by J. J. Murray
“You wouldn’t wear that gown again?” Patrick asked.
“For what occasion?” Lauren asked. “I’m retired, remember?”
“So maybe I have a Cinderella fantasy,” Patrick whispered.
“What if I turn into a pumpkin?” Lauren asked.
“I’ll simply enjoy your pumpkin pie,” Patrick whispered.
“So nasty,” Lauren whispered.
Music swelled suddenly from nearly every speaker.
“Do they have to play it so loud?” Patrick asked.
“Yes,” Lauren said. “Some of these stars are heavily medicated. Loud music keeps them conscious.”
“Pinch me if I fall asleep,” Patrick said.
“You won’t,” Lauren said. “The music only gets louder.”
After an endless series of awards was given to an endless series of actors and musicians whom neither Lauren nor Patrick recognized—“We are so out of touch,” Lauren whispered at one point—Gray Areas won for “Favorite New TV Comedy.”
Oh, my God! There’s the cast, crowded around the podium, Lauren thought. Even Randy! And there’s Annie Smith in her hat!
“Are you sorry you quit that show?” Patrick whispered.
“Not one bit,” Lauren said.
At the end of her acceptance speech, Annie said, “We have to thank Lauren Esposito for putting us on the right path and helping us write the pilot. Thank you, Lauren.”
The spotlight swung wildly from the front of the theater to the back, illuminating Lauren and Patrick. Lauren smiled and waved. I have led the strangest life. The show I ran away from wins an award with a “script” I wrote by fussing about the original script. Only in Hollywood.
After another series of awards was given to people who were famous mainly for being famous—“Who votes for these awards?” Patrick asked—the smarmy host announced the nominees for “Favorite Viral Video” and showed a few short clips.
Backflip Fail Face Plant starred a cheerleader who flipped and landed squarely on her face. The spotlight found her wearing a halo brace a few rows in front of Patrick and Lauren.
Human Mannequins on Parade featured people dressed as mannequins who were frightening mall goers. Lauren couldn’t tell the difference between the mannequins and the stars in the front row.
Nuns Attacking Purse Snatcher was black-and-white security footage of three nuns beating a purse snatcher into submission. Lauren thought one of the nuns used brass knuckles. Patrick thought another nun pulled a set of nunchakus from under her habit. Lauren thought this particular pun was the all-time worst.
The Love Kittens was the shortest clip, and it showed three cuddly kittens saying, “I wuv you, Mama” several times.
While the rest of the audience oohed and aahed at the kittens, Lauren turned to Patrick. “That can’t be real.”
True Love featured Patrick lifting Lauren into the air and kissing her in Boerum Park while “Let’s Stay Together” blasted from the speakers.
No one in the audience oohed or ahhed.
“And the winner is . . . The Love Kittens!”
It figures, Lauren thought. We were beaten out by three kittens. Geez. She looked at Patrick and laughed.
“Lip-synching kittens,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “I guess cuteness beats pain, scaring people, true love, and angry nuns every time.”
Much later, as Patrick was beginning to nod off, Chazz won the award for “Favorite Action Movie Star.” While the rest of the audience gave Chazz a standing ovation, Lauren and Patrick sat holding hands.
“What people don’t know,” Lauren said.
“Sam Gabriel was practically stepping on my heels,” Patrick said. “He had to have heard everything we said.”
The applause swelled to a crescendo once Chazz made it to the podium.
“That doesn’t mean it will make the news,” Lauren said. “You heard what Chazz said to him, right? ‘We’ll talk’ means the story won’t run. Chazz’s studio will pay Sam top dollar to keep that story from ever getting out.”
Patrick stood. “Let’s blow this joint. I don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Do you?”
“Good idea,” Lauren said. “Let’s.”
As they walked arm in arm up the aisle, Lauren noticed no eyes following them. If we were in the front and we walked out like this, it might mean something. She smiled up at Patrick. “I do think we’re becoming anonymous, Mr. Esposito.”
