by T. Torrest
Sandy started to go over the protocol for the interview when a call interrupted her instructions. A hand went to her headset and she said, “Okay, wonderful. I’ll be right there.” She turned her attentions back to me and said, “Mr. Wiley is ready for you now. I’m just going to pop down the hall and escort him here.”
Just then, Hunter (Trip’s assistant’s assistant, apparently) came in with an ice bucket filled with four bottles of some kind of water I’d never seen before, and Sandy offered on her way out the door, “Please feel free to help yourself. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Sandy the Whirling Dervish was gone, taking Hunter the Assistant’s Assistant with her and leaving me alone in my room once again. I decided to bust open one of the bottles of VOSS water, which was ice cold and would undoubtedly have me racing for the bathroom all over again. But I was grateful to have something new in the room to occupy myself during my wait.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Within minutes, I could hear voices coming down the hall and my stomach did an anxious somersault. Before I knew it, Sandy was back at my door, holding it open for her charge...
...and there was Trip, once again, walking back into my life.
Chapter 9
SKIPPED PARTS
There was a tangible shift in the air of the room; a gripping, electrical aura that stimulated the space surrounding his presence like a gravitational pull. I’d noticed this phenomenon when watching his movies, seeing the man that had emerged from the boy I once knew, but actually being in the same room with him was an entirely different animal. Trip Wilmington had been a gorgeous teenaged boy, no question. But Trip Wiley was a gorgeous young man exuding raw, unabashed sex at every turn.
It was only slightly impossible to remember how to breathe.
I registered the jeans and black T-shirt he was wearing, along with the backwards jeffcap ineffectively attempting to contain his overgrown hair, which kicked out around his ears and behind his neck regardless. He was scratching the stubble at his chin and was five steps inside the room before he finally looked up, saw me... and froze.
He literally did a double take, shaking his head in a futile attempt to rid himself of the sight of his old friend standing before him. I guessed he remembered me after all.
I bit my lip to keep from grinning, and broke the silence with, “Hey Chester. How’s it hangin’?”
His mouth went slack, but the corners of his lips were turned up into a smile. His eyes went wide as he said incredulously, “Layla. Effing. Warren.”
I started to giggle. “Hi.”
He came at me, arms outstretched, and wrapped me in a tight bear hug, as if not one single day had gone by.
Still smelled like soap and sugar, the bastard.
“Layla Warren! No way! How the hell are ya?” He swung me around and I almost caught a shin on the coffee table before he set me back down on my feet. He pulled back slightly, still keeping his hands on my arms. “Jesus! Look at you. Still as beautiful as ever.”
I smirked a “yeah right” look at him, but didn’t call him out on his bullshit. Instead, the smile remained plastered to my face, as I was completely unable to stop beaming at him like a lunatic. But he was looking down at me with absolute euphoria and grinning ecstatically himself, so I didn’t bother trying to keep my enthusiasm in check either. That familiar electric current was passing between us like lightning, that indescribable, all-consuming thing that he and I have always shared.
“Sandy!” he called over his shoulder. “Sandy, come meet Layla. She was my... well, hell. She was my very first costar!”
I laughed, thinking about the version of Romeo and Juliet we’d filmed for an English Lit assignment way back in the day. It may have been Trip’s first appearance onscreen, but it obviously wasn’t his last.
Sandy came into the room, saying, “We’ve met already, Trip.”
I guessed since I was obviously a friend, Sandy allowed herself to drop the formal address. She shot me a conspiratorial look and added, “But she didn’t tell me you two already knew each other.” She shook my hand again, as if I were a brand new person for her to meet, which, I guess, under the circumstances, I was.
Trip still hadn’t taken his eyes off me, grinning ear-to-ear like it was Christmas, blinding me with his perfect white teeth.
