gather willing slaves.”

  “It wears off.”

  “True, that. You know, I have to ask. Could that purse be any larger?”

  “You mean this pretty thing?” Her Cole Haan handbag was a favorite because it was functional enough to make a great “personal bag” as specified by the airlines. It held everything she would need during the long flight to New York. “I carry it around to repair bridges, fix manhole covers, that sort of thing.”

  Lena’s laugh was welcome. “I can actually picture that. Femme fatale superhero saves runaway bus by patching roadway with her handbag.”

  “Believe me, I’ve pitched the idea. Why not make them killer shoes for real? Pew-pew-pew from the heels.”

  “Not a film Ryan Productions would be interested in.”

  “Not even if you got the right script?”

  “Do you have the right script?”

  “No.”

  Lena sighed. “I see. So, to what do I owe this honor?”

  Banter time was over. “I need advice. About something personal.”

  “Gail would be better than me.”

  “She has a heart I haven’t stomped on, is that what you mean?”

  Lena gave a slight nod.

  “Yes, let’s agree to agree on that and move on. Besides, she’s so nice and it comes so easily to her.” Jennifer didn’t mean to sound so vexed about that. Lena was not the one she wanted, but there had been a time when she had angled to get Gail out of Lena’s life. Her own fault, all of that.

  Lena’s eyebrow arched as far as it would go. “I don’t find that a flaw.”

  “I’m aware of that. It’s just that what would work coming from her isn’t going to fly from me.”

  “Nobody really thinks that what they see is what they get with you—this is true.”

  “Actually, what people see is what they think they’re getting. They’re just not looking above my shoulders.”

  “Perhaps you should wear a tiara to divert the eyes of the easily bemused.”

  Jennifer gave a beauty pageant wave of the hand. “I’m always wearing a tiara. Only the best people can see it.”

  “And we’re still not to the point of this conversation.” Lena broke off to smile at the approaching server.

  Jennifer gathered her thoughts as her iced coffee and Lena’s hot tea were delivered. After assuring the waiter she had everything she needed, she gave Lena her full attention. “They say that one of the hardest things in life is knowing when to try harder or walk away.”

  Lena’s hooded, dark eyes took on a scalpel-like quality. “You have perfected the art of walking away.”

  Don’t argue about it, Jennifer told herself. “Again, agree to agree. I never looked back. Always forward to when I would be accepted as a real actor who is taken seriously.”

  Without hesitation Lena said, “And now that you are?”

  One of Lena’s irritating qualities was her relentless honesty, but it wasn’t until that moment that Jennifer appreciated knowing she could believe Lena meant what she said. “Thank you, that’s nice of you to say. Rope comes out day after tomorrow. Reviews will start appearing today but I haven’t seen any yet.”

  Lena gave her a quizzical look. “You’re nervous?”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  After a sip of tea, Lena observed, “I’m fascinated by the idea of you in a psychological thriller, for one thing. Plus a small cast, one set. It’ll earn back costs, and easily.”

  Jennifer stared.

  Lena cocked her head, as if puzzled by Jennifer’s reaction. “I’m not being nice. I knew right away you were perfect for it. I wish we were producing it. ”

  Jennifer drank some coffee to hide that she still had no words.

  Lena’s eyes held a mix of mockery and surprise. “It’s ironic that you of all people don’t know how to accept a compliment.”

  “Not about acting, I guess.” Lena was right, which was disconcerting.

  “So is this about self-doubt?”

  Jennifer let her tone grow rueful. “The long version is, I suppose.”

  “This is about Suzanne Mason.” Lena’s smile as she sipped her tea was aggravatingly all-knowing.

  “Fine. Yes. Suzanne.” Suzanne who had kissed her and then sent her away.

  “I gather I’m not the only lesbian heart you’ve shattered.”

  “I know you don’t care. But the truth is I broke yours because I broke hers.”

  “That doesn’t really make much sense.”

  Keeping her voice low, Jennifer said, “I had to prove she didn’t mean anything. That how I felt could be turned on and off, like a switch. I practiced on you and it worked.”

  “Jen—for heaven’s sake. Are you still debating about whether women matter to you? Or was Cabo just an incredible act? You lied about it being the first time, after all.”

