by Carrie Elks
‘OK,’ he said, clearing the distance to the chairs, as Everett picked the script up from the library table. ‘Let’s talk.’
‘Happy New Year, darling.’ Cesca engulfed Kitty in a hug. Her voice was loud enough to silence the coffee drinkers around them. ‘How are you doing?’ she asked, releasing her. ‘I bought us both a latte, I hope that’s OK. You haven’t gone all vegan or anything on me again, have you?’
‘Nope, milk is all good.’ Kitty sat down opposite her sister, lifting the cup to her lips, not bothering to point out it was already January. ‘I swear you’ll never let me forget that year I became a vegetarian.’
‘How could we let you forget?’ Cesca teased. ‘I came down to the kitchen at midnight and saw you stuffing five chipolatas into your mouth. Some vegetarian you turned out to be.’
‘It was your fault for leaving them out there,’ Kitty protested. ‘It was cruel, like leaving an open bottle of vodka in front of an alcoholic.’
‘Well I’m glad that particular phase only lasted a few months.’ Cesca looked her up and down. ‘Not that you look like you’ve been eating much of anything for a bit. How much weight have you lost?’
Kitty shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m not on a diet or anything.’ As if to emphasise her point, she took another sip of her full-fat latte. ‘I’m just not very hungry.’
‘No wonder, after everything you’ve been through. You should have seen us all on Christmas Day, we were fuming. Lucy and I spent most of the night trying to dream up ways of getting even with that horrible family. I can’t believe they sent you away, the bastards.’
Kitty sniffed. ‘It was my fault,’ she said quietly. ‘I got involved in things I shouldn’t have.’
‘You mean you got involved with a guy you shouldn’t have?’ Cesca corrected, rolling her eyes. ‘I’ve made Sam promise never to make a movie with any of those arsehole Kleins. I don’t know who they think they are, treating you like that.’
Kitty opened her mouth to protest that Adam wasn’t an arsehole, but really, what was the point? It didn’t matter if he was an arsehole or an angel, he wasn’t here and he didn’t want her.
‘I wish you’d flown back to London instead of coming here on Christmas Day,’ Cesca continued. ‘We tried Skypeing you and you didn’t answer. Lucy was all for flying over and dragging you back home.’
Kitty shook her head, her mouth feeling dry in spite of the coffee. ‘I wanted to be alone. So much had been going on, I needed a bit of silence to get my head straight.’
Cesca leaned her head to the side. ‘And is it straight now?’
‘Not really,’ Kitty confessed. ‘But it’s a little straighter than it was. I even managed to get a couple of assignments finished.’
When she wasn’t watching YouTube clips of Adam over and over again, she’d been holed up in the Young Research Library, or in the editing suite at school. Her enforced solitude may have been bad in some respects, but academically, it had been a huge step forward.
‘And what are your plans now?’ Cesca asked. They were both aware that Kitty’s future depended on an internship with a production company. And she’d all but shot that hope out of the water.
‘I’ve absolutely no idea,’ Kitty admitted. She hadn’t let herself think about that too much. She’d been too focused on getting through the day to consider the future. ‘I guess if I don’t get anything I’ll have to go home to London.’ She shook her head at that thought. It felt like defeat, having to fly back to a city she’d left behind with such high hopes. To return with her tail between her legs, and not much more than she left with – unless you counted a post-grad degree that had cost her more money than she cared to think about.
The door to the café opened up, letting in a fresh draught of warm air. The room went suddenly silent. Cesca turned around to see who it was, her face lighting up with recognition. ‘Sam, we’re over here.’
He walked over, pointedly ignoring the chattering girls and phone-camera-pointing women who were all following his progress. And no wonder, with his dark, Italian good looks, and movie-star presence, he drew eyes wherever he went. Kitty felt herself get embarrassed for Sam – she knew how much he hated the constant attention. If it was her, she’d probably become a hermit, hide away from it all. She had to give him credit for braving the inside of the café.
‘Happy New Year.’ He leaned down to give Kitty a kiss on the cheek, before kissing Cesca’s lips and ruffling her hair. ‘Have I missed anything?’
‘Not really, unless you’re keen on tales of woe,’ Kitty told him.
‘I love tales of woe, especially when I’m not involved in them.’ Sam shot her a smile. ‘So what gives? Have you heard from this douchebag or what?’
‘Sam!’ Cesca tapped him on the arm. ‘You can’t call the man she loves a douchebag.’
‘Hey, who said anything about a man I love,’ Kitty protested. ‘I didn’t say I loved him.’
‘Well, you’re certainly not indifferent to him,’ Cesca told her. ‘You’ve lost, what, eight or nine pounds in a week. You’re moping around as though the world’s about to end. And you’ve started to talk about moving back to London when we all know you’ve always dreamed of living here in LA.’
‘Sounds like somebody else I know,’ Sam said. ‘Didn’t you fly back to London and mope after we fell out?’
