Love & Ink

by JD Hawkins

  As the only producer on Hollywood Night who actually seems to do anything, it doesn’t take me long to put Teo’s advice into practice. Within a week I’ve already shot some b-roll of Frankie’s yoga classes and studio, as well as a basic interview. It’s still not enough to form the segment I want it to be, but it’s getting there.

  It helps that almost everyone at Hollywood Night seems to hold a grudge against Candace for something or other, so I can call in favors with all the editors and crew I want, knowing that they’re not going to tell her I’m working on something of my own.

  It’s strange, thinking back to how Teo and I kept our relationship a secret because my parents would think he was a bad influence on me. He’s been back in my life for all of ten minutes and here I am bribing people with boxes of donuts to let me smuggle some older, unused camera equipment out of the studio for a few hours, sneaking extra time in the editing room, and pretending that I’m location-scouting when I’m really at Frankie’s yoga studio filming interviews with her students.

  Sometimes it feels like I’m running an undercover operation, stirring up a revolution in the ranks—but I’ve spent way too long playing by the rules, and breaking them can be a hell of a turn-on. It also makes the rest of the celebrity non-news and pregnancy gossip I have to produce a lot easier to stomach. Maybe I’ve always needed a little influencing to follow my passions—bad or not.

  Now that I’m doing this, I’m really thinking back to all the ideas I’ve had shot down by Candace over the years, all the quirky people I wanted to interview, all the serious topics I wanted to cover. The peculiar stories of actors who reached the very top only to fall completely off the map overnight, exposés of sexism and prejudice in film-making, the great Hollywood scripts that were never filmed because they got caught in legal or political limbos.

  Of course, filming all this stuff might all mean nothing in the end, if I never actually get to put it on air—but you can’t force everything in life. Sometimes you just have to be ready for when an opportunity presents itself. Besides, with a decent portfolio of actually-interesting segments, my own ideas, I might just finally be able to take the plunge and find a better gig than running condom-fetching errands for Candace and Carlos.

  It’s as I’m working through some of these ideas, at the end of a long workday of dealing with Carlos’ hissyfits over his hair, that Jenny knocks on my office door. She pushes it open slowly, poking a strand of blue hair and half a yellow hoop earring inside.

  “You busy?”

  “No,” I say, dropping my pen. “Come in.”

  Jenny steps inside.

  “Just wanted to remind you that we’re meeting at Hooper’s for drinks in about an hour.”

  I purse my lips apologetically.

  “Oh, I can’t. Not tonight.”

  Jenny’s face falls. “You have to,” she says. “Sean insisted that you come, so he’ll notice if you’re not there. I think he wants to thank you for nailing that Stephen Peace segment…under all those ‘difficult’ circumstances.”

  “Can’t. I’ve already made plans,” I sigh, knowing that Jenny isn’t the person I should be excusing myself to.

  Jenny winces, then quickly turns around to close the door and approaches my desk.

  “Honestly,” she says, “I think you should really come. If only to keep certain persons from bitching about you too much. With all your secret projects on the side now…might be smart to keep up friendly appearances.”

  My pulse kicks up a notch. “You think she suspects something?”

  “No…Candace is so self-absorbed you could probably come into work naked and she wouldn’t notice. She won’t find out anything unless she decides to start going over the schedules with a fine-tooth comb—which is about as likely me being offered a part in a remake of Casablanca.”

  I laugh gently as Jenny half-sits on my desk.

  “But since you’re filming all this stuff,” Jenny continues, “you may as well kiss a little ass. Could help when it comes time to show them what you’ve got.”

  “I hear you,” I nod. “The thing is, I made plans with Teo tonight.”

  “So bring him!” Jenny asserts eagerly. “It’s about time I meet the guy who’s got you walking in here in the mornings with a Miss America smile! God—” Jenny stops herself to look away flippantly, “you should ask him to bring a friend, if you really care.”

  I consider it for a second, then shake my head.

  “It’s not really his scene.”

