Captain of Industry

by Karin Kallmaker

  “Of course they are. Nothing about me is fake.” She winked and left her to marvel at the diamond studs.

  Cliff looked nervous. “I haven’t done this before. Are we supposed to give the P.A.’s gifts?”

  Jennifer kept her smile to herself. She’d been young once too. “Look at it this way. We’re going to make more today than they’ve made the entire time they’ve been waiting on us hand and foot for this entire trip.”

  They both looked stricken and she took pity.

  “Voyeux on Rodeo Drive will deliver. Cuff links never go out of fashion and sooner or later in this industry they’ll need them. And they’ll think kindly of you.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t be cheap.”

  She left them with their noses in their phones and settled into the chair on the left. The first interviewer was a blogger for the USC Film School and he was a nice way to start the day—no camera to worry about.

  With the temporary set draped in black and no windows Jennifer lost sense of time. The morning seemed endless. Their answers grew increasingly punchy, though they steadied after a lunch break. Cliff was the first to get the sillies again. Some of the interviewers appreciated their high humor, others didn’t. It didn’t really matter—it would all be over soon.

  “You’re penultimate,” Sibo told the second-to-last appointment. “I love that word, it’s a five-dollar word, don’t you think?”

  This time there were two interviewers. Jennifer glanced at their cards. Ugh, Buzztastic. It was a nasty gossip machine and the site’s comments were unmoderated, which meant they were a cesspool of threats and spam. If she had her way they’d never be treated like press.

  They seemed more interested in Cliff’s romantic life than the movie, or either her or Sibo. Just as she was musing that she might not have to say much, she realized she’d been asked a direct question.

  “What’s next for you?” the smaller of the two men repeated. He dripped with a kind of superior malice, as if the actors were adversaries and they needed to understand he had all the power in the room. His colleague with the complexion of whipped cream seemed to put great stock in ennui, as if he’d spent his entire day in a dark room under hot lights, smiling through repetitive questions, and it was all just too, too much for him.

  She explained about London and the project there, but they didn’t seem very interested. The other man found the energy to stir himself, almost cutting her off with, “We have a minute or two left of our allotment. Mind if we ask some general questions?”

  Cliff immediately said, “Not at all.”

  Jennifer could have shot him. “As long as we can stipulate what’s off the record.”

  There was a shrug of agreement, and they asked Sibo about his feelings regarding an anti-Muslim statement made the day before by a politician. He answered briefly but eloquently about believing America was better than what had been said.

  Just as Jennifer relaxed, thinking it was all over, the smaller man asked her, “Didn’t you do a guest shoot on Baghdad by the Bay?” At her nod he continued, “Quite the bombshell, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The shocker about Amy Lebeaux.”

  Hiding her alarm, she said, “I guess I haven’t seen that.”

  “She was caught in lip-lock in a San Francisco ladies’ club. The kind that is all ladies all the time.” His smirking, smarmy tone set Jennifer’s teeth on edge.

  “I don’t see why I would need to comment on that.” Amy Lebeaux had gotten caught in a gay club?

  “You worked with her.”

  She shrugged. He was clearly trying to goad a comment out of her. Her mind was in a whirl. Poor Amy, what was going to happen?

  “She plays a sex kitten man-eater. How will that fly? Who’ll believe it now that she’s been outed?”

  Sibo said, “Remember that show How I Met Your Mother? Everyone was happy with the gay actor playing the ladies’ man. It ran for years.”

  Small Man ignored him. “Some people are saying she’ll be replaced. She can’t play the part anymore.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Jennifer said.

  There was a throbbing in her ears. The air around her seemed to crackle and she thought she smelled electricity. It was hard to make out what he was saying, but she heard “Sapphic sister” and “boycott by concerned moms.”

  There was an epic crapstorm aimed right at that cute little girl with the adorable nose and by the likes of this guy, who would rip up Amy Lebeaux’s life to sell ads.

