Piper Day's Ultimate Guide To Avoiding George Clooney

by Vanessa Fewings

  “Yes, Emily,” Grayson said.

  “It’s...well...when you have a...” she began, “a boo boo, you can go to see the nurse and she will make it better when my mommy’s kisses don’t.”

  “Very good,” he said. “Now see what Piper’s wearing. It’s a uniform.” Grayson’s enthusiasm was catching. “Now wearing a uniform means that the people who do a certain job all dress the same so that we’ll know who they are.”

  “Like a fireman,” one of the children offered.

  “Yes, fireman wear uniforms too,” Grayson said. “Who else wears uniforms?”

  “Princess Leia,” said Troy. “And Chewbacca.”

  Grayson smiled sweetly. “Those are characters in a movie, Troy. Not real people.”

  Troy’s eyes widened with interest.

  “Star Wars is pretty awesome though,” Grayson added.

  My left arm brushed his and I went to apologize, but if Grayson had felt it he didn’t say anything.

  He seemed lost in a sea of thought. “Thank you for being here.” He gave me the sweetest smile.

  “Are you kidding,” I said, “Thank you for inviting me over to hang with you guys.”

  Grayson swept his hand through the air. “You have a captive audience. No pressure, but they’ll remember everything you say and later they’ll repeat it over and over again.” He took off his hat and placed it beside him. “But they’re also a very forgiving audience.”

  “Well when it comes to boo boos, I’m the person on the lot that everyone comes to see to make them better.” I returned a smile to Troy and continued, “When I was your age, I knew I wanted to be a nurse and help people. It’s a wonderful job. You get to do something nice for someone every day. When someone is scared or upset I get to make them feel better. That’s pretty much how I spend my day.”

  Troy raised his hand.

  “Yes Troy,” Grayson said.

  The boy sat up. “Do you get to see things like... on the TV where someone’s arm falls off?”

  I glanced at Grayson for a prompt on how best to answer.

  Grayson nodded it was fine.

  “I’m trained to deal with pretty much anything.”

  “Even lion bites?” Troy said.

  “Lion bites are rare, “Grayson said, “which means they hardly ever happen.” He smiled. “How amazing is Piper? She knows exactly what to do if any of us get hurt. She’s the one we’ll call to make us better.”

  “And you can call me anytime,” I said, though when realizing how that sounded I quickly added, “if you need me that is. If you’re hurt, I mean.”

  Grayson’s dreamy blue eyes held mine. “Thank you, Piper. It’s good to know you’re here.”

  Silence ensued.

  “My cat coughed up a fur ball this morning,” Emily said, snapping me back into the room.

  “What?” Grayson drew his eyes away from mine and faced her. “Oh, no Emily, you’re thinking of a veterinarian, also called a vet. Vets take care of animals. Nurses take care of people.”

  I hesitated to look over at him for fear of revealing how self-conscious I’d suddenly become. So I tried to place this feeling, my cheeks blushing wildly.

  Grayson put his hat back on and picked up the book. “Who wants some more Cat in the Hat?”

  There came a mutual cry of approval.

  “I should go, then?” I said, shifting to get up.

  “What?” Grayson chuckled. “Don’t you want to know how it ends?” He waved the book in the air.

  “I kind of do.” I sat back down, enjoying the innocence of the moment, marveling at how safe it made me feel.

  Grayson’s focus lingered for a moment on the open page and then he looked up at the children and began narrating, the words memorized over time.

  Their faces were wide eyed with excitement. Each and every one of them, even Troy, were quiet now and following along, lost in their imaginations.

  Grayson’ s expressions matched the story, his tone rhyming perfectly and his hands animating the tale dramatically, sharing with us the cat’s antics of balancing an impossible number of items upon his head and causing no end of chaos.

  My smile made my face ache.

  CHAPTER 13

  Le Fleur, Hollywood’s exclusive fashion boutique, was tucked away just off Melrose.

