Laguna Nights

by Kaira Rouda

  “I’m so glad you see it that way,” Chrissy said, leaning forward over Madison’s desk. “And now, the scoop?”

  “I don’t have any, really. We were shooting at Fisherman’s Cove after we left here. It was a perfect day. They kept giving me more lines, more wardrobe, it was surreal,” Madison said, looking up at the ceiling.

  “And what about Josh? Are you guys a thing again?” Chrissy said, her celebrity stalking eyes aglow. “I saw him leaving for the TV show and he looked amazing.”

  “We, well…” Madison said.

  Someone was pounding on her office door. Both women jumped. Chrissy looked at Madison.

  “Madison, it’s me, Josh, we need to talk,” he said.

  “Ah, the story continues,” Chrissy said. “I’ll be going now.” She opened the door and there was Josh, wearing a T-shirt and the board shorts from the shoot. Madison suddenly realized he hadn’t had a wardrobe change, not once, all day. “I was just leaving,” Chrissy said.

  Josh walked into her office, closing the door behind him. His face was scruffy, his jaw set. “Nice office,” he said, taking a moment to look around. She watched him touching the back of the white leather chairs facing her desk, saw him take in the dark mahogany desk, the sleek contemporary feel of her space. She was proud of what she’d created here, of who she had become. She’d pulled herself up from nothing. He’d never understand that. “You’ve really made it, Madison,” he said, dropping into the right leather chair across the desk from her.

  “I’m not the general manager, but I’ll get there,” Madison said. She’d noticed an edge to Josh’s voice, so she purposefully kept hers neutral.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Josh said. He’d folded his arms across his chest and he was staring at a photo of Madison and Francine. “Did your mom talk you into this?”

  “What do you mean?” Madison said, confused.

  “Talk you into screwing me over on camera. Like I did to you?” Josh said, his voice was quiet, certain. “I understand it. I just wish it could have come from someone other than you, that’s all. I could handle that better.”

  Madison leaned forward. “I’m tired of your pity party. You got me involved in this, not my mom, not my boss. They only agreed after the fact. This was all you. Don’t you remember, or are you having stage fright again?”

  Josh stood up, and began pacing back and forth in front of her desk. “That’s never happened to me before. I don’t know what caused it. It was low blood sugar, you said so yourself. It was gone by the time we got to the beach.”

  “Was it?” Madison said. She stood up, wishing she could just go home and climb into her bed instead of fighting with the man she tried to help. She was tired of his lies, all of them. He wasn’t man enough to admit he had social anxiety, and that was a big problem. “You know what, I have to go home. That’s it. We can talk more tomorrow. I can’t take any more drama tonight.”

  “You can’t take any more drama? Are you kidding me?” Josh said. His hands were clenched in fists on his hips. For the first time Madison realized how much larger than her he really was, his broad shoulders, solid chest created an imposing frame. But she knew more than she was certain of most things in life that he would never hurt her physically, never.

  “Good night, Josh,” Madison said, walking past him, out the door and into the hallway. “Pull the door shut behind you. I’ll see you in town at eleven for our next segment. Maybe it will be our last?”

  “You have no idea what is really going on, do you?” Josh said to Madison’s back as she started walking away down the hall. “I really think we need to talk. Now.”

  Madison wanted to tell him to stop the games. She wanted to fall into his arms, to ask him if he really ever did love her, if he meant it, if they could try again. Didn’t he realize she was doing everything for him? But she couldn’t, not in the state he was in. So instead, she shook her head and said, “Good night, Josh. Sleep well.”

  She walked out the door, outside into the crisp air, her heels clicking on the walkway until she reached the doors to the employee parking lot, slipped behind the wheel of her car and took a deep breath. She’d only had half a glass of champagne, so she knew she was fine to drive. Part of her, the place in her heart that wanted Josh back, wanted to turn around, go back inside and talk to him. The other part of her, the practical business side, knew it was time to go home and check on her mom. When her phone rang, she was sure it was Josh. With relief she saw Annie’s name flash on the screen and hurried to pick up.

