Breaking Character

by Lee Winter

“Not the network. Stop being blind. Summer is using you. She’s wormed her way into a friendship and now she’s using you. Watch out for those young ones. They’re ambitious as hell. They’ll slither right over your head to get to the top.”

  “The young ones? Since when do you worry about them?”

  Grace eyed her a moment. “They’re all anyone values. They have the monopoly on any halfway decent roles. Is it any wonder the rest of us strive, through any means, to stay in that mix for as long as possible? Soon you’ll see. It won’t be fun being so close to forty when your contract’s up.”

  “Why the sudden fixation on age?”

  Grace glowered. “Among the grievances Cho aired when we had our final little contretemps, was that I’m far too old for love-interest roles and to stop demanding them. She said I was long overdue to consider scripts for supporting parts about mothers and…” she gave her drink a venomous swirl, “…grandmothers.”

  Oh damn.

  “Naturally, I explained I’d do no such thing! That it was up to her to find me scripts without a romantic interest at all if the alternative was too hard, but I absolutely won’t be playing supporting roles. I am a lead! And then she called me too difficult and terminated our arrangement.” Grace sneered. “Welcome to Hollywood. You’re fuckable at twenty, long in the tooth at thirty, and dead after forty.” She looked pointedly at Elizabeth. “Tick-tock, Bess. And you’ll have given your replacement a leg-up.”

  “Summer’s not my replacement. Besides, she’s not like that.”

  Grace clucked. “She is exactly like that. She grew up in this sinkhole, with industry parents, and absorbed it all into her skin. You don’t think she knew an easy mark when she saw it?”

  Gritting her teeth, Elizabeth said, “You don’t know her.”

  “Really? She’s working on that number one rule of Hollywood: Sell your own mother to get ahead. Or in your case, sell the woman old enough to be your own mother.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “She’s only nine years younger than me, for God’s sake.”

  “Well, she looks much younger. The point is, she’s hitched her star to yours. Using this Hunter business and the Badour film? Watch her career soar now, while you’ll soon get kicked into the abyss.”

  Anger crackled along Elizabeth’s veins. Summer had put her job on the line to save Elizabeth’s character from a terrible plot. But telling Grace that would probably only get Summer mocked for weakness. Grace couldn’t appreciate anyone who didn’t think exactly like she did.

  Catching her dark expression, Grace suddenly smiled. “Goodness, look at us, getting side-tracked by all these depressing topics.” She sounded carefree, as though she’d never had a harsh thought in her life. “I only meant to warn you about people in general. Even the sweet ones can hide their true natures. Just be careful. Trust no one.”

  “Even you?” Elizabeth couldn’t resist.

  Grace laughed. “Funny. Top up?” She waved her glass.

  “I’ll sit on this one.” You should too.

  “Come inside. There’s something else to discuss and this heat is oppressive.”

  Elizabeth closed the balcony doors behind them, and turned to see Grace pouring herself another drink. This had to be her sixth at least. “Bad day?”

  “Not at all. This deal, well, I’ll hammer something out tonight with Roger. And you’re here, my loyal one. My rock.”

  “Of course. Is that why you summoned me? You needed someone loyal?”

  “It’s not just that. I’ve been giving something some thought—an idea I’ve had for a few days, in case this deal doesn’t work out. One always needs a back-up plan. Hear me out.” She sat on the couch and patted the space beside her. “Sit.”

  Elizabeth complied after a wary pause.

  Plucking Elizabeth’s hand into hers, Grace took a deep breath.

  Elizabeth’s uneasiness turned queasy.

  “Now,” Grace began, “it occurred to me after an uncharacteristic bout of self-reflection…” she offered a self-deprecating smile, “…how all this time, you’d been right under my nose, and I’ve never fully appreciated you. I took you and your loyalty for granted. An oversight I’d like to correct.”

  Elizabeth’s mind blanked. “Sorry?”

  “My career, of late, is…challenging. Cho was right about one thing: I’m not getting any younger.”

  “Forty-four is hardly old.”