  From the expensively labeled price tags, it seemed this store hosted only high-end clientele who could afford to shop here. Standing before the long, silver framed changing room mirror, I questioned if I belonged in a shop meant only for the town’s skinny elite. I breathed in as far as humanly possible, waiting for Ellie to finish zipping up the back of the sleek gown I was trying on.

  “I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” I said, wondering if sucking in one’s stomach could be considered an Olympic sport.

  “This is definitely the dress,” Ellie said, tugging the right sleeve of the Ralph Lauren evening gown down my right arm.

  The black satin poured over my curves, with its simple and perfectly fitted sweetheart beaded bodice and its floor length skirt flared elegantly. “I think it might be,” I said, chewing my lip, undecided. The yards of material around my feet reminded me how short I was. Still, a seamstress could easily take it up.

  My thoughts drifted to yesterday when I’d hung out with Grayson and his adorable class of four-year-olds. I’d been secretly scheming how to visit the childcare center again without making it obvious. Other than bumping into Grayson on the lot, I didn’t see how else it would happen. Replaying the short time I’d spent in his classroom, I tried to recall if he’d shown any sign of liking me. We had shared a moment, but goodness knows what he’d been thinking. Astonishment at the extent of my quirkiness, probably. It was best to nudge thoughts of him aside and get on with choosing an outfit that camouflaged my curves.

  The curtain yanked back and the sour faced shop girl peered in.

  “This is the one,” Ellie said, feeling the need to reassure her we could actually afford it.

  “It’s gorgeous,” the shop girl replied, tilting her head as she mulled over a thought, her over-plucked eyebrows raised in a question. “Now all you need are Spanx.”

  With a nod, I agreed with her.

  She yanked the curtain closed and disappeared.

  “I am wearing Spanx,” I muttered to Ellie.

  “Oh she’s just jealous you’re going to the Oscars,” Ellie whispered.

  “You told her?” I gestured for my friend to help me out of the dress.

  “She was like a pit bull out there.” Ellie unzipped me. “In this town, mentioning the Oscars is like throwing a lump of meat to an angry dog.”

  “I’m not quite sure what that means.”

  “It means you can get away with anything if you’re Hollywood royalty.”

  My face must have spoken the words I was thinking.

  “She doesn’t need to know you’re not connected,” Ellie said.”We just want her to think that.”

  “Why?”

  “So we get a discount.”

  I marveled at her reasoning. “Why would a person who can easily afford this ask for a discount?”

  “Celebs get things for free all the time. It’s well known. Think of the Oscar gift bags. Free.”

  I peeled off the Spanx, enjoying the simple sensation of breathing again. Something I’d taken for granted.

  “Now remember.” Ellie pointed to my Spanx. “Never let a man see you getting either in or out of those. I had a boyfriend once who saw me take them off and he wore a strange expression for the rest of the night.” She waved her hand dramatically. “Never saw him again.”

  My reflection in the mirror probably matched Ellie’s old boyfriend’s after he’d caught what was meant to be a private female moment.

  “It’s going to be fantastic,” Ellie said.

  I mustered a weak smile.

  The way my stomach churned it felt more like I was preparing for an expedition to the center of the earth. I was sure it would be a whole l
ot less stressful too.

  As though sensing my reticence, Ellie said, “This is what every girl dreams of.” She placed the dress back on its hanger. “Going go to the Oscars.” She raised a shoulder dramatically and threw her hair back.

  “I thought that was your wedding day?” I said. “When you dress up like a meringue and humiliate your best friend by insisting she wear hot pink and an oversized bow.”

  “And tags you wearing the monstrosity in endless Facebook posts.” She laughed and then snapped her hand over her mouth, realizing how loud she’d been. Her fearful gaze was an exaggeration of how we both felt about being chastised. Elllie’s expression reminded me of a scene in a horror film where the killer hides behind the other side of the curtain, courting catastrophe.

