by Zoe Wildau
“Alright, email me the contract,” she said. “But, can you do me favor? Don’t mention this to anyone outside the movie?”
Lilly figured that she’d better be specific if she wanted to nail down Alison on a commitment to be discreet. “Not a word to Phillip, or Jake,” she said.
Alison hesitated. “Lilly, you’re under contract to Mjicon. I can’t promise that.”
“Can you at least hold up until I’m out of town?”
“Is there some problem I need to know about?” Alison asked, now not sounding so pleased.
“No, nothing you need to know about. It’s personal,” she said.
There was a long silence. Lilly stood on the corner, balancing her bike between her legs and watching the traffic.
“Alright. Sign the contract and email it back to me. Drop an original by the office, or better yet, put it in the mail. I won’t get the original for a day or two, but I’ll have to turn it in to Mjicon as soon as I do. Good enough?”
Relieved, she said, “Yeah. Thanks. Thanks for the opportunity, too.”
Lilly wasn’t sure what got into Alison, but her next words were sincere. “Lilly,” she said, “whatever’s going on, don’t let it ruin your relationship with Mjicon. Your professional relationships are your passport to better opportunities.” Even over the traffic noise, she couldn’t miss the emphasis on “professional”.
“I know.” Her throat was suddenly tight at Alison’s unexpected concern. “Thanks.”
Alison signed off with a cryptic, “And watch your back with Sergei.”
“Who’s Sergei?” Lilly asked, but the line was dead.
Her next stop before going home was Boulevard Hardware. She was terribly unsteady biking back with a gallon of white paint in her backpack and nearly wrecked her bike two more times. But by eight p.m., she sighed with relief standing in the doorway of her pristine white studio. She’d covered every wall surface twice, three times on the ceiling. The room stank of the latex paint she’d used to exorcise Jake. Her Jake casts, drawings and boards were bundled together and stacked by the front door. Greg, no questions asked, had promised to swing by to pick them up and throw them away in the dumpster behind his shop.
Sitting down to check her email, she saw that the contract from Alison had come through. She hit print, knowing she was supposed to have someone in Mjicon’s legal department review it before she signed. Shrugging with defiant apathy, she signed anyway, and scanned and emailed the signature page back to Alison. She was just sticking the original in the outgoing mail when Greg pulled up.
Stepping up on to the porch, he said, “You okay?”
At the concern in his voice, her tears welled up.
Looking away and blinking fast she said, “Yeah. Let’s just get this stuff out of here, okay? Can you check on Madcap on Saturday? I’m headed out Friday morning, and Kyle’s leaving for Houston that afternoon. Lionel’s going to come down Sunday to pick up Madcap and take her to their house.”
“Sure, sure,” he said, dropping the concerned tone in favor of his characteristic Greg agreeability.
Lilly and he together made three trips to the van to get rid of the bundles of plaster, paper and foam core boards. When they were done, she led Greg to her completed Feast collage, which had been leaning against the living room wall, too heavy to hang by herself.
She’d used the final plaster Allegrezza for part of it. She’d cut the head and torso on a compound angle and attached the cast to the frame so that it stood out in relief on one side. Allegrezza glared over the collage of memorabilia from the film. The opposite side of the collage was a much more abstract representation of Maya and the angel Blaylock. Their side of the large work was bright and colorful, and the items she had selected and arranged on that side were whimsical, cheerful or spiritual. A silvered mirror, the bishop’s scepter and other bright items were fitted together in the vague outline of angel’s wings hovering behind a female form that dissolved into a flowing petalled skirt. Toward the center, and moving to Allegrezza’s side of the canvas, the items became increasingly darker until, just touching Jake’s torso, were props from the most violent scenes in Feast, a bloodied stake, a ritual blade, the axe from Wyoming. Staring at the piece with a squint from a few feet away, the colors blurred together in such a way that there appeared a landscape moving from a sunny, sandy beach to nighttime in the shadow of the mountains.
“This one’s too heavy for us to move. Could you send someone over later this week?”