  “You’re the lead story on Stu News!” Annie said as soon as Madison’s phone connected to blue tooth. Stu News was the local, online newspaper, filled with hot scoop twice a week, or at least whatever could be considered big news in this sleepy town.

  “What did it say?” Madison asked. Her cameo today could be farther reaching, faster than she imagined. Back in the high school days, there wasn’t the topspin of social media.

  “Well, the story has a photo of you and Josh sitting on a picnic table. They call you Holly, by the way,” Annie said, words tumbling out. “I guess you probably wanted that so you can hide from all of this again once he leaves town.”

  “That’s the plan,” Madison said, smiling because her best friend knew her so well.

  “The headline cracks me up, though,” Annie added, pausing for affect. “’Reunited and it looks so good!’”

  Madison’s heart pumped.

  “A Peaches and Herb reference, isn’t that the best?” Annie said, referring to the music group.

  “Oh, yes, that’s exactly Josh and me, Peaches and Herb,” Madison said, smiling as day turned into night during her drive home. “Look, I just helped them out. That’s all. People will try to make it much more.”

  “Hayden, give that back to your sister right this minute,” Annie said. “Sorry. The kids become unruly before dinner. I’ve got to go but I had to call and check on you. Where are you shooting tomorrow? In town, right? Maybe I’ll wander by and watch.”

  “Alana. And that would be great,” Madison said.

  “I’ll see you there,” Annie said, hanging up while Madison listened to the sound of a toddler screaming. Someday I could do that, she thought. Not now, but maybe someday. For now, she had to take care of her mother and survive this week without getting anymore attached to the past, or a future that wasn’t realistic.

  She pulled into the garage and hurried inside, hoping she’d arrived in time to sit with Francine before her mom went to bed. “Mom,” she said, pushing open the cottage door and flipping on the lights, flooding the white washed room with warmth. “I’m home.”

  Francine must be in her cottage, Madison decided, and walked through the courtyard. Her mom’s newest watercolor was propped on the easel, a woman’s face taking shape.

  “Hi honey, you look gorgeous in that blue dress,” Francine said from her usual chair. Madison kissed her on the cheek and her mom said, “How’d it go? I’m so proud of you for putting yourself out there again.”

  Madison sat down on the ottoman, a wave of exhaustion spreading through her entire body. She realized she probably should have changed back into her own clothes but assumed she’d find the wardrobe woman on set tomorrow. She was too tired to care.

  “It went great, actually,” Madison said. “I enjoyed it. You’re right, I like being on camera. But I don’t like all the other stuff that comes with it. My privacy is too important to me. Once every fifteen years is just fine.”

  “We’ll see about that. Keep an open mind, dear. Those Hollywood people adore you,” Francine said, her eyes sparkling.

  “How would you know, Mom?” Madison said. She felt a chill down her spine, as if a cold breeze had blown through the window. But the windows were closed. “Have you been contacted by the producers? Have Marty or Roger been here, to the house?”

  “No,” Francine said, but she broke eye contact. Madison was certain she was lying.

  “Mom, what did they say? What did you do?” Madiso
n said, a feeling of panic was spreading now, overcoming the exhaustion. She stood up, looking down at her mom who seemed to shrivel in the chair. “Did you let them come here, to our house?”

  Madison stared at her mom and finally, Francine met her eyes. “Madison, what I choose to do in my final days here on this earth are not your concern. I’m proud of you for being part of the travel show and anything else is a blessing, it truly is.”

  What did that mean, Madison wondered. “Have you eaten dinner?” she said, turning her back on Francine and walking to her small white kitchen. “We have some pasta salad left over and a ripe avocado.” Madison was starting to feel like there was more to the story of Josh’s Journeys, or whatever the show was called, but she wasn’t sure what was going on. Her mother was hiding something and Josh wanted to tell her something.

  In the limo, on the way back to the resort from Fisherman’s Cove Marty had said, “Your mom is such a lovely person” and invited her on set. Madison had been too tired to register the comment, but she had noticed when Roger shot him a look.

