Screen Kiss

by Ann Roberts

  “Mama, I’m hanging up now.” When Lorene didn’t reply, Addy checked the display. Her mother had hung up.

  When she arrived at work—late—she had no recollection of riding the six miles. It was her mother’s version of hypnosis. Lorene had the ability to suck every thought—everything, especially the good things—from Addy’s brain. She was a powerful emotional vacuum cleaner, and all Addy could hope was that after these horrible phone conversations, her mother received some sort of spiritual and emotional lift. Perhaps, as Dr. Pfeiffer had suggested, a peephole—not a door or window because that would be too much to expect—of Lorene Tornado’s heart opened, and for a few minutes she saw goodness and optimism.

  Hopefully her mother felt better after those conversations, because Addy lost the rest of the day, sometimes multiple days. She couldn’t help but believe everything her mother said. Oren had died because of her. She was a terrible daughter for leaving her medically frail, alcoholic, and bipolar mother alone. It didn’t matter what Dr. Pfeiffer told her. She was an awful person.

  Dr. Pfeiffer had suggested she not answer the phone. Addy tried that once, but Lorene, on medical disability, had nothing but time. In a single day she’d called two hundred and forty-two times.

  Addy traipsed past Jackie’s office, not offering a cursory glance to see if Jackie cared that she was tardy. Addy doubted she would care any time soon.

  She sauntered through the Bull Pen and clocked in. Laughter erupted from one of the nearby break tables and someone called out to her, “Isn’t that right, Addy?”

  She turned toward the voice, a younger, bald guy whose name she didn’t know, but who had bragged about going to the white supremacist march in North Carolina. She said nothing, trying not to engage.

  “I said, ‘isn’t that right?’”

  She shrugged. “What? I wasn’t paying any attention to you. Who are you?”

  A few of Baldy’s friends chuckled, and his grin transformed to a scowl. “I’m Clovis. And I said, muff divers don’t own any razors. They like hair everywhere. That’s how you know your date’s a lezzie.” His grin returned, begging for her to respond.

  She laughed. “Lezzie? Who the hell uses lezzie anymore? You been talkin’ to your grandma? Is she the one who gives you dating advice?” A few more chuckles emerged from Baldy’s tablemates and his grin cracked. “Does she wipe your ass too? And what kind of name is Clovis? Definitely a name for a guy with a tiny penis. Is that the common trait for you and the other Hitler youth?”

  His face turned red. “Shut up, bitch.”

  “Who’s gonna make me, Clovis?” She stepped into his personal space and sniffed. “Just what I thought. You smell like a coward.”

  “Fuck you!”

  He pushed her and Addy stepped back calmly and put her hands in her pockets. He pulled back his hand to punch her, and his tablemates grabbed his arms and restrained him.

  “Bitch!” he shouted.

  Jackie rushed into the room and yelled, “What the hell?”

  Devoid of compassion, empathy, and wisdom, a different Addy Tornado responded. “Clovis told me lezzies don’t shave or own razors because we’re muff divers and we like a good bush.” She shot him a look. “Have I got that right, Clovis?” The men looked away and said nothing, too embarrassed to continue the harassment in front of their lesbian supervisor. Addy shook her head, disgusted. She unbuckled her belt.

  “Addy, what are you doing?” Jackie asked.

  “I just thought I should check,” she said, unzipping her uniform pants and pulling them open slightly.

  “Addy!” Jackie hissed.

  “I don’t think my bush is any bigger than any other woman’s. Clovis, I believe your research is flawed.”

  She zipped her pants and sauntered out of the room, Jackie close behind. When they reached her office, she pulled Addy inside and slammed the door shut. “What the hell was that? Are you trying to get fired? Your suspension just ended!”

  Addy’s lip trembled. The bravado had worn off, but she didn’t feel like herself. She knew it was her mother talking, like a poison she ingested over the phone. It was in her and it would just have to wear off in time.

  Jackie paced. She stopped and turned. “Your mother called, didn’t she? Whenever you get like this—whenever you turn into a bitch—it’s because of her.”