Greg, open-mouthed, said, “This is gonna be worth a fortune. You sure you don’t want to hold on to it and sell it after the movie’s out?”
“No. I just want it gone,” she said, not looking twice at the work. “Please, you take it and sell it.”
Greg stepped back, squinting at the piece. Lilly walked away toward the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Let me get you a beer.”
She stopped in her tracks as she passed the still open front door. The McLaren was parked in front of Greg’s Get-A-Grip van. She stood in place, watching as he got out of his car and walked up the short path to her door. He was alone this time.
When he looked up and saw her, she stepped forward, shut the front door and locked it. She didn’t expect that to stop him, but it would set the tone for whatever conversation they were going to have. She headed into the kitchen to get Greg’s beer. And one for herself.
The doorbell rang as she opened the refrigerator. And rang again as she took her time opening two beers.
“You want me to get that?” Greg asked from the family room, still studying the Feast collage.
“No.”
At her response, Greg looked toward her and then at the shut front door. “Something wrong, Peanut?” Greg asked.
“It’s Jake.” Her answer was nearly drowned out as Jake pounded so hard that the door hinges rattled.
Although not particularly tall, Greg was bulky and heavily muscled. He visibly bristled. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Lilly wanted nothing to do with Jake Durant. Greg puffed up, hulked over, unlocked and yanked open the door.
“Go away, Durant. She doesn’t want what you’re selling,” he nearly shouted.
Jake, who played and coached a variety of sports when he wasn’t working, including ice hockey, checked Greg’s attempt to slam the door in his face by shoving his shoulder into it, propelling Greg backwards into the living area.
When Greg stepped forward and looked about to take a swing, Lilly moved as quickly as she could to step between them.
“Don’t,” she said, grabbing Greg’s forearm before he could wind up.
Greg looked down at her hand on his arm. “You want me to throw him out, just say the word.”
Lilly did want Greg to throw him out. And beat him to a pulp on the sidewalk. And kick him into the street and then run over him with his van.
She looked over at Jake, measuring him up, wondering if anyone could.
Then she felt it. That whole body pull. An invisible rope tied around her waist tugged at her, bending her toward him.
She slipped under Greg’s arm, restraining herself as much as him.
“Go away, Jake,” she said, echoing Greg’s command, although not nearly as forcefully.
“Not this time, Lilly. I’m not going anywhere. You,” he shoved his finger at Greg, “leave us alone. Now.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Greg said, not intimidated. Greg pulled her tighter against his side and reached into his back pocket for his phone. “I’m calling the police.”
Jake looked at Lilly. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” Then, when it seemed she was going to let Greg call the police on him, he adjusted his aggressive stance and pleaded with her, “Don’t do this.”
Lilly didn’t trust herself with Jake, but she didn’t want the nightmare of the police coming to her house. She covered Greg’s hand on his phone. Stepping out from under the cover of his arm, she said, “Let him say what he has to say. Then he can leave.”
Jake’s jaw clenched. “Is he your boyfriend, Lilly?” he asked, his tone turning scornful.
Lilly found her backbone. “Wouldn’t it be better if he was? You can go report that to your private investigator. What’s his name? John? The one who thinks I’m stalking you?”
Jake’s face turned white. “Did John come here?”
“You’re unbelievable!” she screeched. “You know he did! I saw you, Jake. In my house, snooping around. Taking pictures!”
Jake had the good graces to look contrite. “You were here?”
“Yes, Jake, I was here. What exactly is it that you think I did?” she asked angrily.
“Nothing. I didn’t think you did anything. I just asked John to check in on you. I didn’t think he would draw the conclusions that he did.” Jake impulsively looked toward the studio.
Even from across the room Jake could feel the studio’s emptiness. He stepped around Lilly and Greg and went to stand in the doorway. The plaster Allegrezzas were gone. Everything – walls, ceiling – was painted a sterile white.
Jake rubbed his hand over his eyes. Months of creative work that Lilly had poured herself into, revolving around him, had vanished. When he’d been there earlier that afternoon, he had wanted to come back without John, study her work, spend hours with her talking about how she did what she did. Try to understand her incredible talent, her frightening imagination.