  Ellie’s acting skills had drastically improved. So much so that I often had to scrutinize her face when she talked. Her new acting coach, Daisy Lou, had done wonders for Ellie’s career, and within weeks of attending her first class Ellie’s audition callbacks had tripled.

  Realizing I was caught up in one of Ellie’s dramatic reenactments, I brought myself back to reality, saying, “Let’s promise never, ever to post anything embarrassing on Facebook of each other.”

  We shook on it.

  “I’m going to get that discount for you.” She slid past the curtain and out of sight.

  I changed back into my scrubs.

  Ellie deserved an award after her winning performance managed to pull off a twenty-five percent discount for the dress. We both held off on our Cheshire cat grins until we were out of the store.

  Ellie waved the shopping bag in the air. “I merely told her you’d have to get the dress hemmed, as the only Amazonian Goddess tall enough to wear this is Angelina Jolie.”

  “Thank you, Ellie.” I rummaged inside my handbag for my car keys.

  She peeked into the shopping bag. “It’s going to look amazing.”

  “Kind of makes me miss Madison,” I said. “Not as many snooty shop girls there.”

  “Nothing ever happens in Madison.”

  That was only half true, Lots of things happened in Madison, only not the kind of events that would ever hold Ellie’s attention.

  I glanced at my watch. “My shift starts in thirty minutes. I better go.”

  After sharing a hug we parted ways, promising to call each other later and both in agreement we should do dinner and movie soon.

  With Gemstone just around the corner, it didn’t take me long to drive to work. Having found a prime parking space on lot, I wound down my window to let some fresh air in and reached toward the passenger seat, upon which rested my posh Le Fleur Boutique paper bag. Reverently, I eased out my new gown, guarding the material from touching anything for fear of it snagging. Stealing a few minutes before I had to go into work, I admired the delicate beading covering the exquisite bodice and caressed the material, savoring the sensation of the satin brushing against my fingertips.

  Ellie had guided me perfectly with its purchase, and despite it being way over my budget. She was right, I would look lovely in it.

  It was for the Oscars, after all.

  Having now found the perfect dress and thrilled with how well it fitted, I gave in to the excitement and allowed myself to look forward to Sunday’s event.

  My step had a little more bounce in it than usual as I strolled across the lot toward the medical department.

  Once inside the reception, I found Adam chatting with four burly looking men, all smartly dressed in black pressed suits, all wearing the same silver framed shades. They looked like they were from the FBI or some other secret agency.

  “Hi there,” I greeted them. “Cool outfits.”

  Their stares lingered on me.

  Adam looked flushed, clearly he’d been talking with them awhile. “Hey Piper. These men are from the secret service. Can you give them a tour of the department?”

  “Sure,” I said suppressing a smile, admiring Adam’s ability to go with the flow.

  If these guys wanted to get into character and pretend to be real FBI, who was to question their acting process. I shoved my handbag under the corner chair and placed my shopping bag next to it.

  “This way,” I said to them.

  The four men followed, shuffling into the first treatment room I led them into.

  “This is where we bring patients who need to lie down,” I explained.

  The tallest of the four asked, “Where do you keep your defibrillator?”

  “In there.” I pointed to the cupboard. “Why?”

  He merely arched an eyebrow.

  “What show are you on again?” I asked.

  “We never told you we’re on a show,” the tallest one spoke again.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, taking in their similar hairstyles and the quality of their suits. “What film?”

  “We’re secret service,” the ex-marine looking one said. “Like your co-worker informed you.”

  I beamed a smile. Concerned I’d throw them off, I nodded knowingly.

  The tallest one had the far cupboard door open and the defibrillator out, flipping it over to examine the pads.

  “Don’t touch that,” I said, stepping toward him. “If you don’t know what you’re doing it could be dangerous.”

  “Standard operating procedure.”

  I reached for the machine and tried to ease it out of his hands, nervous he’d turn it on and shock himself.

  “Ma’am,” he said sharply, “we’re government officials.”

  “Please let go.” I pulled harder.

  He tugged back, yanking me toward him with a strength he obviously didn’t know he had.

