by Gigi Blume
I knew this to be true because I read it on the internet. And since statistics in an Albert Einstein meme never lie, the chances of there being two of us in the same room were less probable than getting struck by lightning. I jest, of course, but the truth of it was I knew Jaxson and I were cut from the same hazmat suit cloth.
There was no chance we would ever encounter a third. In other words, Jennifer Fairfax was in the extremely necessary camp. And since Frank didn’t seem to ring her bell, it could only mean one thing: she was consumed by another chap to such a degree, she was blind to hot guys. Yep. She had it bad. For whom, it remained to be revealed. And I had popcorn, a front row seat, and 3-D glasses to enjoy the show.
Presently, her focus was on the floor. Such an interesting floor. Also, her ears were pink. Frank was busy showing off his tattoo—Lancelot’s coat of arms, according to his extensive research on the subject. His giggling audience (which consisted of Pinky, Harriet, a production assistant, and our dialect coach) all teased him about who his Guinevere might be. He shook his head and cackled as though he’d heard that a thousand times. Jennifer gave a minuscule eye roll.
Hmmm. Interesting.
I imagined she wouldn’t have bothered to pay much attention to Frank at all if she didn’t have a scene with him. She played the part of his scorned lover, and they had an explosive few lines of dialogue before her heartbreaking torch song. In modern cinema, a solo like that would be cut or given to a principal character. But Jaxson felt strongly about that scene and knew it was a showstopper—even though it belonged to a minor role. Beth would have been better, but I almost hated to admit that Jennifer was quite convincing in the part. She was more talented than any reality television star I’d ever seen. I surmised it had less to do with her acting abilities and more to do with her mystery man—and possibly her aversion to Frank. There was a juicy story in there somewhere, and happy hour with the girls was the best way to get her to spill.
All things considered, we did end up having a fun time after rehearsal. I convinced Jennifer to join Harriet and me at Tapeo, selling her on the potato bombas. But, to my surprise, we were joined by Jaxson, Frank, Pinky, and even Morris who usually popped off early to FaceTime with his wife and kids.
Harriet was in good spirits and didn’t seem tremendously bothered by Elton’s absence. Jaxson had been overly vague at rehearsal when he’d announced it to the cast and crew—only saying Elton was in New York on business. I hoped Harriet would take it well; once we were alone, I’d have to be the one to snap her heart in two with the news. The more I thought about it, the more I resented Elton. He had to know she fancied him, yet he led her on just to get to me. Oh villain, thy name is Elton, and I shall smite thee. Or… maybe I’d just shave his eyebrow while he slept.
Frank was an intolerable flirt, but that was part of what made him endearing. He was more handsome in person than on screen, if that can be believed. His oomph, however, had little to do with his hot looks and everything to do with his essence of spirit. It was the same mojo that attracted go-go dancers to Austen Powers or Jessica Rabbit to Roger Rabbit. Frank was funny. But what made him even more interesting (and truthfully, I was baffled by this) was that he never told any jokes. He just was who he was and that was enough. All he had to do was exist. But the other interesting thing I discovered was this: while he was super friendly with pretty much everyone, he avoided Jennifer. This was probably not obvious to anyone but me—like I said, I had a talent. When I casually asked Jennifer what she thought of Frank, all she gave me were short, polite replies. “His movies are popular” or “The internet loves him” was all the opinion she offered. I was so suspicious of her reserved, cautious responses, I took the opportunity to conspire with Frank when he sat next to me at the restaurant. Jennifer and Jaxson took the other end of a long table, so I felt I could speak freely with Frank without being overheard. Still, I chose to whisper in his ear just in case.
“Your scene with Jennifer went well today. We’ve all been rehearsing the past two weeks, and you lot knock it out of the park on your first go.”
He inched closer, wagging his brows. “Is that a compliment, Emma? I’m honoured.”
I shrugged, batting my eyes. “I give credit where credit is due. Don’t you think Jennifer is doing brilliantly?”
