by Emily Bishop
“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Luke said, and his shoulders relaxed, at last. “We’re going to fix this and make it great. I mean, the title’s good already. Pride’s Death. That’s a strong starting point.”
“All right, so the problem with the scene,” I said. Shit, this would have me in a depression in short order. I didn’t want to be here. An image of Aurora spun out of my memory. Not naked this time, no, but sitting on the front steps of her RV, holding the rose quartz crystal between her palms, lips moving soundlessly, her hair curling around her shoulders, falling past the straps of her camisole.
“Jarryd!”
“What?” I blinked out of the vision.
“Dude, you’re seriously not even here. What’s this about? Is it that chick?”
“No,” I said, a kneejerk response. “This scene is empty, like you said. It’s got nothing of substance. So, Felicity meets the main character, right? And then what, there’s chemistry and they talk. There’s no tension.” I struck the page between us. “No heat.”
“There’s nothing about heat in the script.”
“Exactly,” I replied.
Luke shook his head. “No, Jay, I mean there’s been no mention of heat prior to this. Are you suggesting that there’s no heat between you and Felicity?”
“Would you stop doing that?” I snapped. “Stop turning this into something personal. It’s not personal.”
“You wrote this script,” Luke said and snatched it up. He held it, waved it, almost whacked me on the damn nose. “Of course it’s personal. It’s your vision.”
“Not anymore,” I grunted.
Luke threw the script down, and it slapped onto the table. He scraped his chair back, neck red and forearms cording with restraint. “Cut the shit, Jay. This isn’t about the script. This is about the girl.”
“What?”
“That fortune-teller chick. You’re obsessed with her.”
I didn’t get up, didn’t rise to his taunt. Focused on the window view instead—the cat had disappeared, leaving nothing but empty space among the trunks of those trees. I shrugged my shoulders, looked back up at him. “We’re here to discuss the script, Luke, not whatever may or may not be going on in my personal life. I thought you understood that.”
“No, I thought you understood that,” Luke replied. “You’re not even focused on what we’re doing. You’re wasting my time. Hell, you’re wasting everybody’s time with this shit.”
“What do you want from me?” Lately, it seemed everyone wanted something. A little piece of Tombs for their collection. Felicity wanted the fame and the money. Luke wanted the time. And what about Aurora? What did she want?
“I want you to fucking be here instead of out there with some chick you barely know.”
“Don’t go there.”
“I’ll go wherever the hell I like.” Luke kicked the chair aside, pressing his fists to the top of the script. “Do you understand that I’m here spending time on this with you? The least you could do is be present with me. You’re making me sound like a whiny girl instead of a business partner.”
“Dude, I’m right here.”
“Then talk to me about the scene instead of daydreaming about what’s between Aurora’s legs.”
I shot upward, out of the chair. “Don’t push me, Luke. I’ve been pushed too often of late.”
“Christ, you’re so self-involved. Do you even realize what’s at stake here?” Luke’s stare heated.
I held back. This was my friend. Luke had been there for years, since the start, since I’d been an aspiring nobody without any guidance, without a clue or a hope. And now? I held two fists and pictured slamming them into his chest, knocking the wind out of him so he couldn’t speak anymore.
“Do you know what’s at stake?” he barked.
“Of course I fucking know.”
“I don’t think you do.” Luke straightened. “This movie is too big already, understand? People are involved. People have invested their time and money into this project. If we don’t finish this, they’ll lose their damn jobs. That’s money they counted on to feed their families. To pay their bills and school fees for their kiddies. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you, but it does to me.”
It mattered—I’d made sure that everyone who worked on my movies was compensated handsomely. That they didn’t want for anything, and the projects had always wound up successful as a result.
“Of course it matters to me,” I replied.
“Not as much as you matter to you. You’ll dump this project, won’t you?”
“What am I supposed to do here? If it doesn’t work, I’ll only bring everyone down with me. I don’t want everyone to fail if I can fail on my own,” I said.