“Is it all gone?” he asked, turning back toward her.
“Yes. Done and gone, and good riddance.”
When Jake’s eyes lighted on the Feast collage leaning against her living room wall, she stepped in front of it. “This is going, too.”
She wasn’t just running away from him this time. She was cutting him out of her life.
“Please, leave us alone, Greg,” he asked quietly.
“No, don’t,” she said, as if that were a possibility. Greg wasn’t going anywhere, she knew.
“You need to leave, Durant,” Greg said, pushing up his sleeves.
Jake looked frustratingly at Greg, then at her. “I crossed a line, today. I’m sorry. I was worried about you.”
“Really?” she cut in, incredulously. “Exactly how worried about me were you Jake, while you were hanging out on the beach with Sierra?”
“Extremely,” he said, his lips pressed in a firm line. “I came home early, on Monday, to check on you.”
“Check on me? Or spy on me?” she accused.
Jake looked away from her, guilty. “I wasn’t spying on you because I thought you had anything to do with Campbell.”
That threw her. “Campbell?”
“Yes. He’s why I was so worried about you. The police arrested him on Sunday night. He broke into Sierra’s apartment, and he’s been trying to blackmail her.
“He’s driven by your house before, not long after I caught the fucker pawing you in the Lab.”
Lilly felt an involuntary shiver. “That man you hired to break into my house thinks I conspired with Campbell?”
“No,” he said, unconvincingly. She knew it was true, and she bet at least a part of Jake suspected her, too. She would, if she were Jake. The kernel of truth in the thought that she did seem like the stalker type made her even angrier. What was it that Cheapshirt had said as he snapped pictures of her Jake room?
“Your investigator, he thinks I’m unbalanced. Whacked. And you know what? I was, thinking it was a good idea to… to….” she broke off. She couldn’t say what she and Jake had done in Hawaii in front of Greg.
“Go back to your girlfriend, Jake. I don’t need you worrying about me, and I don’t want you in my life,” she said, voicing the worst lie she’d ever told.
“Sierra’s not my girlfriend,” Jake said firmly.
“What is she then?” Lilly felt a tiny spark of hope, but it flickered and threatened to go out when Jake didn’t answer. She walked into the kitchen and picked up the gossip magazine that Kyle had brought home last night. Opening it to the page with Sierra and Jennis sunning themselves, she walked back and handed it to Jake.
“She’s clearly a big part of your life,” she said.
Jake ran his hand through his hair, looking at the magazine, then at Greg.
“It’s complicated,” he said.
Lilly felt her blood run cold as the tiny spark blinked out completely.
“Yes, I imagine it is. Please leave now.”
Greg stepped forward, prepared to throw him out.
Jake ignored him, studying her cold, closed expression. “Okay,” he sighed. “But I’m coming back tomorrow. You will talk to me.”
“Please don’t. There’s nothing you can say.” Lilly was afraid she’d cave in, continue their affair, until there was nothing left of her to salvage.
“I have a lot to say, but I need to talk to Sierra.”
No, no, no. She didn’t want any part of this anymore. She needed to get away.
“You can’t come tomorrow,” she said, thinking fast. “I’ve got things to do. You can come on Friday.” Lilly would be well on her way to New Zealand by then. She’d have to warn Kyle to clear out early.
“Alright. Friday,” he nodded, placated for now. “Look after her,” he said to Greg, who scowled after him all the way out the door.
Chapter 31
In New Zealand, Lilly buried her broken heart and anger in rotting body parts, sloughing skin and gnashing teeth. The special effects on Quentin’s zombie-centric, post-apocalyptic disaster film far outnumbered those on Feast, and she only had two days to get her bearings before the first day of filming. The budget did allow for a team of five assistants, two of whom were experienced, which eased the burden. Easing it further was the fact that zombie themes had been a mainstay in film and television for years. Pre-formed zombie appliances were readily available. Her team didn’t have to cast the performers or make molds and appliances from scratch. All manner of decaying human and animal parts – gaping mouths, popping eyes, bashed in skulls complete with clotted hair – had been ordered and were ready to use.