His lip twitched, just a little bit, and he stole a quick glance her way before saying, “She’s good for a reality star, I guess.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I exclaimed, perhaps a tad more energetically than I’d intended. Then lowering my voice, I added, “I mean, I’ve never seen her show, so I wouldn’t know. Have you… seen her show?”
He chuckled inwardly. “I was a guest star.”
“You were on The Real Teens of Belshore High?”
He shook his head. “No. The spin-off show when everyone went to college. I was in the glee club episode.”
“Never heard of it,” I admitted.
He took a long pull of his margarita. “Nobody’s heard of it. The show tanked. But for some reason, the producer keeps trying to resurrect it. Are you familiar with Northanger Pictures?”
“Ugh. Say no more. I’ve met Morgan and Clay Tilney and know all about Northanger’s reputation.”
If there was an expression that meant the opposite of The Midas Touch, it would be attributed to Northanger Pictures. Every project that company worked on went down the pooper.
A sly grin played on Frank’s lips, and his voice dipped to a conspiring tone. “Well, rumour has it, Jennifer’s in a clandestine affair with the show’s bad boy, Dixon Reid.”
“No, really?” This was so juicy, I couldn’t resist. Also, I loved Frank’s big vocabulary. Clandestine affair indeed. “What makes this guy the show’s bad boy?”
“The usual. Bar fights, motorcycle racing, bad attitude. But get this: he’s married to soap star, Chloe Montague.”
“Oh!” I gasped. “That is quite a delicious bit of gossip.”
“Right? And even though the show’s been cancelled, it still has a life on the internet, and Jennifer’s current liaison with Dixon brings in lots of views.”
Blimey. I was never so grateful to be a single pringle than I was in that moment. I would hate to be in the centre of a gossip scandal.
“So, why did you guest star? Isn’t it a reality show?”
“Hah. Everyone knows those shows are scripted. Anyway, I played myself; judging the singing contest.”
“Was Jennifer a singer in the contest?”
“She was. And I’m pretty sure she holds a grudge against me for cutting her act.”
“You’re kidding.” That explained a lot. “Didn’t you just say the show was scripted?”
“Yeah. But Jennifer’s a little princess. Why do you think I gave her the nickname Queenie?”
I had heard him call her that after they did their scene earlier, but I didn’t think anything of it. To be honest, Jennifer wasn’t my favourite person, but I never considered her quite the rotter. This put things in a whole new perspective and made the slight against Beth even more infuriating.
The conversation shifted after that when I asked Frank what the name of the show was, he replied too loudly, “The Shore.” Not to be confused with Jersey Shore. When Morris overheard this, he exclaimed that The Shore was his wife’s guilty pleasure, and he’d seen almost every episode with her just to keep her company while she watched.
“When I told my wife you and Jennifer were both in this film, she had a jumping fit,” he admitted to Frank. “She made me promise I’d get a selfie with you both.”
“I’ll do you better,” said Frank. “How about a video of Jennifer and me saying hello to your wife?”
“You’d do that?”
“Sure.” Frank stood and made his way to the other end of the table where Jennifer was in mid-conversation with Jaxson. Honestly, I didn’t understand why Morris couldn’t just wait until the next time his wife came for a visit, so she could take her own selfie.
/> Americans.
On the other hand, Jennifer’s reaction when Frank posed next to her was priceless. Her body tightened when he touched her shoulder and then her jaw clenched when he held out his phone in selfie mode. Frank took a couple of photos before Morris popped over Jennifer’s other shoulder. This time, they took some shots of the three of them on Morris’ phone, and Jennifer gave an eerily accurate portrayal of the Mona Lisa. Morris’ wife would just love it.
I watched surreptitiously while Frank explained the video he wanted to take. Jennifer narrowed her eyes on him but in the end, nodded in agreement for Morris’ sake, waving at the camera and probably saying something like “Hello, Morris’ wife.” or whatever.
Pinky declared the whole business was the best thing she’d ever seen. How thoughtful of Frank and Jennifer to send a video greeting to Mrs Tomlinson. How prettily matched they looked. How fortunate we all were to breathe the same air as these magnificent celestial beings. Blah blah blah.