  “Fifty-three.”

  “What?”

  “I lied. On my CV, in interviews, everywhere.” Grace gave a cavalier wave. “Cho knew; she does background checks on all her clients. Part of our disagreement was that I remain, literally, unwilling to act my age.”

  Fifty-three? She can’t be.

  “Another reason I like you is you’re so good for my ego.” Grace laughed. “The shock on your face that I could possibly be this age is fabulous.” She shook her head. “Obviously I’m aware why my offers are drying up. And I’m aware that Roger and Jax may be all hot air. That this film might remain as sad as it looks on paper. I’m not delusional.”

  That was a relief. “But what does any of that have to do with me?”

  “I’m tired of the hamster wheel. This town, these two-faced people, the deals, the shallowness, the fakery. We’ll do lunch, they tell you, and never call. You’re perfect for the part! And that’s the last you hear from them. It’s soul-destroying.”

  “It can be,” Elizabeth murmured.

  “No, it is. So I asked myself what I’d like to do instead. I’m an independent, intelligent woman of means. There must be more to life than this emptiness. It’s not good for me. So why can’t I just pick up and go? Travel? See what’s out there? And take a good friend with me? Someone who shares the same interests and who likes being around me as much as I do them?”

  Elizabeth stared.

  “Doesn’t that sound divine? What an adventure we’d have! I don’t need Amrit and his fair-weather affections. Who needs people who don’t appreciate us, anyway? Am I right, darling? So, would you like that? Just you and me?”

  Elizabeth’s emotions wrestled, soaring from jubilation to a freefall into confusion.

  “Why that look?” Grace sounded faintly insulted. “I thought you’d be delighted. I’m rich as blazes if that helps your calculations. Oh, I know, it’s dreadful to talk about money, but just so you know, you’d want for nothing. You wouldn’t need to go back to that debasing show or any of that nonsense. We could see art, culture, music, go anywhere. Imagine!”

  Elizabeth could see it only too well. It sounded like a Faustian deal. Give up her career, her autonomy, to become Grace’s constant companion, subject to her moods and whims—and Lord knew she had plenty. It sounded like being a kept woman…minus the bedroom rights. On that note… “And what if you met some charming man who turned your head? Would you deposit me at the nearest airport or keep me around as an amusing third wheel?”

  Grace’s stunned expression made it clear the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Well, of course a fling on the side would never disrupt our adventures. Who wants the hassle of a man in tow?” She smiled. “You could have fun, too, if you wanted. I don’t mind who you take to your bed. Man or woman. Doesn’t bother me.” She offered the most delicate of shrugs.

  For a moment Elizabeth couldn’t breathe. She’d been so careful. For years! “How long have you known?”

  “The day we met. You had your eye on the Footlights’ lighting technician. Remember her?”

  Barely. Because it hadn’t been the tech she’d been staring at, but Grace, standing behind her.

  “I’ve also known that you put your career first, and that’s why you’re so discreet about these things,” Grace continued. “I’ve always admired how well you took my lessons to heart. It’s important, staying focused.”

  Elizabeth’s blood thundered in her ear
s.

  “You really thought I didn’t know about you and Alex, either? You were thick as thieves for months.” Grace’s light laughter tinkled. “Whatever do you think of me? That I don’t see what’s right under my nose?”

  The hairs on the back of Elizabeth’s neck stood up.

  “Goodness, you look so shocked, Bess. I just assumed you’d have told me if you’d wanted me to know. I thought I was honoring your wishes by discreetly looking the other way.”

  “Oh.” Oblivious, clueless, self-absorbed Grace appeared to be none of those things after all. All this time, she’d known Elizabeth far better than she’d ever imagined.

  Grace gave Elizabeth’s thigh a light, that’s that slap and beamed. “Now, it’s settled—you could have whatever passing dalliance you wished, and so could I. We’ll explore the world together. How does that sound?”

  “But only if your film doesn’t happen? And while Amrit’s with Chris?”

  “Of course. Didn’t I already say that?”

