by Leslie Pike
I’m still trying to wake up, as I pad down the hallway and into the kitchen. Sunlight streams in, through the open French doors. It’s just another day in paradise. Finn stands at the counter, pouring a coffee for himself.
“Morning,” I say.
He looks surprised to see me.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“Really? I haven’t seen you here in three weeks. Is the Mrs. tired of you already?”
“Funny. No, her sister, Margo, is coming for a visit. I’ll be sleeping alone for a few days.”
Finn hands me the coffee and pours himself another.
“There’s no reason to sleep alone. There are a lot of fish in the Park City sea. I met these sisters on set the other day. Want to have a few drinks tonight and see what we can get up to? Or, we can ask Kizzy and Esme to meet us downtown. Maybe you should cast your line somewhere new. BB would, you know.”
We move to the couch, and I stretch my legs out, resting them on the coffee table.
“Not interested. I can only concentrate on one woman at a time. I don’t have your dexterity. I can’t juggle women like you do. And don’t get me wrong. I’m not implying that’s a negative. It’s just not me. Besides, I don’t think you really know BB. She’s not what you think. At least that’s not all she’s made of.”
“You’re getting in too deep, too fast. We’re only a month into your grand experiment,” Finn says. “I’d think twice about getting exclusive, brother. Not with her at least.”
“Why’s that?” I say.
“For a variety of reasons. One, it’s BB. Two, you’re still a priest. Three, it’s BB.”
“What does that mean?” As if I didn’t know.
“It means you’re falling for a woman who had no hesitation in having sex with her two neighbors, twenty-four hours after she met them.”
“Well, you did the same thing, and I don’t think less of you. Or for that matter, myself. We should be held to the same standards.”
He smiles, knowing he can’t dispute my logic.
“You’ve got me there. All I’m saying is that she isn’t the perfect choice for you, if you’re looking for more than a good fuck.”
“And I’m not the perfect choice for her. Only it’s worse, because my flaw is hidden. She’s falling for a priest, and she doesn’t even know it.”
“Then you better reconsider keeping that a secret. Because I don’t see her taking that news quietly.”
I’m too clear-eyed to deny BB’s an unlikely match. But I also know I feel more than lust. That’s saying something, because we haven’t stopped fucking since that first night. I was surprised to discover how incredibly satisfying lust is when there are no other emotions involved. But emotions have emerged, and they’re every bit as astonishing as lust. Actually, more so.
Besides, I know something Finn doesn’t. BB hasn’t been with anyone else, since our first time together. She told me that, and I believe her against all history to the contrary. It’s as unexpected to her, as it is to me. There are depths to her that go unnoticed, because she leads with her sex appeal. I want the chance to go deeper. I think she wants the same. For that to happen, I need to tell her who I really am. That voice in my head telling me to do that is getting louder.
But today I need to talk to my friend about something entirely different. How do I begin?
“I’ve got something to ask you about. It may not be my business, but as your friend I want you to know I’m here for you should you need my help.”
“Sounds ominous,” Finn says.
“A few weeks ago, when we were at Tempo’s, I was talking to Bliss. She accidently let something slip, and now it’s bothering me.”
I see Finn’s face take on a different mood. I’ve seen that expression before, on countless inmates who have no interest in discussing their addictions. He just sits there, waiting for me to continue. His walls have been raised.
“Anyway, she happened to mention she was concerned, because she hadn’t seen you take a drink since you got sober. Long story short, she thought I knew about your past struggles. That’s why she was speaking to me about them.”
“Son of a bitch. That’s ridiculous. Yes, I had a problem. And I conquered those problems. I won’t have those problems again.”
I choose my next words carefully. I want Finn to know I’ve got his back.
“I wish you would have told me. I could have helped. I have lots of experience with alcoholism and drug addiction. I saw it every day. And I know all too well, when someone fools themselves into thinking they can handle just one drink and not get caught in a downward spiral, they’re usually mistaken. It’s that false certainty of being in control that can be your enemy.”