  Jenny scoffs. “He doesn’t like free bar tabs? Come on, half the crew always bring their girlfriends and boyfriends. You can swing a plus one.”

  “I don’t know…”

  Jenny frowns suddenly, putting a hand on her hip.

  “How many times have you been to his tattoo shop? Spoken to his friends there? You even met his mentor from Germany last week. Don’t you think it’s only right you show him your world the way he’s shown you his?”

  “I suppose…although my ‘world’ basically consists of an unbearably vain prima donna and a boss who looks at me as if she wants to wear my skin.”

  Jenny leans forward.

  “You forgot to mention the incredibly smart, funny, and talented writer who does regular unpaid stints as your psychotherapist, motivational speaker, and top secret project collaborator.”

  I laugh again.

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  “Good,” Jenny says, leaping off the desk and heading for the door with an air of triumph. “And don’t forget to ask about the friend—it’s been years since I could smile like that before midday.”

  Hooper’s is a large bar. Sleek, with its black couches and metal tables, but not too modern with its warm chandelier lighting and carpeted pool table area. More to the point, they have a great cocktail and whiskey menu which—even with my producer-promotion raise—I wouldn’t want to afford unless it was on the company’s tab.

  Work drinks happen about once a month. Part morale-booster, part opportunity for a lot of the unappreciated employees to drink their fair share of compensation, and part opportunity for Sean to feel involved with the production—the whole thing is usually his idea. Even as a producer on the show, it’s only when the whole crew bundles into the bar that I realize how many people work on Hollywood Night—wardrobe, make-up, writers, editors, set crew, assistants—and it’s nice to connect with everyone. It’ll be nice to introduce Teo to them, too. As soon as I arrive I’m checking the door every few seconds, waiting for him to show up like he told me he would.

  Tonight follows the same tried and tested pattern. Sean begins by giving a little speech about how proud he is of everyone, special mentions for some of us, and how much he hopes we’ll ‘kick-on’ and ‘keep up the great work,’ before we all turn off to concentrate on our orders. Sean then jumps from conversation to conversation, making smiley small talk and handing out pats on the back while Candace inevitably separates herself from the crew members she can barely name, and spends her time with Carlos and the showbiz friends they always invite to these things.

  Once the vibe settles a little, and I’ve taken my turn exchanging niceties with Sean, I take a seat at the bar and order another blue lagoon. As I half-listen to a conversation between a couple of the crew beside me, I feel a pat on the back and Jenny squeezes beside me carrying an empty glass.

  “Another Manhattan, please,” she says to the busy bartender, before turning eager eyes to me. “So? Where is he?”

  “Ugh, must you keep nagging?” I tease, pulling my phone out to check if he’s messaged. “I sent him a text—but like I said, don’t be surprised if he doesn’t come. This is really not his bag.”

  Jenny smiles and leans in to be heard over the vibrant chatter, pointing along the bar to the corner.

  “Take a look,” she says, as I follow the point of her finger. Carlos is flirting with a couple of tall women in tight dresses— and a few feet away, Candace glares at him like she’s trying to see a magic ey
e picture. “You’d think with all that plastic surgery she’d be better at hiding her emotions.”

  I turn my attention back to my drink and suck a long gulp.

  “They’re both a time bomb waiting to happen,” I say.

  “It’s so ironic…” Jenny says.

  “What is?”

  “Well, Candace loves nothing more than pieces about ‘cheating celebrities’ and ‘who’s the father?’ pregnancies—all the while she’s sleeping with a married man who puts himself across as some latter-day saint.”

  I look at Jenny for a second.

  “Don’t start pointing out contradictions in Hollywood—we’ll be here all night.”

  Jenny laughs loudly and sips half her drink. She sways and bounces a little to the hip-hop tune barely audible over the noise of the bar.

  I watch her for a while, smiling.

  “What’s got you in such a good mood?” I ask, eventually.

  “What good mood?”

  “Don’t play coy,” I say, turning to face her. “Spill it.”

  Jenny laughs and stops bouncing for a second.

  “Well, since I’m keeping your secret, I suppose you can keep mine.”

