by Marian Keyes
‘Walsh?’
‘Yeah, Walsh.’
‘Oh. So, what are you doing here?’
‘Taking some down time.’
‘Staying with Emily?’
‘Yes.’
And then – just like the last time – ‘Well, great to see you,’ and he stuck out his hand for me to shake, then off he went, leaving me in a huge pool of anti-climax. I wanted to call after him, Dont you want to know what happened? Why I’m Walsh now instead of Garvan?
My mood darkened further. It was no fun being at a party where I’d been rejected by two of the men present. Why didn’t they just fly Garv in to complete the set? Even though I’d had a laugh at Kirsty’s expense, she was the one with Troy by her side. And there was Shay Delaney, hail-fellow-well-met-ing his way around the party, but he wasn’t coming within a mile of me.
Well, I thought with a sigh, maybe he feels guilty. And maybe he should.
Without warning, Curtis bumped into me, jogging my drink and squeezing his weight down on to my toes. As sticky champagne slopped over my hands, rage leapt in me and at that moment I’d have had the strength to throttle him with my bare hands.
Maybe Kirsty was right, maybe I was pre-menstrual.
Tetchily, I sucked the champagne off my fingers and, all of a sudden, I got that tingly, hair-lifting feeling you get when someone is staring at you. I looked up and around the garden and my gaze landed on Lara. She was watching me. When she saw I’d noticed her, her face changed and she playfully rolled her eyes after Curtis, then flashed me her radiant smile, which seemed more radiant than usual. I smiled back, feeling a little head-spinny, a little off-balance, and a funny anticipation began to flicker in the pit of my stomach.
Most people left around midnight. Most people except for those I really wanted to see the back of: Troy, Kirsty and Shay arranged themselves in the kitchen around Emily, talking excitedly and roaring laughing. While, glowering with resentment, I trudged back and forth from the garden, carrying glasses, bottles and leftover food. Lara and Ethan flitted around me, loading the dishwasher in Lara’s case and finishing any half-drunk glasses in Ethan’s. Both, in their way, were helping.
‘Excuse me,’ I said, pushing past Troy to get to the bin and accidentally-on-purpose sticking a fork into the back of his leg.
‘Ow!’
‘Sorry,’ I said, trying my very best not to sound it.
As I crumpled a paper plate into the bin, plans were being made for the following night: Troy, Shay and Emily felt that they could help each other out in their respective careers, and they were going out for dinner to discuss it.
‘You’ll come too, won’t you, Maggie?’ Emily invited.
‘Yοιι might find it kinda boring, Irish,’ might find it kinda boring, Irish,’ Troy said, a little too quickly for my liking.
‘Probably.’ I straightened up from the bin, looked at him hard and tried to invest my tone with unpleasant meaning.
But before it got any nastier, Lara interjected cheerily, ‘Hey, Maggie, come out with me tomorrow night. Those guys are going to be talking work, but you and me – we can have fun!’ She winked flirtatiously at me and confusion dulled my reactions. I wasn’t imagining this. Was I?
No, I wasn’t, because next thing she was sliding her arm around my waist. ‘Don’t worry, guys, I’ll take care of Maggie. Real good care. Right, Maggie?’ She tickled my waist with her fingers and I twisted around to look into her aquamarine eyes. As so often with her, I felt railroaded – and I liked it.
‘Right, Lara,’ I said, with a huge, happy smile, then brazenly moved to kiss her. It was quite chaste – i.e. no tongues – but had a sweet, lingering quality, so that when we opened our eyes and turned back to the others, we were slap bang in the middle of what could only be described as an ‘atmosphere’: Troy, Kirsty, Emily and Shay were pictures of disbelief and confusion.
‘Oh man,’ Ethan groaned, rearranging his crotch.
As soon as they’d all gone home, Emily pounced. ‘What’s going on with you and Lara?’
‘I don’t know. Nothing.’ But honesty compelled me to add, ‘Yet.’
‘Yet? Maggie! You mean you’re planning…?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, maybe. Probably’ ‘But you’re straight!’
After a stretch of silence, I made myself say it. ‘I’m not sure I am, you know.
