by Paige North
But then again—I couldn’t help thinking about the amazing talk we’d had. It was fascinating hearing about scripts and characters from his perspective, to learn what he wanted from them. That maybe there was more to his movies than just guns and explosions.
Then I recalled how seriously he’d taken my opinions—more seriously even than Kait and the women at Crush.
I got a glass of water from the kitchen, waiting for Ava Marie to finish…whoever she was doing.
The door to Ava Marie’s bedroom opened and a man in boxers walked into the dark hallway, toward the kitchen.
“Hello?” I said to let him know someone else was there.
“Holy shit,” he said, stepping back.
“What is it?” Ava Marie called from her bedroom.
“It’s Sophie,” I called. “I’m home.”
Ava Marie came out with a short robe loosely tied around her slim waist. “Oh, hey. I thought you were out.”
“Just got home,” I said, holding up my water glass.
“This is Christian,” she said, motioning to the perfectly proportioned creature now searching for a water glass. “Christian, that’s my roommate Sophie.”
“I guess if you’re just now getting home that means you had a good night,” Christian said, without an ounce of self-consciousness at walking around in our kitchen half naked.
“That’s true,” Ava Marie said, a smile playing on her lips. “Did the new girl in town find herself a native?”
I didn’t feel like talking about it. The night—the flight—had been incredible but also confusing to put in mildly, and I had some mental sorting to do. “I had a work thing,” I said, not a total lie.
“Listen, I feel kind of bad about the other day, when I told you to like, get over your audition rejection. I shouldn't have been so harsh.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “You were right.”
“You a dancer, too?” Christian asked.
I wanted to know what planet he thought a woman with my curves would be a professional dancer. That’s when I realized—he was a dancer, too. I could see it in the way he moved—and in his lean muscles totally on display.
“Sophie’s still trying to find herself while working at a magazine. Right, Soph?”
“Something like that,” I said.
“So who were you out with tonight?” Ava Marie asked, eyeing me mischievously.
“No one,” I said, my instinct to lie growing stronger and easier each time. “I mean, it was that guy I met at the audition. Nobody special,” I added, rubbing my neck.
“Oh, yeah, the actor who wanted to run lines with you,” Ava Marie said. “Hey, that reminds me. Some of us are going to the drive-in some time next week if you want to join us. Bring your new actor boy.”
“A drive-in?” I asked. “Like, an actual drive-in?”
“Yeah, in Silver Lake. It’s super retro, really cool,” Ava Marie said. “I’m surprised more people don’t know about it but since you’re new to town and all…. Come with us. If your actor boy isn’t working out, I can set you up with someone.”
“As long as you don’t mind dancers,” Christian said. “That’s basically all we hang out with. Who are you thinking of?” he said to Ava Marie. “Reed?”
“No, Michael,” she said. “Reed is chasing after Monica. What do you say?” she asked me.
It wasn’t a bad idea. It would get me out to see the city and meeting new people. More importantly, it would get my mind off Leo. But I wasn’t sure that was what I wanted right then. I told her I’d think about it.
It was strange feeling like I wanted to remain faithful and exclusive to a man that was using me for sex, whom I was using to further my career. Beyond strange, it was actually kind of mortifying.
I went back to my room and typed up some notes about the evening with Leo to send to Kait—basically leaving the best part out—and when my head hit the pillow, I was out.
Since only a handful of people at Crush knew what I was working on—namely the girls in the City Living department, and Kait—the rest of the crew wanted to know what the new girl was working on. From their perspective, I wasn’t doing anything but coming into the office late and bleary-eyed most days.
My first all-staff meeting, which was a week after Seattle, consisted of the head of each department pitching ideas for the upcoming issue. We sat in the same conference room with a view of the Hollywood sign that I’d sat in on my first day.
Now it was time for everyone from all the magazine’s departments to pitch their ideas for the upcoming issue—the one that would have my Leo piece in it. Mel wanted to showcase leather for spring and Rebecca swore hair mousse was making a comeback. Jenny wanted to do a piece on open relationships, Susan wanted to write about toys that enhance oral and Liz had a story ready to go about the newest fitness craze.
I’d been so caught up in my Leo sexcapades that I’d long since forgotten about the list of ideas I had on my first day for my New Girl column. Once everyone had pitched, Pam, the managing editor, fixed her eyes on me and said, “How long before you jump in?”
My head snapped up and I got that panicked feeling of being caught in class without having read the assignment. “I have…um, ideas,” I said.
“So let’s hear them.”
I looked to Kait for help, since she hadn’t told me to work on anything other than my Leo story.
“Sophie?” Kait said, scribbling in her notebook. “The newbie go-getter. What have you got for us?”
I flipped nervously through my notebook, trying to find those ideas I’d written down for my first day—the ones Kait had no interest in hearing.
“It shouldn’t be that hard,” Pam said. “You are actually new in town. What have you been doing? Some other project got you too busy for the job you were hired to do?”
“No,” I said quickly, instinctively. Did she know about Leo? Kait said only our department knew about Leo. Was word spreading? Who else knew?
“So?” Pam pressed.
