by Kaira Rouda
“I’m meeting my boss in a few minutes to tell him I’m not doing the show. I’ve decided. I’m sorry,” she said. But still, when Josh pulled her into a soft embrace, she didn’t resist. He smelled so much like him, like home and happiness, his arms strong around her waist, her head fit right where she had remembered, where she had dreamed of it being again, on his chest, just below his chin. She felt his breath on her hair.
“I’ll see you tonight, then. After your meeting,” Josh said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, gently kissing her forehead before releasing the embrace.
Madison shook her head and smiled. “You’re relentless, but I’m not changing my mind.” She could feel Josh watching her as she walked out of the café and her skin tingled still from his touch. She was under his spell again, she knew, and she wasn’t sure how to break it.
She wasn’t sure she could.
Back home at the cottage after a brisk uphill walk from town, Madison had delighted Francine with the art supply surprise and she’d managed to recap her day without any mention of Josh. She’d told her mom about spending time with Annie and her alien-infested stomach, and about her breakup with Dolby.
“Well, I could see that coming,” Francine had said, holding the new paintbrush in her thin hand as they stood in the main cottage’s bright white kitchen. Madison noticed the blue tile backsplash was almost the color of the paint she’d selected for Francine. “You two were just too dissimilar. Surfer dude. Corporate gal. That’s the stuff of romance novels, not real life. You need to find someone as driven as you are, someone who loves to travel, and someone with a real job.”
Madison had smiled, thinking Josh loved to travel but was he driven? She wasn’t sure. Stop it, she told herself. “Yes, Mom, I know how you feel about Dolby, but he is a great guy,” she had said. “I’ve got to go get ready for my meeting with Bob.”
Francine had used the new paintbrush like a stick, poking it into the air between them to make a point. “Look, you need to do the screen test tomorrow. I don’t know what you’re afraid of.”
Madison had smiled at her mom. She had felt like saying she was afraid of everything changing, that she would become the laughing stock, the scapegoat and the pity party of television again. “Mom, I’m not doing it,” she had said and then kissed her mom on the cheek. “Go paint.”
Madison sat behind her desk in her office, waiting for Bob to arrive. He’d suggested her office, but she wasn’t sure why. Typically, she would be summoned to his large, ocean view space down the hall. She was wearing her favorite skinny jeans, a crisp white cotton blouse and her converse tennis shoes. She wasn’t working, and she made a point of coming in the back way, via the employee lot, so she wouldn’t see the front desk staff. She’d spent the past ten minutes cleaning up her desk and reviewing group contracts for the following week. She had a wedding this weekend – early, but she was able to give the young couple a great rate since it was only February – and a corporate reception of some sort on Thursday.
Bob knocked and then walked through the door. He reminded her of Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins, twinkling eyes, thin, and always with a ready smile. He didn’t possess Dick’s sense of humor, but a man couldn’t have everything.
“Madison, how’s everything,” he said by way of greeting, before settling himself in one of her two white leather visitor’s chairs.
“Everything is great, Bob. Bookings are up, and I know the resort is running 90 percent occupancy,” Madison said, trying to get to the point. “So, about this idea of yours.”
“How’s your mother?” he said, and Madison knew he meant the question sincerely. Despite his recent move, agreeing to her on camera appearance without even asking her, Bob was a thoughtful boss and mentor.
“She’s holding her own. Now, about this idea of me on camera, representing the resort, it’s not going to happen,” Madison said.
Bob leaned forward in the chair, placing his hands flat on her desk. “Yes, it is. Here’s why. The production company wants you. The Mondrian wants you to do it. You probably don’t know this, but we are up for sale. Any type of positive publicity such as kicking off a travel show with our property just makes us that much more valuable to potential buyers,” Bob said, pausing to take a breath. “I’d consider it a done deal and part of your job.”
“It’s not part of my job, Bob,” Madison said, she could feel her anger rising inside, her stomach in a knot. She couldn’t be forced to do this, could she? Her voice wavered as she continued. “I had a bad experience the last time I did this sort of thing. I can’t do it again.” Bob leaned back into his chair as Madison fought to control her emotions. She felt like crying and yelling, but she knew she couldn’t do either.
