Chapter 10
“You have both your bags?” Rorie’s shoes tapped a steady rhythm against the tile floor as she paced back and forth. “What about your other set of keys?”
“Bags are in the trunk, keys are right here.” They jangled in her hands as she held them out to Rorie, who snatched them and shoved them in her pocket. “Thank you for driving me.” Cecily’s voice was small, hesitant.
Rorie stopped pacing and stood in front of her, studying her face in the dim morning light that filtered through the window near Cecily’s front door. She memorized each detail: the tiny gold flecks that dotted the deep brown of her eyes, her lips that were usually full and lush except for when she pulled them in to nibble the lipstick off when she was nervous. She was doing that right now, and it made Rorie’s heart lurch. Oh God, I’m going to miss you.
“The studio would’ve sent a car, but—”
“I couldn’t have you heading off to Portland in some studio car.”
“You’ll come by to check on the house while I’m gone?” They stepped out onto the porch, and Cecily paused to lock the door with her spare set of keys.
Rorie nodded. “And pick up the mail, and water the garden.”
“I feel so foolish now about all the fuss I went through planting that garden. I won’t get a single tomato out of it.”
“Maybe there’ll still be some on the vines when you get back in September. It’s only a few weeks away. You’ve gotten approval for that time off, right?” The thought of Cecily not being able to come home set off a tremor of panic that Rorie fought to still.
“Yeah, Jonas worked it out. I’ll have just enough time while I’m here to record all of my lines at Grant Studios and get Tyler settled in his dorm before they need me back in Portland.”
Rorie checked her watch, the one that had reminded her of Cecily every day for all the years they were apart. She’d hoped it would never have to serve that function again, but here they were saying goodbye once more. Only for a few weeks, but it already felt like an eternity. What if she doesn't come back? Rorie sighed heavily, sitting on one half of the rocking glider on the porch. “We have a few minutes before we have to leave.”
Cecily sat beside her and they pushed their feet in unison against the porch’s wooden slats until they’d achieved a gentle, steady glide. They rocked silently, their hands clasped, as they listened to the raucous chirping of the birds in the dawn light. It was already getting warm as the sun inched above the horizon. It would be a scorching August day well before noon in the LA area, though probably much cooler in Portland. Rorie opened her mouth to ask if Cecily had remembered to pack a sweater, then closed it again. If Cecily was so determined to take care of herself, she could worry about her own sweater. So what if she gets cold—it’s her own fault!
Cecily turned her head, studying Rorie’s face in much the same manner as she had done earlier, and Rorie blinked rapidly to avoid any errant tears slipping out while she was being watched. Crying in front of Cecily wasn't an option. She needed to be strong.
“I’ll miss you,” Cecily whispered.
So don’t go! Rorie bit back the words, knowing they weren’t fair. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t say them, but it didn’t matter. Like so many times before, Cecily knew what she was thinking anyway, just the same as if she’d said it aloud.
“You know how important this is to me, right?” Her tone was gentle, pleading.
Rorie shut her eyes, leaning her head back against the smooth wood of the glider. “I know it must be. Otherwise you wouldn’t try to juggle two jobs in two different states, and risk missing your son’s move-in day at school.”
“I’m not going to miss Tyler’s arrival. I’ve got it all planned. But…you think I’m being selfish.”
“I didn’t say that,” Rorie denied.
“It’s okay. I’ve been thinking about myself, it’s true. But it’s not just for me. It’s for us, too.”
“I’m not sure I see how.” Rorie’s words came out sounding as sullen as she felt.
Cecily slid her arm behind Rorie’s neck, cradling her until her head rested on Cecily’s shoulder. “Because I’ve spent enough years in a bad relationship to know what it takes to maintain a good one. For eighteen years I couldn’t think about what I wanted at all. I didn’t even feel comfortable admitting to myself that I wanted anything. You saw the person that turned me into. I don’t want to be her again.”