‘What the HELL are you talking about?’
‘Well…’ It was difficult for me to voice this. Very difficult. ‘You know – ‘I swallowed hard. ‘You know if you’re watching a porn film?’
Emily’s face was a picture. Though we’d discussed almost everything else that had ever happened to us, pornography was a neglected area.
‘Please don’t look at me like that!’ I implored. ‘It’s not like it sounds. I don’t have any, but if I’m away in a hotel with Garv and they have it on the in-house movies, then sometimes…’
‘Mmm.’
‘I’ve never admitted this before, but I wasn’t interested in the men in the films.’ I looked at her, hoping for some sort of encouragement, but she was expressionless. ‘They were just plastic-looking, over-developed bodies. To be honest, I actually found them quite repulsive.’
‘That’s because they are repulsive, with their mullet hair-dos and their bushy moustaches.’
‘How did you know that’s what they looked like?’
‘They’re all like that.’
‘Are they really? Right. Well, apart from Garv I’ve never told anyone this ever before, but… ‘I stopped, not sure if I could continue. Then I almost choked as I blurted out, ‘Emily, it was the girls that I wanted to look at. I fancy them.’
‘You don’t fancy them,’ Emily said in despair. ‘You just want to be them! Everyone feels like that. It’s normal.’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so. I might be a lesbian. At the very least I’m bi.’
Emily’s exasperation drained away and she assumed an expression of concern. ‘Maggie, I’m worried about you. I mean it. Think for a moment about all you’ve lost in the last while.
It’s no wonder you’re looking for love, or affection or whatever. Especially after the way Troy rejected you.’ ‘Troy didn’t reject me.’
‘Sorry, wrong choice of words. When he didn’t… When he decided not to…’
‘He didn’t reject me, because you can only be rejected if you let yourself be rejected.’ I’d heard something similar to that recently and I’d liked it. Trouble was, I didn’t think I had it quite right. Troy had definitely rejected me.
‘Right, but what I’m saying, Maggie, is that after all you’ve been through it’s no wonder you don’t know what you want. Last week it was Troy –’
‘Now there was a mistake.’
‘– and now you think you want Lara. But you don’t.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’
‘I’m not! You’re all confused.’
‘I’m not confused. Listen to me, Emily – Lara smiled at me tonight and something good happened in me and for the first time in ages I felt… ‘I sought the right word. ‘… OK. It felt right. I’m sorry you’re finding this so hard, but I can see why. You’ve always known me as heterosexual and you’ve got slightly homophobic tendencies…’
‘Now just a minute!’
‘But you do! You said you’d hate to lick someone’s mackerel.’
‘Lara is one of my best friends, I love her to death. Just because I don’t want to do what she does in bed doesn’t mean I disapprove. I mean, I’m not that keen on anal sex either, but I don’t care if anyone else does it.’
Emily put her face in her hands. ‘This is all my fault. I told you to let your hair down.’
‘And I’m glad you did. I’ve played it safe for far too long.’
‘Put it back up,’ she implored. ‘Before you do yourself any more damage, put it back up.’
‘No.’
‘Today is Thursday,’ Emily whispered to herself. ‘They’re coming on
Tuesday.’ She bit her knuckle and whimpered, ‘She’ll kill me. Mammy Walsh will kill me.’
31
Larry Savage proceeded to extract his pound of flesh – with immediate effect. No sooner had her celebratory hangover kicked in than Emily was summoned to his chalet to ‘bounce around’ some script changes.
‘This morning s not so great,’ I heard her say, then she put her hand over the speaker and mouthed desperately at me, ‘Alka Seltzer, please!’ Then, after a little pause, she said, ‘Yes, sir, I understand sir. Eleven o’clock. I’ll be there.’
Hanging up, she rushed to me. ‘Maggie, how good is your shorthand?’
I handed her a fizzing glass. ‘Non-existent.’
‘Oh. How good are you at writing fast?’
‘Not bad.’
‘Get dressed. We’re going to The Valley. We’ve got us some face time with Mr Savage.’