“When I heard Jennifer sing in that episode of The Shore, I told Jaxson… remember I told you, Jaxson? I told Jaxson, ‘Mark my words, that girl is going places.’ And here we are. Going places together. Oh, I can hardly contain myself.”
Yes, Pinky. We get it. You told Jaxson.
But Jax smiled warmly at Pinky’s overly animated recital and could only fit in a short “Mmm hmm” while she took a breath between sentences.
“When Jaxson told me he was directing a movie musical, the first face that came to mind was Frank’s. Of course! But the second, oh the second face was Jennifer’s. I got on the phone with Bill Campbell right away and made sure she was available. ‘Money’s no object,’ I said to Campbell. ‘This is a Jaxson Knightly film.’”
“Well, actually—” Jaxson began, but Pinky went on, leaning across the table to capture Frank and Jennifer’s hands.
“This movie is going to be epic because of you two fine actors. That’s all there is to it.”
Gee, thanks a lot, Pinky. One would think she was raving about Cecilia Bartoli and Luciano Pavarotti by the sound of her ovations. I caught Frank’s amused expression from across the table. He pressed his lips together as though he was trying to suppress a laugh and snuck in a quick wink from behind Jennifer’s shoulders. He was just too much. In any case, I thought it was better that Jennifer didn’t know Frank thought of her as a princess, especially since she was a grudge holder. The last thing Jaxson needed on this project was more off-screen drama-rama. We were already dealing with the aftermath of the Elton fiasco; we didn’t need another one. My heart sank every time I turned it over in my mind. It was my mess, and I was the one to clean it up—even if Harriet hated me.
After everyone parted ways, I invited Harriet to a bird seed dinner with my mum. Although we’d filled ourselves with carbs and Spanish ham at Tapeo, I had to humour Mum with my presence at the dinner table. I made her promise not to poison me again. She’d feigned innocence when I told her I nearly died from that mystery elixir she gave me and dismissed it as though I’d not followed the dosage directions properly. So now it was my fault I couldn’t read Sanskrit.
Dinner consisted of sprouted mung beans, buckwheat flax patties, and raw asparagus slaw with hemp dressing. I skipped the dressing.
Harriet was all politeness, praising Mum’s cooking, declaring it was so satisfying, she couldn’t eat another bite. Mum was delighted. Especially after years of Dad’s complaining. She was so delighted, in fact, she left all the cleaning to us.
After Harriet helped load the dishwasher, I nudged her and whispered, “I’ve got a secret stash of ice cream.”
It was confession time, and everybody knows ice cream has the magical ability to soothe a broken heart. She bounced at the promise of frozen, sugary dairy treats and looked over her shoulder to check if Mum was around. Pssssspth! I was no amateur. I had perfected the art of hiding treats from Mum when I was ten years old. My father taught me everything I knew, after all. One place Mum would never look was in the tool shed. I had a box freezer installed there after the last time Mum visited.
“Why do you have a tool shed?” Harriet asked innocently while we were sneaking over there. “Do you build things?”
“It’s not my tool shed, silly.” I opened the door to the shed, which was more of a man cave. “It’s James’ tool shed.”
“Whoa. Who’s James? Does he live here? Is he your secret man toy?”
“No,” I deadpanned. “James is my guy kind of how Rosario is my gal. He does things. I’m not sure what things, but whatever those things are, they get done.”
“Oh.” Harriet strolled deeper into the shed and looked around. “He sure made himself comfortable here, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, I guess.” It was Jaxson’s idea to bring in a sofa and add a kitchenette to the shed. He said it would make James want to spend more time at my house so he could do more handiwork, but I knew Jaxson felt more at ease if there was a male presence on the property. It didn’t hurt that James was a retired Navy Seal, either. I hardly ever saw the man. I would barely know he existed if Rosario didn’t always bring him up in conversation. I wondered wistfully if there were sparks between them.
