Текст книги "The Unidentified Redhead"
Автор книги: Alice Clayton
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Chapter Three
The morning brought hellfire and brimstone…and that was just what I threw up. When I first opened my eyes, which took several minutes of prying through mascara goo, I knew that this day was possibly going to be the worst day of my life. I never, repeat
never
, have more than two cocktails. I simply cannot handle it anymore. I would love to pretend that I could still hang with the younglings, knocking back cocktail after cocktail and feel no pain, but that was no longer me. I felt the pain…oh how I felt the pain.
I attempted to get dressed, but gravity defeated me and I made my way out into the hall in an old button down Polo shirt, leaving my shorts on the floor of my bedroom where they had finally given up the fight. After repeated tries at balance, I made it down the hall, shorts-less, hugging the wall and then banister for support. I could smell coffee and like a beacon, I was drawn to it. I could hear Holly talking on the phone and I moaned at her damnable cheeriness. Holly never got a hangover…bitch.
"Yes, right now you're scheduled to do MTV on the seventh and then you have an In Style photo shoot on the twelfth of that same month," she said, smiling at me while I poured myself a cup of coffee, wrapping my hands around the mug and inhaling deeply. I might feel human again in about a day or so. I burped and thought, well, maybe a few days.
"Listen, mister, do you have any idea how hard it was to sync up all the calendars for you guys? Half the cast is going to be there. You have to do the photo shoot on the twelfth. At least it's here in L.A. so there's no travel involved. Yes, I know this fall you'll have plenty of travel. Honestly, Jack, sometimes you sound like such a little bitch." She laughed as she gestured to me to sit down.
Knowing I was on borrowed time with my legs supporting me, I sank into one of the comfy armchairs in her breakfast nook. As I sipped at my coffee, I thought about meeting Jack the night before and smiled thinking of what the other side of this conversation must be sounding like.
"She just woke up. Yes, she appears to be quite hung-over. Hold on, let me see," she said looking carefully at me. "Jack is asking me to inspect your eyes to see if they look like…wait, what? To see if they look like cabbages?" She looked at me strangely.
"Tell Hamilton I said to suck it," I groaned, letting my head drop down to the arm of the chair, oddly pleased that he remembered our conversation with such clarity and surprised that I did as well.
"She said, 'Suck it, Hamilton.' No, she really did say that," she answered back as I laughed quietly to myself. "He wants to know exactly what he is to suck, Sheridan," she responded, rolling her eyes.
"Tell Hamilton that he has it exactly right, he is to suck Sheridan," I yelled, making sure he could hear, but splitting my own head open in the process.
"OK, that's enough of the telephone game. You guys can continue your last name foreplay another time. Jack, I'll speak to you later. What? Jesus, fine I'll ask her. Goodbye…I'm hanging up now." She clicked her phone off and set it on the counter, looking at me carefully.
"What? What are you looking at me like that for?" I asked, realizing that I was grinning from ear to ear.
"You tell me. Why is he asking me about your sparkly boobies?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at me. I didn't answer as I lowered my head to my coffee mug, fighting to not smile wider.
***
Holly took good care of me that day; she left me alone except to bring me Sprite and Saltines. I managed to control the crumb fall-out this time. I pretty much stayed on the couch. After a day of hangover hell, I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up it was dark outside and Holly was gone. She had left me a note and a stack of magazines on the coffee table next to me.
Lush,
Here are the stories you promised you would read. I'm out for dinner with clients; I shouldn't be home too late. Call me if you need anything and clean yourself up. You look like shit.
Love you,
H
Holly was right. I did look pretty sorry. I headed up to my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I needed some energy, so I changed into my suit and grabbed a towel. As I walked back through the house, I saw the stack of magazines marked with Post-its on the table again, and after rereading her note, I picked up the one on top and thumbed through it to the first short story. I rolled my eyes at the fact that I was contemplating reading a romance story, which I usually avoided like the plague. Still, I took them with me out to the pool deck.