  She realized that this guy was the guy she’d been afraid of all along.

  And he was a nothing.

  She had given him, and the likes of him, power over her. When she was younger, less experienced maybe it had been true. But she was not a scared twenty-year-old. She could do what Amy Lebeaux and everyone like her couldn’t.

  Pause before an important line. Enunciate. Project.

  “It’s absurd to think that gay actors can’t play straight characters. I’ve been successfully doing it for years.”

  Deep down inside a part of her began to laugh hysterically.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Suzanne toggled between two teleconferences she was monitoring to accept a chat from Annemarie. The connection steadied but before she could say a word Annemarie asked, “Have you seen it?”

  “What?”

  “The news. It’s all over the freaking news up here. Maybe because it’s filmed here and it’s San Francisco, but Amy Lebeaux—”

  “I saw that this morning.” The trending headline had flicked past in her LGBT news feed.

  “But you didn’t see what happened a couple of minutes ago?”

  “I’m on two calls and another starts in a three minutes.”

  “Sending you a link.”

  She tapped the URL. “A gossip site? Seriously?”

  # # # BUZZTASTIC EXCLUSIVE # # #

  Zip it up boys, Luscious Lamont goes for the girls. After years of making eyes at the guys, she admitted in our exclusive interview at the swanky Four Seasons that girls have been her go-to all along. If she can make us all think she loves the boys, she doesn’t see why Amy Lebeaux who got caught in a Sapphic snog can’t do the same. Coincidence that L stands for Lamont, Lebeaux and—well, you do the math. Poor Hyde Butler, did he know it was all an act? #LamontLebeauxLesbian

  Annemarie forwarded URLs from People and Us. “Everybody’s picking it up. What is she doing?”

  “How would I know?” The magazine sites were only posting about the speculation, saying nothing was confirmed. Even as she closed one article at People, another appeared with the headline. “CONFIRMED! Jennifer Lamont Exclusive!”

  It was video even. Jennifer looking poised and on a director’s chair, as if she was doing interviews for her movie, except the black curtain behind her was empty of design. Suzanne sped up the playback until Jennifer was speaking.

  She was waving one elegant hand dismissively. “I wasn’t going to let some gossipmonger be the one who decides that a talent like Amy Lebeaux should be marginalized. She has delightfully, humorously convinced us all that her Baghdad character is straight. I only pointed out that I had achieved the same thing. It’s called acting.”

  The interviewer, a calm brunette that Suzanne recognized but couldn’t name, sat opposite Jennifer with a notebook. “What would you say to people who believe that if it’s not politically correct to cast straight actors to play gay parts, then why is it okay to cast Amy Lebeaux—or you—in the role of a straight character?”

  “Nobody believes that straight actors can’t play convincing gay characters, but too many think the gay actors can’t play straight, or they can’t even play parts where sexuality isn’t mentioned. This is the truth of Hollywood—it you’re straight and white you’re up for every role that comes along. It’s the default of the system. Everyone else has to prove themselves capable of playing against their supposed type.”

  “Do you think you’ll have to prove yourself?”

>   “Yes. I’m a woman. I’ve had to prove myself for any part that didn’t include cleavage and helplessness.”

  “As we know, at least one critic thinks women aren’t convincing as smart characters.”

  “He proves my point, doesn’t he?”

  “Did your co-stars in Rope know you were gay?”

  An elegant shrug followed a shake of the head. “It was a short shoot schedule, with not a lot of time to talk personal lives. Besides, they’re both young, talented men getting their first flush of fame. I don’t think my private life is of much interest to them.” She laughed. “I have to say I’m not interested in theirs either. Only what they bring on the set. Only that when the director calls ‘action’ we are all there to do our best.”

  The video cleared and the interviewer took over, speaking solo to the camera. “So there you have it, America, in her own words. Stay tuned for the interview with Jennifer Lamont and her co-stars about the fascinating movie Rope.”