“Well,” I began, my mind racing to find something to grab hold of. “I heard about this amazing drive-in movie theater near Silver Lake.”
“A drive-in?” Kait asked, curious.
“How very ’50s,” Pam snickered.
“It’s supposed to be really cool,” I said. I’d looked it up online after Ava Marie told me about it. “They play classics, some from the ’50s,” I said to Pam, “and other old stuff from the ’80s and ’90s. Everything from Raging Bull to Love, Actually. The food’s supposed to be good, too.”
“I’ve read about this place. Sounds like a fun date spot,” Renee said, and I was so thankful for her speaking up for me.
Looking to Kait, Pam said, “So have her do a date piece on it. You can come up with an interesting date, can’t you?” she asked me.
I looked between Pam and Kait. Pam was pushing something, it was clear. Had Kait told her about Leo? Finally I just said yes, I could find a date (thanks very much) and the meeting wrapped.
As I got my notebook and pens together, Pam came close to me.
“Don’t think you can slack just because you got some special assignment,” she said softly, but her tone was like iron. “We’ve all been here a lot longer than you. We don’t need some recent grad coming in acting like she’s some hotshot reporter. Write your little drive-in piece, and remember your place.” She started to leave, her hand on the conference room door. “By the way, I’m editing it, so it better be good.”
Before I could say a word, she was out the door, leaving me shaken. What had I done to upset her? What did she know about my Leo assignment?
Since the moment Ava Marie told me about the drive-in, I couldn’t help but picture being there with Leo, a totally irrational thought. Pam may have been on the attack, but she was right—I had to see Leo as nothing more than a subject, and as a subject, I shouldn’t use him to hang out with for fun.
I plopped down on the chair in my cubicle. Besides, It’d been a week since
the flight with Leo and I hadn’t heard from him. Even if I had the nerve to call him I couldn’t, since the number he called me from was blocked. I guess despite the contract, he had me on probation—or a leash, as Kait said when I told her about the time gap since I’d heard from him.
Every morning she stopped by my desk, her double-shot skinny latte clutched in her hand, and asked one question: “Heard from him?” When I shook my head no, she kept on to her office without another word, but I felt the disappointment coming off her, like it was my fault he was out of town or unavailable.
Today, though, she stopped at my cubicle on her way back to her office after the meeting. She draped her arm over the wall and said, “Listen, Sophie. You need to step it up on our story,” she said, and I had no doubt about what “our” story meant. “Work on the drive-in piece for New Girl, but as for the other…” She lowered her voice. “This whole business of not having his number is ridiculous. It’s a great anecdote for the story—it clearly shows the level of control he has in his relationships—but it’s a disaster when it comes to you getting closer to him for the sake of the story. The next time you see him, get his number. That way you can text him, maybe invite him out to dinner. Got it?”
“But what if he’s already…you know, moved on?” I asked, anxiety blooming inside my belly.
“You didn’t fuck him yet, did you?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“God no,” I said, but I wondered if oral sex counted.
“Good, because if you screw him right away, you’ll kill the whole deal. You have to make him wait so you can get more dirt.”
“I’m not having sex with him,” I said forcefully.
She nodded and made a face of disbelief. “Sure,” she said. “Of course not. After all, why might you want to have sex with the hottest stud on the planet when you could probably be out eating fast food with some guy from the mailroom?”
I couldn’t force the guy to give me his number, even if I did agree with Kait that it was a clear symptom of the way he treated women. Withholding. Controlling. Using.
My head throbbed with confusion and budding anger and resentment towards Leo and everyone else.
I started researching the drive-in in Silver Lake but soon I was searching images for Leo Armstrong. He wasn’t often photographed by the paparazzi so most of the pictures were of him on a red carpet for a movie premier in one of his many custom-made tuxedos. Closed-lip smile, hands in pockets, a glint in his eyes like he knew something all those photographers didn’t know.
I made the mistake of adding the word “women” to the end of his name in the search. Out popped hundreds of images Leo Armstrong with different girls—mostly in tiny bikinis—on beaches and boats all over the world. He was like a sailor who had a woman in every port. I hardly saw two pictures of the same woman. He was always with someone different. We were all just playthings to him.
I stared at Leo’s bright smile, the one that made his eyes shine a light, bright blue and crinkle the corners of his eyes.
My phone buzzed with a text. In the split second before I saw the screen, I held hope that it was Leo—and hated myself for it. But it was Ava Marie.
At auditions all day. Meet us for drinks tonight? 7:30 @ Thirsty Cow. Michael will be there!
I looked back at the photos of Leo and wondered what he was doing tonight. It was none of my business. He was strictly business. I had to remember that. And the fact that he was probably out gallivanting with another woman after what he did to me on that plane was also none of my business.
Will see you there, I texted.
I’d have time to go home and change, refresh and put on something outstanding for this Michael fellow. It was time I started having fun in L.A. without relying on Leo.
10
Minimal makeup and red lipstick felt in order for the evening, and a black dress that was shorter than I normally wore. I told myself I was excited to meet Ava Marie’s dancer friend, Michael, and see if there was any spark there.
A text came through from Ava Marie. We’re here. Where are you? Michael is asking!