He gets up and walks to the sink. He rinses out his coffee cup.
“Brother, I thank you for your concern. But I’m in no need of your help. It pisses me off though, that Bliss felt the need to discuss what is clearly my business, and my business alone. I’ll be talkin’ to her about that.”
Finn has slipped back into his Irish brogue. He must be angrier than he’s letting on.
“Let’s get ready for work,” he says as he leaves the room.
* * *
By the time lunch comes around, we’ve shot an entire two pages of the script. The confessional scene went as well as the rehearsal. After that, Steven shot the scene where Finn is saying Sunday Mass. He was convincing as Father Kolda. I almost forgot it was my friend up there on the altar. The fact he smelled liked booze only added to the realism. Unfortunately, that’s a problem my community can’t deny. Alcohol is the drug of choice for the Jesuits, and for most orders. At least in my opinion it is.
It’s obvious Finn has relapsed. He’s given me a clear message that my help and my opinion aren’t wanted. But that’s not going to stop me. He’s going to fuck everything up. What he’s accomplished, what he’s been gifted and his relationships. People will take only so much of a drunk’s bad behavior. They’ll remove themselves from the situation. All but a handful of people will watch you self-destruct. And what if he starts back with the drugs? Bliss told me it was cocaine he abused. I see this spiraling quickly. And I’m really pissed at myself for being a part of what kicked it off. Those damn tequila shotski’s at BB’s. No wonder he was hesitant, he was trying to stay sober. That I was part of the problem really bothers me. For that reason alone, I’ll keep trying to help. Not to mention the fact that he’s my best friend.
Speak of the devil. Here he comes now, smiling like he’s on top of the world. Every inebriated person thinks they’re covering their condition so well. None of them are. That’s the nature of the beast. His collar is pulled half way from his neck. He pulls out a chair next to Bliss, who sits across from Steven.
“What’s new, pussycat?” he says.
He leans in toward her. He’s looking at her as if no one else is at the table. He doesn’t acknowledge the rest of us. Not BB, or her sister, not me, not Steven. Oh shit. I see Steven’s face. It’s a gross understatement to say he’s not happy. Neither is Bliss, who’s shooting death rays with her eyes. She leans away from him. I see why that greeting didn’t sit well, but I sense a private joke, along with the unwanted familiarity.
Finn wags a finger in Bliss’ face. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, lovely.”
Things are escalating, so I attempt to deflect the tension.
“Hey. That was really a great scene in the confessional this morning,” I say.
BB’s having none of my attempt at diversion.
“You smell like a distillery,” BB says to Finn.
He turns to her with fire in his eyes.
“And you smell like you just got fucked.”
She picks up the orange on her plate and catapults it at his head. He ducks out of the way.
With that, all three of us men, and BB and her sister stand up. We’re all yelling at once. I hear Finn tell BB to shut the fuck up. BB tells him he’s actin
g like a drunken fool. Margo’s just yelling the word “Asshole!” at Finn. And I’m trying to defend BB, while not causing more trouble for Finn. I’m vaguely aware of the effect our little scene has caused. The crew has gone silent. They’re just watching the craziest scene they’ve seen since filming started.
Steven’s trying to stop the insanity. He shouts his command.
“Shut up! Stop!”
We all go silent.
“Finn, come with me. You and I are going to have a talk. BB, sit down and eat your fucking lunch. Paul, you’re in charge of the inmates.”
He could have been giving the same instructions to a group of five year olds. But we obey. Finn gets up, grabs an apple off the table, and calmly walks off with Steven. The rest of us wait till they’re an appropriate distance away, then we start talking.
“So that happened,” I say.
“What an idiot,” BB adds.
“He’s risking everything. Again,” says Bliss.
“He’ll get it together. But the longer he goes, the harder it’s going to be,” I say.
“Asshole. I certainly don’t smell,” BB says.
“You’ve got to forgive him that. He was just retaliating about the distillery comment,” I say.
