Beautiful PRICK

by Kenzie, Sophia

  But we never did.

  Fast-forward six months, and here we are, three thousand miles away from each other.

  But again, I’m fine.

  “So you’re not coming?”

  He huffs into the phone. “Not this time. Can you come here?”

  “I’m working.” I say it as if I’ve just repeated myself three times, because I have.

  “Yeah, but that’s not real work.” He laughs.

  I do everything in my power not to explode, but my powers are not that great.

  “I’m going to go, Nick.”

  “Caroline, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “No, I get it.” I blatantly lie. “Don’t forget to cancel your flight. Hopefully you can get some sort of credit.” I try to conceal my anger.

  “Oh, it’s no big deal. I never booked a flight in the first place.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” I say under my breath.

  “What was that?”

  “I have to go, Nick.”

  And I hang up without another word, because honestly, I don’t want to talk to him anymore.

  That’s the thing about long distance relationships; they can go one of two ways…

  1. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  Or

  2. Out of sight, out of mind.

  Those are two very common sayings, and yet, they ABSOLUTELY contradict each other. When I was in middle school, I was dating this guy, but wasn’t able to see him all summer. I was afraid by the time we got back to school, he would forget about me. So my mom let me in on a little secret:

  Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  He could never forget about me, because he’d been playing the idea of me up in his head since we had been apart. Works for me!

  Then, three years later, I was hanging out with this guy who happened to be dating one of my best friends. This time, she was the one who was away for the summer. I was afraid that her boyfriend might have feelings for me, so I told my mom about the situation. She let me in on another little secret:

  Out of sight, out of mind.

  Of course Becky’s boyfriend was falling for me, because I was there and she wasn’t.

  What the hell, Mom? Your logic doesn’t make sense. Or, these are all just little things we tell ourselves when we try to make any sense of this thing we call love.

  Okay, I’ll be honest: I have no idea what I am ranting about. There is a point though, I promise: I’m in a long distance relationship and I’m waiting to see which of her pearls of wisdom apply to my current situation. Will our absence make our hearts grow fonder? Or will we run the “out of sight, out of mind” track?

  And now my Walkie Talkie is screaming at me. Time to get to work!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “…and then she just walked up and started talking to Johnny Braylock!” Melissa yells to her husband over her shoulder as she pulls dinner from the oven.

  I’m making faces at Austin who is sitting in his high chair across the dining room table from me. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal, my ass.” Melissa jokingly covers Austin’s ears. “Keith, you have no idea how obsessed Caroline used to be with Johnny Braylock.”

  “Caroline, you want a beer?” Keith calls to me from the kitchen.

  “I think I need one for this conversation!” I answer back.

  Keith enters holding the necks of three beer bottles. “So, Johnny Braylock, huh?”

  “Don’t judge me.” I shake my head at him.

  “I’m not judging.”

  We all clink our bottles together before we dig into dinner. We joke about my obsession with Johnny, all the fantasies of mine that he’s been a part of, and how my subconscious is desperately trying to make those fantasies become a reality. Otherwise, I never would have had the guts to actually talk to him.

  “He was nice.”

  “Really? I’ve heard that he’s kind of a dick.” Keith says through a mouth full of chicken.

  “Keith, chew please.” Melissa sometimes speaks to her husband as if he’s another child.

  “I’ve heard that too, but I didn’t see it. I mean, he might be a dick. I don’t know. But if he is, he wasn’t to me.”

  Melissa giggles as she spoon-feeds Austin. “Looks like someone’s crush is coming back.”

  “Stop it!” I have the oddest desire to toss broccoli at her.

  “And now you’re blushing. Oh my God, you love him.”

  I take a sip of beer, trying to calm my apparently blushing cheeks. We finish dinner, and I help Melissa clean up while Keith gives Austin a bath.

  “So you have another seven a.m. call tomorrow.”

  “Melissa, I got my schedule. You don’t need to babysit me anymore.”

  “I just… I just…”

  I know what she wants to say, and I also know why she struggles to say it. We’re close enough that she knows what I’m thinking without me even having to think it. When we met, we were in the same place. We were both struggling, but excited about our futures. Since then, she has gotten exactly what she always wanted. Her life is set, and her future has started. Me… I’m still where I was all those years ago, just on the other side of the country.

  It’s not her fault that she found success before I did: I don’t blame her for that. Sometimes I feel as though she blames herself, and I hate that. I try not to let her bring it up, but it’s unavoidable.

  “You know I love you, right?” I smile at her.

  “I do.”

  “And I appreciate everything you do for me.”

  “I know that too.” She looks down at the table.

  “And if I’m ever broke and homeless, I’ll be sleeping on your couch.”

  We both laugh, mostly because we know it’s the truth.

