by Lucy Lambert
She looked at my laptop screen. I realized I should have closed it when she came in. “And that?”
I swallowed hard. “I’ve been thinking about going back home. Back to Maine.”
“Dropping out? Erin, are you crazy? You’re so close to finishing!”
She stood up, put her finger on the touchpad, and moused over to the corner of the screen, closing the window with the withdrawal forms as though I couldn’t just bring them back up again with five seconds in Google.
“I don’t think this is the life for me anymore,” I said. “What’s the point in finishing? Why waste more time?”
“Because it’s stupid of you to give up right now. I know that it must hurt, and that sucks. But you’re only punishing yourself if you do this,” she said.
“It’s my life. I’ll do what I want with it. I don’t want to yell at you, Sam, so would you please go? And close the door behind you.”
“Don’t do anything yet,” Sam said, standing, “Take some more time to think about it. Tell me you’ll do that.”
“I’m not making any promises,” I said. I squeezed my hands harder between my thighs.
A thin line of worry appeared between Sam’s eyebrows. I could see her thinking about staying, trying to draw me out of my shell, but she left.
When she closed the door, I turned back to my laptop and Googled those withdrawal forms again.
I didn’t withdraw. Not right away, at least. I left the PDF forms up on my laptop, all of them filled out. They just needed to be printed, signed, and submitted to the registrar.
The next week I got an email from the studio, inviting me to go to the Warhawk wrap party.
All the principal photography for the film was done, barring any reshoots requested by the studio when they saw the first cut.
As was traditional, the cast and crew wanted to throw a party to celebrate.
Apparently, rather than hosting it at a club, they’d decided to throw the party back at the studio itself, in Studio 9 where a lot of the movie had been filmed.
I hovered the cursor over the delete button, but changed my mind.
I decided to go. One last hurrah, I figured. Plus, I’d gotten to know quite a few people there and I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. I’d just have to do my best to avoid Vance.
That night, I put on my black dress. I was on the bus on my way to the studio when I remembered that I’d worn that same dress out with Vance to that weird rooftop bar downtown. Too late to go back and change.
Don’t let him take this, too, I thought. I looked good in that dress, and I wasn’t about to let Vance ruin that for me, too.
The party started at ten that night, well after dark. At the gate, I showed the guard my passcard. On the other side, a man in studio livery waited with a golf cart, chauffeuring people over to the warehouse.
I grew more nervous the closer we came. I gripped the seat hard, swallowing against the acid burbling up from my stomach.
Music pounded out into the night air, some synth club stuff that I didn’t know.
“Thanks,” I said when he dropped me off at the entrance.
I made my way into the warehouse, following the arrows on printer paper taped to the walls, directing me to the party proper. The music grew louder, the bass reverbing and vibrating in my chest.
There were over two hundred people milling and writhing about on the soundstage. It was the set of the German castle that caught my attention.
I thought about hanging the red pennants off it, of almost falling from that ladder.
Panic gripped my stomach and I started turning, meaning to leave.
“Hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”
It was Mitch. He held a translucent plastic cup of frothy beer in one hand. He wrapped the other around me in a one-armed hug. I hugged him back.
“I wouldn’t miss this,” I said.
I was so happy to see him. Much more than I thought I’d be. I hugged him harder.
“Whoa! Don’t squeeze me too hard. Not good for the old back,” he said, smiling at me when we parted. “How are you doing?”
I shrugged, “Okay, I guess.”
He nodded, and I wondered how much he knew. I braced myself, waiting for the questions, wondering how I might explain. But he didn’t ask.
“It’s all going to work out. Now, go see your friends! Have fun! Smile,” he said, demonstrating with a grin of his own.
I smiled back at him. He patted me on the shoulder and then went to go mingle with some of the teamsters camping out around one of the kegs.
I looked around, watching for Vance. I definitely didn’t want to run into him.
I saw him and my heart nearly stopped. He stood near the big fake doors to the castle, speaking with Troy Sanders and the man I recognized from the UK as the second unit director.
My breath caught and I turned away, coming face-to-face with Danny.
“Hey!” he said, grinning at me.
“Hi,” I said, a touch wary.
He noticed. “Look, I’m really sorry about all that stuff before. I promise I’ll be normal.” He took a gulp from his own cup of beer.
“It’s okay,” I replied.
And from there, I had something that resembled a good time. Danny and I wandered around the big room, talking to groups of PAs, to the gaffers and the grips and some of the stunt doubles. All the people we’d worked with for months.
I kept stealing glances at Vance from across the room. I didn’t know if he noticed me, if he kept his distance on purpose, but I didn’t see him looking back at me.
For that, I was grateful. Grateful and miffed. Is he over me already? I slammed that question back, remembering that he might never have really been into me in the first place.
The music changed, and a bunch of people gathered in the middle of the huge space to dance beneath the flashing lights.
“You want to go dance?” Danny asked.
