“You lucky, lucky, lucky girl you. You’d better name your firstborn after me. Susana, if it’s a girl. Susana, if it’s a boy. That should have been me, after all.”
I pulled a face. “What children?”
“Girl, you were in the same hotel with Scott Dawson of all people. You danced all night. Surely, some action went down.”
I grew quiet.
“Well?”
I shrugged. “I turned him down.”
“You did WHAT!?”
I whispered. “Twice.”
“Are you serious?”
I rolled my eyes. “Now you sound like Clare. I don’t just sleep with a guy because he’s cute or famous. I don’t do one night stands.”
“Tell me you at least got his number.”
“Nope. It was a chance meeting. A night dancing in a club. A kiss goodbye on the cheek at the hotel bar. Nothing to exchange numbers over.”
Susan looked at me from head to toe. She shook her head and sighed.
“It’s okay, hun. You’re cut from a different fabric than Clare and I. It’s why we complement each other so well. Just tell me this: did you have a good weekend?”
“It was an awesome weekend.”
“Do you feel relaxed and rejuvenated?”
“I do.”
“Well, that’s all that matters. What’s done is done. Opportunities passed are opportunities passed. But just for the record, if that had been me this weekend, I would have had Scott Dawson all over me until I left for the airport on Monday.”
We laughed and continued our shopping.
Chapter 7 – Scott
“Transitions are a part of life. They come for everyone. It all comes down to how we handle it when the time comes.”
I mouthed along with the last line as the cameras zoomed out, and the screen faded to black. I watched the closing credits roll up the screen until the very last line. I took a deep breath and let it out again. It was surreal to imagine that just a year ago, I had landed the lead in this movie, and now it was a box office hit. The movie deals had come rolling in, and I had my choice of directors beating down my doors. But isn’t it ironic that the things we have is what we do not want, and the things we do not have, that is what we want? I stood and began to pace my den. I was restless, and I knew why.
I went into my gym and got on the treadmill. One hour later, I was wet with sweat, but the edge was still there. It had been there for the past week and had not gotten any less dull with time. What the hell was taking them so long? I moved from the treadmill to the corner with the weights. I felt as if I was punishing myself. But this was always my way of coping with being in limbo.
When my muscles could bear no more, I dragged my weary body into the bathroom and turned on the jacuzzi. A few moments later, I sank into the hot, bubbling water. As I looked out over the New York skyline, I forced my brows to unknit and my body to relax. I drummed my fingers on the edge of the tub as I watched the sun coming up over the horizon. I sat for at least an hour, just staring down at the city as it came to life. March was still a bit cold, but already, in the distance, I could see evidence of the trees beginning to put on their new leaves in preparation for Spring. Spring. The season of rebirth and newness. I would turn thirty-two in the first week of April.
I had not had a bad life for someone of my age. I was a raving success according to the public tabloids. I was becoming known as the actor with the golden touch: every movie I was cast in as the lead was a guaranteed box office hit. I was a much sought after entity. And I was happy that I had achieved this success on my own steam, and not because my father was Frank Dawson, a top-notch film director in his own right. It was not a life I had any intention of giving up anytime soon. But I couldn’t help but feel that I was becoming stuck in a rut. I wanted to try something else, something new, something different. That was the source of my restlessness. That was why I wanted this role. All the others were guaranteed hits based on my track record in the genre, but this one would be a challenge, and I wanted that challenge.
Slowly I eased out of the tub and reached for a towel. I slung it loosely around my waist as I plodded to the kitchen. I was not necessarily hungry, but I knew I needed something to eat. I got the coffee brewing and popped some bread into the toaster. I had just poured my first cup and sat down at the counter with the bread and butter when I heard the doorbell. My heart leaped into my throat. Very few persons had access to my floor. So for someone to be at my door, it had to be either Michael or Vivian.
I tightened the towel and all but ran to the door. I pulled it open as the bell rang yet again. I stepped back as Hurricane Vivian blew inside. She dropped her bag inside the door. Her usually unruly red curls were in even more disarray than usual, and she looked as if she had grabbed the first articles of clothing her hands could find. She wore her trademark baggy jeans and some faded sweatshirt. Her sneakers had seen better days. I often chastised her for looking like a hobo, especially when she dared to criticize my grunge collection.
“What the heck took you so damn long to answer the door? I would have thought you would be camped out at the door, waiting.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Vivian…” I growled.
“Don’t even try asking me anything before you feed me.”
She wandered into the kitchen and promptly took a seat in front of my plate. I watched as she ate my toast, picking at it slowly. With each nibble, I felt my agitation grow. Then I saw her smirk. The little minx knew what she was doing. And she was enjoying every second of it. That could only mean one thing. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. I leaned against the counter and waited. When she had suited herself and finished my breakfast, she turned her big green eyes in my direction.
“Have you ever wondered what Springtime weather is like in some of our neighboring states, say Maryland?”
I shook my head slowly. “Never.”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”
I shrugged.
She stood and went to the refrigerator. She took out a bottle of water and downed half of it before she continued.
