“What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” She asks.
“The day you came back from your sister’s house in the country,” I explain. “You were carrying bags of vegetables and things. One was a clear plastic bag full of green leafy stuff. I didn’t pay attention, none of us did, it looked like spinach or something. But it wasn’t. It was poison ivy, wasn’t it?”
Margo raises her eyebrows but doesn’t reply.
“Never mind, you don’t have to answer. I was filming that day, do you remember? I have it on film. I looked at it closely, and there’s no question about it.”
This time Margo’s expression is one of fear. She sits down on the edge of her bed. “Mon Dieu,” she murmurs. “C’est fini.”
“Why, Margo? What did Campbell ever do to you?”
“It wasn’t meant to be so bad. That girl, she must have some kind of sensitivity,” she says, like it’s Campbell’s fault.
“Her face could be permanently scarred, did you know that?”
“I didn’t know. I thought, if I squeeze the oil out of the leaves with a knife and scrape it into the moisturizer, it would cause a little rash…”
“But why?”
Margo looks at me and her eyes are wet. “You must understand. I have my favorites too, you know.” She dabs at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.
“Campbell, she’s a pretty girl,” she continues with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have seen hundreds of pretty girls come through this house. All of them the same — spoiled, vain, rude. But Sophia is a true beauty, inside and out. That movie role should be Sophia’s. It is an absurdity that a girl like Campbell, a girl of low-class like that, should have it.”
So Sophia’s spell has even enchanted Margo. A part of me understands. Sophia is the only one of us girls, myself included, who greets Margo with a smile every day, who thanks Margo for the many little things, and sometimes big things, that Margo does to keep the house running, and who speaks to her about her beloved native France. Sophia is the only one who hugs Margo and brings her gifts when she returns from her travels. It’s no wonder Margo adores her.
“Does Sophia know what you did?”
“No! Sophia would never be a part of this. She is a sweet girl.”
I believe her. None of this is Sophia’s fault. She can’t help it that people lose their minds when they’re around her.
“You know I’m going to tell Gigi, Margo.”
“Yes, I know. Of course. But not tonight, please. I will tell her in the morning. First thing.”
It’s not up to Margo, but Gigi is out until late tonight so I can’t do anything at the moment. The next morning, however, Margo isn’t in her room, nor is she in the kitchen or anywhere else in the house.
“Where is Margo?” Gigi says as she enters the dining room at breakfast. “She needs to pick up the dry cleaning and take Dovima to the groomer. Has anyone seen her?”
No, no-one has seen her. Gigi goes upstairs to Margo’s room. A few minutes later Gigi hurries back downstairs. “It’s the strangest thing. Her room is empty, and all her things are gone. Margo has left!”
The other girls are finally paying attention. Margo, gone? Margo has always been here, long before any of them arrived, as reliable as the walls.
“It’s not possible! Does anyone know what’s going on? Have any of you spoken to her today?”
But nobody has any idea. Nobody ever speaks to Margo, except for Sophia, and she doesn’t know either. I’ll tell Gigi myself, after I finish my breakfast.
“Incredible,” Gigi says, stunned by the news. “Just incredible. I’ll have her arrested. She has done irreparable damage to the Towers Agency.”
“The Towers Agency? What about to Campbell?”
“Yes, of course, Campbell too. But the New York Post just printed a story about Alan Dvorak recasting Campbell’s part for the film —even though he hasn’t, not yet, those liars — and the Towers Agency is mentioned. They’re suggesting Campbell was harmed by another model, which of course I vehemently denied. But people will believe what they want to believe.”
“But it wasn’t another model. You could have them print a correction.”
“It’s the same problem. The Towers Agency has always been above this kind of scandal. What does it say about my agency if I can’t even trust the employees under my own roof?”
Gigi drums her perfect nails on the armrest of her chair and rubs her brow. “And now I’m left without a housekeeper. How much worse is this day going to get?”
“That’s the worst of your problems? Seriously?”
“Jane, for God’s sake, I don’t need your sarcasm now. Aren’t you late for school?” She pulls out her phone and taps a number. “Carol, have you found me a replacement for Margo yet? How difficult can it possibly be? There must be hundreds of women who would kill for the job. If you can, find me one who speaks Portuguese. I could use an interpreter for some of the Brazilian models arriving this summer.”
I stomp down the stairs where Niko waits impatiently by the door.
“We’re putting it all in,” I tell him as we hurry off to school. “Every sordid, scandalous second. If we’re going to make a movie then let’s make a good one.”
The hell with what Gigi thinks. It’s not like she cares what I think.
22
Campbell
“Margo!” I exclaim when Gigi tells me. “Why? What did I ever do to her?”
“Dear, she was obviously a very unstable, unhappy woman. I’m so sorry that I never realized it. But she’s gone now. She returned to France. She’s probably afraid that I’ll prosecute her if she ever comes back, which I intend to do.”
“Gosh…of all people. I never considered her.” That, I realize, may have something to do with it. None of us ever considered Margo. Maybe that’s why she hated us.