‘Yeah, but I had every right to,’ Cesca said, her voice playful. ‘You really were an asshole.’
‘An asshole you were in love with,’ Sam corrected.
‘Yeah, and that just proves my point.’ Cesca looked back at Kitty. ‘You don’t react this way about someone who just sparks a bit of interest. I should know. Remember how I told you it was all over and he meant nothing to me?’
‘Lies, all lies.’ Sam smiled, a dimple forming in his cheek. ‘We all know it was love at first sight for you, babe.’
‘I don’t think so. More like hate at first sight.’
He slung his arm casually across the back of Cesca’s chair. Everybody was still staring at him. ‘There’s a thin line between hate and love.’
‘Yep,’ Cesca agreed. ‘And I think Kitty and Adam crossed it a long time ago.’ She caught Sam’s gaze, the two of them smiling at each other. The warmth between them made Kitty’s heart ache.
‘I am here, by the way,’ Kitty said, ‘before you two go all lovey-dovey and forget about me.’
‘We wouldn’t forget about you.’ Cesca turned to look at her. ‘Now let’s get back to this internship. Are you still waiting on any replies?’
Kitty thought back to the ever-growing pile of rejection letters. She’d added another two this morning. ‘A couple,’ she said, ‘but I’m not holding my hopes up.’
‘Then you’ll have to let Sam help you.’
Sam nodded encouragingly. He was pretty much at the height of his fame – a word in the right ear could secure her a position in a second.
But no. She didn’t want that at all.
‘I want to make it on my own merit,’ Kitty told them. ‘Not because Sam puts in a good word, or knows somebody who knows somebody. I want to be employed because I’m good enough.’
‘You are good enough,’ Cesca said gently. ‘But sometimes you need a helping hand.’
Kitty looked at them both for a moment, taking them in. Her beautiful, talented sister, and the gorgeous man she was in love with. They were like a fairy-tale couple, no wonder they were constantly followed by the paparazzi. A photograph of the two of them together was a sure-fire seller for the gossip rags.
‘You’re both very lovely,’ she began, screwing her face up to find the right words, ‘and it’s wonderful to know that you’ve got my back. But this is my mess and it’s my life, and I want to be the one to clear it up. I’ll go and see my supervisor on Monday and ask him for his help in finding an internship. OK?’
‘Are you sure?’ Cesca asked. She looked desperate to help.
Kitty nodded, feeling more resolute than she had in a long time
. ‘I’m sure,’ she told her, a tentative smile creeping across her face. ‘Try not to worry about me. I’ve got this.’
And maybe if she said it enough, she might even start to believe it.
32
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s wings
– Richard III
‘This is good. Really good.’ Her supervisor paused the video and turned around in his swivel chair to look at her. ‘The edits made a huge difference – did you document what you did in the project report?’
Kitty lifted the file that was sitting on her lap. ‘It’s all in here.’ It had been drummed into them from the beginning that the report was as important as the reel itself. They had to journal every part of the process – from turning the idea into a script, to finalising the finished product. ‘I finished writing it all up on Friday,’ she told him. ‘It’s ready to go now.’
‘You didn’t take much of a break over the holidays,’ he pointed out. ‘Did you stay in LA?’
‘For some of the time,’ she said, not wanting to get into things with him. She’d played the past weeks over in her head again and again. It was as familiar to her as her showreel. Scenes of her running in the snow to Adam’s house, of her reading the script with his name on. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly down, she’d try to change the ending. Imaginary Kitty would tell imaginary Adam about Everett’s plans straight away. But after that, there was always a blankness. She had no idea how that would have turned out.
‘Did you hear back from any of your interviews?’ he asked her, looking up from the desk. ‘You had that one at Klein Productions, right?’
Damn, she’d forgotten she’d told him about that. Every time she heard that name, it made her heart pound like a bass drum. ‘Yeah, that’s a no go,’ she said. ‘I heard back last week.’
It wasn’t a lie, she told herself.
‘Damn.’ He shook his head then gave a sigh. ‘I was sure you’d get an internship by now. You’re one of my best students. Maybe we should take a look at your resumé again, make sure it’s hitting the right buttons. Or should we work on your interview technique? What are your thoughts?’
Kitty licked her dry lips. It all felt like too little too late, but what other choice did she have? She’d tried the sitting-in-her-apartment-crying option, and look how that worked out for her.
‘That would be good.’ She nodded. ‘But just in case, I’m thinking of applying to some production companies in London,’ she told him. ‘I might have more luck over there.’
He frowned. ‘I thought you wanted to stay in LA? I remember when you first arrived you were so excited to be in Hollywood. What’s changed?’
There was a noise from outside the door as a group of students walked past, talking loudly about something. Her supervisor checked his watch for the time.
‘I’m just trying to be realistic,’ Kitty said. ‘Maybe I’m not meant to work over here. Maybe my skills are better served in London.’