“I heard about that. It was in high school, get over it. You’re a grown woman, gorgeous and from what Roger says, you’re a natural, whatever that means. One of the most exclusive resorts in Southern California wants you to represent us. You should be flattered. Oh, and you get paid for doing it,” Bob said, standing as if the meeting was over.
Madison stood, too, her hands on her hips. “It’s just, I…” she said, at a loss for words.
“You’re going to be great. Get a good night’s sleep. They said your call time is nine a.m. Here’s the packet of information from the production company,” Bob said, handing her a white business sized envelope he’d pulled from inside his suit jacket. “And don’t worry, I have Chrissy handling your calls this week, so the group activities will go smoothly. She’s very excited for you, too, and happy to help,” Bob said, and then walked out the door.
Madison stood behind her desk holding the white envelope, her hands shaking.
Josh was sitting on a weathered Adirondack chair on a sheltered patio near the pool. In front of him, the flames from a glowing fire pit danced while beyond it groups of tourists walked along the oceanfront path. The sky was gearing up for yet another perfect sunset. Laguna Beach, with all its perfect coves, really was a beautiful place to be, and to be from, he realized again. And so far, he’d been able to avoid his parents. The only thing missing in this setting was Madison, though he knew she was somewhere inside the resort behind him, meeting with her boss, getting out of tomorrow’s shoot.
He’d called Roger as soon as he’d left Zinc Café, trying to get a feeling about how set he was on Madison’s participation. Maybe Josh could get her out of it, he had thought, remembering the sadness and, he had to admit, terror in her eyes just thinking about another television show.
“She’s going to make the thing work,” Roger had said, as Josh’s heart sunk. “Sure, you’re talented, but I watched her, pulled up some of the old show. She’s got it, but she doesn’t know it. That’s the best talent I can find.”
Josh had wondered what kind of talent that made him, but had decided not to ask. His fragile ego wouldn’t be able to recover by tomorrow if Roger had slammed him.
“She really doesn’t want to do it, Roger, and I feel responsible for even introducing her to you guys,” Josh had said. He’d been walking back through town, planning on stopping in the Hobie surf store for some new board shorts. He stopped in front of the wall sculpture of the waterman – a surfer and his board frozen in time, a tribute to surfers everywhere. He thought of Madison’s surfer boyfriend and felt a pang of guilt. Josh was upsetting everything in her life and he’d only been here a weekend. No wonder she kept pushing him away, he’d realized.
“Too bad kid. She’ll get in front of the camera and everything will be fine. I’ll see you at nine a.m. sharp, by the fire pit,” Roger had said, hanging up. Josh had taken a deep breath, had said a silent apology to the waterman representing Dolby and had proceeded to buy five new board shorts at Hobie before returning to the Mondrian. He’d changed, gone for a swim in the pool and then, had wandered down to the fire pit, trying to envision what tomorrow would bring.
Truth be told, Josh was a nervous wreck. He’d been unable to eat anything since the snack with Madison. Being around her
calmed him down, but alone, he was a bundle of nerves. What if he didn’t look good on camera tomorrow, he wondered. What if the network decides to pass on the pilot? What if he was never meant to do this in the first place, what if it was all just a pipe dream?
“Hey, Josh,” said a woman’s voice behind him, a voice he would recognize anywhere, the voice he missed in his life. He smiled as Madison dropped into the other Adirondack chair. She was beautiful, in tight-fitting jeans, a white T-shirt and a pink cashmere throw tossed around her shoulders.
“Now this time really isn’t my fault, us running into each other, I mean,” he said.
“No, it’s not. I saw you sitting here and decided for some stupid reason to come say hi instead of heading home, where I belong,” Madison said.
They sat in silence, both of them staring at the fire, and the ocean beyond. Josh, though, couldn’t keep his gaze off of Madison, her beautiful face turned toward the setting sun. He hoped, for her sake, that she’d gotten out of the show. Finally, he had to ask. “How’d the meeting go?”