  “That sounds good, honey,” her mom said, referring to Madison’s cobbled together dinner.

  “Mom, are you sure there isn’t anything you need to tell me?” Madison said, scooping pasta salad onto two plates and then halving the avocado. She sprinkled pink sea salt over both plates and carried the dinner to her mom, sitting down on the ottoman again.

  “The hospice woman was right on time today, for once,” Francine said and Madison realized whatever it was her mom knew, she wouldn’t be privy to it.

  “Great, good to know,” Madison said, pushing the pasta around her plate.

  “Everything happens for a reason, as I always said. And now, I’m certain you’re going to be fine, honey. Now I’m sure of it,” Francine said.

  “Because I did a guest spot on a stupid reality travel show?” Madison said, frustrated.

  “It was just the closure we all needed,” Francine said. “Could you bring me a hot tea, honey?”

  Tuesday

  Marty had agreed to meet Josh for breakfast, and the hostess had seated Josh at the same table he and Madison had shared the last two times they’d been to this restaurant. He was beginning to wonder if the table had his name on it, or something. Josh was wearing his favorite jeans, a black T-shirt, sunglasses and a baseball hat. There hadn’t been any fans, so far. He sort of hoped one would show up during breakfast.

  “Marty, what’s going on?” Josh said as his manager slid into the chair across from him. Marty was dressed in a dark black suit, black tie and crisp white shirt. Totally out of step with Laguna Beach, totally Marty nonetheless. Josh hadn’t slept well, again, but he was making sure to eat a big breakfast.

  “What do you mean kid?” Marty said, pouring himself a coffee from the thermos on the table. “Everything’s going great. The first day is in the can, everything is on schedule. Two more days and you’re on your way to a comeback.”

  “What’s the name of the pilot we’re shooting?” Josh said, and he watched Marty’s green eyes shift up as if trying to retrieve an answer stored in his brain, memorized for just this question.

  “That’s a work in progress, it seems,” Marty said. “We should order, right?”

  “How can it be a work in progress when I’m attached to a pilot called Josh’s Journeys?” Josh said, taking a sip of coffee. The ocean was unusually calm today and several paddle boarders were out enjoying the relatively flat surface.

  “Actually, you’re attached to an unnamed reality TV pilot. That’s what the contract says. It’s pretty broad, kid, but it’s what we had to do,” Marty said. “Waiter!”

  Josh felt a knot in his stomach, and his palms began to sweat. “What does that mean?”

  “Well, you’d have to ask an entertainment attorney. You remember we didn’t use one this go around because we just jumped on the opportunity. And it was the right call,” Marty said. The server approached, giving Josh the shiny eyed look of recognition. Marty said, “Oh, there you are. I’ll have the Laguna scramble, dry wheat toast. Josh?”

  “You are Josh,” the twenty something woman said. “I knew it. The bad boy. What can I bring you?”

  Josh couldn’t help it and flashed her the signature dimple grin, before adding, “I’ll have the oatmeal, please.”

  “My pleasure. Could I have an autograph? I’m not supposed to ask, but I am a huge fan,” the server said, sliding a slip of paper and a pen in front of Josh.

  Josh signed his name, an illegible scribble he’d perfected back in the harried days of Laguna Nights. He pushed the paper back towards her and she scooped it up, grinning.

  “Come back for nachos later, they’re the best in town. And they’ll be on me,” she said, walking off with what could only be described as a swing in her step.

  Josh laughed.

  “This is what I’m talking about. Your star already is rising and you’ve only been back one day. Enjoy the ride, no matter what happens. Remember the old adage ‘any publicity is good publicity’? Same thing here. Any reality TV show is good reality TV. Doesn’t matter what it’s called, what it’s about. Just that it’s on the air,” Marty said. “And I feel really good about a network pickup with this one.”

  Josh was confused. How could Marty feel good about a show without a title, without any clear direction? He said, “What’s the deal with Madison, I mean Holly? Is she the real travel host and I’m the last to know?”

