Single And Rich

by Addison Jenkins

  “Why’s everyone laughing?” I asked Henry.

  Katie angled her head between me and Henry. “I think everyone knows what Rachel did to Michael.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t surprised by how fast gossip moved but we didn’t know what had happened. Maybe Michael hit Rachel first. Maybe she had a black eye as well, that could explain the big glasses.

  Rachel had always been nice to Michael, I felt. He was a guy who led an unbalanced life. As soon as fame had grabbed him by the throat, it had seemed like he did its best to grab it right back, if not tighter. She had always appeared to be sweet on set. Nice redheaded woman that had either come under attack from Michael or had been victimized by her in a pursuit of fame or power.

  Whatever had happened, I couldn’t compete with a woman like that. She looked like the kind of girl high school kids would wallpaper their phones with. Sultry and sexy. I was as sexy as a jar of mayonnaise.

  She clearly had more experience than me and wanted success probably more than anybody in this room. Why else would she gravitate so close to Michael? He was tough to love. His reputation and wallet? Those were a lot easier to love.

  Laughter kept creeping in as spurts spreading across the crew, irritating the hell out of Michael. It was clear that his wounds were still fresh and everyone was just poking their wet fingers in the gash.

  “Stop it!” Michael lurched forward with a shout. “Stop laughing!”

  The room went quiet as a funeral home. He looked out at the crew seated in the theatre, giving everyone a good angle of his bruised eye.

  Sometimes Michael did this. He wasn’t popular with everyone or anyone but people loved the aftermath. The awards. Drinking the Gatorade after the victory lap. They wanted to be a part of his work because they knew he would lift them up into stardom as he had done with his first film. And he knew they’d do anything to work with him, so he would take advantage.

  Sometimes he’d shout at people like he did just now. He had even put people down, insulting them flat out to their face. His mission was to get the best performance out of everyone. How he did was not essential.

  I had a feeling that it was this type of behavior from directors that drove my mom insane. I would have to be careful around him.

  “Oh look at everyone! You guys all think you’re all so clever!” he shouted. “Yeah, l got a black eye. If you guys don’t shut up, I’ll give everyone here a black eye,” he said, pointing at his eye. “I only deserve this black eye because I forgot about my responsibilities. If you forget to act…” He looked at me. “Or you forgot how to do your job… Just make one mistake. And you’ll get more than a black eye.”

  Henry subtly glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow, looking incredulous.

  “I’m just so sick of being undermined!” Michael yelled with his hands balled into fists. He scanned all of us with his dark eyes. I was frightened he was going to start throwing his shoes at our faces. Why is Hollywood so darn weird?!

  “Remember why we’re here, people. Remember why we’re working our asses off for eighteen hours a day,” he urged us, shaking his fist. “We’re here to do good work. Let’s not be ashamed to do something amazing.”

  He was right. I did want to do something amazing and be a part of something amazing.

  “I won’t tolerate this frat party atmosphere, okay? We need to do more serious work,” he said. “We’re halfway through the film, let’s lace up our boots, and go out there to fight.” And then he looked at me. Uh-oh.

  “Jane,” he said, throwing a finger at me. “It’s her first movie yet she’s working like she’s on vacation with her new boyfriend, Henry.”

  I tensed up, knowing all eyes were on me. I could see Henry staring down Michael, ready to put him into a headlock.

  “I’m trying my best,” I said.

  “Are you?” He stared at me like a lion in the trees, ready to pounce.

  I didn’t answer. I was too nervous. I didn’t want to start anything. Last thing I needed was to look like the bad guy, even though I didn’t start it. He was the one with the black eye, but maybe he’d deserved it.

  “All right,” he said, composing himself as he straightened his back. “Jane’s gonna practice with, uh… with Rachel. She’ll supervise Jane through a few scenes with Henry,” he said. “I think she could use some… assistance.”

  Wow. Fine. Maybe I’ll assist your face with a second black eye, Michael. It was so rude to call me out in front of the whole crew like this. I wanted to leave. My feet were glued to the floor, I was afraid of what to do. The room felt stuffy like the inside of a coffin and I wanted to punch my way out.