“You forgive him. I’m pissed.”
She stands and walks away. Margo follows.
Bliss looks to me. “Paul, you’ve got to get through to him. He respects you, and if anybody can help him it’s you. Try.”
I can see Steven and Finn, as they talk next to one of the honey wagons. I should say as Steven talks. Finn’s not saying much. But his expression is speaking volumes. It’s gone from carefree to deadly serious. I hope whatever Steven’s saying is sinking in. Finn suddenly pitches his apple angrily into a nearby trash can and walks off.
“I don’t think that went so well,” Bliss says.
Steven returns and picks up his tray.
“How’d it go?”
“I think he heard what I had to say.”
“Think you made an impact?” asks Bliss.
Steven shrugs his shoulders. “I couldn’t tell you. But if he’s smart, he’ll take me seriously. I’m not going to put up with his bullshit. It’s up to him now.”
Chapter Twelve
Esme
At one thirty we made the move to our second location. We’re shooting on the mountain for the next three weeks. I missed whatever happened at lunch, between Finn and BB, but that’s all the crew’s talking about. I’ve heard five different versions of the same story. The one constant, is that Finn was tipsy. Is that really that serious? Maybe he had a beer or two in his trailer. All I saw was him get in his car and tear out of the parking lot. Surely he wouldn’t have been driving, if he was drunk. I hope not. Usually when he passes the Wardrobe truck he stops by, or waves. Not today.
But I’m too busy to dwell on him right now. I try to concentrate on my work. Although thinking about him is something that’s been happening a lot lately. Without aim or intention, he’s been on my mind. I can hardly blame myself. I’m only human. He’s beautiful to look at. He’s sexy. So sexy. And what really draws me to him, is how kind he is to me. I’ll always appreciate what that’s done for my damaged spirit. And all with just a little tenderness. Each act of kindness is like a bandage on my wounded soul. If only all men knew how far that would take them.
But his interest in me is pure fantasy on my part. In bed at night, I like to think about the night we danced at Tempo’s. I felt like my real self showed through. Just for a dance, I let myself go. I wasn’t aware of how I looked, or who was watching. Because he was watching. At least it seemed like that. Just thinking about it gives me goose bumps and yearning for things I know little about. The sexual experiences I’ve had, have had nothing to do with my pleasure. The ones I’m dreaming of, have nothing but.
Am I right to believe in my dreams? Or are they a girl’s fantasy? Women in the movies or on TV seem to enjoy sex. That’s an understatement. Their eyes close, as they’re carried away in ecstasy. They moan with pleasure. I guess I’ve never had an orgasm. But whenever you hear someone try to describe it, no one can. So maybe sexual fulfillment for women is just an illusion. Just a lie they tell themselves, or the men they’re with. It’s all speculation until the day I find out for myself.
Finn has no idea who I am. I’m sure he thinks I’m a naïve young girl. If he knew what I’d been through, what I’d been forced to do, he’d be anything but interested. He’d probably be repulsed. Of course he would. Why involve yourself with sullied goods? Not when you can have any woman you want. A woman free of a mountain of emotional baggage. But regardless of what happens, his flirtation has done me some real good. I just have to remember not to make more of it than it is. Finn flirts with lots of girls.
“Esme, can you help here?” Kizzy says.
She’s fitting a woman for the first action sequence. I put the nun’s habit I’m hemming and my daydreaming away.
“Sure.”
“This is Cynthia, BB’s stunt double.”
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi. Nice to meet you, Esme,” Cynthia says.
“We need to make sure her pads are covered under the habit. When BB’s character is kidnapped, she’s wearing her traditional long skirt. But as Father Adrian takes her into the mountain, it gets ripped and soiled,” Kizzy says.
I work to adjust the skirt.
“Have you read the script, Esme?” asks Kizzy.
“No, I don’t have one. Should I?”
“I’ll get you one. Up to now, the wardrobe has been pretty straight forward, but that’s about to change. BB will be in various stages of undress, as the priest abuses her, and as she escapes and tries to get to safety. First she loses the veil, then it goes from there. Her wardrobe is a metaphor for her transformation.”