“They’re making me do it. But they’ll be sorry. I’ll be horrible on camera,” Madison said, without turning to look at him.
“That would be impossible,” Josh said.
“I’m a good actress, Josh, I actually am,” Madison said. “It’s funny but that first season, our junior year, I envisioned myself doing what you did. Moving to Hollywood, pursuing a career as an actor. But then, well, we both know what happened to that dream. I’m better off now, happier.”
“You don’t seem that happy, Madison,” Josh said, knowing he was out of line, understanding she already was mad at him. He had nothing to lose at this point. “I remember you happy. Laughing, carefree, especially when it was just you and me, hanging out. You don’t have that sparkle in your eye now. But you could. Maybe this segment will be part of your healing, maybe it will lead to Hollywood after all.”
Now he’d done it. She was angry, blue eyes blazing and her jaw tense as she stood up and said, “That sparkle was extinguished by you. It’s not coming back. That stupid innocent happiness is gone. But you know what? I can act. I am a better actor than you. You’re right about that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As Josh watched her walk away, he had a renewed sense of doom about Josh’s Journeys and a sense of hope about being with Madison again. Because even with all of the anger and hurt between them, she kept finding him and reaching out to him, their physical and emotional connections were strengthening with each encounter. He knew she could feel it, too. It was a destiny, or something else too grand to name. They’d be together again, he was certain of it.
At the very least, they’d be together again here, in this very spot the next morning at nine a.m. Josh knew he needed to get some sleep, so after he’d watched the sun slip into the ocean, he headed back to his ridiculously large suite to attempt some beauty sleep. Marty always told him sleep was the secret to looking younger on film, “as long as you’re doing everything else, of course,” he’d say. Marty’s list of ‘everything else’ was long for his male clients, ridiculously long for his female stars. The list included specific instructions on every aspect of life: Diet, exercise, fillers, meditation, romantic hook-ups (approved and released by the team), approved zip codes for residence, approved shopping and dining spots, automobile selection, and more. Josh had followed the list religiously, except the fillers. He wouldn’t see a plastic surgeon, not yet. He told Marty he would hold out to age 35. He had three years before he’d be forced under the knife or needle, unless something hit.
Josh climbed into the bed, which had so many layers of comfort it felt like what he imagined a cloud to feel like as a kid. This show had to hit, that’s all there was to it. And that was the thought, the fear, that kept him wide awake, staring at the ceiling until he finally fell asleep. The last time he’d seen on the bedside clock had been 3:30 a.m. His alarm would go off at seven a.m.
Monday
Josh’s hands were shaking, and he hadn’t been able to finish his first cup of room service coffee, afraid he’d spill the hot liquid on his navy button down. What is wrong with me, he wondered, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Makeup would cover the circles under his eyes, he knew, but he had no idea what to do with this unplanned case of the nerves.
This had never happened to him, not on Laguna Nights, Hollywood Nights or during any of the hundreds of auditions, big and small, he’d been on during or since. He checked the clock next to the bed and realized it was nine a.m., and he was late for his call time. Why am I such a mess, he wondered. He checked his outfit – khakis, navy shirt, nervous smile – one last time in the full-length mirror, pulled on his sunglasses and baseball cap and hurried out the door.
Once outside in the fresh sea air, he began to relax a bit. He’d be fine, he told himself, just fine. He was the star. This was his dream, well, at least the start of it, he reminded himself. He rounded the corner from the wing of hotel rooms and spotted the shoot already set up at the fire pit. Camera, lighting and Madison were already in place.
Madison?
Josh stood transfixed as he watched Madison glow in the spotlight. She’d been through makeup and was microphoned, standing on the taped x next to the Adirondack chair where he had been sitting last night. She had a warm smile and she was the undeniable center of everyone’s attention on the crew, from Roger to Marty to the makeup artist.
Josh walked up to Marty touching him on the shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on?” Josh asked.