  Michael looked at the crew, his eyes leveling at me like the black hole of a gun barrel.

  “Okay, we’re done here.” He turned around, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

  Henry looked at me. “What the hell was that?”

  I was equally confused. “I don’t know.”

  We stood up. “What are you doing tonight?”

  I wanted to go out but I had to memorize my scenes. Michael had a penchant for long-winded monologues, Aaron Sorkin style, and I needed to nail them.

  “I wish I could but I gotta study, Henry. I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling bad already. He nodded in his quiet understanding.

  “We’ll get breakfast tomorrow.” He smiled.

  He was so accommodating. I’m sure if I had a second head growing out of my neck, he wouldn’t scream and try to chop it off. No, Henry’s such a nice guy he’d feed both of my heads green grapes and buy us hats like we were twins. Sex would be weird though. Or weirdly sexy, I couldn’t decide.

  I returned back to my hotel room after saying bye. My blood was cold like a bathtub filled with ice. I wasn’t angry. I just looked pale in the mirror of my hotel bathroom. This place, this life—it was taking its toll on me.

  Okay, focus, Jane. I needed to practice. I sat on the edge of my bed with a big window that gave me a crystal clear view of downtown Los Angeles.

  On its best days it didn’t smell like piss. On its worst days it smelled like… yeah, you guessed it.

  I held the script to my face as I kicked my heels off, trying to get comfortable but I just couldn’t. I was anxious. I wanted to tear my clothes off and jump into the shower. I felt weird being shamed by my director. My boss, essentially.

  A door was softly thudded with two quick knocks. I hoped it wasn’t Michael. I stepped off the bed and walked to the door, throwing the script across the bed like an old magazine.

  With my hand on the knob, I pulled the door open just a little bit. “Who’s there?”

  A man’s arm stuck through like it might be holding a knife except there wasn’t a knife in the hand.

  It was a bouquet of blood red roses.

  “Are you smiling yet?” the voice asked. Immediately I knew who it was.

  “I’m smiling, Henry,” I said with my heart swelling with joy. The roses looked so beautiful! I hurried to open the door to see Henry standing there like James Bond with his shirt slightly open so I could see the short grazing of dark hair on his chest.

  He opened the door and smiled at me, giving me the beautiful bouquet.

  “What happened?” I asked. “What’s with the roses? What’d you do? Who’d you do?” I joked.

  “Nothing, I just wanted to see my girl. I missed you,” he said.

  “It’s only been twenty minutes,” I told him.

  “Twenty minutes too long,” he softly said as his hand caressed my back, lassoing me close to his lips. “I think about you every minute, Jane.”

  My heart was fluttering and I wanted to kiss him right now. He was as masculine as a young Harrison Ford with a sweetness to him. Henry was the kind of man who could push you up against the wall and fuck your brains out, but he was also the kind of man who could raise a family and look cool changing a diaper. If that was even possible, I’m sure he could do it.

  I closed my eyes as his lips came close to me. My throat tightened and my
lips went dry as I anticipated the soft plush of his lips.

  Since the first time I met him back at the casting office in Burbank, I had known there was something about him. He made me swoon like a little girl at Disneyland. Or a grown woman at Starbucks.

  He was mine. Nobody could take him away from me. Not even that Rachel bimbo.

  With my eyes closed, I felt his lips press into mine, making love to my mouth as if they were hands, slowly massaging my lips.

  I gripped the bouquet of roses tighter, probably breaking the thin brittle stems.

  He tried to walk me back further into the room but I had to stop him. As much as I wanted to continue, I had to put a hand on his shoulder.

  “What is it?” he asked, his head tilting to the side like a puppy whose doggy bowl was taken away.

  “I need to get ready, Henry,” I said. “It’s just tomorrow, it’s a big day. You saw Michael in there, he’s going to have me dumped in a river if I make one mistake.”

  “He won’t dump you in a river.”

  “You’re sure about that? He looks like the kind of guy who would do that,” I said.