Rorie scowled at the porch floor. “So, what are you saying? If you’d gone after more of what you wanted, you could’ve saved your marriage?”
“Of course not.” Cecily snorted in response. “If I’d been honest about it then, the only thing I wanted was you. When you marry the man your parents tell you to after losing your heart to the woman of your dreams—let’s just say it’s not a situation you can fix with a little extra ‘me time’.”
“And that’s what you need right now, more space? More ‘me time’?” Rorie felt bitterness seeping into her words. “I mean, you already have your own place, so…”
“No, Rorie, that’s not it. You’re still what I want most. Do you know how much I hate it on Sundays when you head back to your house, or when I have to come back here? How much I want to be with you every day, and share everything with you?”
Rorie frowned, deep wrinkles creasing her brow, as she tried to understand. “If you’d waited a few weeks, you could’ve just gone back to your job close to home.”
“And pass up this opportunity? I thought I could be happy just doing voice acting, but I was wrong. I didn’t know how badly I wanted more than that until this came along.”
“Something would have come up in LA, and you could’ve moved in with me.”
“As an extra, maybe. How often do you think a forty-year old nobody with no experience gets a role like this? It’s once in a lifetime, at best. And I’m not going to move in with you just to be closer to work.”
“I know, I know. You need to know you can take care of yourself.” She said it petulantly. The excuse made her crabby. Why did people with money always think that pulling yourself up by your bootstraps was such a great thing? Cecily had plenty of resources and could afford to wait for the perfect opportunity. Besides, she would never truly be on her own as long as Rorie was there. Every time she insisted on self-reliance, Rorie feared that Cecily was rethinking her commitment to the long term.
“Not just that I can take care of myself. I need to know myself. It isn’t asking too much to figure that out first, is it? Because when I move in with you, it isn’t going to be for convenience, or because it’s just some logical next step. It’s forever. I need to be ready, because when it comes to us, anything other than forever won’t be acceptable.”
Rorie’s sour mood melted into a pool of goo and evaporated in the warmth that was generated by Cecily’s words—words that promised her everything she desired, in time. It would be hard, but she could wait. Gathering Cecily’s dark, silky hair between her fingers, she pulled her close, drawing her lips between her own until they were both so caught up in the taste and feel of each other that everything else around them disappeared. The roar of a car engine from down the block brought them back to reality. Rorie checked her watch; it was time to go.
The drive to the Orange County airport was easy at this hour of the day, and over much too quickly. Despite her protests, Rorie insisted on parking in the short-term lot so she could walk with Cecily as far as the security line. She set the suitcases on the ground, and as she reached up to close the trunk of her car, Rorie spotted one of her old hoodies tucked in the back of the space. Her earlier resolve to leave Cecily to fend for herself vanished. “It’s supposed to be colder in Portland. Did you pack a sweater or jacket?” She heard a quick intake of breath behind her and turned to see Cecily shake her head no. “Here. Take mine.” She held out the hoodie for Cecily. Like it or not, I’m watching out for you.
As they started toward the terminal, Rorie felt her cell phone vibrate
in her pocket, but with one hand pulling a rolling suitcase and the other hand grasped tightly in Cecily’s, she had no way to check it. As they reached the crosswalk to the terminal, it buzzed again, and again she ignored it. They reached the baggage check and Rorie hoisted Cecily’s bags onto the scale just as her phone vibrated again.
“Jesus, what is up with my phone!” she snapped. “It’s not even eight-thirty in the morning!” She held her finger over the screen in preparation to dismiss the email when the name in the subject line caught her attention. Grace Mulloy. She froze, a shiver snaking down her spine.
“Rorie, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
She gave herself a shake. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Only she wasn’t fine. Grace Mulloy was her mother’s name, and seeing it glowing on her phone had left her rattled.
“Sweetheart, are you sure?” Concern was etched on Cecily’s face.
