Ava Comes Home

by Lesley Crewe

  “I was going to call you.”

  Rose ignored her. “So who are you going to take on the red carpet? Someone famous?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What are you going to wear?”

  “I have no idea, Rose. I just found out a couple of hours ago.”

  “Okay, okay, I better go. This is costing me. Love you.”

  “And you. Tell everyone I love them too. And tell Ma…” Ava couldn’t continue.

  “I will. Take care, baby sister.”

  Ava put down the receiver and sat on her bed staring at nothing. She didn’t answer the phone after that and when it continued to ring, she reached over and pulled the cord right out of the wall. Then she crawled under the duvet and hid from the world for the rest of the morning.

  Traffic was a nightmare.

  “Why are we driving around in this tin can?” Ava’s publicist Camilla Dove griped. Camilla always griped, which was a rather odd habit for a Hollywood publicist to have. But Ava liked her because she looked like the Sunday school teacher she had growing up in Cape Breton. Not that Camilla wore floral ankle-length dresses that tied at the back or hoot-owl glasses. Still, Camilla was the spitting image of Hughena MacIntyre and that always cheered Ava enormously.

  “At least you’re in the front seat,” Lola moaned from the back, her knees up around her chin. “What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?”

  They were stopped at a red light on San Vicente Boulevard in West Hollywood. Even with her sunglasses and ball cap on, the teenage boys in the next car recognized Ava. She ignored their increasingly ardent facial gestures by turning to her passengers. “Stop belly-aching, the both of you. I’m being environmentally friendly. Did you know that this hybrid Citroen C2 Hatchback has a 1.4 stop and start sensodrive?”

  Camilla rifled through her appointment book. “Speak English.”

  “I’m doing my bit to save the planet, but I still wish I could ride a bike.”

  Camilla looked at her in horror. “And have the damn paparazzi sell Gossip News a picture of your butt hanging off the seat? I think not.”

  “Gee, thanks. Is my bottom that large?”

  “I keep telling you,” Camilla sighed. “Wizard computer geeks can make your bum look as big as a house if they want to. You can avoid all that by not giving them the opportunity to see you in a compromising position.”

  Lola snorted. “I thought that was reserved for late-night trysts in a hot tub with the pool boy.” She looked out the window. “Or maybe one of those idiot guys in the car beside us.”

  “These days eating an ice cream cone in public is forbidden tutti frutti,” Camilla said.

  “Good one,” Lola laughed.

  “Look what those miserable photo hogs did to Julia Edwards,” Camilla continued.

  “She beat them at their own game, didn’t she?” Lola reminded her. “She’s lost weight and looks fantastic. But then I always thought she looked fantastic, weight or no weight.”

  The light changed and Ava crept forward. Luckily the car full of obnoxious boys was in the turning lane. As it disappeared from sight, she leaned over the steering wheel. “Speaking of food, I’m starving. Isn’t The Lounge around here somewhere?”

  “You’re a genius. It’s on Melrose,” Lola said. “Just a few blocks away.”

  Camilla threw up her hands. “How am I supposed to work under these conditions? I could be riding in a limo with a television, a laptop, and a fax machine, but instead I’m being held hostage in a bird cage with a hungry client and a no-good hungry assistant. Have you two any idea what walking the red carpet means? Today alone, I’ve set up appointments with two stylists, not to mention a scheduled pit stop at Giorgio Armani. Harold’s meeting us there. Then we head to Harry Winston’s.”

  “How can I pick out jewelry if I don’t know what I’m wearing?” Ava spotted a parking space and quickly pulled over, maneuvering the small lime-green car between a Hummer and a Cadillac Escalade. She jumped out of the vehicle and held the seat back for Lola, who had a difficult time unfolding her long legs. Ava grabbed her arm and helped heave her out. Camilla had no choice but to bring up the rear.

  “I suppose I can schmooze while we’re here,” Camilla muttered.

  Ava turned around and looked at her. “Schmooze away, but don’t you dare bring anyone over to the table.”

  Camilla feigned horror. “Now would I do that on your personal time?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you happen to run into George Clooney send him our way pronto,” Lola laughed. “I don’t care what Ava says.”