“So, that’s it. That’s what’s really in your mind,” Luke snapped. He knuckled his forehead, pointed at me. “You’re a quitter.”
“Fuck you.”
“I never saw you as a quitter until now. You’re putting some bitch ahead of this movie and everyone else.”
“Luke!” I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward me, bumping him into the table, first. “Don’t you fucking dare call her that.” I shook him, muscles trembling, the ache surreal. This was my friend. My friend, and I wanted to beat the living shit out of him.
“Let go of me,” he said.
“Apologize.”
“No. If using that type of language will snap you back to reality then no.” Luke fisted my collar, too, and held it fast.
I strained against my temper, the slow burn that had started at the beginning of this week built, higher, higher. I didn’t want to explode on him. “You don’t understand what’s happening here.”
“Yeah, I do. You’re a selfish jackass.”
I dropped my hands, and he did the same, trembling with anger. He wasn’t the same as me when it came to this. He was prone to rage, and this had pushed him to the edge. “If that’s what you think, Luke then fine,” I said. “I don’t want this project to fail, but it’s been doomed from the start.”
“Doomed. Christ, since when were you fatalistic?” Luke backed away, one step at a time, eying me as if I’d contracted a dreaded fucking disease. “No, you’ve got pussy on the mind. That’s all this is.”
“I don’t.”
We squared off, the anger dissolving piece by piece—my jaw unclenched, he ran fingers through his hair, ruffled it.
“Whatever, man,” he said. “I don’t think I know you anymore. The Jarryd I knew wouldn’t give up on a project until it was perfect.”
I wasn’t that Jarryd anymore. Or maybe I was but different. Was it wrong to express unwillingness to waste time on something? Better to cut my losses now. If I’d cut my losses with Felicity, I’d never have gotten hurt or caught her cheating.
There had been warning signs.
“Call me when you’ve gotten over whatever this shit is,” Luke said then spun and stormed from his own hotel room. He slapped the door shut behind him, and I flinched at the noise.
Christ, what was the point in any of this? I’d fallen for Aurora, no point in denying it now, yet I’d managed to isolate her. Luke, my best bud who’d been there for me through thick and thin, thought I’d changed. Everything crumbled around me, and I couldn’t catch the pieces fast enough—couldn’t make the right picture with the rubble.
I picked up the script. The title Pride’s Death mocked me with its bold font, its demand for creation. I tossed it aside and pinched the bridge of my nose again. Fuck it, I didn’t give one shit about the script or the movie. I’d hurt Aurora. Or the fact that I was famous had hurt her.
I’d find a way to make this right.
“What are you doing?” I muttered. “What are you doing? This can’t go anywhere, can it?” But it had to go somewhere now. I’d already fallen for her, and I wouldn’t let her go, this beautiful, free woman who’d shown me what it meant to relax.
I grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair and left Luke’s hotel room.
Chapter 18
Aurora
Customers chattered away at the tables, their noise sweeping down the aisles, erasing the negativity that had taken hold of me that morning. Knives and forks clattered against plates, a woman bust a gut laughing, and one kid let out a shrill squeal as his brother dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt.
The Moondance Bar and Grill was a home away from home for a lot of folks, and I was included in that, now. I’d come into work, slipped on my apron—it had a pouch at the front for my notepad and pen—and taken up a position behind the bar to slam back my first drink of the night not an hour ago.
Now, the melancholy that had followed me in had dissipated somewhat, chased off by the happy people here. It wasn’t the dinner rush yet, but there were enough tables to keep me busy.
I carried two plates out of the kitchen, around the bar, across the floor, my sneakers tap-tapping on the wooden boards, and placed the food for a couple. “There you are. One steak rare, and one medium.”
“Thank you,” the woman said and smiled at me.