I looked back at Vance, who still stood apart from everyone with the director. “Sure,” I said.
We danced. It was hot in that press of people. Danny tried cozying up to me a couple times, but each time I urged him back a little and he went.
At one point it became too much. “I need some air!” I said.
I left the room, going into the tangle of hallways that led between the various offices and storage units in the warehouse.
Danny followed me. He found me leaning against the wall, hugging myself hard.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Not really, but I will be,” I replied. I kind of wanted to be alone, but I didn’t have the heart to ask him to go.
“It’s Vance, isn’t it?” Danny asked. “What did he do?”
“You mean you haven’t read all about it already?”
He shrugged, “There was some stuff, but it wasn’t really clear. I hate that guy. I’d never treat you like he did.”
“Thanks,” I said. I gave him a smile. Apparently that was my mistake.
He put he hands on my hips and kissed me. I turned my head at the last moment so his lips found my cheek instead of my mouth.
I pushed him away. “I said I don’t like you that way, Danny. Please just leave me alone.”
I tried getting out of his grasp, but his hands held tighter.
“Come on, I want you so bad,” Danny said.
He leaned in for another kiss. This time I got my arms in between us and shoved, hard. He staggered away, back slamming against the opposite wall.
His face contorted, splotchy redness appearing in his cheeks, “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m nice to you! And you’re just a bitch back to me.”
“I don’t owe you anything for your niceness! Why can’t you understand that? I try to be nice and let you down easy but you don’t get the hint, then I literally have to shove you away and I get called a bitch for that?”
“No way,” Danny insisted. “You’ve been giving me signals this whole time! I deserve m
ore than just the friend zone.”
I shook my head. “You don’t deserve anything. And what signals? You mean me trying to be your friend? Because that’s all I ever wanted. I’m sorry if you thought there was more, but there isn’t.”
“Like hell,” he said.
He started towards me again, teeth bared in a snarl.
Then Vance was there. He grabbed Danny by the shoulders and threw him back against the wall, pinning him there.
“What is going on here?” Vance demanded.
“Get the hell off me,” Danny said. But Vance had half a foot and fifty pounds on him, and had no trouble holding him in place no matter how much he struggled.
He looked past Vance. “You really chose him over me? Really?”
“I’m not choosing either of you,” I said. “Why can’t you understand that?”
Danny lunged, but Vance slammed him back again. Vance leaned in good and close, the tips of their noses almost touching. “Get the hell out of here.”
“Make me.”
Vance did.
He threw him down the hall towards the exit door, Danny landing hard on his butt. He tried standing, but Vance stalked towards him, hands balling into fists as he went.
Danny’s eyes widened. He scampered backwards on his hands and feet. When he hit the door he hauled himself up by the latch. He opened it and squeezed through the gap.
The door closed slowly, and we both heard the latch click back into place when it settled back in the frame.
Only then did Vance turn to face me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I knew it was a mistake coming here tonight,” I said. I went back to hugging myself.
“Then why did you?”
“Not to see you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Are you following me?”
His jaw worked before he spoke. “I saw you run out and I wanted to make sure you were fine. Good thing I did, too.”
“I didn’t need your help,” I said.
“Sure. I remember that dress.”
My heartstrings went taut. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice. I didn’t want him thinking I put it on because of him.
Didn’t you? I thought. Maybe on some subconscious level I’d chosen that dress. Chosen not to think about it until it was too late to change.
I refused to believe that.
“Well take a good look, because this is the last time you’re seeing it. Or me,” I said. It hurt too much to be around him. I guess I’m the one who’s not over him.
“We need to talk,” he said.
He took a step towards me. I stepped back and he stopped. “No. No more talking. Talking’s not going to do any good. Leave me alone, please.”
“Erin…” he started.
Pressure pushed at the back of my eyes and I couldn’t look at him anymore. I needed to be alone, needed to get away.
I turned and ran down the hall.
I shoved the door to the women’s bathroom open. I went over to the long vanity and ran the cold water, splashing my face with it and looking in the mirror.
The harshness of the fluorescent tube lighting showed every stray hair, every bit of puffiness beneath my eyes from the suppressed tears. I look terrible.
The thing was, I was grateful he stepped in. Danny had looked at me with something crazy in his eyes. Something that said he wouldn’t stop. And Vance stopped him.
I couldn’t let Vance know any of that, though. And I didn’t intend to.
I leaned closer to the mirror, touching my face, looking at my red-rimmed eyes, wondering if there was some way to reduce the puffiness before I went back out.
It would just be to catch a cab back at the gate, in the dark, but I still didn’t want to go looking like this.
Then Vance came in, the door squeaking on its hinges when he passed through. I looked at him in the mirror, choosing the reflection instead of the reality to look at.
“You can’t be here. This is the women’s bathroom!”
“I don’t care.”
My heart thudded so hard I could see my chest beating from the corner of my eye in the mirror.
“I told you that we’re not talking anymore,” I said.