“Well your ex-girlfriend is wowing them, that’s what is going on,” Marty said, his aftershave beginning to sting Josh’s eyes even in the ocean air. “Isn’t that great? You guys will be really good together.”
“Sure, right, this segment will be awesome with her,” Josh said, turning his attention back to Madison. Her hair was glowing in the light, both from the sun and from the lighting pointed at her by the crew. She wore a bright red dress, tailored and classy, hitting her at mid-thigh, showcasing her gorgeous legs. Behind her, the birds-of-paradise nodded their approval as the blue ocean complimented the color of her eyes. It was a spectacular shot, he had to admit. Josh hoped he would look that good when he stood next to her.
“Ready for makeup?” a woman said and led him to her makeshift trailer – a director’s chair set up on the lawn, in the shade of the hotel building. Josh noticed her tools of the trade were propped up on a cocktail table. “I’m Sharon. Have a seat.”
Josh gladly complied, hoping that sitting would stop the trembling in his hands, a phenomenon that had spread to his knees. His mouth felt dry and his heart was racing. He wondered if he was having a stroke.
“Honey, you need to calm down,” Sharon said, patting his hand, her long red fingernails somehow a calming presence. “You’ll be great out there. Just like she is. She was a nervous wreck, too, and now look at her. She’s shining. No stage fright for her.”
Josh wondered if Sharon really thought talking to a person in a full-on performance anxiety attack about another person’s perfect performance was helpful. He wanted to say something but his throat had closed tight. When Sharon began applying foundation to his face, Josh closed his eyes, trying to breathe deeply. He tried to get a picture in his mind of himself, standing next to Madison, talking about their love of this resort, the cameras rolling. But all he saw was Madison.
“Ok, hon, you’re all set,” Sharon said, and Josh opened his eyes. “They’ll want you on set over there.”
Josh nodded to Sharon and slid out of the chair. It felt good to walk. He shook his hands out at his sides, and when he was sure all eyes were still on Madison, jumped up and down twice, trying to return normal feeling to his body.
Marty turned and Josh stopped jumping, hurrying over to stand next to him.
“Everything ok?” Marty asked, dropping his sunglasses to the edge of his nose and peering at Josh.
“Fine,” Josh said, his voice a thin squeak. He was doomed, he realized.
“
What’s wrong with your voice?” Marty said. “You’re on in five, can you handle it?”
“Sure,” Josh squeaked.
Marty looked at him again, and then hurried to where Roger was standing with the director of photography and the cameraman. Josh couldn’t hear what they were saying, but all four men turned and looked at him, and then looked away.
“That’s a wrap,” Roger said, loud enough for the entire crew to hear. “Great job, Ms. Alcott.”
Josh watched in panic as the crew began dismantling the shoot. What was going on, he wondered, but he was frozen in the place where Marty had left him. And then Madison appeared in front of him, the air around her glowing with energy. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them slowly, but she still had that weird aura.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “What did you think?”
“Great,” Josh said, his voice had changed from a squeak to a whisper.
“What’s wrong with your voice?” she asked, her eyes seemed concerned but Josh couldn’t be certain with the glow pulsing around her.
Josh shrugged by way of an answer.
“We have an hour break before the next shoot. Let’s eat breakfast, ok?” Madison said. “They’re setting up in Fisherman’s Cove for our first co-hosted segment. Ironic huh?”
Memories of their first kiss all those years ago came flooding back into Josh’s mind. Fisherman’s Cove was a secluded beach, the perfect make-out spot, with cave like pockets. He felt the sun on his back, her body beneath him, the waves crashing on shore.
“Josh? Come on, I think you need breakfast,” she said, taking his hand. He knew it must feel clammy, and he hoped it wasn’t shaking, but he couldn’t be sure. He followed her across the lawn to the outdoor restaurant, where they’d had coffee just three days before. They were seated at the same table, at the glass railing with a perfect view of the Pacific. Instead of being beautiful, though, all Josh could hear was the sound of a seagull squawking and all he could see was a pulsing glow around Madison.