I found the bowls and spoons and selected two flavours from the freezer. Harriet chose rocky road, and I opted for banana chocolate swirl. I scooped generous amounts into our bowls, and we sat cosily on the sofa, devouring our dessert. She was enjoying hers immensely, but mine sat like a lump at the bottom of my stomach. The tumult of the dark tidings I had to deliver tainted every anxious spoonful, and I could no longer keep her in the dark. Not to mention it was a waste of perfectly good banana chocolate swirl.
“Harriet…” I began. I considered using Jaxson’s good news/bad news technique, but I didn’t have any good news. Only bad. How I wished Jaxson were there to help me find the words. He was so much better than I was at those types of things. Improv wasn’t my strong suit. So, for lack of a softer way to break it to her, I simply said, “I have to tell you something.”
Her light, carefree expression fell like someone had attached imaginary tape to her cheeks and pulled down. Her ice cream melted into a puddle of sadness. Figuratively.
“It’s Elton, isn’t it?”
Oh, Harriet. Sweet, sweet Harriet. So wise.
“I’m so sorry.” I handed her a napkin, hoping my face displayed my sympathy as much as I felt it. “How did you know?”
She shrugged, sniffling to block the tears. “I just figured, that’s all. I always had the feeling he was out of my league.”
“He is not out of your league. If anything, he’s not good enough for you, the cheeky blighter. All he wanted was a hook-up.”
“Did he try to hook up with you?”
“Harriet, it could have been anybody this weekend. If you’d have been there, he would have just used you for a one-night stand and then it would have been too late to see his true colours. You dodged a bullet by not going to the wedding. Believe me.”
Her face went white, and little basins of tears formed in her eyes. “You… turned him down, didn’t you?”
“Sweetheart.” I pulled her into a hug, trapping her bowl of ice cream between us. “Why do you think he flew back to New York with his tail between his legs? He’s too ashamed to show his face around us. You and me together—we’re like Thelma and Louise… without the dying bit.”
She laughed and cried, then cried some more, opening the floodgates of blubbertown. I gave her another napkin, and she blew her nose.
“Thank you for being such a good friend, Emma.”
Me? Not likely. I was the worst kind of friend. Firstly, I’d been feeding her false hope for weeks, only to destroy it like a barbarian. Second, I must have appeared completely ungracious to be the focus of Elton’s attentions. And third, I completely mis-judged all the signs, all my observations, all my predictions and was grossly mistaken. In short, I was a sham of a matchmaker and a phony of a friend. Harriet, on the other hand, was all modesty, all sweetness, and by far th
e better person between us two.
“I wouldn’t have even looked at Elton if it wasn’t for you—”
“That’s exactly why I’m not a good friend. I encouraged you to go for a terrible guy. I wouldn’t even want to be my friend.”
“No, Emma.” Harriet squeezed my hand. “You made me realize my potential. Nobody else would have done that for me. You’ve changed me. Given me more confidence. I’ll never forget that.”
Now she had me crying. We were a bawling, sobbing pair. This was what Jaxson meant when he encouraged me to find someone with whom I could share sad and wonderful secrets. Jaxson was the best friend I’d ever known, but I couldn’t picture crying into my ice cream with him in the tool shed. I stumbled upon a revelation of clarity with ugly tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t have to make a difference in Harriet’s life to be her friend. She was the one to make a difference in mine. It was an uneven relationship, if I was being perfectly honest. I got way more out of it than she did.
We blew our noses and laughed at the absurdity of wailing on the sofa in James’ tool shed over melted ice cream and dreamily admired each other’s puffy faces. We were having a moment. A girl moment.
“I promise I will never try to set you up with a guy ever again. As your friend, I will support you if you find someone you like—but make sure he truly deserves you. I don’t even want you to tell me his name until it’s official. That way you know I’m not trying to sway your judgement.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about me falling for another guy anytime soon. I’m going to concentrate on my career.”
“Good for you. Smart woman.”
She held out her hand for a pinkie swear. “Single pringles?”
I shook her pinkie.
“Single pringles.”
19
Jazzercize, Don’t Eat Those Fries