  “What secret?”

  With a dramatic pause, a look in her eye like she’s giddy, she says, “I just got my first audition.”

  “Audition?”

  “Shh! Keep it down! I don’t want anyone to know.”

  I lean in so I can whisper forcefully.

  “Since when do you act?”

  “It’s not really an acting role…more of a presenting sort of thing.”

  “Ok…since when do you present—sort of thing?”

  “I don’t…I mean, I didn’t. It’s just something I want to try, you know? I’ve been writing for crappy primetime TV and trying to have my scripts read for so long now…I’d just like to try something a little more...expressive. Something a bit more thrilling than staring at a blank Pages document all day.”

  “That’s fantastic, Jenny! God! I’m so excited for you!” I say, grabbing her instinctively for a hug.

  “You don’t think it’s stupid?” she says, her lips curled nervously. “A woman in her thirties trying to for a dramatic pivot in her career? Trying to get in front of the camera? I mean, I’m probably not even what they’re looking for.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re one of a kind. I think it’s fucking incredible,” I say, picking up my glass and clinking it against Jenny’s. “And I think you’re going to kick seven shades of ass as a presenter.”

  “Thanks,” Jenny says, blushing like it’s the first compliment she’s ever received in her life. “It’s not like I want to present for TV or anything, but something small…online, maybe. Or the kind of things you see writers do on sites like TrendBlend.”

  I nod encouragingly. “I could absolutely see you doing that. You’ve got the look, the charisma, the attitude—totally.”

  Jenny smiles bashfully and waves her empty glass at the bartender again.

  “Yeah, well, you have enough of your lines cut by some higher-up, or butchered by some half-wit, and you can’t help wondering why you don’t just deliver them yourself. Speaking of which,” Jenny says, lowering herself on the bar to point again, “it looks like Candace is trying to get her groove back.”

  Once again I follow Jenny’s finger to the end of the bar.

  “I can’t see,” I say, after tilting my head side-to-side. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

  “Candace is flirting with some guy, trying to make Carlos jealous,” Jenny says. “Although seeing the guy, I don’t blame her…just, wow.”

  It’s only after seeing the half-lidded eyes and open-mouthed awe on Jenny’s face that I figure I better see for myself who she’s talking about, and decide to stand on the bar rail to get a better look. My look is less of awe, and more one of horror.

  “Oh shit,” I say, almost cringing at the sight of Candace tightly holding onto him, hand pressed against his chest, the other I don’t even want to think about. “That’s Teo!”

  Jenny lets out a low whistle. “Now I see why you want to keep him locked up.”

  “Damnit,” I say, jumping back off the bar rail and pushing my way through the crowd toward him, Jenny holding her drink high as she follows in my slipstream.

  When I’m close enough for him to see me, Teo breaks out of Candace’s death-grip and darts toward me to land a kiss that’s a little more intimate than it should be considering we’re in a public place surrounded by people.

  “Hey babe,” he says as we break apart, looking at me like we’re in private.

  “Hey,” I say, turning to Jenny and Candace, who is now glaring daggers at me.

  I feel myself blushing as I introduce him to my BFF first. “This is Teo. Teo, this is Jenny—she writes for the show, when she’s not being an awesome friend and supportive comrade for my ideas.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Teo says, holding his hand out for the few seconds it takes Jenny to stop gawking and process the words.

  “Oh,” she says, finally, practically drooling as she shakes his hand. “You too.”

  Candace scowls so hard it’s difficult to ignore, and we all end up looking at her.

  “And this is Candace,” I say, trying to break the awkwardness. “My boss.”

  “Yeah,” Teo says, half-smiling away the unease. “She already introduced herself.”

  “This is your girlfriend?” Candace says, ignoring me to focus on Teo.

  Teo squeezes his arm around my shoulder a little tighter, plants a kiss on my forehead.

  “Sure is. Lucky me.”

  “Pfft,” Candace snorts dismissively, rolling her eyes and then looking back at me like I’m a stain on her expensive rug. “I thought you were a lesbian—the way you dress.”