  “Hello? Earth to Suzanne!” Annemarie was waving her hand in front of her webcam. “This is bizarre. I mean, why would she do this after all these years?”

  A vision of Jennifer, standing in front of the elevators at CommonTech, as bedraggled as Suzanne had ever seen her, preoccupied Suzanne’s mind. “I really don’t know.”

  “You’re going to find out, aren’t you?”

  “You’re the one who has brought it to my attention.”

  Annemarie looked chagrined. “I knew you’d care. For your sake, I hoped not too much.”

  “I don’t know what to think. But let me think.”

  She waved and disconnected. Suzanne quietly ended her two other open screens and calendared a postponement for the next one, and the one after that.

  She didn’t have Jennifer’s phone number or private email. She wasn’t going to call her publicist or agent and leave a message.

  A few clicks and a short conversation with a receptionist later, her video screen was filled with Selena Ryan’s smiling face. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  “Believe it or not, you were on a call list for next week. I thought in view of events of the day that I should call you sooner rather than later because I need a favor. That makes me a bad person doesn’t it?”

  Ryan’s smile broadened. “It depends on the favor.”

  “Jennifer’s phone number or address or any way you can think of that I could privately contact her.”

  “Oh. You’ve seen the news.” Selena’s expression reflected some of the confusion that Suzanne felt.

  “Indeed I have. She came to see me a few weeks ago and I’m afraid I threw her out.”

  Somehow Selena didn’t look surprised. “So you were counting on the fact that lesbians never let go of their exes?”

  “If that were true I wouldn’t need her phone number from you.”

  “Touché.” Selena took a deep breath. “I know that she probably wouldn’t mind. But I have a rule…”

  “I get it.” Damn. “It was inappropriate for me to ask.”

  “I could get her a message.” Selena looked as if she couldn’t believe she’d made the offer.

  “No, that’s too much to ask.”

  “Believe me, being a go-between for Jennifer and another woman was never on my bucket list. But like I said, I don’t think she’d mind.” She held up her index finger. “One message. Make it good.”

  “Thank you. Just give her this email. It’s the private one family uses.” She spelled it out to her and Selena read it back. “She can decide if she wants to get in touch. I know I really shouldn’t care because she’s a big girl and has proven that many times. But that’s a long and lonely limb she’s climbed out on.”

  “I know. People who’ve worked with her have started posting support. That’s all fine and good, but just what the cost is will take years for her to figure out.”

  “I appreciate it. And maybe you’d like to hear why I was going to call you anyway?”

  The tinge of nostalgia left Selena’s expression. “If you can make it quick.”

  “Okay, I’ll skip ahead in the long speech I have about the arts—books, film, theater, television—being the most powerful form of cultural influence at our disposal in the battle for hearts and minds. Would you be interested in serving on a steering committee for a project aimed at normalizing the presence of women in every aspect of production of the arts? Film, for example?”

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “Good. I’ll give you the long speech another time. In fact, find an open evening in your schedule and we’ll talk over dinner.”

  “That sounds great. I’ll tell my admin to work something out.”

  She sent a note to Annemarie saying she’d made initial contact with Ryan Productions about their Women Everywhere idea. Annemarie would no doubt correctly assume why Suzanne had made that call this afternoon.

  She didn’t know what to do with herself. She should have kept her calls, but instead she was pacing around her office, through the great room, out to the warm tiles and the late afternoon sun where she could picture the dangerous flash in Jennifer’s eyes when they’d been bidding against each other on the sculpture.

  Jennifer had come out, looking as cool and collected as she always did, as if it were a decision of no more consequence than deciding which pair of shoes to wear. At least that was what most people would think. Suzanne had known even from her days as a model that Jennifer excelled at making very hard things look simple.

  Her phone beeped with an email from her father.

  Except it wasn’t him. The sender was JLMT. The email contained an address and apartment number in West Hollywood and just the words, “If you can.”

