Smile Number Seven

by Melissa Price

  “Everything.”

  “Us?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk. My mind is foggy and I need to rest now—but I’m glad you finally called.”

  “You feel so distant right now.” Julia waited through a pause that had enough room to land a plane. “And…so you are. Feel better. I love you.” Julia barely uttered the sentiment before Rina disconnected.

  Rina stood, walked to the terrace doors and stared out, searching in the direction for Catalina Island. “I trust you’re there, even in the darkness.”

  From her bedroom, the soft ambient lighting beckoned. She entered the dimly lit space and glanced at the unkind consensus reflected back to her by the multitude of mirrors. Rina lowered the lights until she could barely see—until the mirrors could no longer judge her.

  Her last thought before she fell asleep presented her with an unwelcome choice. Is it harder to long for something you wish you had or to have something you’re afraid of losing?

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  After a fitful night filled with unforgiving dreams, Rina stood before the open terrace doors of her living room deck, breathing in the foggy aura of morning-ocean. She answered her phone on the first ring. “Your timing is uncanny, Swan.” Her eyes scanned the seagulls flying past.

  “I was concerned when I read about some shakeup on the set of your new movie. Are you all right?”

  “Right now I’d consider diving naked into a pool of warm liquid Belgian chocolate and eating my way out of it.”

  The line went silent.

  “Swan? Are you there?”

  Swan cleared her throat. “Sorry. I was picturing it.”

  Rina chuckled. “Typical screenwriter.”

  “Yeah. Sure. I’ll go with that. Did you really take a spill off of a horse?”

  “Yes, but through no fault of my own. I’ll heal on the outside—not so sure about the inside.”

  “Why?”

  “Betrayed by a toxic ex.”

  “Oh?” She paused. “Oh. I think I just put two and two together. Your meltdown after the Oscars that brought you to rehab? Britney Cavell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really? From what I’ve gathered, she can’t compare to Julia.”

  “Except that I spoke with Julia last night and that didn’t go so well.” She sighed. “I was cold and dismissive, and I haven’t even called her yet to apologize.”

  “Think about our group session with Therapy Brittany where we learned how to dissolve our triggers. Britney obviously triggers you in a way that’s calling something else into question.”

  Rina flashed on Julia and paused. “I’m so in love with Julia.”

  “Hmm. Are you questioning her loyalty?”

  “No.”

  “Are you questioning your own?”

  “N-No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I know you’re asking because you see a connection, but honestly, everything is still too close for me to see it clearly, I think.”

  “Then call a timeout.”

  Rina exhaled forcefully. “Easier said than done, my friend.”

  “Is it, Rina? Or is that simply the story you’re telling yourself?”

  “I promise as soon as my head clears, I’ll think about that. So tell me, what’s going on in your world?”

  “I have good news. I got The Do-Over fully funded, which means we’ll be casting at some point soon.”

  “Swan, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you. That film deserves to be produced.”

  “Thank you.”

  Rina glanced at the clock. “I may have to call you back—I’m about to have a meeting. But since we’re on the subject, is there anything I can do to help you?”

  “It might be more like what I can do to help you. While I don’t want to pry, I have to ask. Is there even a remote chance you’re leaving The Big Picture?”

  “I’m in a tough position, Swan. But strictly, and I mean strictly between you and me?”

  “Of course.”

  “If I do quit the film, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

  “Perhaps my timing is good then. I’ve rewritten the part of Dolly—with you in mind.”

  “I’m honored to have helped inspire something so creative.”

  “I’ve barely come up for air since we last spoke. In fact, the whole story has changed, and I think you’d love it.”

  “Send the script over.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I’ll be home the rest of the week. It will be a good diversion.”

  “It would be my dream to offer you the part—even if you declined. I mean, I know for a fact we can’t offer you anything like what you’re used to getting paid.”

  “If the part is right, it’s right.”

  “Promise me that you’ll be honest with me when you read it. Like right between the eyes.”

  “We made that vow in rehab.”

  “We did, didn’t we?”

  “You sound good, Amanda.”

  “You never call me Amanda.”

  “Well, don’t you think it will look odd in the credits? Screenplay by Swan?”

  Swan paused. “Actually, I don’t—I’ve taken to the name Swan. Even my friends are calling me that now. It empowers me by reminding me of the beauty you saw in me when I was at my worst.”

  “I have a suspicion that like Dolly’s positive nexus in your story, I’m ready for my own little cosmic do-over. But things here are up in the air right now so I have no idea what’s going to happen.”

  “I don’t want to pressure you.”

  “You’re not. I’d really like to see the script. You and that story kept me sane through rehab—it’s the least I can do.”

  “Thank you, Rina. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “You mean a lot to me.”

  “I’ll courier it over today.”

  “Good. Talk with you soon,” Rina said before ending the call. She took a cleansing breath and was staring out to sea when she heard the knock on her door. “Come in, Clay,” she said without turning to welcome him.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Do you know what I like best about this view?”

  Clay crossed the room and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the bar. “What’s that?”