But first it was my unpleasant duty to call to the Goatee Boys’ darkened house and rouse one of them to wait in for the catering guys to collect their stuff. I was afraid of seeing any of them naked, but especially Curtis.
Luckily, the only one who showed any sign of life was a half-dressed Ethan, who pulled on a singlet and announced that he was considering a career change.
‘But don’t you first need a career,’ I suggested gently, ‘before you can consider changing it?’
Entirely unfazed, he told me his great idea: he was going to start up a new religion.
‘Come on,’ I beckoned him to the door. ‘Hurry.’
‘My mom says she doesn’t care, so long as I pick something and stick to it. She says I’ve got to stop changing courses and I think starting a new religion is a pretty cool career move.’
I wasn’t so sure. Don’t you end up being crucified, that sort of thing? But far be it from me to rain on his parade.
‘And what kind of things would you believe in?’ I asked, opening our front door and ushering him in. ‘Or haven’t you got that far?’
‘Sure I have!’ Then Ethan outlined the cornerstone of his new faith, which was that the disciples have to have lots of sex with Ethan.
‘Oh, Christ,’ Emily muttered, putting on her lipstick in the mirror.
‘“Oh, Ethan” is what you’ll be saying soon,’ Ethan cheerfully corrected her.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said stonily. ‘The catering guys will be here inside an hour, then you can go home. And just to let you know, I have my underwear drawer arranged in a special way. I’ll know if someone’s been through it. Capisce?’
‘Capisce. Hey, Maggie, are you really going to go out with Lara tonight?’
‘Yes.’
‘Woooh! Lesbianism rocks!’
Emily sighed, but said nothing.
Out at Empire, we were given a warm welcome by Michelle, Larry’s assistant.
‘Congratulations,’ she said, hugging first Emily, then me. ‘It’s a great script, we’re all really excited about it.’
The door to Larry’s office was closed, but he could be heard, clear as a bell, shouting at someone, ‘Sue me! So freaking sue me!’
‘Larry’s just on to his mom,’ Michelle smiled. ‘He won’t be long.’
Sure enough, one final valedictory bellow, then the office door was wrenched open and Larry emerged, full of beans.
‘Have we got a deal or have we got a deal!’ he beamed at Emily. ‘Congratulations, kiddo.’
‘Thank you for buying it,’ Emily beamed back. ‘And thank you for the flowers.’
Larry waved away her thanks. ‘Don’t mention it. Studio always does it. Standard procedure.
‘OΚ.’ With an arm around each of us, Larry guided Emily and me out into the sunshine. ‘This morning we’re meeting with two studio executives. We gotta get these guys on side if we want this movie to be made. Got it?’
We nodded energetically. Oh, we got it all right.
At the boardroom chalet, the two executives – a stick-thin blonde called Maxine and a clean-cut, square-jawed man called Chandler – both gushed at Emily about how much they loved Plastic Money and how it was going to make a great movie. For a trillionth of a second I was excited, then I copped on to myself.
As we gathered around the table, Larry produced a copy of the script, and when some of the pages fell open there were thick, red lines scored through paragraph after paragraph and in some cases dragged across entire pages. I can’t describe the feeling. I hadn’t written the script, so I wasn’t attached in the same way that Emily was, but I still felt sick. For some reason, it made me think of visiting someone in prison and seeing them bearing obvious signs of beatings.
Michelle distributed photocopies of Plastic Money to the rest of us and Larry called the meeting to order. ‘OΚ. Let’s try and knock this into shape! First off, that whole plastic surgery stuff has to go. Too weird, too edgy.’
‘But that’s the whole point,’ Emily explained calmly. ‘It’s an exploration of society’s fixation with the body beautiful, it makes important points about our value system –’
‘Well, I don’t like it. Get rid of it. All of it!’
Shock had my jaw swinging like a sign in the wind. I’d heard about studios buying scripts then proceeding to eviscerate them. But I’d always thought such accounts were wildly exaggerated to generate sympathy or laughs: clearly they weren’t.
Emily swallowed hard, then she asked, ‘So what’s their motivation for holding up the bank, then?’