I marveled once again at how beautiful Holly's house was. High up in the hills, it had great views from three sides. It was California modern, with an open floor plan and lots of natural light. It even had a sound system that worked throughout the house and on the patio. I plugged my iPod into it and selected my favorite play list of quiet time U2 songs.
The best part of the house was the infinity pool that had the nicest view of all: downtown L.A. She even had the requisite hot tub, which is where I ended up after swimming laps for about thirty minutes. I had gotten myself back into shape by doing many different things, one of which was swimming at least three times a week.
I relaxed in the hot water, letting the jets massage away the last remnants of the alcohol and the way it had kicked my ass today. I took a sip from my water bottle and my gaze fell on the stack of magazines.
Oh, what the hell. You promised.
As I began to read, I remembered how insane Holly looked when she described her attachment to these stories. I had my trepidation, to say the least, not wanting to succumb to the madness that so clearly had her in its grip. Sexy scientist Joshua, huh? We'll see…
I was really getting into it when I heard voices coming from inside the house. I glanced in and saw Holly and a tall, good-looking man walking towards the French doors, making their way outside to where I was. She was dressed in a black wrap around dress with gorgeous snakeskin sandals.
Damn, she looks good. She must have had a date with that tall drink of water…wait, is that Jack?
As they got closer and stepped out onto the patio, I realized this was not the same guy I met last night, and yet it was.
This was not the scruffy Hollywood hipster I was bantering with in the kitchen, this was a very handsome man dressed in a dark gray suit and tie, clean shaven, with gorgeous shaggy blonde curls. The night before, he'd had that damn baseball cap on and I couldn't see the perfection that was his hair. I had a weakness for curly hair.
Crap, hide the magazine. HIDE THE MAGAZINE!
I quickly threw my shirt over the stack next to me, composing my face in what I hoped was a neutral expression.
"Hey, Gracie. I see you're feeling better!" Holly called out as they closed the distance to the hot tub.
"Much better. I took a swim and now I'm just relaxing," I answered. I was at a disadvantage, sitting so much lower than them, when Jack squatted down, resting on his heels.
"Hey, Sheridan. This is very Hollywood of you. Hot tub, moonlight, view of the city…" he observed.
"Strategically placed jets of water for my enjoyment," I countered, winking at him as Holly groaned behind him.
"Jesus, Grace, you are too much," she said, laughing.
"Yep, that's true. I am too much. Now hand me that towel. I'm pruning here," I said. Holly obliged and then sat down in a chair, kicking off her high heels. "So, what are you guys up to tonight?" I asked, taking the hand Jack had offered to help me out of the water.
He gave me the towel, but not before I noticed him glancing down at my black racing suit. It wasn't as flashy as a bikini, but come on, I wasn't out there for a Sports Illustrated cover. The way he was looking at my toned legs, flat stomach and strong arms, I would say those workouts were paying off. I shook my long hair, squeezing the water out before toweling off my body and slipping into the chair next to Holly. Jack took the seat facing us as we talked.
They had attended a dinner for People that night and Jack was quite a hit. I got the sense from talking to the two of them that this film was a bigger deal than I had realized and he was getting quite a bit of buzz. They had spent most of the night meeting industry people and working the room.
That was what made Holly so good at her job. People forget that it is called show business for a reason and it takes a lot of work to launch a career in the right way. All too often, a young talent gets lost in the shuffle of a hyped movie and then without the right follow through, they're last year's news. Holly was great at making sure that the actors she managed worked on projects that challenged them creatively, as well as succeeding commercially. To do that, you had to work the room sometimes, as they had done tonight.
While Jack joked about some of the funny people they had met and the Time hoopla that I was beginning to understand was unavoidable, I got the sense that he wasn't quite comfortable with it yet. That was good, though–too many take themselves too seriously and they burn out fast.