  “Do you really need to go this far to get into character?” I said, gritting my teeth with annoyance.

  “Piper?” Adam called me out of the room.

  I let go of the defibrillator and turned slowly, glaring at the others with disapproval. I stepped out, feeling flustered.

  Adam led me a little way down the corridor and said, “You do realize they’re real FBI, don’t you?”

  “What?” I tried to keep my tone calm.

  “There’s going to be a VIP visit to Gemstone,” Adam said. “This is standard.”

  Turning to face the treatment room, I could only assume the men were now discussing the wayward nurse and her suspicious behavior.

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it.” I raced by Adam and headed for the front door.

  It was Sarah Thompson. She blinked unnaturally at me.

  Welcoming her in, I forced a smile and said, “How can we help you?”

  Being taken into custody by the FBI promised to be less stressful then facing Gemstone’s she-devil. Though it was a hard choice. I looked dreadful in orange.

  “I have something in my eye,” she said, her left eyelid scrunched closed.

  I led Sarah down the corridor and along it, quickly entering the second treatment room. With both of us inside, I shut the door behind us.

  Sarah sat in the central chair. “Just walking across the lot and something blew into my eye.”

  “Let’s take a look.” I reached for the latex-free gloves.

  She squinted my way, her one good eye sizing me up and causing a ripple of anxiety to swirl in my stomach.

  “Do you wear contacts?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Can you relax your eyelid?” Gently I examined her eye. “Can’t see anything, but it doesn’t need to be visible to be irritating. You may have scratched your cornea.”

  She blinked several times.

  “I’ll rinse it out,” I said, reaching for a small eyewash bottle stored in a plastic container.

  Sarah blinked furiously. “Careful of my makeup.”

  “Of course.” I snapped open the bottle of eyewash and rested it on the counter top. Leaning to my left, I opened the top cupboard and reached in for a soft white towel.

  “I think it’s gone,” Sarah said.

  Leaving the towel still fol
ded on a pile of others, I closed the cabinet door and turned. Sarah’s face was unreadable, yet she gave a tell-tale signal of deception through the brief touch of her nose with a fingertip.

  She blinked several times. “Don’t feel anything now.”

  Studying her carefully, I suspected she’d been bluffing, though more alarming still was the real reason she was here.

  Where had my ‘savvy’ been five minutes ago when I’d been scrapping with a government official, mistaking him for an over enthusiastic thespian.

  “Yes, it feels fine now.” Sarah over-acted.

  “Well,” I said, drawing on the strength of my professional smile, “do visit us again if the sensation comes back.”

  “Do you remember me?”

  “Yes, I met you about a week ago. You had an audition.” I leaned against the back of the counter and folded my arms across my chest. “How did it go?” I hoped my question didn’t seem too forced.

  “Still waiting to hear.” She narrowed her gaze, emphasizing the tension she oozed with a practiced smile. “You were with A. G.”

  “Who?’

  “Arthur. He was sitting on the bench next to you.”

  “Oh, yes, Arthur.” I felt self-conscious that I couldn’t remember his surname. Though something told me he’d not shared it with me.

  “How do you know him again?” she asked.

  “That was the first day I met him.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “He’s the caretaker.”

  Sarah’s mouth curled at the edges in a lazy smile. “I’ve known him for quite some time.”

  The air seemed colder, and I glanced up to see if the window had been left open.

  There was something about Sarah I couldn’t place; perhaps she was tired after a full day of filming, or more likely she was hungry. I knew well enough from Ellie’s constant dieting how much actresses had to watch their weight, denying themselves the simplest pleasures in order to stay slim.

  Though, unlike Ellie, Sarah’s steely-eyed gaze was heavy with criticism.

  I peeled off my gloves and threw them in the trash bin resting under the sink. Leaning over the countertop, I scribbled on the large pad, documenting Sarah’s consultation.

  “Arthur’s never been right since his wife died.” She wriggled forward in the chair to better see me.