“Finally,” Patrick said.
When they entered the lobby, Sam appeared but without his photographer. “Making an early exit?”
“Yes,” Lauren said, wrapping the shahtoosh shawl around her shoulders. “We had a lovely time, and now we’re flying home.”
“Is that really why you’re leaving so early?” Sam asked.
“I guess I just can’t stand being in the same room with a fake,” Lauren said.
Sam flipped open his notepad. “Did you really have to take an HIV test?”
“Yes,” Lauren said. “It was negative, thank God.”
“Do you still have the test results?” Sam asked.
“No,” Lauren said. “Why would I keep them?”
“It would have made great copy, you know, scanned in,” Sam said.
“It wouldn’t prove Chazz was the reason I had to take the test,” Lauren said.
“It would make people wonder, though,” Sam said. “You were with the guy for seven years. Who else could it have been to cause you to take that test?”
“That’s in the past now,” Lauren said.
“Could I trouble you for an interview about all this sometime?” Sam asked. “To set the record straight.”
Lauren heard Chazz droning on and on. “The record will set itself straight one day. Besides, whether you publish the story or not, you’re going to get paid, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
“You’ll make big money if you run this story, but you’ll make bigger money if they pay you not to run it,” Lauren said. “Suppressing the truth in this town is always much more lucrative.”
“I’d still like to interview you one day,” Sam said. He handed her his card. “Call me anytime.”
Patrick guided Lauren outside, and as soon as her heels hit the red carpet, she bent down and removed her pumps and then stretched out her cramped toes on the carpet. “This is so much better.” She handed Sam’s business card to Patrick. “I am done. Roll the credits. The end. No more interviews. Please dispose of this for me.”
“With pleasure,” Patrick said. He crumpled it up and shot it into a trash can.
They continued down the red carpet toward the street, just another couple out walking on a chilly January night in Los Angeles.
“Speaking of pleasure,” Lauren said, “I need to heal your face from all that smiling you did tonight, but I do not want to squeeze into the bathroom on that plane.”
“It’s okay,” Patrick said. “You can heal me when we get home.”
“I like that word,” Lauren said. “Let’s go home.” She surveyed the sea of limousines and immediately found the pink Yellow Cab SUV. “Our carriage awaits.”
“And I get to leave with Cinderella,” Patrick said.
64
Their overnight flight from Los Angeles arrived at JFK at eight a.m.
No photographers, paparazzi, or reporters greeted them.
“The media only likes a winner,” Lauren said.
“Or a whiner,” Patrick said.
“That, too,” Lauren said.
As Patrick and Lauren strolled through the bustling airport, heads turned here and there, and a few people pointed and smiled at the goddess and her escort, but no one swarmed them for pictures or autographs.
Has the spell been broken? Patrick thought. Are we finally ordinary?
Even their cabdriver didn’t recognize them until they pulled to the curb in front of their apartment on State Street.
“Hey, aren’t you the two on that True Love video?” he a
sked.
“Yes,” Lauren said.
“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “You two should have won. Better luck next year, huh?”
“There’s not going to be a next year, but thank you,” Lauren said.
No media lurked on State Street either. They took the stairs to the second floor.
“How does it feel to be ordinary?” Patrick asked.
“I don’t think we’ll ever be ordinary,” Lauren said.
Once inside the apartment, Lauren flopped onto the couch. “I’ve missed this place.”
Patrick removed his coat. “We were only gone for twenty hours.”
“I’ve missed it,” Lauren said. She tossed the shawl toward the TV. “I’m comfortable here. I can be myself here. You’re here. I like myself when I’m around you. I don’t have to be anyone else.”
Patrick removed his tie. “I like your self. If that makes any sense.”
“It does,” Lauren said.
Patrick sat next to her and kicked off his shoes. “I watched how your eyes lit up with all that attention. Whenever that spotlight hit you, you glowed.”
“It was a bright light,” Lauren said. “I had no other choice but to glow.”