  Addy simply nodded. Jackie knew bits and pieces about the interactions between Addy and her mom, and she’d certainly been on the receiving end of the painful backlash. Jackie waved a hand. “Get out of here,” she mumbled. “But Addy, you’ve got to keep it together with the passengers. Please don’t make me suspend you again.”

  Addy headed out to the bus bay. After a rather apathetic pre-check that would have displeased the safety inspectors, she left the depot. Normally the sunrise, the promise of a new day, and the awakening of her town was enough to improve her mood. But not today. She offered pleasant smiles to everyone who boarded, and when a few of her observant regulars inquired if she was all right, she offered believable reassurances. Like most strangers, they only asked the question to be nice. They didn’t really want the truth. Addy could see that now. Her mother always helped her see how things were.

  During her lunch break she left a message with Dr. Pfeiffer’s service, telling Dr. Pfeiffer she was canceling the hypnosis appointment. Once she hung up she stared at her phone. “I don’t need it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After Mazie replied to Tarina Hudson’s phone message, assuring her they would meet all of her needs, including an apology from “Deenie,” she received an official acceptance from Dewan Bird, Tarina’s publicist. He explained that from now on Mazie would work with him exclusively, and she should no longer phone Ms. Hudson. Mazie disliked Mr. Bird’s heavy-handedness, but she imagined a lot of people wanted something from Tarina Hudson.

  He explained that what would happen at the Bijou was a “soft” premiere. While the Bijou would indeed be the first theater where S.W.A.T. 2018 was viewed, he would control most of the guest list. Mazie pushed back slightly, although she knew she had zero bargaining power—but she could be persuasive. She convinced Dewan to give her thirty tickets, three of which were allocated for herself, Almondine who was to sit next to Tarina per her request, and Addy. Tango would serve as the stage manager and handle guest issues with Mazie’s support.

  Mazie knew something was wrong with Addy when she told her they would watch the premiere with Tarina and Almondine. She’d expected Addy would be over the moon since Tarina was one of her favorite actresses. Yet all Addy replied was, “Cool.” She also became less available, which Mazie didn’t notice at first since Dewan emailed her a fifty-item to-do list after their one phone conversation. Running the Bijou, stressing about her performance, and crossing off Dewan’s to-do list kept her moving from morning to night. She had to secure lodging for Tarina and her entourage, handle all of the local publicity, and plan the after-party, since Dewan insisted all premieres were followed by a party. Each item encompassed ten more to-dos, and Almondine was of minimal help, too lost in her anxiety about seeing Tarina again. Fortunately, Tango was a lifesaver and did anything Mazie asked.

  Noticeably missing was Addy, but for good reason. Two days after their little hookup in the janitor’s closet, Addy had texted Mazie that she was studying to become a trainer. This involved attending several after-hour classes, perusing all the training videos and eventually passing an exam. Mazie congratulated her with several emojis, and while she was thrilled that Addy was moving up in the transportation world, she would miss seeing her. Still, she hoped they could find an hour here and there over the next few weeks before the premiere. She wanted some more lessons from Dr. Smooch.

  But whenever she found a sliver of time and fired off a spontaneous message, asking for a brief face-to-face, Addy either didn’t reply in time or didn’t reply at all. It was like a tiny itch Mazie ignored rather than scratch, and inevitably the premiere planning and her own anxieties hijacked
her mind and she wound up back in the whirlwind. And once the publicity began, she was inundated with requests for tickets from the townspeople and strong-armed by the Wilshire Hills elite, all of whom promised to help the Bijou after the premiere was over.

  Who should get the extra tickets? Mazie texted to Addy one afternoon.

  ??? was Addy’s reply.

  Mazie smirked. Addy must be busy with passengers. Usually she was so helpful. She texted back, No idea? What about the mayor? She should probably get one, right? But does her husband get one too? Maybe I could say something about this being an official event. What do you think?

  IDK!!!