  “Candace!” Jenny hisses.

  “It’s ok, Jenny,” I say, my boss’s catty words bouncing right off me as Teo squeezes me even tighter. “I’m sure she’s just had a little too much to drink.”

  Candace laughs at this, reveling in the discomfort she thinks she’s causing, enjoying the tension.

  “What? Am I wrong?” she goes on, cheerily, as if we’re talking about sports. “I mean…look at you, Ash, and look at him… I’m sure I’m not being controversial when I say he’s a little out of your league.”

  “You’re right—Ash could do way better,” Teo says, looking at me like I’m the only girl in the room. “I’m a lucky guy.”

  Candace laughs like Teo’s flirting.

  “Excuse me? Are we talking about the same person?” She looks at me and laughs again. “What’s the deal? Are you paying his rent or something?”

  “What’s your deal?” he says, glaring at her in confusion.

  “Teo…” I interrupt, pressing a hand on his chest to try and stop him. I’m used to Candace’s insults, used to shrugging them off and keeping my nose to the grindstone. But Teo’s having none of it.

  “Ash is an awesome, talented, brilliant young woman—and if you don’t see that, I’ve got to think there’s something wrong with you. I don’t know you enough to call it jealousy—but from where I’m standing, it looks pretty obvious.”

  “Teo…” I say again, a note of warning in my voice. Meanwhile, Candace just splutters, temporarily incapacitated by Teo’s aggressive defense of my character. And despite my reservations about him getting involved, the larger part of me feels like I’m on a cloud.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says, looking back at me and taking my hand. “I’m done.” He turns quickly to Jenny. “Nice meeting you. Have a good night.” Then he leads me through the crowd and toward the door.

  We make for the exit, stepping out onto the cooler, quieter calm of the sidewalk. Teo turns to me and grimaces like he just fucked up.

  “Ash…I’m sorry,” he says, as if the slight breeze is cooling off his temper. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me… Hearing her talk like that to you just made me lose it�
��I’m sorry. I hope that isn’t going to cause problems when you get back into work on—”

  I don’t let him finish, a sudden urge pushing me to him, pulling his face to mine, pressing my lips to his, shutting him up with a kiss.

  When we pull apart he gazes at me, looking a little confused, a little surprised. Our faces tilt close, so I can gaze into his eyes, lose myself in them a little, remind myself of his essence. He half-smiles, reading my intentions immediately.

  “Why don’t we take this back to my place.”

  14

  Teo

  Ash can barely keep her hands off me in the back of the cab, grabbing at my crotch like she’s relieving stress, body pressing me into the corner of the seat. Somehow, we manage to keep from giving the cab driver too much of a show, but by the time we reach my house I’m burning up as much as she is.

  My place is big, but nothing too fancy. A three-story condo in Wilshire Montana that I picked because of its proximity to the beach and the good view of the ocean. I don’t sleep much, and I’ve never liked sitting at home, so the place is pretty much just a glorified wardrobe and a safe place to keep my bikes.

  I push the door open for Ash and follow her into the front room, watching her twirl a little as she takes in the empty walls, the unplugged TV in front of the pristine couch. Duke runs inside from his doggie door in the back and almost jumps at us. Ash coos at him and ruffles his fur before moving further inside as I load up his food bowl.

  “Is this really your place?” she says, standing in the middle of all that empty space. “Or one of those abandoned apartments like the ones you used to take me to?”

  I laugh it off.

  “I’m not much of a homemaker.”

  “You don’t say. I feel like I’m in uncharted territory.”

  “Beer?” I say, moving through to the kitchen.

  “No,” she says, smiling woozily. “I’m high enough.”

  I crack one open for myself and go back into the main room to find her gazing at the empty walls like there’s a secret message in them.

  “It’s so weird,” she says, her tone lowering, a little of the fun leaving her voice, “you’re so creative…so imaginative. Your tattoos are so rich and vibrant and detailed…and then here’s your home and it’s so…vacant.”