  Melissa asks if I want to spend the night, but I politely decline. I actually enjoy the alone time. So I kiss Austin goodnight and bid them all adieu.

  I’m exhausted when I walk into my apartment, and swear to myself that I’m going straight to bed. Obviously that means that I’m going to put on a syndicated crime show of sorts, but first, I take a quick peek at IMDB, the Internet Movie Database. I type in Johnny’s name and scroll through his page.

  Johnny Braylock

  A.K.A. Jonathan Michael Braylock

  Date of Birth: April 27th, 1982

  Height: 6’1”

  I’m about to flip on the television, but I decide to click on the link labeled “trivia”.

  · Has a twin sister, Julia “Jules” Braylock

  · Has been in two movies with his sister, Playground Reunion and Baseball is for Sissies

  · Originally from Wales, his family moved to the states when he was 10

  · Holds a second degree black belt

  · His mother, a dance teacher, only allowed him to pursue martial arts if he also took tap dance.

  · His father, a lawyer, died in a car accident when he was only twelve years old

  · Left acting for five years to join the Marines

  · Has a tattoo on his forearm of a chipmunk

  Chipmunk tattoo! I want to call Nick to tell him that I now know the answer to one of his questions, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be concerned that I’m up stalking Johnny at one in the morning. Also, it’s four in the morning in New York, so I doubt he’ll appreciate me calling at all.

  I know I should go to bed. I know I have an early day, and most likely a long day ahead of me, but I can’t stop myself from wondering if he has a girlfriend. So I go to Google, and type in: Johnny Braylock girlfriend.

  A few pictures come up of him with other girls, but none of them seem recent. I recognize some of the women from movies and television shows, I recognize his sister too, as Baseball is for Sissies was my absolute favorite movie growing up, and there are a few pictures of him with a woman I can only assume is his mother. But from what I can tell, he doesn’t currently have a girlfriend. Still, I keep looking at pictures. I read gossip. I watch inter
views. I look up late night clips.

  I begin to feel like a teenager again, obsessing over the cute boy in the movies. But this time, I’ve met him. He’s not just a figment; he’s a reality. I’m not staring at him on a screen. I can see him in real life. There’s a good chance that I’ll walk onto set tomorrow, and he’ll be there.

  I fall asleep feeling different than I have since I moved to L.A. I’m not upset that my career hasn’t taken off. I’m not depressed that I’m not sure where my life is going. I have something to be excited about, someone to be excited about.

  I get to live out my childhood fantasy.

  That’s pretty damn awesome.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I spend a good hour checking in extras for the scene we’re shooting today. It’s the first day of official shooting here on set, and we’re starting with some sort of Olympic training montage. From what’s been explained to me, unlike most movies, they’re trying to shoot this one more chronologically. They’re doing this because they need to see Johnny physically get bigger throughout the movie as he ages and works up to the MMA fights. They have him set up with a trainer, and every minute that he’s not on set, he’s working out.

  Woof.

  Shooting is set to last five months, including the two weeks they already shot in New Mexico for the wartime footage. So unless things go totally haywire, it looks like I’ll have a pretty consistent job for the next four and a half months. It probably won’t permit me much time to write, but I’m hoping the money will allow me to take off for at least a week after the production to do nothing but write. Hey, maybe I’ll write a pilot about being on a television show.

  Nah, that’s been done.

  Maybe I’ll go to New York.

  We’ll see.

  “Caroline, can you come to the tent?” My Walkie Talkie starts talking from my hip.

  “Coming.” I happily reply.

  Whoops, I didn’t press the button. Let me try that again.

  “Coming.” I happily reply. Second time’s a charm.

  I go to the tent, where I meet up with my supervisor who is looking over the day’s itinerary. I give her a second, seeing as she seems quite preoccupied. She quickly glances up, sees that I’m there, and then darts her eyes back to the paper.

  “Give me a second.”

  “Take your time.” I smile.

  She grabs her phone from her pocket, dials a number, and puts it to her ear.

  “Listen, I have too much on my plate for today… No… Tell him to get someone else… It’s not an option… I don’t care who he is or who he thinks he is… No… No… No… Fine.”

  She hangs up with a huff. “Did you have a conversation with Mr. Braylock yesterday?”

  It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me, because she still hasn’t looked up. “Who me?”

  “Yes you. Whom else would I be talking to?”

  The tent is full of people. I don’t really understand why she’s so surprised that I don’t know if she’s talking to me, especially since she’s still not looking at me.

  “Then yes. I met him on set yesterday morning.” I warily reply, not sure if I have already done something wrong. I really can’t afford to get fired on my second day.

  “Did you offer to sleep with him?”

  I bust out laughing because she made a joke, but for some reason, she’s not laughing with me.

  “Wait, is that a joke?”