“You’re not going to ask, are you?”
I smirked. “Nope.”
Vivian had her devices, and I had mine. She liked it when I chased her down for answers, and I was not going to give her that satisfaction.
She sighed and acquiesced. “Have you ever heard of a place called Creek Town in Baltimore, Maryland?”
“Nope?”
“Well, you’re about to find out. That’s where Call me Winston is going to be filmed.”
“So, why would I need to find out?” My heart was racing, but I forced myself to appear calm. I wanted to hear her say it.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a jackass, Scott. You got the role. They start filming in Creek Town next month. They Fed-Exed over the contract this morning, which is what I brought for you to sign.”
She retrieved her bag and extracted a sheaf of papers. I sat at the counter and waited for her to flip through to find the sections requiring my signature. When I signed all the necessary parts, she placed it in a file folder and put it away. She pulled out a big envelope and extracted a thick, bound document.
“Your script, sir. Based on my research, Creek Town is a lovely little suburb in the foothills of Baltimore county. It’s still cold, but by the time we get there in April, it should be a bit warmer, so you can choose your wardrobe accordingly. Filming should take about three months, so that puts wrapping up close to summer. My inside scoop tells me it was a toss-up between you and Mark Rainford, and they were leaning toward Rainford. But he got a better offer at the last minute, and so you have your wish. I don’t know why you wanted this so badly, but now you have it. At the very least, I get out of the city for a few months. It will be interesting to see what life in a small town is like, though.”
I flipped through the script and grinned. This role was going to be a challenge. I had never done a romantic
comedy before.
“Oh, by the way, Patricia called again. It’s getting a bit tiresome. Can you please call her and tell her to stop calling me?”
“I pay you to run interference, my dear. Pat knows we’re done. Our relationship has been over since New Years'. I have no idea why she keeps calling. Just send her the usual parting package.”
I felt Vivian’s eyes on me and studiously buried my head in the script. I heard the lecture even before she started. I could sometimes swear she and Michael rehearsed in their concerted and consistent criticism of my relationships.
“Scott, you can’t keep breaking these women’s hearts.”
“They know what they’re getting into when they get involved with me. I don’t hide my reputation as a womanizer. I never have, and I never will.”
“We’re not toys to be played with, and then when you get bored, you toss us aside.”
“Who is this ‘we’ and ‘us’ you’re talking about, Viv? At what point did I break your heart?”
“Scott, for the past six years, I’m the one that’s been cleaning up the shit after you dispose of them. I hear the sob stories, and I feel their pain when they cry their hearts out. I’m the one who they face when they come to the studios looking for you. I’m the one who screens their calls. They are all humans, and not just objects you can buy off, Scott. Have a heart.”
“I do have a heart. It just won’t belong to any woman, ever. Now lay off, Vivian.”
She shook her head and sighed. “I just don’t get it. Based on what I know of you, it’s not that someone hurt you in the past. You have simply chosen to be a cold-hearted bastard.”
“I’ve seen how love hurts. Therefore I have chosen not to open myself up to that sort of pain. Is that a crime these days?”
“No. It’s not. Michael and I see how much you have to offer. Why can’t you see that for yourself?”
“Tell me what it is you see that I have to offer, Vivian.”
“I’m not going to play this game with you, Scott.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Coward.”
“Never mind. One day you will meet your match. There is one woman out there who is going to melt that heart of yours. I can only hope that she won’t mete out to you the same treatment you’ve meted out to her gender all these years.”
“When I meet such a one, I’ll be sure to give you and Michael front row seats in the coldest part of hell frozen over.”
“Don’t forget to provide the popcorn and soda as well.” She stood and stretched. “Anyway, I’ve got to get this signed document back to the studios. I’ll leave you to your beloved script.” She jumped as her phone rang. She pulled a face as she looked at the screen, and mouthed ‘Patricia’. She slid the button across to answer.
“Good morning, Vivian Brooks speaking.” She closed her eyes and held down her head.
“I’m sorry, Patricia. Scott is unavailable.” She began to pace.
“Yes, I know you want to see him one last time to get closure, but I have to respect his wishes and his space as he has indicated that he made it clear to you in January that the relationship had come to an end. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I would again advise you to try to move on as best as you possibly can. You’re a beautiful woman. You don’t need someone like Scott Dawson in your life. You’re probably better off.”
I held up my hands in protest, and she scowled at me. She nodded as she listened to the woman on the other end of the conversation.
“Patricia, between you and me, you dodged a bullet. You will find someone else, and you will be thankful that Scott ended it when he did. Just chalk it up to experience, hun. Use it to make you stronger. If I were you, I wouldn’t be moping around my apartment. I would be out having the time of my life, shopping, getting my hair done, you know, doing me. Tell you what I’m going to do, just for you. How does a gold card with two thousand dollars sound?” Vivian nodded. “Two five it is.”
I shook my head vehemently, and she stuck her tongue out at me. She ended the call shortly after.
“A thousand would have been good enough. We weren’t together for even six months.”