Holly was beginning to tell stories about when we had first moved out to L.A. so many years ago and I knew it wasn't going to be long before she embarrassed me.
"So, there was Grace, and she's singing her little heart out for this director. She's convinced she's going to get the part, she's giving it her all and when she's finished, she stands center stage, looking like she deserves a Tony for this performance," she paused, looking at me for confirmation.
"Yeah, so there I am, thinking I nailed it. I was finally going to get cast in this new musical," I continued. "Then I noticed that the director is dressed awfully casually for this audition. Too casually."
"Like he is wearing a jumpsuit and has a bucket of cleaning supplies and mop next to him!" she screams, collapsing on Jack's shoulder in laughter.
"What? Why was a director dressed like that?" he asked.
"Because he wasn't the director, he was—"
"–the janitor," I finished, hiding my face in my hands.
"Grace gave the audition of her life for a freaking janitor! She was so mortified she ran offstage and out to her car and was gone before anyone even knew what happened!" She gasped through her laughter.
"But I bet he was thoroughly entertained," I reminded her.
Holly's phone rang, interrupting the moment, and she excused herself to take the call, chuckling. I shivered a little from the night air, still in my bathing suit.
"You should probably go get out of that wet suit. You're going to catch cold. I should get going anyway," Jack said, getting up to hand me another towel.
"Yeah, it is getting late. I'll walk you out," I answered, standing up next to him.
He draped the towel around my shoulders and rubbed them a little bit to warm me up. We passed Holly still on the phone and she gave him a kiss and mouthed the words, "Call you tomorrow."
"So, Sheridan. Does this mean you're a singer?" he asked.
"Yep, I was singing even before I was acting." I sighed as we walked through the house towards the front door.
"Why do you say it like that, like it makes you sad?" he asked, turning to face me.
"It doesn't make me sad. I just don't sing as often as I used to and I miss it sometimes. I'm actually going to start singing again at some open mike nights soon; next week in fact," I smiled in anticipation of this.
"Well, be sure to let me know when it is. I would love to come," he said, looking down at me. I was reminded that I was only in a towel and my bathing suit and decided to mess with him a little.
"Hamilton, I would love for you to come," I teased, implication heavy in the air as I raised my hand and gave him a light slap on the face. He narrowed his eyes at me.
"Hmmm…" he said, and opened the front door.
"What does that mean?" I grinned. Don't chase him, don't chase him.
He turned once more, giving me a thoughtful glance. "Hmmm…" he repeated, and gave me wink.
"Night," I said, as he started to walk away
"Night, Sheridan," he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone.
I closed the door and leaned against it for a minute, just thinking about "Hmmm…" I pushed myself off the door and was startled by Holly watching me from the other room.
"Hmmm?" she smirked.
"There will be no hmmm-ing going on, I will have you know. He's my new friend. That's all. He's twenty-four, for Christ's sake!" I stated, as I walked by her on my way upstairs.
"You could use a good hmmm-ing, ya know!" she yelled up after me.
That was so true.
Chapter Four
I woke up feeling strangely disoriented. My back was stiff and I realized that I had fallen asleep in the big chair by the fireplace in the living room. I stretched, listening to the tendons in my neck crackle and pop until I noticed that Holly was sitting across from me with a grin like the Cheshire Cat.
"Hey, what's up?" I asked, snuggling back under the throw I had wrapped up in last night while I was reading.
While I was reading…oh no.
"I told you so. How far did you get?" she asked with a bemused expression, looking pointedly at the magazines strewn across the floor next to me.
I attempted to crawl further under the blanket while she pointed accusingly at me and I finally rolled my eyes and held up my hands, signifying my surrender.
"OK, OK, I give. It's brilliant and I'm totally sucked in. I'm in love with Super Sexy Scientist Guy!" I admitted, blushing as I thought of the passages I'd read the night before. Joshua had arrived in nineteenth century Paris and was engaged in some rather intense 'international relations' with a young woman who worked in a millinery. I didn't know where this story was going to go, but I was sure digging it. I might have also been imagining a certain Mr. Hamilton in the role of Joshua and that made me blush further.