Sandy was the first of the three of us to remember that we were all gathered in that room for more than just a friendly reunion. She started her spiel about sitting in during the interview, and about the ground rules regarding acceptable topics for questioning, and godonlyknows what else. I couldn’t hear much of anything with Trip looking at me the way he was. It had been years since we’d seen one another. And Jesus. Suddenly, there he was, standing right there two feet away from me.
Trip cut her speech off with, “Hey Sandy. Can we bump the next interview back so I can grab something to eat?” His palm slid down my right arm, then he took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. He was looking into my eyes, but his words were directed toward his publicist. “This is the girl that got away, Sandy. I’m going to need more than just a few minutes with this one.”
I deciphered that “grab something to eat” was obviously their code for when Trip required privacy. I knew he was only teasing, but the fact that he and his publicist/assistant had obviously worked out some long-standing arrangement in order to perpetuate his sexual appetite was mildly unsettling.
I shook my head laughing at him, but directed my commentary toward Sandy. “Actually, I happen to know from firsthand experience that he won’t need more than a few minutes.”
Sandy slapped a hand to her mouth, poorly concealing a choking smirk as Trip’s jaw hit the floor and he laughed out, “Ouch! You’re breaking my heart all over again, sweetheart.”
Sandy had to fight her laughter as she excused herself from the room, assuring Trip that she’d take care of the scheduling conflict.
And then there were two.
We stood there staring at one another, smiling into each other’s eyes like a couple of idiots. Trip went in for another hug, saying, “I just can’t believe you’re here!” He pulled back and asked, “So how are you? How’s everything?”
He was holding my hands, but released one to gesture at the couch. “Here, c’mere. Sit down so we can talk.”
He plunked himself down on the sofa, but I took the chair next to it. We were sitting at a right angle to one another, our knees almost touching when I answered, “I’m good. Everything’s great.”
“So, you’re writing. Who are you with again? I never pay attention when Sandy tells me who I’m interviewing with.”
I’m sure if she had told him I was with some major periodical, he would have registered it. But I tried to sound optimistic when I answered, “I’m with Now! Magazine? I’ve been with them for about three years now.”
His brows drew together, trying to recall if he’d ever heard of it. “Hmm. I don’t know if I’m familiar with that one. Is it local?”
Now! Magazine was about as local as you could get. “Yes. It’s the weekly insert for the Sunday papers.”
“Oh, like Parade?”
“Yes. Only crappier.”
That made him throw his head back and laugh. “Same old Layla!” He grabbed my hand again, threading his fingers in and out of mine. “How’s your dad? How’s Bruce?”
I was praying that my palms wouldn’t go sweaty as I answered, “Dad’s good. He’s dating a woman named Sylvia.” Trip’s brows shot up as I continued, “Yeah, I know, good for him. She’s really great. He’s happy. Bruce is doing construction with my cousin Jack’s company over in Jersey, but he’s convinced it’s only temporary.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow. All grown up, right?”
Trip gave a shake to his head, trying to assimilate all the new information. “And Lisa? How are she and Pick doing? I saw him, you know. A bunch of years back. I’d just settled out in L.A. as they were getting ready to move to Phoenix.”
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Obviously, I was already well aware of that situation. “Yeah. Pick had that offer with the Suns, but they came back to Jersey after the injury. He’s doing great, though. Coaching with the Knicks. Oh! And Lisa’s pregnant!”
“What? Oh my God. That’s insane! You have to tell them congratulations for me.”
“I will, I will. I know, it was a shocker for me, too.”
“Jesus, everyone’s all grown up and living their lives like real adults, huh?”
“Seems so.”
“Jeez, thank God we don’t have to, am I right?”
I started laughing. Our eyes locked for a pause, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. We were both thinking the same thing, staring at one another in disbelief, wrapping our brains around the fact that we were sitting across from each other after so many years.
Trip broke the quiet first. “I still can’t believe you’re here right now.”
“Me either.”
Trip looked down at our hands, still intertwined… and took note of the ring on my finger. He lifted the diamond closer to his face and asked, “Well, what do we have here?”