Larry leaned across the table and sing-songed at her, ‘Well, I don’t know. I’m not the writer!’
Emily went white.
‘How about a blind girl needs an operation to restore her sight,’ Chandler suggested.
Larry clicked his fingers. ‘I like it!’
‘Or a bunch of underprivileged kids have a ball park,’ Maxine said, ‘but a big corporation wants to turn it into duplexes, so they need the money to buy it?’
‘Yeah,’ Larry said thoughtfully. ‘Could work.’
‘If there’s no plastic surgery, the name will have to be changed,’ Emily said, slightly shrilly. ‘Plastic Money makes no sense now.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. We’ll change the name to Chip’.
Emily looked even more upset and I was dismayed; I’d hoped that he’d intended Chip only to have a bit-part, not the starring role.
‘If the name is Chip, you don’t think people might think it’s a movie about a chip?’ Maxine wondered.
‘Would they?’
‘Maybe – after Chocolat’
‘So we call it Chip the Dog’ Larry said.
‘That’s great!’ Chandler said. ‘That’s so great. But what about those animal-rights guys? They see a movie called Chip the Dog, they’re going to tell us that people might see it as an order. Like, you gotta chip the dog!’
‘Unless we change the dog’s name,’ said Michelle.
‘I like Chip.’
‘Yeah, I like it too.’
‘How about Chuck?’
‘Chuck the Dog?. Bad as Chip the Dog’.
‘How about calling him Charlie?’
‘So now it’s a drug movie!’
As the discussion raged, Emily maintained a flinty silence. I was forbidden to speak, but even if I’d been allowed I wouldn’t have wanted to, muzzled by a potent mixture of depression and boredom.
Larry announced that we were ‘working through’ lunch, so at twelve-thirty enough food to feed a multitude was delivered to the chalet and laid out prettily – and very quickly – on a table in the corner.
I was starving, but everyone else put tiny amounts of food on to their plates: one strand of noodle; half a baby tomato; four pasta shells; one rocket leaf. So we were taking a little and often approach – OK, I could do that too…
We all sat back down with our food and Larry continued to demand suggestions from us, so it took me a while to notice that I was the only one who’d cleared my plate and that there were no signs of anyone paying a return visit to the buffet. I forced mys
elf to be patient, perhaps they were just slow eaters… but then the plates were being absently pushed aside as ideas were scribbled in the margins of our scripts. Lunch was over. Over before it had begun, and I was still so hungry.
I wondered if I could just get up and help myself. But we were all sitting down and fully immersed in work. Could I just get up and walk over and put more food on my plate, then put that food in my mouth? What would they think of me?
Wistfully, I looked at the table. Its legs were almost buckling from the weight of uneaten food on it. An entire quiche –untouched. A deep-pan pizza, its perfectly circularity unbroken. It was the pizza that did it. All at once, I was pushing back my chair and straightening my knees.
Larry Savage looked at me in surprise. ‘Where ya going?’
My resolve departed abruptly. ‘Nowhere,’ I said, sitting right back down again and studying my script.
My regret was immense. If only I’d known I only got one chance, I’d have made the most of it.
Suddenly that sounded very profound.
We worked through until two-thirty, then Larry wrapped things up. ‘Time out, guys. My acupuncturist just got here.’
Her head bowed, Emily straightened the papers in front of her. ‘I’ll get writing.’
‘You do that. We need these rewrites fast.’
‘By when?’
‘Say, Friday.’
‘Next Friday? Or the Friday six weeks from now?’
‘Haha. Next Friday.’
‘No, Friday’s not so good for me.’
‘Thursday, then. Or Wednesday?’
‘Oh. Oh, OK then, Friday’s fine.’
Exhausted, we got into the car. Emily was grey.
‘Are you OK?’ I whispered.
Her face was wretched. ‘Why did he buy it if all he wants to do is butcher it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What was it that eejit next door said?’
‘Follow me and I will get jiggy with thee?’
‘No, the other eejit from the other next door. Mike. “Be careful what you wish for,” he said. Well, he was right –I wished for someone to buy my script and now I wish they hadn’t.’