  “Every day I look for Catalina Island. Even on days like today, when it’s foggy and not visible, I tell myself to trust that it’s still there, even though I can’t see it.”

  Clay joined her. She turned her head, looked into his eyes, and then back out at the sapphire Pacific.

  “Why do you do it?” he asked.

  “Because it reminds me that there’s more to everything than what meets the eye. Including myself. Today is one of those days when I have to dig deep and trust what’s there.”

  “You’re acting weird. You okay?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever been okay-er.”

  “Honestly, I expected to find the old you—freaking out and throwing things.” He drank the water and placed the glass on a table. “What’s on your mind?”

  She turned to face him. “I’m quitting the film.”

  Clay raised his eyebrows. “What? You can’t quit the film. You’d be in breach of contract.”

  “I spoke with the attorneys a little while ago. What Britney did puts her in breach since she hit the horse with me on it. It shows intent to cause me physical harm. According to the contract with both her and with Reese, it’s up to me whether or not I continue.”

  “What if on film it shows it exactly the way Britney said it happened? That the horse moved.”

  “Then I can get out under the ‘Trauma Clause.’ If that doesn’t work, I’ll threaten sexual harassment.”

  Clay scoffed. “What! She harassed you?”

  “I told you she made unwelcome advances. I’ll leave it there.”

  “Were they—unwelcome?”

  “What? Why would you ask me that knowing how I fee
l about Julia?”

  “Because it’s happened between you and Britney before—a few times.”

  “I’ll tell you what I told her. Not this time.”

  “You can’t have a harassment charge go public.”

  “Believe me, neither she nor Reese want that out there. Whether the horse moved or not, she never pulled back. I don’t believe she wanted to hurt me, but she did.”

  “You’d get skewered in the press. Britney will say whatever she has to for her to come out looking like the victim—and you, the bad guy. Whether it’s about the horse or harassment.”

  Rina placed her hands on her hips. “How could she possibly spin hitting the horse? It’s on film, and the cast and crew can attest to her hitting the horse. Even though I fell off, if Julia hadn’t taught me to ride, I’d be dead or paralyzed right now because I’d have fallen off when he bucked. Luckily, I was able to stay on him for a while longer. As for harassment, you’re right. That will be harder to prove.”

  “I’m just grateful you’re not permanently damaged.” Clay glanced at his phone when it rang and then at Rina.

  “Is it Reese?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “You can call him back.”

  “Rina, why not just take these days off to heal and regroup, and go back to finish the film?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I understand,” said Clay. “But you’ve signed a contract and you’re already filming. The legality here will wind up shutting down production at least temporarily. You know that everyone including the studio is going to blame you for it. You’d not only lose financially. Think of your reputation.”

  “I hate doing this to Reese, but it’s early enough in the film that he can recast my role. It’ll delay things and cost some money, but they can do it.” She paused. “You know who would be great in this role is Emma Thompson. You should tell that to Reese when you speak with him.”

  “Rina, it really is the role of a lifetime. Are you telling me you’d give up the chance of an Oscar nomination over this? Over Britney?”

  “I’m saying…I’m done,” she said soft and low. “If I can’t give this part my very best, then I should walk away. It’s about my integrity as well as my dignity, Clay. And Cavell cannot steal either from me. Britney swore to me at the beginning that she’d be professional, and Reese promised me he could control her. They were both mistaken. I’m the one who’s paying the price for it and that’s wrong.”

  Clay sighed. “You pay me to manage you. As your manager, I’m telling you not to do this. Let me fight it. Reese will listen to me. If anything, Britney should be kicked off the project. Let Reese recast her role, not yours.”

  She breathed in ranch-calm. “It’s a nice change.”

  “What is?”

  “My entire career, I’ve had to do so many wrong things for the right reasons.” She turned to him and scraped her hair away from her face. “I’ve always sacrificed little pieces of my soul in order to get the next big role—to play the long game. No more. For the first time, I can honestly say I’m going to do what’s right for me for the right reasons and walk away before any more of my soul becomes numb to all of it.”

  “I have to say it. You’re committing professional suicide if you quit.”

  “See, Clay, that’s the thing. I don’t think I am.”

  “You mean you don’t care if you are.”

  “Do you really have so little faith in me?”

  “Rina, listen to me.”

  She stared into his eyes.

  “The hard reality is, roles for women your age are few, and they’re rarely powerful leads, let alone with great scripts. You already know this. So what do you think your odds will be if you leave this film midstream with a rep for having killed a Reese Collingworth film?”

  She sighed hard. “I haven’t a clue. But I’m certain of one thing. It’s time for me to stop playing it safe. I’m better than this.”

  Clay went to the sofa and sat.

  “Call Reese and make the arrangements, Clay.”

  “Don’t act on impulse. You only left yesterday. Sleep on it.”

  “Honey, I’ve changed. My life is changing.”

  “I get that, but it doesn’t seem to be for the better. Can you say you’re completely sure about this—not even a hint of doubt?”

  Rina nodded. “I couldn’t be clearer on the matter.”