  Mazie stared at Addy’s terse reply and knew something was seriously wrong. Three exclamation points. A punctuation mark Addy detested because it was so overused and often implied rudeness. And Mazie certainly thought it was rude in this text. Addy wasn’t rude to her. Ever.

  She hadn’t seen Addy for nearly three weeks, and she wondered if she really was studying to become a trainer, or if, for some reason, she was avoiding Mazie. Maybe the hot and heavy action in the closet had been too much for her. Maybe she realized she wasn’t attracted to an older, somewhat dumpy, over forty woman? Mazie thought about phoning Jackie, but she didn’t know her well enough and it would be uncomfortable since Jackie might still be crushing over Addy.

  She decided to call Nadine, who she’d already tapped to be in charge of premiere security. Although Mazie didn’t have time to do anything except finish the to-do list before Tarina arrived, she found twenty minutes to meet Nadine for a brief coffee at First Espresso.

  Nadine was already there when Mazie blew in. She pulled Mazie into a hug and whispered, “How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  Nadine gestured to the two cups on her table. “I know how busy you are, so I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

  “Thank you,” Mazie sighed.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m worried about Addy.” She showed Nadine the text and explained her anxieties. “Maybe she’s just stressing over the trainer’s test? I know she’s been studying like crazy at the library.”

  Nadine peered over her cup. “No, she hasn’t.”

  “What? She told me she was going to the library each evening and studying the policies and procedures manual. That’s why she hasn’t been at the Bijou lately.”

  Nadine shook her head slowly. “I hate to break it to you, but I’ve been there for the past week, surveilling one of the librarians. Her husband thinks she’s having an affair, which she is. But that’s not the point. I’ve been all over that building, and I’ve never seen Addy.”

  Mazie rubbed her eyes. She felt a migraine coming on. “I scared her off. That has to be it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mazie gave Nadine a sanitized version of the tryst in the janitor’s closet. “Almost immediately after that, we didn’t see each other. I just didn’t realize it was happening because this whole premiere thing has swallowed me. I don’t have time for anything else.”

  “What about practicing for your test?”

  Mazie looked away and shook her head.

  Nadine dropped her cup noisily into the saucer and Mazie jumped. “No. That is unacceptable. Your test is in less than a month. You have to be ready.”

  She had nothing to say. She’d put the test on the back burner to save the Bijou—for Addy and Almondine. It was an easy excuse not to face her fears.

  Nadine wiped up the coffee that had sloshed out of the cup and said, “It will always be something, Mazie. There will always be a reason why you can’t do what you most need to do and don’t want to do. Always. Now, I will find out what the hell is going on with Addy. You promise me that starting tonight you will resume your singing in front of Bijou audiences after the show.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Yes, you do.” Nadine took her hand. “Listen to me. People are talking about you. They’re talking about the little added performance Bijou theatergoers are experiencing after the last show. They love your singing. I can’t imagine how disappointed some people must have been these last few weeks, staying all the way through the credits, especially the really boring ones, only to learn you weren’t going to perform.”

  Mazie knew she was right. A few people had come up to her and complained. She’d figured they were just being nice and told them she had terrible laryngitis. “Okay, I’ll put it back in my schedule. You find out what’s going on with Addy.” She circled the rim of her empty cup, wondering if she’d be able to sing, or if, as she suspected, all of her forward progress had been erased and her stage fright had returned.

  Mazie’s worries were confirmed that night. Nadine breezed in to catch the end of Dragon Moms, giving Mazie the “I’ve got my eyes on you” signal as she ducked into the theater. Mazie crept down the side aisle as the credits rolled, and when the screen went dark, she ascended the stage. A decent percentage of the moviegoers had stayed back, and they offered supportive applause when she took the stage. She glanced at a beaming Nadine—before her gaze settled on the empty seat in the fourth row, the one where Addy usually sat. She tried to picture Addy and her smiling face. She tried, but she couldn’t.

  She must’ve stood there awhile, lost in her own thoughts. Only when she heard the shuffling of feet, did she blink and see the last moviegoers slipping out the exit. Only Nadine remained in her backrow seat. Mazie started to cry, and Nadine’s long-legged stride ensured she got to the stage before the cries turned to sobs. She held Mazie close and whispered affirmations in her ear, none of which mattered at the moment.