‘No, that’s not true. You’re trying to settle, and that sucks. Don’t stop dreaming, Kitty, and don’t give up. This isn’t over until you decide it is.’
The problem was, she’d already made her decision.
‘Just sit on it for a while,’ he suggested. ‘There are a couple of people I want to talk to before you give up completely. I think you could do really well over here.’ He checked his watch again, muttering under his breath. ‘Damn, we need to get to the lecture theatre. I’m supposed to introduce our guest speaker.’ He got up from his chair, closing his laptop and sliding it in his desk drawer. ‘We’ll talk about this later, OK?’
‘Sure.’
The lecture theatre was almost full by the time she arrived – surprising for the first week back at school. She said hello to a few people as she walked up the stairs, heading for her preferred seat at the back of the room, sliding into a chair next to a small brunette she knew from a post-production class she’d taken earlier in the year. She’d barely pulled her notepad out and put it on the desk when the lights above them dimmed, leaving the only illumination on the podium at the front of the room.
‘Happy New Year, everybody, and thanks for arriving so promptly.’
Kitty couldn’t help smiling at the irony of her supervisor’s words.
‘Today we’ve a small change in our lecture schedule. Rather than the advertised lecture on changes to the distribution network, we’re going to be discussing documentary production, and how to find the truth in lies.’
Oh great, just what she needed. School was supposed to be the one place she could come and not think about Adam – and now they were going to be discussing his niche subject. Well played, UCLA.
‘And though our guest speaker needs no introduction, I’m going to give him one anyway. He’s an alumnus of this film school, and since graduation has gone on to make reflective and insightful documentaries showing the human side of issues such as domestic terrorism, the modern slave trade, and more recently, drug trafficking. His documentaries have twice been nominated for the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature, and in 2013 he won the Critics Choice Award for the documentary Truth in Lies – Looking for the Real Michael Davies. So please join with me to give a big welcome to Adam Klein.’
She was frozen to her chair as she watched him appear on the podium, his gait strong and easy as he walked up and shook hands with her supervisor. Even from this distance he looked so different than she remembered. Instead of the jeans and checked shirt she was used to seeing him in, he was wearing tailored trousers and a white cotton shirt, open at the neck to reveal his freshly shaven skin. The beard had gone completely, so had the messy, overgrown hair, and for a moment she found herself bereft at their absence.
It felt as though somebody had taken her Adam away, and replaced him with a doppelganger.
But then he began to speak.
‘Good morning, everybody. I’m going to keep this as short as I can, so I don’t send any of you back to sleep.’ Laughter erupted around the theatre. ‘I’m really pleased to be here today to be able to share a little about the documentary-making process, and to give you a few ideas of why I believe it’s the truest, purest form of the film-making arts.’
He took a breath and pressed a clicker to bring the screen above him to life. ‘Errol Morris – a friend of mine – once said that what interested him about documentary was the fact that at the onset we never know how the story ends. That’s what makes it different to filming a scripted story. But for me it isn’t the ending that matters, it’s the process, it’s finding the truth piece by piece, by pulling back the layers until the facts are finally exposed.’
The room around her was quiet, save for the soft breaths of a couple of hundred students. They stared raptly as Adam continued.
‘The real focus of any documentary I make is the search for humanity. Not just in those who are affected, but by those who do the affecting, too. The one thing I’ve learned from my years in the medium is that criminals are humans, too. And they’re fascinating, because they started out the same as you and me. They were born as little screaming, eating, shitting humans, who like the rest of us at that point in their lives, didn’t understand right from wrong.’
His eyes scanned the crowd. Though Kitty couldn’t see them, she could picture them in her memories. Deep and warm as melted chocolate. The sort of eyes she could drown in.
‘It’s easy to paint anybody as purely evil, but it’s harder to look beyond that shell they’ve become to what made them that way. To say that maybe we, as a society, have a role to play in creating the beast that lives inside us all.’ He scanned the audience again. Was he looking for her? What was he doing here? Her whole body felt as though it was buzzing, a few seconds away from detonation. Her pen was shaking in her hand.
‘Anyway, enough of this talking. Let me show you a few clips to try and demonstrate what I’m trying to say.’ He turned to the big screen behind him, clicking the remote in his hand to start up the stream of vi
deo.
For the next twenty-five minutes, Adam showed them clip after clip, talking through the background to the story, and the interviewee, showing how he delved deeper into their psyche to try to find reasons for their actions. It was mesmerising watching him on screen, but not as mesmerising as it was having him so close to her. He was less than fifty feet away, so close she could almost smell his warm, pine scent. She could almost feel the way he used to touch her, his hands strong yet soft, his eyes warm as she responded to him.
But why was he here?
He had to know she would be at this lecture. He knew she was a film student at UCLA, after all, what were the chances that this was a coincidence? And yet he was talking in front of all these students as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Laid-back, sure of himself, and as confident as hell.