  The Lounge was definitely the place to be for lunch, with its sleek, expensive décor and serious waiters who moved effortlessly around tables filled with Hollywood movie moguls, artistic types, and young socialites. Most were there to be seen; they spent their time looking over at other tables, gossiping about who was with whom. But it was also a perfect venue for business negotiations among studio executives and a great spot to run into the ordinarily inaccessible.

  Ava soon realized coming to the restaurant was a bad idea. All she wanted was a salmon sandwich. By the looks of it, it would take her ten minutes to get to the nearest unoccupied table. Several hands went up to greet her and diners whispered to each other as she walked by. A fat guy with a goatee stood and shook her hand. “Congratulations, Miss Harris.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured and kept going.

  Lola whispered behind her, “Who’s that?”

  “Someone who didn’t give me the time of day two weeks ago,” Ava said over her shoulder.

  Camilla whispered too. “Oh my god, why didn’t you stop? I’m pretty sure that was Gavin Peters. He’s very influential…”

  “He’s two-faced,” Ava insisted.

  Camilla rolled her eyes. “You’re in Hollywood. Being two-faced is how one survives.”

  With the help of the maitre d’, they made it to a far table in the corner. Ava sat with her back to the crowd—a necessary tactic she used on occasion. Some days it worked, but today wasn’t one of them. A man approached with two giggling teenagers on his heels.

  “May I have your autograph, Miss Harris? My daughters are your biggest fans.”

  “Certainly. And your names?”

  “Heather,” said Heather.

  “Bonnie,” said Bonnie.

  She took the proffered napkin and scribbled, “To Heather and Bonnie, All the best, Ava Harris.” The girls examined the napkin closely. She thought that was the end of it, but no such luck. He wanted pictures, so she turned around and pretended to smile into his cell phone while his daughters squealed on either side of her. “We love you Miss Harris. We never miss your movies.”

  “Thank you.”

  Surely that was it—but no. He passed her the phone. “If I ring my wife, will you talk to her for a minute? She’ll die.”

  Camilla stepped in then.

  “Do excuse us, but Miss Harris has a busy schedule. We’re here for a quick lunch.”

  “Of course. Well, thank you. Come along, girls.”

  “Bye!” said the girls several times.

  “Goodbye.” Ava turned around and sighed. “I think we better go to a drive-thru.”

  “Nonsense,” Camilla said. “Every fan you meet translates into mucho money.”

  “I already have mucho money. I want a sandwich.”

  The waiter came to their table and Ava placed her order. Camilla ordered decaf coffee, black, and Lola asked for a triple chocolate milk–shake. Thankfully, their lunch arrived quickly.

  “It’s ridiculous that you can drink that garbage and still look like a railway tie,” Camilla said, eyeing Lola’s shake.

  Lola held out her glass. “Do you want some?”

  “Of course I want some. Now leave me alone!” Camilla took a sip of her coffee and made a face.

  “Oh, oh,” Lola said. “Here comes trouble.”

  Ava swiveled her head. Trent barreled towards them with a look of utter triumph. Wh
en he reached the table he grabbed the empty chair. “Mind if I sit down?” He sat without waiting for a reply.

  “How did you know I was here?” Ava asked him.

  “I have spies everywhere.” He pulled several sheets of paper out of his leather briefcase.

  “You do?”

  “Of course not.” He tossed his head to the right. “I was finishing up a lunch meeting with Forrest Kavanaugh when I saw you walk in. He’s a World-Wide Pictures executive and you’re not going to believe what he’s proposing.”

  Ava took a bite of her sandwich and waited.

  Trent looked up at her. “Aren’t you going to ask me what it is?”

  She nodded and continued to chew.

  “You are the most exasperating woman, did you know that?” he sighed. “Most clients can’t wait to hear what I have to say.”

  “We’re waiting with bated breath.” Lola stirred her shake before making a big slurping noise with her straw.

  Trent gave her a dirty look. “Who asked you?”

  “No one.”

  “There’s a reason why,” Trent informed her. “No one’s interested in what you have to say.”