“You loved the attention, though,” Patrick said.
“Okay, I’m a ham,” Lauren said. “I admit it.” She moved her legs up onto his thighs.
“I know you’re going to miss it,” Patrick said, massaging her feet.
“I’ll miss the attention, but I won’t miss the scrutiny,” Lauren said. “As if my every word and gesture, and even my silence, means something significant. They used to ask me what I thought about things. Turmoil in the Middle East—your thoughts. Global warming—your thoughts. The presidential election—your thoughts. Gun control—your thoughts. I’m barely an expert on being me, and they wanted my opinion on things I knew little about. That doesn’t stop most celebrities from giving their opinions, though.”
She sighed. “I’m tired of being under a microscope. If I burp, I don’t want anyone to rumor me into being a drunk. If I stumble, I don’t want anyone to rumor me into rehab. If I gain weight, I don’t want anyone to call what’s under my shirt a baby bump. If I make a face, I don’t want anyone to think I’m crazy or in need of medication.”
Patrick squeezed each toe. “But you’ve given up so much.”
“I haven’t given up anything,” Lauren said. “I’ve gained the world.”
“In a seven-hundred-square-foot apartment in Brooklyn,” Patrick said.
“It’s big enough,” Lauren said. “We spend most of the time in the bedroom, anyway.”
Patrick massaged her calves. “We should probably get a bigger bed.”
“No,” Lauren said. “I couldn’t sleep if there was more space between us.”
Patrick pulled her into his lap. “We should at least get an apartment with a bigger kitchen and more windows.”
Lauren draped her arms around his neck. “You really like performing in front of a window.”
“I like it because you like it.” He kissed her nose.
“I do,” Lauren said. She rested her head on his shoulder. “I really appreciate what you did for me. You stuck up for me. You stood up for me.”
“I will always stand up for you,” Patrick said.
“You take after your papa,” Lauren said.
I guess I do. He took off his suit jacket and laid it on top of Mrs. Moczydlowska’s blanket. “I was so uncomfortable in this suit. Wool and I do not agree.”
“You looked so hot in it,” Lauren said.
“I look ordinary in everything I wear,” Patrick said.
“You’ll never be ordinary, Patrick,” Lauren said. “You’re very sexy, the sexiest man I’ve ever known.” She took his right hand in hers. “I like this kind of ordinary. I can count on this kind of ordinary. I like holding hands with the man I love because I know what his hands will be doing to me later. That’s why I squeeze them so often. Have I told you I love you today?”
“You’ve shown me,” Patrick said. “That’s better than saying it.”
“Oh, I have to say it, too,” Lauren said. “I love you.”
Patrick looked into her eyes. “You really love me, don’t you?”
“I do,” Lauren said. “They aren’t just words. They’re not lines from some script. I mean it every time I say it.”
“It’s definitely in your eyes,” Patrick said.
“When you look at me that way, I get all shy, Mr. Esposito,” Lauren said.
“Not a chance,” Patrick said.
“True.” She put his hand on her stomach. “Everything I say from now on will be completely off script. We can make our own scripts. We’ll also do our own shows.”
“I like those shows,” Patrick said.
“I like giving you shows,” Lauren said. “You’re a very appreciative audience.”
“And I get a front-row seat,” Patrick said. “I like being the only person in your audience.”
65
Patrick might not be my only audience for long, Lauren thought. On the flight back I had a sudden craving for Alaskan salmon sprinkled with broken Zagnut bars. I tolerate salmon, but I cannot stand Zagnut bars because they get stuck in my teeth. I have to get to a drugstore to make sure. I should go now, but I’m not as impatient as I once was. Tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of tomorrows. Tomorrow we’ll find out if I’m going to be someone’s mama.
She stood and shimmied out of the gown then posed in front of him in only panties and a bra.
“Bravo!” Patrick cried. “Encore! More leg! I wish I had flowers to throw on the stage!”