  Eventually Mazie pulled away and took a deep breath. Nadine offered her a tissue and she blew her nose. She scanned the empty seats. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Nadine squeezed her hand and winced. “I have good news and bad news about Addy.”

  “She hates me?” Mazie thought she might throw up.

  “No,” Nadine said quickly. “The good news is that Addy’s issues have nothing to do with you.”

  “Then what’s the bad news?”

  Nadine put her arm around Mazie’s shoulder and led her off the stage. “Let’s go get a drink. A stiff drink. I’ll tell you a story about Lorene Tornado.”

  “Who?”

  “Addy’s mother.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Addy shuffled across Jackie’s backyard, her lunchbox flung over her shoulder. Another day, another dollar. That’s what her father used to say when he’d come home. She’d been so young when he left that she couldn’t picture his face, and her mother had destroyed all the photos that contained any likeness of him. Consequently, she made up her own version of his countenance. He looked like Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird.

  She grabbed a yogurt from her fridge and made a PBJ before she settled on her couch. She nibbled on her dinner and glanced at the TV. Sitting next to it were three movies, the ones she wanted to watch with Mazie—Big Eden, Cloudburst and The Russian Doll.

  A part of her wanted to drop her dinner and return each movie to its appropriate spot in her color scheme, but doing that would mean Mazie might never come back. She probably wouldn’t. Addy wasn’t good enough for her. Lorene Tornado had reminded her of that. Besides, Mazie was slowly slipping away, establishing her own career, planning the premiere and preparing for her test. She didn’t need Addy anymore.

  Addy finished her dinner and perused her DVDs. She found one starring Tarina Hudson, Love Hurts. If that’s what she felt for Mazie—or had felt for her—then the producers got it right. She popped in the film and dropped back on the couch, yawning.

  She sees her from across the crowded lobby. The violet-colored evening gown bedecked in tiny rhinestones shimmered every time she greets someone. Women and men lean closer to kiss her cheek, smell her perfume and touch her.

  Addy so wants to touch her. She adjusts her red bow tie, worn especially for this occasion, and smooths her pressed white Oxford-cloth shirt.
Another customer approaches the concessions counter, a B-list actor who she has seen in several Grey’s Anatomy episodes. She retrieves his order, her gaze returning to the goddess in the evening gown.

  “She’s a hottie. Am I right?” the actor asks.

  Caught. They both look in her direction and Addy says, “Yeah. She’s amazing.”

  “I hear she’s taken.”

  Addy shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll never have her.”

  He nods and walks away, leaving her to gawk. Of course, since the room is filled with Hollywood A, and B-listers, most will never indulge in movie refreshments for fear of gaining weight, although Addy guesses her Diet Coke syrup will soon run low. So she stands at the counter, humming to herself.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a hot dog, would you?”

  She turns to the far side of the counter—and there she is. The shimmering and glimmering beauty is addressing her. The look on her face is one of near desperation. From that look, Addy doubts she’s had anything to eat in the last twelve hours. She offers an alluring smile, and Addy is tempted to leap over the counter and into her arms.

  “Do you?” she asks again.

  “No,” Addy says. “I’m sorry. I could run into the office and get you my peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Would you like that?”

  Ms. Shimmering sucks in a sigh. “That would be wonderful.” She scans the lobby, no doubt looking for whoever might be looking for her. “Where is it? We need to hurry.”

  Addy ducks under the counter, grabs her hand, which feels like silk, and hurries to Almondine’s office. She throws open the door and heads to the little fridge behind Almondine’s desk. She retrieves her lunch bag and says, “I can also offer you one of the manager’s strawberry-banana yogurts if you prefer?”

  She doesn’t reply but Addy smells her perfume. She is close. Her hands leisurely trail down Addy’s buttocks to her thighs. Addy closes her eyes and remains hunched over the refrigerator. She doesn’t want to stand for fear that the amazing touch will end.