  “Be nice,” Ava warned. The animosity between agent and assistant was well known. Camilla had asked Ava several times in private why she put up with Lola’s sauciness. The only reason Ava could think of was that Lola always said out loud the very things she was thinking. Trent made a point of turning his back to Lola. “Now that your name is on the lips of everyone in town, World-Wide Pictures wants to enter into negotiations that could mean a three- or four-picture deal. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime offer. You’d be crazy not to do it.”

  Ava’s stomach did a sudden flip. She put the sandwich down and took a sip of iced tea before folding her arms on the table. She leaned towards Trent. “You promised me that once this September’s shoot in New York was out of the way, I’d be able to take some time off.”

  Trent looked at her with incredulity. “That was before you were nominated for an Academy Award! Now all bets are off. If we don’t capitalize on your celebrity in the coming days, we’ll lose out on potentially millions of dollars. You’re hot, Ava, and everyone knows you have to strike while the iron’s hot.”

  “And it doesn’t matter in the least what I think?”

  “Of course it matters what you think,” Trent frowned, “but you’re obviously not thinking clearly. Who would be crazy enough to turn down World-Wide Pictures?”

  The question hung heavy in the air. Trent kept blinking with his mouth open, as if not quite understanding what was happening. Even Camilla had the look of a woman whose child was misbehaving.

  Ava turned to Lola. “Am I crazy for wanting some time off?”

  Lola reached out to touch Ava’s hand. “Of course you’re not crazy. What you are is exhausted. You’ve been going flat-out for eight years.” Lola turned to Trent. “I was there when you swore up and down that Ava would get some time off after that September shoot. If she’s this hot, can’t she simmer for a couple of months? Surely people won’t forget her name that quickly.”

  If the tips of his blood-red ears were anything to go by, Trent’s blood pressure was escalating at an alarming rate. “I am a highly successful, highly sought-after film agent. You are a baggage handler. I believe I know the best course of action for my client’s career.”

  Lola nodded her head. “And there’s the rub. You’re concerned about the career. I’m concerned about the woman.”

  Trent gave Ava an exasperated look. “Tell your lap dog to go bite someone else’s ankles.”

  “Lola is a friend of mine. Being rude to her isn’t going to help your case.”

  “Ava…”

  “I’m sorry, Trent, but I can’t discuss this now. We have a slew of appointments this afternoon and we’re already late. Aren’t we, Camilla?” Camilla took the hint. “Yes, we’re in an awful rush.” All three women rose from their chairs.

  Trent had a face on him like thunder. “You haven’t finished your sandwich.”

  Ava ignored him. “Would you mind picking up the tab, Trent? I’ll pay you back later.” She walked away before he could answer.

  When they got back in the car, Ava turned to them. “I don’t want to talk about this, all right?”

  The afternoon was spent looking at glorious gowns in designer showrooms. Ava could have asked for the samples to be sent to the house, but she liked to gather her own impressions of the establishments and their work ethic. How they treated their employees was something she always factored in. She had once refused a magnificent gown that she’d been planning to wear to an AIDS fundraiser. When the designer screamed at the young man in charge of bringing them coffee, Ava walked right out the door without a backward glance.

  Harold, her personal stylist extraordinaire, knew all about this quirk and took pains to forewarn the designers ahead of time. They were kindness itself when Ava was in the room.

  Harold took a stunning dress of aqua-blue chiffon off the rack. “This would set off your eyes beautifully.” He held it up to her. “Why don’t you try it on?”

  Ava wrinkled her nose. “There’s no front. I’d be spilling out everywhere. I don’t want a ‘wardrobe malfunction.’”

  “As you well know, I’m a master with double-sided tape.”

  Ava’s eyes went to the rack. “For this occasion, I want classic. Simple.”

  Taking another gown off the rack, Harold draped it over his forearm. “What about this? It’s got a floor-sweeping train. It’s in the most delicious shade of cloud, with just the tiniest hit of blue.”

  “Cloud?” Lola repeated. “Is that what we’re calling grey these days?”

  “It’s got a ridiculously huge bow in the front.” Ava touched the offending item. “I’d be fiddling with it all night.”

  “Ridiculously huge bows are very hot right now,” Harold said.