The dude ignored me totally. Apparently, I was beneath his notice as a server. That wasn’t an attitude I encountered often in Moondance, but it did happen on occasion.
Better to go unnoticed than to be judged and measured. Weighed, found wanting.
I offered them both a smile. “Enjoy. If you need anything else, holler,” I said then wound my way among empty tables, back to the bar.
I leaned against it and watched the customers enjoying their meals, talking, or drinking.
The kitchen door opened behind me, bathing me in the smells of barbequed meat and frying oil, fresh, not that gross stale smell I’d experienced in diners across the state.
A hand landed on my shoulder. “You OK there, Aurora?” Jerr’s voice was thick with exhaustion. “Shit, I’ve been on my feet all damn day. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m all good,” I said and shifted, offered him a smile over my shoulder.
“You sure? I heard there was an incident down at that, uh, that clothing store today.”
“An incident,” I replied and swallowed. “I guess you’ve figured by now—everybody else has—that I’ve been hanging out with Jarryd Tombs.”
Jerr snorted. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? Hanging out?”
“You and your smart mouth.” I whacked him on the hand, and he chuckled. “We’ve been spending time together, is what I mean. I know you said actors were trouble and—”
“I was right,” Jerr put in and dragged out a bar stool behind the counter. He offered it to me with a wink.
I plonked down. “Maybe.”
Jerr sat next to me and rearranged the front of his apron, which stretched across his belly, which was growing by the day, thanks to the great food in the restaurant. “I was definitely right. Now, I don’t know the guy personally, but it looks like a lot of trouble for little payout.”
“What do you mean, Jerr?”
“How do I put this?” The restaurant owner wriggled his nose. “All right, so everything in life is like a transaction.”
“Not like a box of chocolates?” I blinked up at him, feigning innocence.
“Don’t start,” he said and chuckled. “No, it’s all a series of transactions. It’s give and take, see? You give what others can take, and you take what others give. Right, so the transaction has to be equal. You wouldn’t want to buy a low-quality steak for fifty dollars, right? Who’d want to eat a tough as boot steak for that amount of money?”
“OK?”
“No, you want an equal value for what you’re paying. And that’s what relationships are like, too. Both people need to bring value to the table. Now, they’re allowed to bring a few problems, too, that’s natural, but the pros have to outweigh the cons, or it’s not a balanced transaction.”
I sucked my bottom lip and gazed at my tables instead of at Jerry. He’d see how much his words had gotten to me if I did. It kind of made me angry. Angry at myself for getting involved, angry at Jarryd for making me feel this way. A general malaise of low-burning dissatisfaction.
“You’re saying it’s not an equal transaction,” I managed.
“No, only you will know that. I’m saying I want you to look out for it. If you feel like you’re giving everything and getting nothing in return, you have to get out. Remember what happened with that little creeper when you were in high school?” Jerry said.
“How could I forget?”
“He made you feel like you were a nit on a camel’s ass. Nobody deserves that.” Jerry sniffed. “Well, that’s my wisdom all tapped out. Gonna take me another fifty years to refill this, and by that time, I’ll be buried in the grave and laughing at all the suckers still on earth.”
I snorted and looked at him, at last. “Looking down on us from above, eh?”
“No, girl, looking up.” He hopped off the stool then patted me on the back. “I’d better do the damn paperwork before the wife jumps on my tits about it. Call me if you need any help, hear?”
“Thanks, Jerr.” But what help would I possibly need? I had tables to wait and people to smile at. That was hardly a life or death situation.
I checked my tables one more time—still OK, no need for refills on drinks or coffees yet—then scuffled my way back out from underneath the bar. I rummaged around in it, brought out my cell, checked the lack of messages, sighed then brought out my tarot cards instead.
I always kept a smaller deck in my handbag for slow times in the Bar and Grill. Jerry didn’t mind if I practiced here. In fact, he’d offered to let me draw in folks for readings if I wanted.
