by Lesley Crewe
LESLEY CREWE
AVA COMES HOME
Copyright © Lesley Crewe, 2008
E-book © 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission from the publisher, or, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, permission from Access Copyright, 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto, Ontario M5E 1E5.
Vagrant Press is an imprint of
Nimbus Publishing Limited
PO Box 9166
Halifax, NS B3K 5M8
(902) 455-4286
Printed and bound in Canada
Design: Kate Westphal, Graphic Detail Inc., Charlottetown, PE
Author photo: Morrison Powell
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Crewe, Lesley, 1955-
Ava comes home / Lesley Crewe.
ISBN 978-1-55109-676-6
E-book ISBN: 978-1-55109-802-9
I. Title.
PS8605.R48A93 2008 C813’.6 C2008-904053-8
We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP) and the Canada Council, and of the Province of Nova Scotia through the Department of Tourism, Culture and Heritage for our publishing activities.
This book was printed on Ancient-Forest Friendly paper.
For Mom.
“I’ve got a good mother, and her voice is
what keeps me here…” Jann Arden
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER ONE
“CUT! That’s a wrap, everybody. Thank you.”
Ava slumped into the chair she was standing in front of and let her arms hang down awkwardly by her sides. The skirt of her period costume created a huge bubble of material around her.
“Help! I’m being eaten alive by swathes of silk and taffeta.”
No one came to her rescue. Her co-star walked away without a backward glance and the crew was busy wrapping up on this final day of shooting—dismantling the set with unseemly haste, removing miles of cables and lights. All of them wanted to get back to the hotel and celebrate the fact that they were finally leaving the most boring small town west of the Mississippi.
The director approached, wearing a big grin. “Are you under there?”
“I think so, but I need rescuing.”
He reached for her hands and pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. “Thank you for being a real sweetheart on this shoot, Miss Harris. You certainly made up for your leading man and for that I’m forever grateful.”
Ava patted his shoulder. “Why do you insist on calling me Miss Harris? We’ve been together now for three months.”
He let her go but his hands stayed on her shoulders. “To give you the respect you deserve and because you’re such a lady. It’s been a pleasure working with you. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
She smiled at him. “Me too.”
“Are you coming to the wrap party at the hotel?”
“Maybe later.” She looked down at her dress. “I want to get out of this monstrosity first and put my feet up. I’m in the middle of a good book and I have to see what happens next.”
“I know you. You’ll be asleep by nine.”
“No, I’ll be there. I do want to say goodbye to everyone.” Ava picked up her voluminous skirt and walked towards her trailer, scooting around the cameras and empty directors’ chairs. She spotted Lola, her assistant, stuffing her face at the craft service table. Lola happened to glance over at her and started to shake a pepperoni stick in her direction. “Do you need help getting outta that dress?”
“No. The buttons are in the front.”
“Okay, because I’ve got to go to the drugstore and pick up some Gravol.”
“Stop eating. That might help.”
“Oh, ha ha. It’s for the plane tomorrow. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Do you need anything?”
Ava shook her head. She opened the trailer door and with difficulty managed to get up the narrow stairs in the dress. A cameraman walking by saw her dilemma and closed the door behind her.
She loved coming “home” at the end of the day. All the noise and confusion outside was replaced by the classical music playing on the stereo. While it was a luxurious space, it was filled with normal things too, like books and jigsaw puzzles and balls of knitting yarn. Ava found the long hours of waiting on a movie set perfect for making sweaters, scarves, and mitts for the crew, but she usually knit when she was alone in her trailer. It was easier than enduring the inevitable comments about how boring and domestic she was.
Ava proceeded to unhook the tiny silk-covered buttons of her bodice in the living room, where there was space to move around. There have to be at least fifty of the damn things, she thought. Her fingers were sore by the time she finished. Down came the dress. She stepped out of it and tossed it on the sofa, though yards of it still puddled on the floor. She’d let Lola deal with that.
Still wearing the petticoat, Ava went down the hall, stopping to look in the bathroom mirror. She couldn’t wait to wash her face, but decided to undress first. The costume designer on the film was something of a tyrant, and Ava was a little afraid of her. The last thing she needed was to get a spot of makeup on the antique linen.
She was about to leave the bathroom when she saw something move behind her in the mirror. She gasped and spun around.
“Who’s there?”
Only the music played. Her heart pounded as she crept forward. “Hello?” There was no one in the hall. Lola was at the store. Telling herself not to be so silly, she walked into her bedroom and shut the door. There stood her leading man.
Ava took a step back and cried out.
He came forward and grabbed her at the waist. “Stop it. It’s only me.”
She struggled against him. “Let me go, Scott. You frightened me.” “Stop with the dramatics,” Scott laughed. “The movie’s over.”