“So you see, you have nothing to worry about. No-one under my roof has any reason to harm you.”
It’s been a week since my face incident, and during this time the Towers Agency people have gone to the table with Alan Dvorak’s people about whether I can stay on the film. I don’t even know who’s on my side anymore. I thought it was the agency, but all they care about is that a Towers Agency girl stays on the film, and if it’s not me it will probably be Sophia, so I bet they don’t care what happens to me.
Surprisingly, the tables seem to be turned around. Alan is the one who wants to keep me on. It’s Alan — not his personal assistant or a production assistant — who calls me to see how I’m doing.
“I still want you in this part,” he says. “I’m changing the shooting schedule so that you won’t have to be on camera for another week. As long as the swelling on your skin goes down, we can try to cover the discoloration with makeup. I won’t make any decisions about recasting until we see what happens. In the meantime, you rest, take care of yourself and let your face heal.”
Every couple of hours I check my face in the mirror, but there’s not much change. The discoloration will probably last for several weeks, the doctor said, but if the blisters and swelling subside then I still have a chance at saving my job. I have a prescription medicated cortisone cream that I rub on my face several times a day, and I keep the jar in my bag and by my side everywhere I go. It’s pitiful that I’m still so scared even though I know it was Margo who did all those mean things and she’s gone, but I don’t trust anyone anymore.
At the end of the week my face finally looks better. The spots aren’t raised anymore, and the discoloration has faded a lot, so with makeup on I actually look normal again. Marilyn told me that People Magazine wants to do an interview with me, as a “talent to watch” piece. She’s my booker now, not Sarah, because Sarah mainly works to promote the new girls and Marilyn has the big names. I miss Sarah. We talked every day, and she’s really funny, but Marilyn still kind of scares me. I wish I could tell Sophia, or Maya, about the interview but they’d think I was bragging again, so I don’t tell anybody. Sophia walks past me
now like we’re strangers. I’d talk to Jane, but we never seem to be home at the same time. I wonder if she knows how lucky she is. She has real friends, not people who secretly want her to fail. Plus, she’ll always be Gigi’s no matter what she does or looks like. I thought I’d be so happy when I got everything I every wanted, but I feel so lonely. Lucas and the others in the cast are nice, but this film is just another job to them. I remember what it was like when I did plays in school. We’d all get so attached to each other, we’d spend every day for weeks working together, watching the production take shape, and and after the last performance — poof, it was over, there’d be a cast party at which people shed tears and hugged and vowed to stay friends forever, followed by such a feeling of letdown, and by the following week everyone had gone their separate ways and immersed themselves in the next activity. It’ll be a hundred times worse this time. Maybe it’ll be the last time I ever work in a film. There are too many one-hit wonders, and I don’t know yet where I’m going to end up. So I don’t want to get too close to anyone. That’s how you get really hurt.
“There’s some guy at the door for you,” Brigitte barks at me from the hall.
“Who is it?” I ask as I emerge from my room. I’m not expecting anyone.
“How should I know? I’m not the doorman,” Brigitte says and shuts the bathroom door in my face.
I hurry down the stairs. Probably someone from the film crew, I think, delivering a script revision or something. Or could it be Lucas? It would be so like Brigitte not to tell me it’s Lucas. I run my fingers through my hair before I enter the foyer. I see his outline in the vestibule and open the door. When he turns to face me, I gasp.
Jack. My stepfather.
“Hi, baby,” he says.
It takes me a second to find my voice.
“What are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He moves toward me as though he expects a hug.
“No.” I take a step back. “That’s close enough.”
“Campbell, honey, I know we didn’t leave things in a good way, but I really hope we can get past that. I think we all did some things we regret.”
I don’t want to hear anything from him. “Where’s my mom?”
“Well, your mom still needs a little more time. But she misses you, sweetheart, she cares a lot about you.”
I don’t believe him. If that were true, she would be here, not Jack. Why the hell is he here, anyway?
“Why are you here, Jack?”
“Because I want us to get back to the way we ought to be. A family. Look, can’t you let me in so we can talk?”
“No.”
“I’ve come a long way to see you, Campbell. You’re not going to make me leave without even talking to me, are you?”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Just give me a few minutes. Just let me try to make things right. Please.”
He gives me that smile that gets him everything he wants from women, that same smile that made my mom choose him over her own daughter. If anything, that smile steels me even more against him. I want him gone so badly that I decided the quickest way to get rid of him is to hear him out, if only for a few minutes.
“I’m not supposed to have male visitors,” I say. “There’s a diner around the corner. We can go there if you want to talk.”
A short while later we sit across from one another in a booth at the diner.
“What’ll you have?” he asks. “My treat.”
“Nothing. I’m not eating.” I order a diet coke. If he thinks we’re going to have a nice long lazy lunch he’s got another think coming. He looks disappointed, and orders an Irish coffee. I wait for him to talk.