  “Okay, yeah, you’re right. He’s probably done some river dumping in his time.” Henry nodded with a joking smile. “Look, take your time. I’ll be in the next building. I couldn’t get a room next to yours.”

  “You booked too late,” I said.

  “I did,” he said, staring at me. “I want you to know, Jane, I’ll miss you. I’ll be thinking of you.”

  Aww. I was melting like ice cream in a microwave. “You’re so sweet, Henry.”

  I gave him one last little kiss on the lips before he walked away.

  Here I was, alone in my room, holding a bouquet of roses given to me by the sexiest guy on earth.

  He was a gentleman in the way only the British could make, but for once, I wished he could forget those manners forged in London and just say no.

  Deep in my heart I wanted him to say no and stay with me the whole night. Unfortunately, the only thing that I would be sleeping with tonight was this dumb stack of papers called a script.

  ***

  Even with my eyes closed, I felt the sun burn my closed eyelids. I turned away, opening my eyes to see my blaring alarm: it was 5 a.m.

  There was a plane waiting for me at the airport that took me to Miami. Henry wasn’t next to me, instead he was on another plane. Again, he’d booked late he explained to me in a text. A dry salmon and a bad rom-com later and I landed in Miami, catching sight of the white beaches and the pearly blue ocean waters.

  I didn’t have time to catch a fried fish taco or a conversation with the locals. Instead I had an appointment with that woman. Possibly with the woman who gave Michael a black eye.

  “Hello.” She smiled behind those same large black glasses. She was smothering creamy white sun lotion on her arms and on her chest, wearing a blue low-cut shirt.

  “Hey, Rachel,” I said, taking a seat with her at an outdoor table of a restaurant. A white umbrella shielded us from the hot morning sun. She was a soft spoken woman but had sharp features like that of a super model. A sharp chin with high cheekbones, and a slight case of R.B.F. For the uninformed, that’s Resting Bitch Face, when a person looks like a bitch when they’re doing anything. They could be reading a book and look like they want to murder it. It wasn’t their fault, they were just born that way. I had Resting Hungry Face. I always looked hungry.

  “You ready to start practicing?” she asked me.

  “Yeah, I am,” I said, but I was still scared of her. After all, this was the woman that took Michael from me, not that I’m complaining, but it was a possible sign of things to come. If I couldn’t hold a guy like Michael, then how could I keep a man like Henry. What would I do if he was taken away from me? And what if was Rachel with all of her spindly legs that ensnared him in her seductive web?

  I noticed someone walking over in the corner of my eye.

  “Hey, Jane,” Michael said with two cups of something that looked like liquor with a green mint leaves sticking out the top. He looked surprised to see me, his black eye hiding behind a pair of pitch black sunglasses. He was wearing his best beach clothing which was just a suit with the sleeves rolled up. Not the kind of guy to loosen up. “I’m glad you came early.”

  I nodded to him as he handed Rachel one glass. “Here’s your mojito, darling. I’ll be in my trailer prepping.”

  “Thanks, love.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Try to relax, Michael. You’ve had a stressful week,” she said.

  “Got it.” He pursed his lips and walked away.

  He was different with Rachel. Normally he would lash out at someone he didn’t like, but her… I’d never seen him lash out at her. Maybe he was afraid of her like a son with his mother or maybe she was a genuine guiding force in his life.

  Her teeth gleamed at me like the long white belly of a shark. “How long have you been acting, Jane?”

  Three months, I wanted to say. “Y’know, on and off. High school plays, stuff like that.” They were bad plays but I wasn’t telling her that. She was trying to size me up and I was boiling under this heat and the steely gaze of her eyes.

  “Wow. Well plays and movies are very different,” she said, stirring her drink with the straw. “The camera is your lover. You make love to the camera, it makes love to you back. You understand me, Jane?”

  No but, “Yes,” I said anyways. Make love to the camera? This conversation’s getting weird. I smiled and pulled out my script, trying to change the subject but before I could she was right there.