“I won’t keep doing this, Scott. I feel like I’m buying these women off each time you dump them.”
“The fact that you can buy them off in the first place should tell you something about them, shouldn’t it?”
“This sucks.”
I walked to the door, and she followed.
“Thanks for coming over with this stuff. And for taking care of Patricia. Now I can focus my attention on this role, and prepare myself for, where is it called?”
“Creek Town.”
I brushed my lips against her forehead. “Thank you, darling. For everything.”
“You are not welcome. One day you are going to go too far. Do you know how much I could get for a ‘tell-all’ book dishing out on all the relationships of the great Scott Dawson?”
“I could easily double any offer you get and keep your mouth shut.” I leaned against the wall and smirked.
“Triple it, and we can talk. For heaven’s sake, get some clothes on.” She flicked a finger at the towel I still wore.
I laughed. “The ladies usually ask me to do the opposite. Bye, Vivian. Keep me posted regarding travel plans and what I need to be aware of before I get to this little town.”
“Will do, darling. Now let me go and get this gold card topped up and delivered to Miss Patricia. Tell Steven you approve the funds being released to the card before I deliver it, please. We don’t want a repeat of what happened to Isabel.”
“Sure. No problem.” I closed the door as she exited. I dropped the script on the coffee table and went to my room. I emerged a few moments later, clad in a t-shirt and sweat pants. I grabbed a bag of grapes from the refrigerator, along with a bottle of water. I settled into the recliner and picked up the script.
Chapter 8 – Helen
I wandered through the market, checking things off on my list. When I had crossed off the last item and given instructions for the quantity, I wanted to be delivered that afternoon, I made the short walk to the coffee shop. Susan was already waiting with her folder.
“Hey, Susan! I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“No, hun. I just got here. I haven’t had breakfast yet. Have you?”
“Negative. And I am starving.”
I sat quickly, and a waitress soon approached. We placed our order and got down to the business of selecting the fresh spring bouquets for the café’s Spring Feast. When I had returned from Miami last year, the idea had been born as a pleasing transition from Winter to Spring. We had used the opportunity to introduce our menu changes as well. The Spring Feast had been an enormous hit with the locals, and we had settled on making it an annual event, held the first Saturday in April.
“Can you imagine how this town is going to be overrun with all those big-screen folks in a few weeks?”
“Days maybe. They’re due to start filming in two weeks if we’re to believe the press.”
“That’s right after the Spring Feast. It’s going to be non stop activity to summer. Creek Town has never seen recognition like this, I’m sure.”
“I hear that Scott Dawson is the lead,” Susan smirked and wiggled her eyebrows at me. I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t start.”
“Don’t start what?” She took a sip of water and stared at me innocently.
“I doubt if he even remembers me.”
“You never can tell. Maybe you made a bigger impression on him than you thought.”
“Or maybe I was nothing more than a welcome distraction while he was between women when he was in Miami. He’s a bit of a Casanova, you know.”
“You’ve been keeping tabs on your man?”
“He’s not my man, and I have not been keeping tabs. He is constantly in the news. He’s a bit hard to ignore. The string of hearts in his wake is hard to ignore, as well.”
“Maybe he’s wai
ting for the right one to come along. Maybe the right one did come along, and he had one fantastic night with her in a club and lost her. Maybe he’s hoping to run into her again someday, so until then, he continues to play the field.” Susan waxed warm to the story she was spinning. “Maybe when he gets to Creek Town, he’ll get the shock of his life and run into the one who got away a year ago. Maybe the spark that they felt then will ignite and burst into a roaring inferno, and this is what he needs to tame his wandering eyes. Maybe she will take him off the market, and they will settle down and have a bunch of children and live happily ever after.”
“Maybe you read too many fairytales.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”
“I prefer to be a realist. I’m just an ordinary small-town chef who he happened to dance with at a club in Miami. I doubt very much that he even remembers being in Miami considering that a week after he was on the arm of Isabel Lambert. She barely lasted past the summer. Then he was on to Patricia Angus, who did not make it into the new year, mind you. And that was just last year. Before, that there was an even longer list, two sometimes three per year. The longest was Eve Briggs. She got almost ten months of his time. Note that all these women are stars in their own right. I’m just an ordinary, insignificant woman. Scott Dawson is not in my league; neither am I in his. We move in two completely different worlds.”
“So, you have been keeping tabs on him!” Susan clapped her hands and laughed.
I looked at her in disbelief. “Didn’t you hear anything I said?”
“I heard every word. How did you know all of that, though?” She dug into the scrambled eggs and bacon the waitress had deposited in front of her.
“Ummm…”
“Uh-huh?”
I shrugged casually. “It’s random information that pops up on the internet.”
“Yeah. Random. As random as typing in the name Scott Dawson and doing a specific search. ‘fess up, Helen. You like him. Maybe not a lot right now, but there is enough interest for you to dig into his background and find out what you did. But you do know you can’t believe everything you read on the internet or in the tabloids, right? They grossly exaggerate those accounts for the sole purpose of sensationalism. I thought you were more sensible than that.”
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