Rorie opened her mouth to tell her what had just happened, but stopped. It was nothing to worry Cecily about before her trip, just an eerie coincidence and nothing more. They could talk about it later, once Rorie had figured out what was going on. She forced a smile. “I’m one hundred percent fine, except for how much I’m going to miss you.”
The security line loomed ahead of them and Rorie felt a weight pressing on her heart at the prospect of saying goodbye, but they’d put it off as long as they could. Cecily’s plane was about to board and she had to go. Stopping beside the roped entrance, Rorie kissed Cecily long and slowly, mindful only of remembering the feeling of this moment over the coming weeks. As they parted, a million tiny details flooded Rorie’s mind. “You have your boarding pass and ID? A credit card to buy food on the plane? You’re sure you packed everything…”
Cecily smiled. “Yes, I have everything. I really can take care of myself, but thanks for checking.” They kissed again. “This isn't permanent. It's only for a few months, and then I'll be home. I love you so much,” Cecily whispered, embracing Rorie one last time before making her way into the screening line.
Rorie watched, waving, until Cecily had disappeared from sight. She loitered in the terminal until the status for the flight to Portland changed from “Boarding” to “Departed.” Then, deflated, she turned to start the long walk back to her car alone. Her phone vibrated once more and she was so fed up with its pestering that she fought the urge to chuck it at the nearby escalator just to enjoy the sound of it getting crushed between the risers. But the cost of replacing the damned thing would drain most of the satisfaction away, and without it, how would she talk to Cecily? Instead she checked the screen and was puzzled to see the name of her attorney’s office.
“Hello, Ms. Mulloy? This is Helen at Wellington, Floyd, and Associates.”
Rorie mentally flipped through any contract matters that could need her attention, but she came up with nothing. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what this is about. Is there something you’re waiting on for me to sign?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s…more of a personal matter. Did you get my email?”
Rorie froze. The email with her mother’s name on it had come from her lawyer? Her heart sank. When a lawyer contacted you about a person you hadn’t heard from in years, it was rarely good news. “Is she dead?” she asked, nearly choking on the lump in her throat.
“Who, Grace Mulloy? No, she’s not dead. She came to our offices this morning looking for you.”
Rorie’s breath caught in her chest as the room around her started to spin. Stumbling to an unoccupied bench against the wall, she just managed to lower herself onto it before her trembling knees buckled beneath her.
“Ms. Mulloy?”
“Yes. Sorry. Yes, I’m here. Did…did you say that Grace Mulloy had contacted you?” She asked between ragged breaths. “My mother contacted you?”
“That’s correct. She was here first thing this morning, looking for your address. Of course, we can’t give out that kind of information, but I promised I’d call you.”
“I…I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say right now. I’m…I’m going to need to call you back later.”
She just managed to end the call before the phone slipped from her shaking hands, landing with a soft thud in her lap. She pressed her hands tightly against her face as the emotions that had been building all morning finally overflowed in a steady stream of salty tears. After all of these years, her mother was in Los Angeles and looking for her?
She grabbed her phone to call Cecily but realized that by now the plane was in the air and out of range. She prayed she could make it through the next few hours until Cecily’s plane landed. This was one thing that Rorie didn’t know if she could face on her own.
Chapter 11
The sound stages and production offices for Portland Blue were housed in Portland’s Northwest district. According to Cecily’s map, it was scarcely a mile’s walk from the loft apartment in the Pearl District where she was being housed, and was also accessible by a public street car line. Nonetheless, a white van with tinted windows sat idling in front of her building just as the sun was coming up on Monday morning to drive her to work. While less pretentious than a limousine, it did its job of making Cecily simultaneously feel like a star, and like she might be sick from the butterflies in her stomach.
She stepped out of the van in front of a massive brick warehouse, one of two that were being used by the show in what appeared to be a mostly industrial area. A large lot directly across from the buildings was jammed with white trailers in neat little rows, with narrow pathways between. As she took in her new workplace, the door to one of the warehouses opened and a petite brunette woman emerged.