I was struck with the most unreasonable pang of guilt, but I tried to sound chipper. “His name’s Devin Fields. We work together at Now! and have been together for about two years.”
Trip pursed his lips and nodded his head. He said, “Congratulations,” enthusiastically enough, but his smile never reached his eyes. He released my hand and sank back into the sofa, crossing one ankle over his knee. “So, when’s the big day?”
“Oh, we haven’t even started planning anything. This just happened a couple weeks ago.”
Trip drummed his shin and asked, “Is he a good guy? Does he treat you right?”
I knew he was only teasing, but I answered, “Yes. He truly is. He does.”
He smoothed the jeans over his calf with his palm and stated, “Well, that’s just great. Really. No wonder you look so terrific. You’re in love. It shows.”
I smiled politely, but didn’t quite know what to say. I felt uncomfortable discussing Devin’s and my relationship with Trip, like I’d be breaking my loyalties to my fiancé by talking about him, even favorably, behind his back. I guessed it was just weird to be discussing my current lover with my old one. So, all I said was, “Thank you.”
He gave me a long, hard look, then bounded off the couch and headed for the kitchen fridge. “Hey, Can I get you a drink? I’m having a drink.”
I could hear the mini liquor bottles rattling around in his grasp and watched as he came up with two of them.
“Trip. It’s barely past noon.”
He grabbed a rocks glass from the cabinet and smiled, cracking open the bottles as he replied, “I suppose that if I lived by whatever rule you’re trying to throw out here right now, that that would mean something.” He grabbed some ice from the bucket, poured both bottles into the glass, and added, “Or if this were my first drink of the day.”
He flashed me a mischievous grin, and I just shook my head laughing at him as he sank back down onto the couch.
“Rough day?” I asked.
He took a sip of the amber liquid and replied, “You have no idea.”
I went to ask him about the junket when I registered the tape recorder on the coffee table, and suddenly remembered my reason for being there with him in the first place. I said, “Oh!” as I leaned forward to hit record. “Guess I’d better turn this thing on before I start asking about you!”
Trip smiled, uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. All business now. “Yeah, we’d better get cracking on this thing or you might be out of a job, huh?” He rubbed his hands together and offered formally, “Alright. Fire away, Miss Warren.”
Chapter 10
DUETS
Me: So, Mr. Wiley-
TW: Please, call me Trip.
Me: Of course. As you wish. So, Trip, you’ve had a few small but meaty roles in some very critically acclaimed films. Your supporting role in The Bank Vault last year seemed to be the turning point for you, leading to your starring role in Swayed, slated for release next month. How do you think people will receive you as a headliner?
TW: Well, first of all, I’d like to thank you for not asking me to explain what the movie is about. That’s usually the first question I get.
Me: I assumed as much. But I have a computer and already did my homework, not to mention the press packet I obtained prior to meeting you here today. I was able to figure things out for myself.
TW: Resourceful girl you are, Miss Warren.
Me: Please. Call me Layla.
TW: Yes, of course. As you wish. (pause) So, Layla, in answer to your question, I have absolutely no fucking clue.
Me: Should I take that to mean that you didn’t like the question?
TW: You should take that to mean that I’m not a psychic. Everyone on this film, including me, worked extremely hard to put this picture together. I’ve never shied away from hard work, but the emotional toll on this one was grueling. But then you get a director like Soderbergh organizing the project and there’s no way it can be bad when all is said and done. I think it’s a phenomenal movie, and I’m hopeful that everyone else will think so, too. As far as how my performance will be received, that remains to be seen.
Me: Fair enough, Mr. Wiley.
TW: Trip.
Me: Yes, Trip. So, you’re currently back in New York, filming ReVersed with Nicholas McDermott, directed by Martin Scorcese, another starring role. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to do my homework on this one, as there’s not a lot of information to be had. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to give a brief synopsis of the plot.