  She heaped all blessings and good karma on Selena Ryan’s head. Then it occurred to her that it was five p.m. on a weekday. It was at least a hundred and twenty miles to the northern end of the Los Angeles basin. With the weekday commute under way, a four-hour drive.

  She didn’t want to sit in traffic and what was more, she didn’t have to. After all, what was the point of being filthy rich if you couldn’t hire a helicopter on the fly? She did it for business because it made sense. Well, it made sense now.

  She laughed at herself as she threw a few things into a messenger bag. Where was the quiet, submissive amanuensis to clear every obstacle in her path? Where were the minions to call in favors and wave credit cards while arranging the impossible? She and Annemarie had laughed once about learning to use nostril flares to order people around, like rich people in movies. A snap of the fingers and a helicopter would appear, lower a rope ladder and she’d be flown to her destination. While wearing a tux.

  Her life was not like a movie. There were too many boring parts in it. Like waiting for a taxi to take her to the helipad at the university. Like being on hold while she played the rich donor card that had the chancellor’s assistant arranging clearance to land for her helicopter service without the usual advance notice. Boring like waiting for another taxi in front of the luxurious Hollywood hotel where the helicopter company had landing privileges.

  Sunset in Los Angeles, the sky a browned blue at all the edges and the air heavy with the scent of jacaranda. Honking cars, boulevards that moved at a snail’s pace. The rising glitter of white and gold lights.

  All of it boring until she knocked on the apartment door and Jennifer opened it, a tissue to her blotchy nose, eyes rimmed in red and impossible words on her lips.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “All I needed was you.” The words burst out of Jennifer with a painful twist in her heart. Maybe that was what truth felt like. She couldn’t think of anything else to say that could possibly matter.

  She let Suzanne cradle her close. It was like an infusion of strength and solidity. This is okay. I can lean on her for a while.

  “I’d tell you everything will be fine,” Suzanne murmured. “But I don’t know that.”

  Jennifer had already cried herself out. She’d kept the lights off and curtains dra
wn, and finally, after sending her address to Suzanne, she’d turned off her phone. She’d cried in the dark, afraid, and cursing the tradeoffs of loving her solitude, of her pride in self-reliance, and the reality that there was not a single person she could ask for something as simple as a hug.

  Any other day, getting an ex’s private message giving her another ex’s personal email would have been the winner for surreal moments. Today it hardly rated. Why Lena had done it, why had Suzanne even cared…

  “I didn’t mind if people thought I was a bitch. Or if they were afraid of me, or intimidated. As long as I didn’t hear sarcasm in their voice when they called me an actor, I was safe. I had the career I’d worked for. And now that might all be gone.”

  Suzanne’s arms tightened. “Have you had something to eat? Can I pour you some wine?”

  “No, I—not hungry. I didn’t even finish the glass I poured for myself.” Jennifer stepped out of Suzanne’s embrace in an attempt to pull herself together. And she didn’t want to get snot on Suzanne’s shirt. She wiped at her nose with a shredded tissue. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like there is a massive rock about to fall on my head but I’ll never see it coming.”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know you’ll survive it.”

  “Thanks.” If only she believed that. She got another wineglass from the cupboard and set it next to hers, which was still almost full. She picked up the wine bottle and thought to ask first, “Do you want some?”

  “No, actually. I’m fine for now.”

  Her hands were still shaking as she set the bottle down again. “Have I been a fool?”

  “Yes. Which time do you want to talk about?”

  She knew Suzanne was trying to be funny but it stung. “Today.”

  “Were you a fool today? You tell me.”

  “I hardly know Amy Lebeaux. She’s very vibrant and has comedic timing like a dream. Thinks I’m a lot nicer than I am. It was fun working on their set.”

  “Then why?”

  “Good question.” She paced across the room as Suzanne settled into one of the armchairs. “If I was going to just throw it all to fate, why didn’t I do that nine, ten years ago? Twenty years ago?”