  “So, I really am the backup plan.” Elizabeth’s jaw clenched.

  “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re important to me. Do you think I’d make this offer to just anyone?” She squeezed their joined hands. “Well? Are you in?”

  A few years ago, having Grace promise her one-on-one time for months or more would have been everything she’d dreamed of, and she’d have seriously considered walking away from her career for a second time. All because Grace made her feel like she was special to her. But Elizabeth had worked far too hard to get where she was now.

  “Don’t think I don’t appreciate your…overwhelming…offer,” she said carefully, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “No?” Grace’s expression morphed into astonishment. “Why on earth not?”

  “My career’s about to take off with the Badour film. I can’t be wandering the world with you when I could be fielding offers. Even if it does sound…”

  Nice? No, not that. Her throat closed over at the thought of being with Grace 24/7 for months on end. Watching her swan off with the hunk of the moment. Being instructed at Grace’s knee. Or treated like the help, ordered to fetch bags and make drinks. It was all so claustrophobic. None of this could possibly be healthy. Not to mention her body’s reaction to this woman, which was more inconvenient than exciting these days.

  “Even if it does sound generous.”

  Grace regarded her for a long time. “Is this about your little crush?” She arranged herself into the study of patience, looking concerned.

  Elizabeth’s pulse started thudding double time. “Crush?”

  “Bess, there’s little that goes on in your life of which I’m not aware.”

  Surely she can’t mean—

  “Oh, don’t worry, I can continue to look past it. You’re doing such an excellent job at dealing with your…situation. I promise it’s not an issue for me. All right? Is that all that’s worrying you? Are we fine now?”

  Oh God. Elizabeth wanted to hide. Grace knew? She’d virtually patted Elizabeth on the head for being good at fighting her feelings, and now she wanted to move straight on to trip planning? Grace’s ability to compartmentalize was staggering.

  “No, we’re not fine now.”

  Grace frowned. “But we’ve covered every possible issue, haven’t we?” She paused and studied her. Considering. “Unless…God, is it that important to you?”

  “I don’t—”

  “I mean, it’s such a minor thing to stand in our way, if that’s all this is.” A look of uncertainty crossed Grace’s face, as though she were deciding something.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Grace leaned over and kissed her. It was a nose-and-teeth-clashing experience that lacked warmth or subtlety. Everything was furious and frantic. Funny how cold her lips seemed, dry and harsh. The trademark prickle of desire that always spiraled through Elizabeth whenever Grace touched her sparked, but then slowly ebbed away into nothing. All that was left was one thought: Why the hell is Grace kissing me?

  She pulled away, shocked.

  With eyes wide open as though she’d never shut them, Grace studied her with a look that seemed to ask, Well? Did that work? Are you ready now?

  “What was that?” None of Elizabeth’s fantasies had ever involved some sort of hit-and-run attack lacking all intimacy. “Was that just your ‘tease me till the ink is dry’ gambit like with Roger?” Anger stabbed at her. “Oh, and I don’t sleep with straight women, in case you planned to sweeten the deal.”

  Grace glared, wiping her scarlet lips in jerky movements. “Oh, lovely. That’s what I get for being considerate. And as if I’d ever sleep with you.”

  “Really?” Elizabeth cocked her head. “So you weren’t just working out whether you could? Or maybe you were figuring out how desperate I was? Whether I could be strung along until my ‘no’ to traveling with you turned into a ‘yes’. Is that how pathetic I seem to you?”

  Grace gave her an arch look but denied nothing.

  Elizabeth scowled. “What’s happened to you?”

  “It’s the American then?” Grace’s gaze sharpened. “That’s why you want to stay? That perky blond is who you’re into now?”

  The viciousness in that drawled statement felt like a slap. Summer’s comments about how territorial Grace had been outside the trailer flooded back. She’d thought Summer was reading too much into Grace’s proprietorial interest in her career. Now she could picture it only too clearly: Grace really did want Elizabeth to herself.