Just texted for a car, I wrote back. Be there in 15. Tell him I’m coming!
You will be, Ava Marie wrote back, and I laughed. I felt better about my decision already.
I was slipping on my heels when the doorbell rang. I wondered why the cab driver would come to the door, or how he knew my apartment number.
“Delivery for Ms. Adams?” said the man when I opened the door.
“That’s me,” I said.
He handed me a thick envelope, and left. Inside was a screenplay. Untitled Armstrong, said the cover page. A note on thick cardstock was attached.
Discuss by the ocean tonight? —L
My phone rang, making me jump. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was local.
“Good evening, Ms. Adams. This is Steve, Mr. Armstrong’s driver.”
“Oh, hey, Steve,” I said.
“Mr. Armstrong would like to know if you received the package he sent over, and if you’re available to spend time with him this evening?”
“Yeah, I got it,” I said. I quickly set the stack of papers down on the table by the door and flipped through the pages, curious.
“Mr. Armstrong would like to work with you tonight, if you’re available.”
“Well, I…”
“And you’re under no obligation.”
“I know, it’s just…”
“If you’d like to join him, I can drive you now,” Steve said. “I’m just around the corner from you.”
My phone buzzed a new text. “Hang on, Steve,” I said, and checked the text. It was Ava Marie: Hurry up!
I looked back at the script on the table, and a thought came to me—had I come to Los Angeles to socialize, or to start my career?
“Steve?” I said. “Come get me.”
Afterwards, I send Ava Marie an apology text, stating that I’d been called into work for an emergency edit on an important article.
She never responded, so I assumed she was angry, but I couldn’t let that distract me from my mission.
Soon after, I was in the car, headed for my rendezvous with the infamous Panty Dropper yet again. That name held more meaning for me now than it had originally, that much was for sure…
We drove up Pacific Coast Highway, the sun still shining over the horizon. I watched as we passed by the beaches, surfers carrying their boards back in from the ocean. We arrived at a sushi restaurant, and Steve helped me out of the back of the SUV.
As I walked across the restaurant I had flashbacks of the last time Leo invited me to dinner and we ended up dining at thirty-nine-thousand feet. I hoped he would show, and we would actually sit and have dinner. I wanted the after-dinner stuff, too. But I wondered what he wanted with me and the screenplay. Also, I needed to hustle on the story for Kait.
I needed more info, the pressure was mounting for me to really deliver.
My eyes scanned the room for Leo. When I found him at a small table by the window, tucked in the shadows, my heart skipped a beat. It’s not that I’d forgotten how he looked or how handsome he was. I suppose I’d just forgotten how gorgeous he was in person. He caught my eyes at the same time, and I froze. I thought I might collapse to the floor as a smile stretched across his face and crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Just the way he looked at all the other girls in those photos I’d seen online, I tried to tell myself. But this time, I realized, he was looking at me.
He stood up from the table and greeted me with a kiss on my cheek, his hand on the small of my back. The closeness of him, his hand on my body, his breath on my cheek—it was all more thrilling than I wanted to admit.
You’re falling for him! I cried inwardly.
But he was like a vampire, even if you knew what to expect—looking too long into his eyes would guarantee your seduction.
“You should walk across rooms more often,” Leo said, keeping me close. “You look absolute
ly stunning.” I felt the heat of my skin blushing, and I moved to cover my face. He gently took my hand. “Remember,” he said, kissing it, “no hiding.” He pulled out the chair for me.
“Wow,” I said, sitting down. I’d walked across the restaurant toward Leo, and he’d been all I’d seen. Now, though, sitting at the table, I saw that the restaurant was actually perched on the beach, waves hitting a large rock barrier just below us. The sun dipped in the sky, a blazing orange. “This is incredible.” When I looked at him, he still had that easy, pleased looked on his face, watching me. I pointed to the window. “Look at that! It’s amazing!”
Leo laughed. “I see the view and yes, it is amazing.”
I smiled and rolled my eyes. “It’s new to me.”
“Too cheesy?” he asked.
“A little,” I said, but I had to admit I was buying into it despite myself. “Are you trying to impress me, or do you always eat at such fancy restaurants?”
He replaced his napkin in his lap. “I do not always eat in fancy restaurants and yes, I’m definitely trying to impress you.”
“Well,” I sighed, “it’s working.”
“This isn’t so fancy,” he said, looking around the dimly-lit, romantic restaurant.
“Leo. This place has a sommelier and a dress code,” I said. “Fancy.”
“Maybe,” he said. The glow of the sun shone on the side of his face, and when he turned back to look at me, the blue of his eyes was electric, piercing. “I guess I’ve gotten myself spoiled.”
“In more ways than one,” I said. “You even have a driver. Are you not able to drive or do you not want to drive?”
“I am capable of driving, thank you very much,” he said. “One day I’ll take you on drive somewhere. Up the coast to Santa Barbara or something. But having Steve take me—and sometimes my guests—just makes things easier with my schedule. I can work in the car, take calls, go over scripts, that sort of thing. In case you haven’t noticed, traffic in L.A. is a nightmare, so I can keep working while we’re at a standstill on the 405.”