  Marty laughed, and then drank deeply from his orange juice glass. “Don’t be paranoid kid. You’re lucky to have her by your side at this point. She didn’t want anything to do with the show when we first got here, and now she’s all in. We should all be thankful,” he said. “She’s gorgeous and a natural. I’m surprised you let her go. She’s still single, right?”

  The waitress appeared with their meals, making a point to bend low in front of Josh as she placed the oatmeal in front of him. “Anything at all I can get you?” she said, clearly meant for Josh only.

  “We’re good,” Marty said, flicking his hand at her as if he was swatting a fly. “Well, what about Holly? You two together, now that would be some good TV.”

  Josh took a bite of the oatmeal and chewed slowly, enjoying the chunk of brown sugar he’d scooped up. He pictured Madison’s blue eyes, her wave from across the beach yesterday, and he realized she’d been trying to help him all along. Maybe he had been more stage struck than he’d realized. Maybe she had saved the show, so to speak. He had been an angry idiot. He wondered if she’d forgive him. Again.

  “She is really special to me. I can’t believe how I treated her on camera back on Laguna Nights. I mean, Laura is hot and all, but Holly, she is my first love,” Josh said, pushing his sunglasses up on his head. He crossed the pointer and middle fingers of his left hand and put them behind his back.

  “What was that? What you just did?” Marty asked. “You know the whole crossing your fingers thing?”

  “I didn’t even know I did that,” Josh said, shaking his head. “It’s an inside joke the two of us shared. We spent a long weekend together, back in high school, the summer between junior and senior year. I surprised her and flew us in a private jet to Cabo, no cameras and no parents, and we stayed at the One and Only Palmilla Resort.”

  He remembered the look on Madison’s face when she walked on the lush grounds, mesmerized by the fanciest place she’d ever stayed. He’d been proud to be able to show her a world he had grown up living in because of his father’s business success. “All of the staff used the gesture as a sort of heartfelt welcome. It comes from a small Mexican Indian tribe the concierge told us. They’d touch their heart with their fist and bow slightly. After a couple of days, we decided to make our own gesture, a way of staying real no matter the craziness. It didn’t work, though, not in the long run,” Josh said, flashing back to Laura’s red bikini, following her into the hot tub.

  “You almost brought a tear to my eye, kid,” Marty said, flinging his hand in the ai
r with a furious wave no doubt meant for the flirting waitress. “Thanks for sharing. So, I’ve got today’s script.” Marty reached below the table and pulled out a few pages of paper and pushed them across the table. Josh noted right away there was no title on the show, just scene and dialog. Loose dialog. “We’re going with roughly scripted today. We think you two can wing it. Tell us about Laguna Beach. Share memories of the past. Your fans will eat it up.”

  “What about the travel angle? Don’t we need to talk about the journey?” Josh said, as the waitress shimmied over.

  “It’s all about the journey, kid,” Marty said, signing the bill. “Let’s go before she jumps you.”

  As they walked out of the restaurant, past the enticing pool, Josh realized he still hadn’t been for a swim. That had to change, he promised himself. They rounded the corner near the resort’s spa and the smell of lavender, for a moment, over powered even Marty’s cologne. Josh slowed down and inhaled, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Madison was standing on the path, next to Marty.

  “Are you alright?” she said by way of greeting. She had that look in her eye again, the look that said she definitely thought there was something very wrong with him. “Anxious again?”

  “What? No, just stopping to smell the lavender,” Josh answered, feeling himself flush. He did sound crazy, he supposed.

  “Marty, I need to speak with you before we go into town,” she said, turning her attention away from Josh, which made him want to talk to her even more. God she looked gorgeous. Her hair was long and curled. She wore a tight black dress that showed off, well, everything.

  “I’m in a bit of a time crunch, honey,” Marty said. “Here’s your script for today, though like your days in Laguna Nights we’re considering today lightly scripted. You two will be great.”

  “What did you promise my mom, Marty?” Madison asked, her hands were on her hips, jaw set. She hadn’t taken the script from him, Josh noted. She was a much stronger person than he was. He enjoyed watching her take charge. And, well, he enjoyed everything about her.