TW: Funny you should ask that, Miss Warren.
Me: Layla.
TW: (pause) Yes, Layla. Actually, ReVersed is a modern take on Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus.
Me: (pause) Shakespeare. You’re kidding.
TW: No, not at all. I’ll admit, it was difficult trying to understand the material at first. It was like being back in my old high school English class. Except, back then, I’d had a cute tutor who was able to help me out.
Me: (pause) Okay, Trip. Since you brought up your school days, let’s back up a little and start at the beginning. I know the high school you’re referring to is St. Norm- St. Nicetius Parochial in Norman, New Jersey, where you graduated. But prior to that, you’d lived in half a dozen other places. What are some of the other schools that you attended?
TW: St. Nicetius is the only school that mattered. (pause) Ever.
Me: (pause) Did you ever make it to college?
TW: Not really. I went to S.M.C. for a few months when I first moved out to Cali, but it didn’t take.
Me: Meaning?
TW: Meaning I’d already had my first job by chance as an extra on a Mighty Ducks movie and I guess I’d been bitten by the acting bug. I finally moved out to L.A. in March of ninety-four under the guise of attending college in the fall. But I knew why I was really there.
Me: You managed to get work right away?
TW: (laugh) Oh, sure. I “auditioned” for and landed a couple “parts” in a bunch of different... “projects”.
Me: Off-screen productions, am I to assume?
TW: About as far off-screen as a person can get.
Me: What were some of your early jobs?
TW: Well, let’s see. I was a counselor at an indoor ice rink, teaching kids how to play hockey. That was pretty cool. No pun intended.
Me: (something unintelligible)
TW: I’m an actor, not a comedian, remember?
Me: Obviously. (pause) So, you were telling me about your pre-stardom jobs.
TW: Yes. Well, I had to quit the Ice House in order to keep my days free for auditions. I took a job as a waiter after that.
Me: How very... typical.
TW: Tell me about it. But there’s a reason so many actors take those kinds of jobs. It’s mostly night work and you can always rearrange your schedule
should the need arise.
Me: Understood.
TW: Besides, it was great training for my first official appearance on the big screen.
Me: Which was?
TW: A little movie no one ever saw called Failing to Fly. I played a waiter for about ten seconds onscreen.
Me: (pause) I saw it.
TW: (pause) So, you were the one. (laugh)
Me: It would seem so.
TW: (something unintelligible)
Me: Let’s just get back to your resume, Trip.
TM: (laugh) Sure. Oh! Here’s a good one. After I was fired from the waiter gig-
Me: Wait, hold on. Fired?
TW: I dumped a plate of carbonara in Harvey Weinstein’s lap. Anyway-
Me: Trip, hold on. Harvey Weinstein, the producer? Please tell me it wasn’t on purpose.
TW: It wasn’t on purpose.
Me: (pause)
TW: What? You told me to say that! But I did manage to get his attention. Next thing I know, I’m auditioning for Bonded, so you do the math.
Me: Your breakout role.
TW: Yes.
Me: Acquired by accosting the biggest producer in the world with a plate of pasta.
TW: I plead the fifth.
Me: (pause) So, after your waiter job, you started landing regular acting roles?
TW: No. I’d already filmed Bonded, but it hadn’t hit the screens yet and no one knew who I was. I still had to make rent, so I took a job with the city.
Me: Care to elaborate?
TW: I had a few responsibilities, but my main job was to scrape dead animals off the road with a spatula truck.
Me: Eww.
TW: Yeah. Eww.
Me: So, after Bonded came out...
TW: After Bonded, Quentin called me in to do The Bank Vault. It was an amazing experience. We all knew it was going to be big.
Me: Nominated for eight different academy awards, including Trip Wiley for best supporting actor... It would seem you were right.
TW: Yes.
Me: (something unintelligible)
TW: Aw, Lay. I don’t want to talk about awards and crap.