"Oh, boy," she squealed. "Wait until you get to the part where he picks her up and pushes her up against the—"
"Holly! Not fair! Let me read them on my own. At the rate I'm going I'll be finished by the end of the week." I raised a finger in her direction and shook it.
"I won't tell you anything…but promise me you'll keep me posted on what part you're on," she pleaded with me.
"Agreed," I muttered as she left the room, glowing.
***
Later that day, I was finishing a run at Griffith Park. I had spent the rest of the morning trying to work, but I was unable to stay away from the damn stories. I was well into the third short story by now, and losing ground fast to this new addiction. By three p.m., it was obvious that I would get no work done, so I decided to go for a run. I was lucky that my job allowed me a flexible schedule and I mainly worked from home. I had gone back to school after moving back from L.A. and got a second degree in instructional design. I created and designed training programs and materials and had been fortunate enough to be able to work in a freelance capacity. This work was something I enjoyed and was good at, although it wasn't satisfying the way performing was. As I was running, I reflected on how happy I was here and how I had made it back.
When I lived in L.A. the first time, I was focused only on what I thought fame would bring me. I wanted the attention, the money, the lifestyle, instead of concentrating on the work, on the craft. What I have since realized is that, back then, it was all about the validation, looking out instead of in. I rarely allowed myself to really let go, to truly trust myself or whoever I was sharing a stage with. I had rare moments of honesty on stage, but they were so powerful and exhilarating that I quickly moved on to surer footing. I would transition into a punch line, or camp it up, taking myself out of the moment and back into what I knew. Be funny and beautiful, but not real.
When I moved back home, I was mortified. I had failed for the first time in my life, really failed. I hated that, but not enough to fight for it. I continued to gain weight, and was almost unrecognizable to anyone who knew me. It happened over the course of several years, so I didn't notice how unraveled my life and its direction had become. I was lucky enough when I went back to school to find something that I was good at. Once I was finished with school for the second time, the jobs I was able to get afforded me the luxury of working from home and I cocooned there.
Holly and I stayed in close contact, but rarely saw each other. I had a few friends that I spent time with, and while I went out on a few dates from time to time, there was no one special. For someone that had partied like a rock star and never wanted for male companionship, I had effectively shut down that part of my life. It was as if I was numb…down there. I'd had a highly charged sex life and a strong sexual appetite, but once I started to gain weight, I no longer had the desire. OK, strike that…I had the desire, but I was so reluctant to let anyone touch me. Over time, that part of me just went to sleep. I had become a shell of my former self and didn't even know it.
Everything changed when my friends took me out for my birthday. I had stayed in contact with several of my girlfriends from high school, getting together for dinners and cocktails occasionally. They always made me tell them stories about the exciting life I had led in California, all eighteen months of it, and it was fun. There was still a little crazy left in me, and I let it out sometimes, albeit carefully. They had surprised me with tickets to see Rent, and while it had been years since I had seen a play or musical of any kind, I was touched that they would remember how much I had loved the Rent soundtrack. I had never actually seen the show and thought it would be an interesting night. Interesting did not even begin to describe it.
From the moment I walked into the theater, from seeing the stage, to even finding our seats in the mezzanine, my skin was tingling. My senses were heightened, my breath was coming fast and I actually felt a little dizzy. Then the lights went out.
There is a feeling, an electricity that happens in live theater. There is a connection between the actors and the audience that is palpable. When the lights came back up, I saw the band on stage and felt the music begin to move across me…I was overwhelmed. I tensed and when I recognized the opening song, I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes. Before one note was sung, before one word was spoken, I was lost in the moment…and I began to cry.