  “There’s that word again,” Ava muttered. “Hot.” She rubbed her head and tried to ignore the fuss going on around her. The people in the room were at her disposal and so spent most of their time staring at her. This aspect of fame wore Ava down. If only they knew who she really was, they wouldn’t bother to look at her.

  The designer wanted to take her measurements again but Harold held up his hand. “There’s no need. She’s a perfect size 2. I should know. I’ve been dressing her for years.”

  Ava reached into her cream Chloe Betty Bag and searched for some Tylenol. Lola tapped her on the shoulder and produced two pills in the palm of her hand.

  “How do you always know when I have a headache?”

  “You get that look,” Lola smiled. “The one that says ‘Beam me up, Scottie.’”

  Ava threw back her head and swallowed the pills dry, but she knew headache tablets weren’t going to help her mood. She had to let Harold down gently.

  She went over to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “Would you be awfully cross if I went home? I don’t feel up to this today.”

  “We don’t have much time. The Oscars are only a week away and you haven’t decided on a thing.”

  She straightened up. “All right, I’ll make an exception. You gather up as many gowns as you can find around town and bring them over to the house. It will be easier there.”

  “Haven’t I told you that all along?” Harold sniffed. “Why on earth do you pay me if you don’t listen to a thing I say?”

  “I’ll be good. I promise.”

  Two days later, after hours of trying on gowns, she reached a decision and chose a black Anise Godfrey jacquard bustle-back gown. The exquisite dress fit her small frame perfectly before falling away from her hips in a full skirt of intricately patterned fabric. With the neckline straight across her bodice and simple straps over her milky shoulders, she and Harold agreed she’d need only a pair of diamond drop earrings set in platinum to show off her ensemble.

  Ava’s entourage breathed a sigh of relief that at least something was decided. It was Lola who was chosen to
broach the subject of an escort, since Ava hadn’t mentioned it one way or the other. She got her opportunity the next night as the two of them were being driven to the club du jour, Leo’s in West Hollywood.

  “Why did I say I’d meet Hayden at Leo’s?” Ava sighed. “I hate these places.”

  “Because Hayden practically lives there, that’s why. Speaking of Hayden, have you thought of who you’re taking to the Oscars? I suppose he’s your logical choice, since you’ve been dating him off and on for a couple of months.”

  Ava looked down at her hands. “I know that’s why he asked me out tonight. He’s dying for an invite.”

  “Hayden Judd is the perfect date, if you ask me. He’s the hottest star on television at the moment. You’ll make a gorgeous couple.”

  Looking out the car window, Ava leaned against the palm of her hand and watched the buildings go by. “I don’t want people to know I’m dating him. Besides, he’s a show-off.”

  “Well, that’s true enough,” Lola agreed. “He’d grab the first microphone he could find and interview himself on the red carpet. So if you don’t want Hayden, then who?”

  She turned around. “You wouldn’t like to go, would you?”

  Lola’s mouth dropped open. “Are you joking?”

  “Well, why not?”

  “Can you imagine what Trent will say?” Lola laughed. “Or Camilla for that matter. I can hear her now. ‘The tabloids will say you’re a lesbian!’”

  “I don’t give a monkey’s uncle what they say. Will you come?”

  “Of course I’ll come! But you better break it to Hayden gently.”

  “I know. I know.”

  The driver let them out at the front of the club where there was a line-up of beautiful people waiting to get in. Some of them, including a few paparazzi, shouted Ava’s name. She smiled and kept going as the doorman unclipped the velvet rope allowing her and Lola to slip inside.

  The music was pounding and the dance floor crowded with bodies, thanks to two DJs who worked their magic by spinning records at a furious pace. The Mod-inspired interior was surprisingly bright. Cocktail waitresses decked out in mini-dresses and white patent-leather boots moved surely across the floor.

  Ava looked around and spied Hayden on a low leather Barcelona chair against a retractable glass wall. He had a drink in his hand and two young blond women sitting on either side of him, trying to get as close as possible. Hayden was typically handsome, well-toned with the piercing blue eyes and square jaw demanded of most leading men. All that and dimples too.