  “No, that’s not a joke.” Oh, I guess it wasn’t a joke. By the way, she’s still not looking at me.

  “Oh, then, no. I didn’t suggest that at all. Wait; did he say that I offered to sleep with him? Do people do that? What did he say I said?” I’m freaking out.

  “Calm down, Caroline. I get it. You didn’t offer to sleep with him.”

  I’m still freaking out. Do I just go around giving the impression that I want to sleep with people?

  “So Johnny…”

  “Mr. Braylock.” She corrects me.

  “Right, so Mr. Braylock didn’t say that I said I would sleep with him?”

  “He didn’t say that.”

  I start laughing again because now I’m ridiculously uncomfortable, and it’s the only thing my body will allow me to do.

  “Phew. Now that we got that covered…” I really don’t know what else to say.

  “Mr. Braylock wants you to be his personal assistant.”

  “What? No, I’m the production assistant.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. She knows what I am.

  “Right. That’s what I said, but he’s the star of the movie and he’s refusing to work with the personal assistant assigned to him, so we’re going to switch your roles.”

  “But…” I’m in shock. I don’t know if this is a promotion or a demotion or if I’m excited or mad or happy or sad.

  “I’ve already tried fighting on your behalf, but it’s out of my hands. He wants you in his trailer.”

  “When?” I’m still in shock.

  “Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  I spin around in a circle, because for some reason, I think that will help me. It doesn’t. “Okay, wow, okay, then I should…”

  “Yes, you should.”

  So my day has completely changed. I guess I’m no longer a P.A. Well, no, that’s not true. I’m still a P.A., but now it stands for ‘personal assistant’ rather than ‘production assistant’. Why do I feel like that’s a demotion?

  I’m in front of his trailer. Okay, deep breaths; I can do this.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Maybe it would be more helpful if I actually knocked on the door rather than meekly called “knock, knock” from the other side.

  So I knock, for real this time, and the door quickly swings open.

  “Oh good, you’re here.” Johnny doesn’t even look at me, he just turns around and walks back into his trailer.

  Is there something on my face? Why is no one looking at me today? Is it because I chose yet again to wear my glasses instead of my contacts?

  “My supervisor said you needed to see me?” That seems like an easy enough way to break into a conversation.

  “I’m your supervisor now.”

  “Excuse me?” I don’t know if it’s his tone, his curtness, or the fact that he still hasn’t looked at me, but I’m actually annoyed.

  “Check on my breakfast.” He quickly makes eye contact with me from the reflection in the mirror.

  “What?” I’m still very confused as to what is happening.

  “My breakfast is supposed to be delivered at 7:15. It is now 7:17. Therefore someone has made a mistake.”

  “And I’m supposed to find out who made that mistake?”

  “Precisely.”

  I have the sudden desire to step back and laugh at him. Who does he think he is? So his breakfast is two minutes late. Who the hell cares? Is he serious? Is this really how his world works?

  “I’m going to be candid with you, Mr. Braylock, I have never been a personal assistant, nor do I care to be a personal assistant.”

  “Okay.” He lightly replies.

  “So…” I’m not quite sure what his ‘okay’ means. “We’re good here?”

  “Are you finished complaining?” Just in case you were wondering, he still hasn’t looked at me other than in the reflection from the mirror.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, ‘are you finished complaining?’”

  He spins around from the mirror and lands directly in front of me. He’s staring into my eyes for the first time, and I feel myself literally go weak in the knees. You have to be kidding me. Seriously? The smell of his redolence overwhelms my senses, and I find that I no longer have the ability to be angry with him.

  But the mere fact that I am no longer angry makes me even angrier.

  “I don’t have to put up with this.” I turn to leave his trailer, now completely fed up with the whole situation.

  “Are you quitting?” He says as if he kn
ows my answer.

  “You know what?” I give him a sly smile. “I am.”

  With that, I run down the three steps from his trailer and make my way down the lot. I know Melissa will be upset with me. After all, she did recommend me for this position, but she has to understand that I can’t work for someone who doesn’t respect me. I also can’t work for someone who freaks out if his breakfast is two minutes late. Here I am, just overwhelmed by the bagel selection at craft services, and he’s got a freaking timer on his omelet.

  I guess Keith was right. Johnny Braylock is a dick.

  Childhood dreams: crushed.

  I stop by craft services to grab a bagel: hey, if I’m quitting, I might as well leave on a full stomach, but I don’t get as far as cutting the bagel in half, when I feel a presence behind me. I quickly turn around, holding my plastic knife in front of me.

  Let it be known that I have never been attacked, I have absolutely no background in self-defense, and I’m pretty sure if I were ever truly in danger, I would freeze. But for some reason, at 7:30 in the morning, on a guarded studio lot, I felt the need to defend myself with a plastic knife.