I shuffled the deck, keeping my hands below the counter and out of sight then shut my eyes for a second. A card for the day. Give me a card for the day. I felt the weight of the deck in my palm, ran my fingers along the sides of the cards, splayed them, picked one, and turned it over.
Finally, I opened my eyes.
The Fool. A young man with a stick over one shoulder, a bag of belongings tied to the end, eyes on the sky walking toward the edge of a cliff. He was joyous, unaware of what lay ahead.
“Beginnings, free spirit, spontaneity, innocence,” I whispered. What was this supposed to mean? That I’d walked into something without thinking first? No shit, tarot cards. Thanks for the heads up. I shuffled them together, placed them in their pack then shoved them back into the depths of my bag.
I slipped off my stool and made the rounds again, halting at teach table to check whether they needed anything then returned to fill a few Coke glasses or beers. Time marched on, and I walked with it: serve the food, pour the drinks, bring the check, take the tip, and, “Thank you, come again.”
Easy. One foot in front of the other. Don’t think about Jarryd. Don’t think about being shunted to one side like a fool. A fool. Oh, for god’s sake.
Halfway through my shift, I plonked down behind the bar for a break and worked my feet out of my shoes to ease the blisters I’d developed on my heels. I’d figured sneakers would be more comfortable for this, but boy, had I been wrong.
My tootsies weren’t used to the pressure.
A man sauntered up to the bar, hair coiffed to perfection and smiling with TV personality jauntiness. He rapped his knuckles on the bar.
I slipped my shoes back on and rose. “Hi, there, what can I get for you?”
“You’re that girl, aren’t you?”
Torrents of ice dropped into the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry?”
“The girl who was with Jarryd Tombs this afternoon,” he said and reached into the inside pocket of his smart suit jacket. He brought out a white card between two fingers, gave it to me.
Daniel Torrance, CNBB News.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said and gave the card back, heart fluttering, now. Christ, had they already cottoned on? Who’d spoken to them? Probably, someone in the town. Or even Felicity. Would she stoop that low?
“It’s good to see that you�
�re faithful to him,” Daniel said and presented me with that cheesy smile, yet again, too many teeth showing, like a shark who’d sighted its prey.
The door to the restaurant opened and another customer entered. Nope, not a customer, just James, my ex. Of course it was him. Why not, right? Fuck me.
He spotted me, immediately, sauntered over, and took a seat in front of the bar. “Can I get a Spiced Gold on the rocks?”
I nodded and busied myself pouring it for him, ignoring the eagle eye from both of them. Daniel, who wanted information, and James, who likely wanted to see me suffer after the last time we’d spoken.
I placed the glass in front of James then cleared my throat. “Mr. Torrance, if you don’t want anything from the bar, you’ll have to excuse me. I have tables to serve.”
“Do you? And Mr. Tombs doesn’t mind?” Daniel asked and drew out his cell phone. He didn’t hit any buttons to record but did open up what looked like a notepad on the screen. He typed on it but angled the screen so I couldn’t make out what he’d written.
Christ, why did life have to be this complicated? The Fool. That’s what I’ve done. Walked into a situation without thinking first, and this is the result. I’m going to have to lie to this guy and pretend I’ve never touched Jarryd, let alone slept with him.
Fine, it was no one’s business anyway. Pity, they didn’t see it like that.
“Ma’am? Uh, what’s your name?”
I didn’t answer.
“Her name is Aurora Bell,” James put in, helpfully then tipped the tumbler at me.
“Miss Bell, he doesn’t mind you working here in your spare time?”
“What? No, why would he mind?” I asked, and a strange creep of emotion started somewhere deep inside. What was this feeling? Shame? Humiliation?
“Interesting. So, how would you rate him?”
I spluttered. “What?!”
“How would you rate him?” Daniel asked and typed on the screen without looking up from it. The hair at his crown had thinned a little and provided a glimpse of pink flesh underneath.