  What am I to Grace? The question had tortured her for years. She’d dissected conversations until her heart was bruised. Now she knew. She was some convenient, faithful lapdog…useful for companionship. Her fury rose. She wasn’t Grace’s possession or her toy. Oh, she’d put up with the mockery and teasing all these years because her heart had needed to keep forgiving her. But this was too much. Elizabeth folded her arms.

  “My decision has nothing to do with Summer. And if you belittle her again, I’ll walk out right now.”

  “Bess!” Shock seared Grace’s face.

  Elizabeth met her eye. “This is about us. Especially you. I know it’s been a hard few months, feeling rejected by your friends, and you don’t want to be alone. But no matter my feelings for you in the past, I’m saying no to the travel, as well as to anything else you might dangle to entice me to go.”

  Feelings for you in the past. The impact of her words were as startling as a slap. Do I really mean that? Elizabeth turned it over. She’d felt less than nothing during that kiss. Appalled and shocked, perhaps. And now, seeing the lengths Grace was willing to go to avoid being alone, she just felt sad for her. To consider sleeping with Elizabeth when she didn’t even like women that way? Who does that? And what the hell does that say about her views on me? Anger surged again. How fucking mercenary of her.

  Grace regarded her expression, her face closing. “Save it. I won’t have it. You, pitying me? Screw you. And you can stop acting so damned high and mighty. This is Hollywood. It’s one big red-light district. People wanting it, people selling it, people finding other people’s price. I asked yours, that’s all. I hadn’t even decided if I wanted to pay. All I did was ask.”

  “I’m not for sale. I do have some self-respect.”

  “You’re saying that I don’t?” Grace’s tone was low and dangerous.

  Shame filled Elizabeth. “No, I’m sorry. I know you’ve never screwed your way to the top. But I can see you’ve gotten to such a point of frustration and cynicism that you’ve been thinking about it lately.” She flicked her hand around the suite. “This is the down payment on another veiled promise you’re working out whether to keep. Don’t. You’re better than this. Grace, just go home.”

  Grace’s lips thinned. “So easy for you. You’ve no idea what it’s been like. Talk to me when people’s eyes glide right
past you to the pouty young things only famous for being famous. Or when your agent says she doesn’t have the time to hand-hold you anymore in the hope you’ll see the light and agree to age-appropriate roles.

  “Hand-hold me? Like I’m some doddery old fool?” Leaping to her feet, Grace paced. “I’m still young in my mind, can’t everyone see? I’m still beautiful, interesting, and fucking talented. Yet I’m being shown the exit. And now you have the audacity to tell me to throw away the only script I’ve seen in two years where the director and producer want me to play an attractive, vibrant, romantic lead. The first of many such roles!

  “But oh, of course, you, Elizabeth Thornton, star of TV’s most infantile and mystifyingly popular drama, diminishes the one damned role I might actually get. And then…when I finally face the fact that this is as good as it gets, that my career might be at sodding rock bottom, you throw even my escape plan back in my face. No, you’re far too busy now to travel, no matter how much I beg. No matter what I’m willing to offer to have you with me.” Her eyes glistened with fury. “And then you talk to me about self-respect. I appreciated that lovely bit of condescension. I wasn’t feeling quite low enough.”

  “Grace,” Elizabeth said, quietly. “When I said go home, I didn’t mean back to LA. I meant home. Be a legend in the UK again. You’re so much better than Roger’s script or waiting for Amrit, who you must know, deep down, is never coming back.”

  Grace’s eyes grew stormy.

  “I’m sorry about him,” Elizabeth continued. “And I’m sorry about Hollywood. But neither one is going to change. So why not admit Hollywood’s an experiment that didn’t work out—no one’s fault. I’m sure your old agent back home will find a role in ten minutes flat that leaves this palm trees nonsense for dead. Just tell everyone you’re going back for a role you can’t resist.”

  Grace said nothing for a long moment. She sipped her drink slowly, those beautiful eyes hooded, hurt, watchful.

  This could go either way. Occasionally Grace could be persuaded to take advice, if she agreed with it. Or, she could lash out when feeling provoked or disrespected.