“Ms. DuPont? My name’s Rachel and I’m one of the PAs. Welcome to Portland Blue!” She extended her hand and gave Cecily’s a firm shake. “You’ll meet with the director and the AD later today but—”
“I’m sorry,” Cecily interrupted, feeling more and more lost. “PA? AD? This is quite literally my first day doing this and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, forgive me, Ms. DuPont. I’m a production assistant, a PA. It means I do pretty much anything you need for as long as you’re here. Bringing you scripts, or coffee, escorting you to wardrobe—really, anything. And an AD is the assistant director. His name is Josh Cunningham. We’ve got a few different directors who rotate through, so you’ll have a chance to meet each of them in the coming weeks, along with the show runner and other producers, and the dozens of other people who keep this place running.”
“Thank you, Rachel. I’m feeling a little less lost already! And please, call me Cecily.”
“Okay, Cecily. Today’s mostly an orientation, so I’m going to start by taking you over and showing you our little trailer city across the street, starting with your trailer.”
Cecily blinked in surprise. “Mine? You mean, I get my own? But I'm only here for a few months.”
Rachel laughed, “Of course! All of the principles and recurring guest stars get their own. Come on, I’ll show you!”
They crossed the street and Rachel led them down one of the identical rows, stopping about halfway down in front of a white trailer that had a sign with Cecily’s name affixed to the door. Ascending the stairs, Cecily gasped when she saw the elegant interior. From a kitchenette with solid wood cabinets to a seating area with plump cushions and coffee table, the trailer had everything a person could want in terms of comfort.
“Are they all like this?” Cecily asked, looking around in wide-eyed wonder.
“Pretty much, except for the stars. Theirs are even nicer. There’s a bathroom, of course, and a small makeup and changing area, although we mostly use the big trailers for that. This one doesn’t have a separate bed, but I think one of the sofas pulls out if you need to rest.”
“A person could live in one of these.” After her experience in the cramped dressing rooms of an old theater, it had never occurred to her that a trailer could be so nice.
“There’s a reason for that. Some
days it’s going to feel like you do live here. It’s not uncommon for our days to last up to sixteen hours, especially when we’re on location and only have one day to shoot all the scenes. You’ll be grateful to have a place to rest on those days.”
“So these trailers get moved to the different locations?”
Rachel nodded. “Wherever we’re filming, that’s where they get set up. It can get a little disorienting when you’re in a different place every day of the week, but your trailer gives you some semblance of familiarity. Come on, we’ll go over to makeup next.”
The makeup trailer was identical to Cecily’s trailer from the outside, but the inside was entirely white with a long counter and mirrors running its length, and half a dozen stations set up with black hair salon chairs. Five of the stations were empty, but a blonde woman sat in the final chair, eyes closed, while a makeup artist applied the finishing touches to her face.
Cecily stared at the woman, recognition dawning. “Bailey?”
The woman’s eyes flew open. “Cecily? Oh my God, it is you!”
Laughing, Cecily walked to the far end of the trailer. “I had no idea you were working on this show!” She exchanged hugs and air-kisses with her friend.
“Jonas finally came through for me. A leading role!” Bailey grinned. “I’m playing Kate Crenshaw, rookie cop.”
“Jonas, of course!” Cecily put her hand to her forehead, making the connection. “That explains it. He’s my agent, too. I guess that’s how we both ended up here. I’ll be playing Laura Markus, seasoned FBI agent. For six episodes, anyway.”
“Oh, Cecily! That’s really great news. What a way to bounce back. I heard about you and your husband splitting up,” she added in a stage whisper that could be heard across the room. “Is it true that he cheated on you, the bastard?”
“Oh, well, I guess…technically…” Cecily had the distinct impression that Bailey hadn’t heard the whole story. “It was mutual, really. And I’m dating Rorie, now, so…”
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