It was as though everything I had been missing in my life came into focus and I couldn't hide from it anymore. I clutched the armrest as silent sobs racked through my body. The tears were falling, but I was filled with such a sense of joy, of rapture, of belonging. I couldn't stop the smile that was stretching from ear to ear. It was magic. It was the closest to a religious experience that I had ever come. At one point, my friend to my left tried to ask me something, but I just shook my head. I couldn't take my eyes off the stage. I knew that this was what I was supposed to be doing with my life and I could not wait to start living again.
After that night, it was like there was a hand pushing against my back, constantly keeping me moving forward. I went home, looked in the mirror and cried at what I saw. Not so much about the weight, but the woman looking back at me had none of the spark, none of the crazy that I used to love about myself. I cried for the time that I had lost. I cried for letting things go on like this for too long. I cried for the living I had deprived myself of for so long. Then, once I was done crying, I went to work.
I obtained the services of a personal trainer the next day and set about changing the outside. I also started speaking to a counselor to change the inside. I took an acting class at the local theater and was insanely happy. I was thrilled to be back in the company of creative people again and threw myself into every scene, every critique and every exercise as if it was my job. Then, one evening, I went alone to a club that was sponsoring an open mike night. I climbed onto the tiny stage with my sheet music, which I gave to the accompanist. I sang my song, hearing my voice ring out strong and clear through the club, and felt whole. I felt like I had come home.
I began to open up and have fun again. As the weight came off, my confidence returned and I became reacquainted with the power that kind of confidence can bring a woman. I went out on dates and the first time that I invited a man back to my house…well, let's just say it was another religious experience. Why the hell did I deprive myself for so long? I rejoiced in my reawakened sexuality, and while I was careful, I certainly enjoyed myself. I was definitely more aggressive than I was back in the day, and I was pleased to realize that I was still quite good at the sexing.
After almost two years of self-discovery and work, I was ready to make another big change. I visited Holly in L.A., and by the end of the first day, she had already invited me to move in with her. I was ready to move back and start my new life. I knew that I could continue working on a consultant basis no matter where I was living, and it just felt right. I thought about her offer for about seven seconds and then agreed. We were both thrilled to be spending time together again. I knew that living with her would be as fun as it was the first time, and it certainly was. She was truly my best friend, my sister, and I would do anything for her. She also saw through all my bullshit and never let me get away with it. You had to love her for that.
When I got back to my car, I stretched out a little from my run and then climbed in. I put the top down while I took a long pull on my water bottle. I glanced at my cell and saw that I had a few messages, the first of these from Holly, asking me to pick up Mr. Chow for dinner on my way home.
The second was from Nick asking me if I wanted to go out dancing the following night. His favorite club in West Hollywood played all eighties music on certain nights and it was the best for shaking your ass.
The third was a text from a number I didn't recognize:
Sheridan, The Lost Boys is on TNT tonight.
I know how much you desire Haim.
I laughed when I read it, knowing there was only one unknown number that could have sent me this text. I quickly texted him back:
Hamilton, I already have my DVR set to record it
so I can "desire" myself whenever the mood strikes.
I plugged in my iPod and was selecting some driving music when my phone buzzed, alerting me to a new text:
Sheridan, Now I am concerned for you…
I think you need a new celebrity to crush on,
someone a little younger, perhaps. More charm, less heroin.
I felt my heart flutter a little. He was cute and funny. And 24, Grace, 24!
I thought about his hair then, those gorgeous curls and his green eyes. I thought about the way he looked when he was biting on his lower lip. Ah fuck it.
Hamilton, I have been thinking about upgrading to someone new
for my "daydreaming"…any thoughts?
I chose my music, and right before I pulled out of the parking lot, I got another text:
Sheridan, I am having several thoughts…
one question though. Still on for the tryst?
I laughed aloud and sent him one more text:
Hamilton, hell yes,
although I will need to be swept off my feet.
He responded in less than a minute:
Here's to getting you off your feet, Grace…
Dammit, he'd first-named me.