  “So what then? You’re going to do nothing? That’ll kill you.”

  “Actually, there’s this little indie film that’s just come my way.”

  “An indie film. What indie film?”

  “I worked on it in chocolate rehab.” Rina turned back to the open door.

  Clay smirked.

  “It’s okay, Clay, you can laugh. It is rather funny in retrospect but worth every minute of my time for what I learned there. I not only tackled my chocolate issue, but I realized what all that chocolate was masking.”

  “Such as?”

  “My true feelings. Now, after months of not having to stuff down my feelings with chocolate, I actually know what I feel. It’s time for me to take a risk. A real risk. Call it a later-than-midlife crisis if you like.”

  “What’s the project? And you can call it midlife—as long as you live to be really old.”

  “Swan’s film—The Do-Over.”

  “Swan. Who’s Swan?”

  “The young woman I met in rehab.”

  “Right. Who’s producing it?”

  “I don’t know anything yet. She’s sending over the script today.”

  “So professional suicide isn’t enough? Now you want to commit financial ruin? Do I need to look for a new job?”

  “Do you want to look for a new job?”

  “No, Rina, I don’t. You should know—I got a message from Cavell. She keeps calling to ask how you are, and she let it be known she’s looking for a new manager.”

  Rina chortled. “You’d never be able to scrape that sludge off your shoes. You of all people know how toxic she is. Imagine if you had to clean up this mess from her end.”

  Clay acquiesced. “I wouldn’t betray you that way. We made a deal a long time ago. ‘I’m in this through the best and the worst.’ You’d have to die to get rid of me.”

  “All right then, do you want to call Reese or shall I?”

  “I will. But first I need to ask. Does this move have anything to do with Julia?”

  She turned to him and waited a moment before answering. “It has everything to do with her. Those photos of Britney all over me after the incident made it everywhere. Right now, Julia mistrusts everything we’ve built in our short time together. I could hear it in her voice. I’m sure she was wrecked by that little stunt, and I’m suffering the fallout from it. I’ll be damned before I let Britney ruin the best thing I’ve ever had.”

  “The best thing you’ve ever had?”

  “Yes, Clay. The best.”

  He exhaled hard. “Have a seat, Rina. There’s something I need to tell you. Before you quit the film, you need to see what Gigi has on Julia.”

  “On Julia?” she asked, her expression disbelieving.

  Clay nodded.

  “W-What is it?”

  “Stay calm.”

  “Calm? Why do I need to be calm?”

  “I hate this—that Gigi didn’t tell you she had hired an investigator to look into Julia while you were on location.”

  “Well? What did she find?”

  Clay pulled his phone from his pocket and placed the call. “Bring the pictures upstairs. No, Gigi, not in ten minutes. Now.”

  Rina held out her hand and Gigi placed the envelope containing the photos in it.

  “I’m sorry, Rina,” said Gigi. “You know I’m just trying to protect you, right?”

  “Leave. Both of you.”

  Clay reached out. “No, I…”

  “I’ll call you after I’ve seen whatever is in here.”

  Rina waited until she was alone. She poured a g
lass of water and sat on the deck, staring down at the envelope in her lap. Her heart pounded. She steadied herself and reached into the envelope.

  The first photo showed Julia with a handsome young man. The familiar background of the Y2 made her shiver inside. She flipped through the photos enough to be sickened by what she saw. Especially the photo of Julia wrapped around the same man, kissing him. Her stomach churned.

  Taken with what she assumed had been a telephoto lens, in each consecutive picture the intimacy escalated, until finally the vision of her lover in a passionate embrace with someone else was more than she could bear. How is this possible? We were so in love. And…she’s so…so…gay! Feeling faint, Rina dropped the photos on the table, and guzzled what remained in her glass.

  She picked up her phone, her hands shaking. She stared at Julia’s number, angry enough to delete it. A minute later, she placed the call. I want answers. Now!

  The number rang. And rang. She called again and hung up while it was still ringing.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Two days had passed, and Julia replayed in her mind her last conversation with Rina for the umpteenth time. No matter how many ways she tried to explain it, it still bothered her that despite Rina’s cool attitude and the abrupt way she had hung up, she still hadn’t heard from her. The pit in her stomach hadn’t gone away, her sleep was limited to two-hour stints, and the one time she had called Gigi told her that Rina was unavailable.

  What did it mean when Gigi said, “You may want to wait to hear from her instead of calling back”? I’ve waited long enough!

  “Julia!” said Isabel. “We need you. The buffet needs refilling.”

  “Sorry.” Julia filled another tray and brought it out to the party. The food was going fast—always a good sign in her mind.

  She saw Nicki approach from her side. “Hey, Julia,” she said softly. “I’m really sorry about the other night when I showed up at your door.”

  Julia looked at her and smiled. “You were actually kind of funny. I’m not used to seeing you drunk.”

  Nicki rolled her eyes in contrition. “I feel like such an ass. But my motives were pure—I really like you—still, and I don’t know how to tell you.”

  “You just did—in a way that was probably a lot less painful than your day after drinking.”