“I bet you want to know how your mom’s doing,” he says. “She’s doing just great. She got her real estate license, you know.”
“That’s nice.”
“We’re both real sorry we never hear from you.”
“Bullshit. She heard from me every day for weeks after I got here. She never called me back.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, I figured. I’m guessing she doesn’t talk about me very much.”
“Well, your mom’s a complicated woman, honey.” He tries to pat my hand but I pull away. He shifts in his seat and tries to change the subject.
“Hey, we read about you getting a part in a movie. That’s great news, kiddo! Always knew you’d make a name for yourself. Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” I mumble, twirling my straw in my coke.
“We’re real proud of you. Your mom, too.”
“She said that? That she’s proud of me?”
“Hell yeah. She told all her friends, and she brags about you all the time.”
I think about this for a moment. I don’t remember, even at the best of times, my mom ever saying she was proud of me.
“Campbell, at the end of the day, we’re your family. We’re not perfect, but we love each other. I’m sorry for everything that went down. I never meant anything by it. You know that, don’t you?”
I don’t answer.
“It was an accident, that’s all. I’m an affectionate person; so are you. It was just a hug that went a little overboard. But it shouldn’t have happened. I see that now. I’m sorry.”
I still can’t look at him. Remembering that day in the kitchen is making my stomach hurt.
“I told your mom it was all my fault.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“What did she say?”
“Well, you gotta understand, it’s been hard for her. She was real mad at me for a long time, but your mom and I love each other, Campbell, we didn’t want to lose each other, and she forgave me. I wish you could forgive me too.”
“If she knows it wasn’t my fault, then why hasn’t she called me?”
“Honestly? Between you and me, sweetheart, I think she’s a little ashamed. She feels real bad for how she treated you. She’s scared, you know. I think she’s scared of reaching out to you and having you reject her.” Jack leans back in his seat, takes a swig of his drink and wipes his mouth.
“That’s why I’m here,” he continues. “I was the cause for this whole mess, so I’m trying to make things right by paving the way for you and your mom to reconcile. Your mom loves you, Campbell. We both do. What do you think, Campbell? Can you give us another chance?”
I finally look him right in the eyes, which are clouded with regret and sorrow.
“Maybe,” I whisper. After a moment I add, “I’ve missed her,” and my voice breaks.
“She’s missed you too. She wants to see you. She was afraid to come, but she won’t be now, once she knows you’ve forgiven her. It’s all going to be okay.”
“Okay,” I sniffle.
“I’m only here for a day, but your mom and I will come back together, soon, and it’ll be just like we’re on vacation, just the three of us. You can show us around, introduce us to your friends, we’ll go see a show, all that fun stuff.”
I nod.
“This kind of a life is hard enough for someone your age, Campbell, without trying to navigate it alone. We’re your family, your mom and me. Not these people here in New York. They don’t care about you, not the way we do. These people — your agency, your movie people — they just care about you while you’re making money for them. But your family is forever. We will always, always be on your side.”
“I know.”
“You gotta be careful, a young kid like you. There’s always going to be people who pretend they care about you because you’re a success. You need to know who to trust.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Now, your family, we’ll always have your best interest in mind.”
“Uh huh.”
“For example, when you start making serious money, you want to make sure it’s being taken care of by people who put your interests first.”
“I know. Gigi made me meet with a financ
ial advisor. He suggested I open a 401K and put the rest in a money market, for starters, and then, next year if I’ve doubled my earnings…”
“A financial advisor isn’t family, sweetheart. You’re paying the financial advisor what, a chunk of money to tell you what to do? I bet Gigi gets a cut of that too, if she’s referring her girls to him.”
“Well, what would you do?”
“There are a lot of things you need to consider,” Jack leans back and rubs his chin. “Risk factors, time horizon, that kind of thing. I’ve had some very good results with mutual funds and EFTs. I can definitely help you make the right choices.”
“Yeah?”
“If you let me handle it I could take care of everything for you. And I wouldn’t charge you a fee, either. You’re eighteen now, so the easiest way would be if you signed something called a Power of Attorney form. It just takes all the hassle and stress out of your hands and puts it in mine.”
“I know what power of attorney means.”
“But I bet you don’t know how simple it is. In fact, I have a form with me.” He reaches into his breast pocket. “Have a look at it. All you need to do is fill in your name and information, and sign it.” He hands me the form.
He came all the way from Georgia and just happened to have a power of attorney form in his pocket? He gives the form a little thrust toward me until I take it.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, putting the folded document on the table beside me.
“Well, now, like I said, I’m only here for the day, honey, and we’ll have to go get it notarized, so it would really help if you did it now. Like we talked about, you want to start protecting yourself right away from people who might want to take advantage of you.”
I open the form and spread it out beside me.
“Take a moment to look it over,” he says. “I’m going to hit the bathroom.” As he stands up he gives me a smile.
Maybe it’s that smile that jolts me into reality. That smile that charms every woman he sees into doing whatever he wants.
The Luckiest Girls Page 19