Patrick’s phone rang from inside his jacket.
“Are they kidding?” Lauren moaned. “We just got back!”
Patrick pulled the phone from a jacket pocket. “It might be Papa.” He flipped the phone open. “Hello?” He squinted. “It’s Todd.” He handed the phone to Lauren.
“How’d you get this number, Todd?” Lauren asked.
“When my favorite actress won’t answer her own phone,” Todd said, “I have to find other ways.”
“But you’re interrupting my show,” Lauren said.
“What show?” Todd asked.
“The one I’m giving my husband.” She pulled a bra strap off her shoulder. “He’s about to throw flowers onto the stage.”
Patrick removed his pants and tossed them at her feet.
“He’s just thrown a thousand-dollar pair of pants at me, so talk fast,” Lauren said.
“Lauren,” Todd said, “Saturday Night Live wants you!”
What? “Really? Why?”
“Erika James imploded after the last show and cursed everyone out,” Todd said.
“Why?” Lauren asked.
“I don’t know if you’ve been watching this season or not, but she flubs a lot of lines, even though they’re written on the cards,” Todd said. “They confronted her about this, and she went off. She trashed her dressing room and quit. They tried to get her back, but she vanished into thin air. I know that’s redundant, as skinny as she is, but isn’t that wonderful? Erika James is gone, and they want you!”
Erika James suddenly developed some range. I have a little more respect for her now.
“They need you this weekend, Lauren,” Todd said. “Isn’t that great? You’re going to be a star again!”
This is happening too fast! “This weekend?” She watched Patrick remove his socks and shirt.
“You’ll get to play ‘the Loneliest Woman in the World’!” Todd cried. “You’ll get to do live comedy. Isn’t that fantastic? And when Chazz cohosts next month, wow! The ratings are going to go through the roof!”
She smiled as Patrick removed his T-shirt. But I’m no longer lonely. I don’t want to play that lonely role again, and if I’m carrying another little person in me, I won’t have time to be lonely.
“And the amount of money they’re offering is almost as much as what you made on your first two mov
ies combined, ” Todd said. “This is your lucky day!”
I’ve already had my lucky day, and I’m looking at him. I love him because he’s not part of that false Hollywood world. He’s from the real world. Why would I ever go back to unreality? This little apartment, this man—She stifled a burp. Wow. Now I want strawberry Pop-Tarts with mustard and chili sauce on them. I have to be pregnant. This place, this man, this baby, with her strange food cravings—these make up my world now. I like that word. Now. I need to let now happen more often and not worry so much about then.
“Lauren? Are you still there?”
“Yes, Todd.” Barely.
“You haven’t missed any rehearsals, and they’ve got big plans for you, huge plans,” Todd said. “You’ll need to show up Tuesday morning and—”
“Tell them . . . ,” Lauren interrupted. “Tell them that I’m flattered they would consider me, but I am officially retired now. Forever.”
“You have to be joking!” Todd cried. “This is what you’ve always wanted!”
“I thought I did, but I don’t.” She took Patrick’s hand and pulled him off the couch.
“Lauren, this is your last shot!” Todd cried. “If you turn this down, no one will ever want you again!”
I only need one person to want me from now on. Oh, and a child or two to need me. She led Patrick into the bedroom. “I know that, but I have to do this.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Todd asked.
She pointed at the bed. “Nothing, Todd.”
Patrick slid under the covers. A moment later he threw his boxers toward the closet.
“I won’t need your services anymore,” Lauren said. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me, but—”
“Lauren, listen to reason for the first time in your life!” Todd interrupted.
She removed her bra and panties, and as Patrick held up the covers, she slid in beside him. “I am listening to reason. What I have is golden. I won’t give that up.”
“But, Lauren!” Todd cried.
“Good-bye, Todd,” Lauren said. “Please don’t call me again.” She snapped the phone closed and set it on the nightstand.
“Everything okay?” Patrick asked, his hot right hand moving down her back.