  “You need to be strong for the camera, Jane. You need to abuse it, make that camera your bitch. Practice in the mirror, use your phone. Know your best angles, all the best actors do. Including myself,” she noted without any ounce of irony

  I nodded and smiled graciously, appearing to understand and I did. Kind of.

  She leaned forward like a shark about to lunge. Behind those big glasses, I was unable to see the whites of her eyes, which only made her appear more intimidating than she already was.

  “I need you to be good, Jane, ‘cause if you’re not, I’m gonna be mad,” she said. “I want this movie to be good. I don’t want to star in some turd. I want this to be great. I want to be a legend. Don’t you?”

  “Well, I guess. I just want to make a good movie,” I said.

  “A good movie isn’t good enough. You have to want to make a great movie. I’ll be real disappointed in you if you forget your lines or if you bring me down, okay. So don’t,” she sneered.

  I was frozen. She’d trapped me and now she was going to throw her mojito at my face!

  “And look, I get it. You’re young, you’re under pressure. And there’s gonna be a lot of people who are gonna tell you shit that you ain’t gonna like.” She leaned in under the umbrella as wind brushed her red hair over her shoulders. “You can either take it like a bitch or you can treat them like a bitch.”

  Wow, print that on a tombstone.

  “Remember that, okay, Jane,” she said, her tone was soft and non-abrasive. Not at all what I imagined. “Never cry and never let anyone question what you have to do for your career.”

  Jesus, I wonder what Michael said to bring all of this out of her or if this was just normal Hollywood behavior.

  “Hollywood’s filled with sharks, Jane. And you’re working in a fucking shark tank. They’ll try to bite.” She balled her hand into a fist. “But you punch them in the goddamn nose. Let them know you’re serious. You’re not just a piece of ass. You’re a talented girl, Jane. Show them. Show him.”

  She didn’t say his name, but we both knew exactly who she was talking about.

  My respect grew for her, as did my fear, after we ended up rehearsing our scenes for at least two hours. My scene partner was the woman that Michael dumped me for. Not awkward at all.

  I arrived on set, which was a boat me and Henry were to be on. In the script our scene’s interrupted by Henry’s old friend, Rachel playi
ng Jessica. They were old lovers and they cross paths, stabbing a gash between me and Henry’s character.

  I stood on the white boat that looked super sleek, as if Mercedes had designed a cloud. The silver boat railing was hot to the touch and I flinched away from leaning against it. My hips stung from the heat as I was in a pink bikini and was visibly nervous. The entire crew was watching me from the shore while my hair stylist was touching up my hair and the sound guy was holding a giant puffy microphone a foot from my face.

  I was getting spooked out by the ominous black eye of the camera staring at me on the long neck of a crane.

  “Is it just me or is it creepy that the camera’s always watching me?” I asked my stylist.

  She gave a small laugh. “It depends on how who’s behind the camera.”

  “Good answer.” I nervously smiled.

  As she finished she had one last thing to say. “You and Henry, you’re the envy of the set. We just love the way he brings coffee to you every morning, it’s the small things, y’know. He cares.”

  I looked at her as she smiled at me. I was surprised to hear her say that. We had never talked about anything personal before.

  “It’s true, you’re a lucky girl. Don’t mess it up.” She laughed, walking away. I felt glad she’d said that. Everyone should see how good of a person he was.

  “Okay, people, let’s get the cheesecake shot,” Michael said. “This shot is for the women, Henry,” he said to him. “Make it look good.”

  “I’ll try,” he said. Michael left the boat, returning to the shore to watch the camera from there.

  “What do I do?” I shouted down below.

  “Your job is to look sexy. He’s there for the girls, you’re there for the guys. Or lesbians, whichever,” Michael said quite flippantly. “Action!”

  I stood next to Henry as the camera inched forward like the head of a brontosaurus dinosaur, watching (probably in slow motion) as Henry pulled his shirt up. I acted as best I could but I didn’t really need to act.

  His makeup woman had sprayed his chest down with water to make his abs glisten. I felt just a tickle in my lady parts down there as he pulled the shirt up over his head and tossed it in the ocean.