Still, it was a big production, and the sheer amount of work had Lilly and her team constantly scurrying, filling the Wellington studio with zombies until it really felt overrun. On Friday, the crew moved to Queenstown, where they’d be filming on location the following week. Lilly slept like the dead for the entire thirteen-hour bus trip. She was glad to be busy, happy for the exhaustion that allowed her to sleep. To not think about Jake. She was so tired at the end of each day, she didn’t even dream.
Jake had called her every night since she’d fled LA. When she wouldn’t answer, he would text her, “Pls pick up.”
By Thursday night, as she was packing for the trip to Queenstown, she thought she just might be able to handle his nightly call. She had watched him on the nearly complete behind the scenes video so many times that she was becoming numb to him. Since leaving the States, she had received a steady stream of emails from Park’s assistant, Davina, seeking her approval on the final edits. The last big decision was the song that would overlay the piece. Davina had imported different soundtracks and uploaded the videos with music to Mjicon’s secure weblink so that Lilly could view and listen to them remotely.
“New Zealand? You ran to New Zealand?” Jake exclaimed when she finally picked up.
“I’m working,” she’d said coolly. “What do you want?”
“You said we could talk.”
“So talk,” she said, belligerently. This was much better, she decided. She was much more comfortable hearing what he had to say from a distance.
“When are you coming home?” he asked.
He had her contract by now. He knew the job was at least a month long commitment.
“If you have something to say, then say it. Otherwise, I’ve got a lot of packing to do here.”
“Are you going to accept the Art Director position on Strange? They’re waiting on your answer up here.” Jake must be
in Vancouver.
“No.” There. She’d said it out loud. She was not going to take her dream job.
“Lilly, why? Please be sensible.”
“I am being sensible, Jake. I have no interest in working with you.”
“You can’t say no to this. Tell me what to say, what I can do to convince you.”
“No more questions. Say what you have to say, or I’m hanging up.”
“I need to see you,” he said.
Oh no. She could feel the pull of him even over the cell phone.
“I don’t think so,” she said, but her voice quavered. She hung up.
He called four more times and texted her twice. “I am saying yes for you” and, “I am not giving up.”
She opened her laptop and responded to the last of Ravi’s ten urgent red-flagged emails. “Ravi: Please express my sincere gratitude to Mr. Gilliam. However, I am unable to accept his generous offers. Thank you for all of your hard work. I’ll call you when I’m back from New Zealand.”
In Queenstown on Saturday morning, Lilly and her crew were working with the one hundred extras who would be filmed on Monday for a mob zombie scene on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. She’d scheduled a series of group meetings so that she and her team could meet with each and every one of the extras. In staggered sessions, working in groups of ten, she and her crew test-fit and pre-painted all of the applications that would be used in the scene. Without a systematic approach, the setup Monday morning would have been impossible.
At the end of the long day, Lilly saw Sergei Taranovo making his way toward her. She had just about finished packing up the last of the pre-made appliances and paint. She couldn’t quite figure out Sergei’s position on the film, but it was a powerful one. As the second “T” in TnT Productions, Sergei’s hand was in every part of the production. He filled the AD’s role that Alison had on Feast, but he also single-handedly directed the mass crowd scenes, including the scenes being shot in Queenstown.
Sergei’s progress was slow as he stopped on the way to thank various extras and crewmembers for their hard work, but his trajectory toward her was clear. He was a pleasant change from Alison in the way that he effusively doled out compliments, but a part of Lilly longed for Alison’s directness. She was pretty sure Sergei was hitting on her, and that she wasn’t the only female crewmember to get the same treatment, but he was subtle in his advances. Lilly suspected that the “relationship trouble” Alison had alluded to had something to do with Sergei’s trolling tendencies. If he would just come out with it, she could shut him down and be done with it. As it was, she felt off balance and unsure how to handle his attention.