“Leave me alone.”
He held her closer. “I don’t want to leave you alone. You’ve driven me crazy for weeks and you know it. All those love scenes. You’re not that good an actress. I know you want me.”
She pushed against his chest but he didn’t move. Instead he reached down and put his mouth against her ear. “I’ve had all my leading ladies. No one’s ever refused me, except you. What makes you so special?”
“Lola will be here any minute.”
Scott pushed her away and she stumbled backward. “Great. The guard dog.”
“Get out.”
He pointed at her. “All it takes is one phone call and you’re back filming infomercials. I’m one of the biggest movie stars in the U.S. of A. People like to keep me happy. I’d remember that if I were you.”
“Well, I’m not one of them. Now get out of my trailer this instant or I’ll call the police.”
“It’s your word against mine, babe.”
“And I w
onder who the police will believe after they’ve talked to the cast and crew?”
Scott gave her a filthy look. “You’re a second-rate, stuck-up bitch. You stay out of my way on the junket, have you got that? And don’t even think about showing your face at tonight’s party or you’ll regret it.”
Storming out of the bedroom, he nearly took the door off the hinges when he slammed it leaving the trailer. Ava put her hand on her throat to quiet her breathing. After a few minutes she went to the kitchen and took a bottle of water out of the fridge. Standing there with the door ajar, she drank half of the water. Then she carried the bottle to an armchair and dropped into it, letting her head rest against the back cushion.
Lola appeared five minutes later and emptied her shopping bag out on the kitchen counter. “They had a sale on Pringles. Do you want some?” She took the top off the long canister and shook it at Ava.
“No, thanks.”
“Good. More for me.” Lola reached in and popped a few chips in her mouth. She looked at Ava. “You okay?”
Ava nodded.
“You look tired. Why don’t you skip the party tonight? We’ll stay in and play Parcheesi.”
“I’d like that,” Ava whispered.
Scott and his brutish behaviour were nothing but a distant memory two months later. Ava’s mind was preoccupied with something infinitely more nerve-wracking. So nerve-wracking, she peeked out from under the luxurious goose-down duvet covering her bed and tried not to scream. She’d hidden under it all night in an effort not to look at the clock every hour on the hour. They said if she got a call before 6:00 a.m., it was great news. If not, better luck next time. It was 5:50 a.m. So far, the phone was deafeningly silent.
“This is stupid.” She threw off the covers, jumped out of bed, reached for her woolly robe and slippers, and padded across the thick cream-coloured rug to the balcony doors. She opened them and stepped out into a chilly Malibu morning.
Crossing over to the far edge of the balcony, she rubbed her arms to keep warm as the sun rose. That morning the waves rolled towards the beach in uniform lines, crashing against the shoreline with a thunderous roar before disappearing back to the deep.
As she leaned over the steel railing she remembered as a little girl her father telling her that you could predict the coming weather by looking at the way a wave came to shore. But that was years ago and she couldn’t remember what this particular kind of wave meant. If only she could ask one of her brothers—but she never called about something as silly as that.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw her neighbour, a studio producer, out for an early morning walk with his dog Muffin. She waved at them.
“Any news?” he shouted at her.
“No.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Muffin and I voted for you.” “You’re both very sweet. And just for that I’ll…”
The phone rang.
“Oh my god, the phone!” She tripped over a large planter in her haste to get back inside and nearly fell headlong over the threshold. By the time she scrambled upright, the phone had rung three times. She made a dive for it, landing on the bed.
“Yes, hello?!”
It was her agent, Trent Osgood. “You did it, babe! It’s official. Ava Harris is nominated for Best Supporting Actress at this year’s Academy Awards!”
Ava’s mouth dropped open.
“Are you there?”
She nodded.
“Ava?”
“Sorry, yes I’m here,” she whispered.
“This is it, Ava. Your life is about to become a whirlwind of promotions, television interviews, and photo sessions, not to mention having to decide who to wear on the red carpet! I was thinking Olivier…”
Trent continued to talk a mile a minute and Ava tried to comment a couple of times, but it was no use, so after a while she tuned him out, content to stare at the ceiling and let it sink in. She eventually realized the strange noise coming from the phone was Trent whistling into it, trying to get her attention.
“Sorry, you were saying?”
“Ava, this goddamn habit of zoning out drives me up the wall. It’s imperative that you cooperate with me. For the next month we are on a runaway publicity train. You have no idea what you’re in for. I need you to be prepared.”
She sighed. “Can you give me five minutes to enjoy this before I hop on?”
“Fine, all right. I’ll call you in a couple of hours. I have some people to track down anyway.”