  “I lied about it being the first time, but how I felt wasn’t an act. Part of it was real. I’ve always wanted you to know that, though it doesn’t matter to you, I don’t think. You have Gail. Gail is obviously perfect for you.”

  “How do you make that sound like a bad thing?”

  “Hello? It’s me, remember? Look up bitch in the dictionary.” Don’t pick a fight, she told herself.

  Lena had her most impassive face on. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “I bought into the idea that anything I did for my career, including how I treated people, was okay. Men don’t apologize for using people.”

  “Those men are jerks. And we both know men who aren’t like that either.”

  “It was not my finest hour, deciding to conquer the worlds I wanted by being a user.”

  “Hallelujah for you.” Lena gave the waiter a pleased smile when her Cobb salad arrived. When they were alone again she said, “Would you like some of this? I don’t just come here out of nostalgia. The food is good.”

  “There’ll be plenty to eat on the plane. And I think you do come here for the nostalgia. Where’s Gail today?”

  “In Ottawa.”

  “You sent her a selfie with the menu, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.” Lena was making an ooey-gooey-I-remember face, and probably didn’t even realize it. Those two were going to be married forever, like Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman.

  “Anyway,” Jennifer continued, “I realize everything I’ve burned in my past is creating a smoking ruin in my future. Like you told me it would. It took me way too long to realize that if you’re rewarded for behaving badly, you end up surrounded by people who only like you when you behave badly. And they’re not people you can like back.”

  Lena leaned away from her, mug in one hand. “I’m asking myself how I can believe a word you say. Then I remember that it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to believe you. You’re not a part of my life except professionally.”

  And with reluctance, Jennifer knew that, and accepted it. “I’ve earned that from you. I get it. Lena…” Jennifer blew out a short breath because she didn’t want to cry. “I really am sorry. You mattered enough to scare me. How do I stop letting fear run my life?”

  Lena had another bite of her salad before answering. “Are you better with her or without her? That’s really all that matters.”

  She didn’t think Lena needed to know that Suzanne had, quite literally, shown her the door. “What about whether she’s better without me than with me? You know I’m not exactly a relationship prize.”

  “Is that your call to make?”

  “I’ve made it twice before.”

  “And how did that work out for her? Or do you even know?”

  Jennifer picked up her coffee, then put it down, not sure she could swallow. “I’m a mess. She doesn’t deserve me, she’s way better than I am.”

  “Are you expecting me to argue with you about that?”

  She spread her hands on the table. “I don
’t even know why I’m here.”

  A long silence followed as Lena ate and Jennifer didn’t drink any coffee.

  Finally, Jennifer shook herself out of her funk and asked, “You’re better with Gail?”

  “God yes. I try to make her life better for having me in it too. We are certainly better together. That makes all the time we have to be apart bearable.” After a sip of tea she asked, “Are you better people together?”

  Jennifer didn’t see how Suzanne could possibly be better off with her. “I’ve never even given us a chance to find that out. I don’t think she wants to find out anymore, but I can’t let go. I’ve played the part of Jennifer Lamont, independent woman, so well that I bought my own act.”

  “As I said earlier, you are an excellent actor.” Lena put down her fork and sighed. “That first movie, after… You told the tabloids that I had your part cut to get even for you dumping me.”

  There was no escaping it, though it was the last thing Jennifer wanted to be reminded about. “I know what I did.”

  “Do you think that’s why some of your scenes didn’t make it to the final?”

  “No, of course not. You have too much integrity. I knew it at the time and accused you of being petty anyway. There, full allocution.”

  “The director and film editor felt you were overpowering the star. You were riveting. Unconsciously outclassing him. We thought we’d cast a solid talent who could rise to more than that in a key scene.” She frowned as she ran a hand through her hair. “You were more than that in all of them. We probably shouldn’t have cast you at all, but who knew that the world wouldn’t be able to take its collective eyes off you?”

  Jennifer struggled to breathe in. Lena was not a panderer like BeBe. She had no motive to lie and no incentive to tell the truth. It was too much to believe. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Have you considered giving your internal lack of confidence some thought?”