“How does that work?” I ask.
“What covered and hid her becomes the very things that save her. Instead of her habit defining her, she defines it. She uses it to leave clues and bind wounds. As she sheds her heavy robes, she’s shedding her shyness, her weakness. She’s becoming something new.”
“I’ve never thought of clothes in that way. And I’ve never read a script. I’m excited.”
“That’s what our job’s all about. That’s the art of it. We need to express each character’s journey through their wardrobe. They’re not just vestments and habits. They’re part of the story. You’ll be surprised how creative that can be. I want you to learn that.”
Cynthia has been listening to Kizzy, just as I have. But she puts her hand out and stops me from moving her knee pad an inch, to make a smoother drop of her skirt.
“No. Those have to stay as they are. I’m going to be climbing a tree today and making a jump to the ground. Got to protect the goods.”
“Oh sorry, I’ll fix it.”
God, I have so much to learn. I can’t hardly wait to start reading the script. If only to find out why a nun is climbing a tree.
“I heard there was some excitement at lunch today,” Cynthia says.
“There’s always something happening. I wasn’t there,” Kizzy says.
“I guess Finn and the director got into it. Roger told me Finn was hitting on Steven’s wife, which is his ex. That wasn’t too smart.”
What? Bliss is Finn’s ex? Of course she is. She’s so beautiful. I guess I’m the last to know.
Kizzy blows it off. “You know how sets are. Everybody loves to gossip. It probably was nothing like that.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Things get blown out of proportion,” Cynthia says.
I’m getting to know Kizzy more. This is a great example of why she’s good friend material. I think if she likes you, she protects your reputation. Even if what’s being said is true.
“Ok, Cynthia. You’re all set,” Kizzy says.
Cynthia turns in front of the mirror, so she sees all the angles.
“Great. See you for the next shot. If we get to it today.”
; When Cynthia leaves, Kizzy gets on her radio.
“It’s Kizzy. Can I get a clean script for Esme, please?”
A voice answers. “Sure thing.”
* * *
A script was waiting for me at the front desk when I got back to the hotel. I’ve planned my whole night out, in order of preference. Shower, call Grandma, read script. And when I need to take a break, I’ll practice my latest song and fine tune the lyrics. I’m happy with what I’ve written these past weeks. I don’t think I’ve ever done a better job at expressing my feelings. That’s because I never dared to say the things I really felt. Of course, now I only have myself to please. There’s just one person in my audience.
As soon as I walk into my room, I see the blinking light on the phone. Someone’s left a message. I toss my things on the nearest chair, kick off my tennis shoes and grab a Pepsi from the refrigerator. I plop down on the couch and press the red blinking button. The familiar voice greets me.
“Hi. It’s Finn. Isn’t it about time we had a proper date? Don’t say no. Don’t say it’s a work night. Don’t deny me your company. It’s been a bad day for me. You can make it better. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty. We’ll have dinner, maybe a drink or two. And most definitely a kiss at the end of the night. I’ve been dreaming about that mouth of yours.”
Oh my God! I realize my mouth is open, as if I’m in a stupor. Which I am. I play the message three more times before I look to see what time it is. It’s six forty. How will I clean the room, take a shower, shave my legs, wash and dry my hair, make myself presentable, call Grandma and read the script in fifty minutes? Impossible. Grandma and the script will have to wait till tomorrow. I’m half way to the shower before I realize I never even considered saying no.
I use every minute of the time allotted in getting ready. I multitask all the way to seven thirty, and before the clock says seven thirty-one, he knocks. I’m so nervous, my palms are wet. I wipe them on the kitchen towel as I make my way to the door. I give myself one last look in the entry mirror. Alright, I look put together. It was easier for me to just braid my half-dried hair. It’s falling over my shoulder, and it shows off the earrings I bought last week. They make me look like a different girl. Different woman.