“You’re calling people at six in the morning?”
“Do you honestly think anyone who’s anyone in Hollywood is still asleep? Which reminds me, I better put in a call to Variety. I want your photo front and centre in that magazine. I should also give the major studios a call and see if we can’t book you on the talk show circuit.”
He hung up without so much as a goodbye.
She looked around her beautifully decorated bedroom, everything in shades of white, off-white, and cream. Only the month before, Fashion Out Front Magazine did a spread featuring her beach house entitled, “Fit for a Hollywood Princess.”
And her bedroom was perfect. It was just too bad there was no one in it to share her good news.
The phone rang, which made her jump. She picked it up. “Hello?” It was Lola. “Have you heard anything? I’ve been up all night. You’d think they’d put us out of our misery by announcing the blasted nominees at a half-decent hour, or why not in the evening? Then everyone could get drunk and go to bed. Now don’t be upset if they didn’t call. You have a long career ahead of you. This is only the beginning.”
“Nah, I think I’ll pack it in. If they don’t recognize talent when they see it, that’s their tough luck. I’m bored with all this nonsense.”
There was silence for a good five seconds on the other end of the phone. “You know, the scary part is that I think you’re serious. You say it often enough to really mean it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Well, I’m not aware of it. Now I wish you’d pipe down and help me decide something. Should I wear Olivier or Lee Kim?”
Lola screamed, nearly blowing out Ava’s eardrum.
Once the morning news shows broadcast the Oscar picks, the phone never stopped ringing. Her favourite people in the world besides Lola were the next to call. Maurice, her hair and makeup man, a genius in both departments, and Harold, her stylist. They were a couple who insisted on talking over each other every time they phoned. Ava was used to the rapid repartee. It always made her smile.
“Honey child,” Maurice burbled, “With Harold at the helm, the Best Dressed list will have your name at the very top or my name isn’t Morris Ginsberg.”
“Your name is Morris?” Ava laughed.
“Not anymore.”
“Harold, Lola thinks I should wear Lee Kim but Trent thinks Olivier. What do you think?”
“You’re going to take fashion advice from a spiky-haired wing nut and a guy who wears blue socks with a brown suit?” Harold ended on a high note.
“Maybe.”
“Kill me now!”
“Oh, do hush, sweetheart,” Maurice soothed. “She’s joking.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Sorry,” Ava laughed. “Do you still love me?”
“Endlessly,” Harold declared.
“There’s only one fly in the ointment,” Maurice said.
“What’s that?” Ava asked.
“It’s just your luck that Scott was nominated for Best Supporting Actor this year as well. Talk about ruining a great evening.”
“I’m not going to let the likes of him spoil my night.”
“That’s our girl,” Harold cried.
Ava walked around the house that morning, the phone to her ear as she poured a glass of orange juice and scooped spoonfuls of plain fat-free yogurt out of a container and into a small bowl. The minute someone hung up, someone else called. At first it was exciting but after a couple of hours o
f it, she had a sore ear and a stiff neck.
She let the answering machine take the rest of the calls so she had some peace. She decided to shower. When she emerged from the bathroom, forty messages awaited. Did she know that many people? She played the messages back as she towel-dried her beautifully highlighted blonde hair.
She remembered as a young girl watching the Academy Awards with her sisters, but she was always sent to bed before the Best Actress or Best Actor was announced. Her mother insisted it was too late for her to stay up.
It still rankled that she was never allowed this one treat.
The phone rang yet again and she looked at the number display. It was long distance, area code 902. Her family. With her heart beating a little faster, Ava hesitated before picking up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Is it true?!” her sister Rose shouted in her ear. “Best Supporting Actress?”
“It’s true,” Ava smiled. “Can you believe it?”
“Of course I can believe it! I went to see that movie seven times and cried my eyes out every time, and so did everyone else in the theatre.”
“Thanks, Rose…”
“Everyone here is so excited. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing!”
“That’s nice. Listen, while I have you on the phone, how’s Ma? She never calls me.”
“You know she hates the phone. God knows why. Anyway, the sad truth is she’s getting older, as are the rest of us. I find her slowing down lately, but I guess that’s to be expected. Is there any chance you can come home soon for a visit?”
That question. Always that question.
“Rose, I can’t come home right now…”
“You’ve been saying that for years. Ma misses you. We all do.”
“Don’t. Please don’t. The next four weeks will be nuts. My life is scheduled every hour on the hour. ”
“You’re a big movie star. Are you telling me that you can’t take one or two days off to come and visit?”
“That’s what I’m telling you, so please drop it.”
“All right, all right, I’m sorry. Look, we just wanted you to know we’re proud of you.”
“I know that.”
“Everyone sends their love.”