“You’re right,” he said. “Talking’s not going to get us anywhere.”
“Then what…?”
He advanced on me. He put a hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him. Then he took my face in his hands and kissed me, hard and insistent.
His mouth was warm and sweet and fit perfectly against mine. My knees started going weak.
Then I realized what was happening.
I pushed him away. “This isn’t going to fix anything,” I said.
My body thrummed.
“How do you know?” he asked
“I just do.”
I couldn’t resist any longer. It was such a mistake coming here tonight. A huge mistake.
I thought all that and more when I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him hard against me. Our mouths locked together again.
My hands slipped under his jacket, feeling the hard muscle beneath the smooth cotton of his shirt.
He grabbed me hard, almost crushing me against him.
His hands slid down to my butt. He squeezed. I groaned.
Is this really happening? Is it? Is this what I want?
It was.
He lifted me onto the vanity, hiking the hem of my dress up my thighs. Our lips stayed locked together, the heat of our kiss almost burning me, the stubble on his cheeks prickling me.
There wasn’t any thought in this. Nothing rational. Only desire.
My fingers worked his belt loose, then the button on his slacks. They pulled his zipper down. I reached in, found him. His breath caught when I touched him.
My body responded in a primal way. In the only way it knew how when it came to Vance Tracker. With a quivering heat that left me more breathless than any of his kisses.
His fingers were rough against my bare thighs. I liked it when he touched me and squeezed me. Liked feeling how he could barely contain himself.
Then those same fingers pulled my panties to the side.
I guided him, gasping when he pushed against me. The gasp turned to a groan when the push became too much and I parted around him, letting him slip deep inside.
Our passions burned hot and high. Short-lived but furious. Angry, even.
And the heat. I couldn’t believe that heat.
We finished with my arms wrapped around his shoulders, his arms hooked beneath my knees.
He kissed me hard, sucked my bottom lip between his teeth. He let it out slowly.
We pulsed and throbbed together.
Even though it didn’t take long, sweat pasted my hair to my forehead. My lungs couldn’t drag in enough air. Every muscle went so tense I thought they might all snap. They didn’t.
Instead, they went loose and rubbery so that I had to lean back against the cold glass of the mirror.
Vance swallowed hard, his throat working.
We parted, cleaning up without speaking. Water hissed from the taps, then stopped while we stood side-by-side. I ached, inside and out, but I refused to let him see that.
I looked at his reflection and he looked at mine.
“That was a mistake,” I said.
“No,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied, “We have to stay out of each other’s lives. It’s dangerous, for both of us. I can’t handle this. I can’t handle you.”
“What are you saying?” Vance said, frowning.
“I’m leaving.”
“The shoot’s over, Erin. There’s nothing to leave.”
“I’m leaving school. I’m leaving California. It’s the only way I can think of to be sure.”
“Don’t,” he said.
“I have to, Vance! You lied to me. You used me. I can’t be with you knowing all that. I can’t handle what my life’s turned into. Even if I want to, it wouldn’t be right. It’s such a bad foundation. L
ike building a house on sand.”
I stared hard at his reflection. He stared defiance back at me, and I knew he wasn’t going to give up.
“You know how when a character coughs in a movie, it means they’re going to die, or when a woman throws up it automatically means she’s pregnant? Those are telegraphs. They tell the audience something they know, on at least a subconscious level. And this, what just happened, that tells me that leaving is the right thing to do. Because that was goodbye sex. Nothing more.”
“It was much more than that. Admit it,” he said.
I didn’t say anything more. I left. I walked out of the bathroom, out of the warehouse, out of the studio.
I didn’t look back, either. Even though I wanted to.
Vance didn’t follow me. Even though I thought he might.
I tossed a rolled up pair of jeans into my luggage. It landed on a pile of socks and underwear.
My closet door was open, the rod bare. All my shirts lay on the bed, along with most of my other possessions.
The bed itself was bare, the bedclothes in a heap in the corner.
I have too much stuff, I kept thinking. I’d have to get my roommates to ship a bunch back to Maine for me. Or leave a bunch of it here. I wasn’t sure yet which.
My laptop still showed those mostly complete withdrawal forms. I figured I’d print and sign them and then hand them in on my way to the airport.
I hadn’t told my mom or dad yet. I didn’t want them asking me to reconsider moving back. I figured they couldn’t turn me away if I showed up on their doorstep.
The party had been two days prior, and I did my best to put it out of my mind.
I grabbed my printed skirt from the pile and just held it out in front of me, examining the pattern. I wore it a lot as Vance’s “assistant,” and I didn’t know if I could keep it.
Someone knocked on my door.
Feeling guilty, I spun to face the door, hiding the skirt behind my back as though someone could look at it and know what it meant to me.
“Kinda busy,” I said.
“Can I come in?” It was Sam’s voice, muffled by the door.
“Will you go away if I say no?” I replied.
“Probably not, but you can try your luck.”
I sighed. “Fine.”
