Nick laughs. “That’s funny.” He shrugs boyishly, eyes intent on me. “I thought you might like the food? And, you know, the chance to get the full Hollywood experience. What kind of producer would I be if I didn’t bring an actress to a place like this?” I feel a flush rise up my neck. He brought me here to impress me or at least give me what he thought I wanted. Which makes me wonder if Nick has had many real girlfriends or if he’s just dated a lot of aspiring actresses who wanted all of this. “A lot of people would kill to be here with this crowd,” he continues, his tired eyes playing over the bustle around us. When he looks back at me, he catches my expression, my eyebrows raised sky-high, and he’s laughing again. I clearly am not one of the people who would kill to be here, present company excepted. “To be fair, I had a feeling you weren’t like a lot of people. Well, I kind of hoped you wouldn’t be.”
For a second I wonder if Nick is already in love with Jane. If that’s what he sees when he looks at me. But then, I reason, I was Jane wasn’t I, aren’t I? That was me on the screen, nobody else. I shake off the thought and take a sip of my ice-cold free drink.
The conversation moves on to other things and by coffees we’ve circled back to my screen test tomorrow.
“Are you nervous about meeting him? Your co-star?” Nick asks.
“A bit, if I’m honest. I really want him to like me. Is that lame?” I ask, sipping my sharp coffee. I know I should have ordered a jasmine tea or something to stand any chance of getting an early night and being well rested for the test tomorrow, but it tastes so good. I can already feel the buzz of caffeine kicking through me.
Nick shakes his head. “No, it’s not lame.” He smiles and stirs some sugar into his espresso. “You want some insider info on him?” he asks cautiously.
I feel a yawn of dread open in the pit of my stomach, unsure if I can handle any more insider revelations. I don’t think I could deal with it if Nick told me my potential co-star was a terrible person.
I take another hot sip of coffee and nod. After all, being prepared is half the battle.
Nick leans forward with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying seeing a moment of, no doubt refreshingly novel, vulnerability. I’m guessing most of the people he deals with have skins so thick that nerves are nothing more than a distant teenage memory.
“He’s actually a really sweet guy,” Nick says with a smirk, and I feel a wave of relief flush through my body. “He’s very down-to-earth, easy to work with, crews tend to love him.”
“And the whole Method thing?” I probe.
“Oh yeah. Apparently, he just starts doing it the first time you meet him. Not like full character, costume and all that, but he’ll set your relationship up in real life the same as it is in the script.” He tips back the last of his coffee. “It’s kind of a love story, Galatea, right?”
Not exactly.
But I’m guessing Nick hasn’t had access to the actual script, and the previous versions of the story have tried to turn it into a love story. “Yeah, sort of,” I say, moving the conversation on.
“Yeah, so he’ll be setting up that relationship with you from the get-go.”
“Okay. That sounds…” It sounds a little terrifying considering Higgins and Eliza’s relationship, but it will certainly make my job playing her much easier. I’ll hardly need to act if he’s giving me all of that already. Yes, put like that, it’s a gift. Plus, I’ll get to watch him work from day one. I feel a shiver of excitement. This is what I wanted. This is it. “It sounds great. I’m not amazing at small talk anyway so he’ll save us both the effort,” I joke.
“Oh, and he loves biscotti, apparently,” he adds. “Remember all that stuff about him living in Italy in the ’90s? He likes to have biscotti with his morning coffee, always has it on set. Just a heads-up, but if you swing by Guidi Marcello’s on the way to the studio tomorrow—I’ll text you the address—you can pick some good stuff up.” Nick pulls out his phone. “I’ll drop Marco there a quick text, let him know you’re coming in and who you’re buying for. He’ll get you the right brand.”
I can’t keep a grin from spreading across my face. “You’re really good at your job, aren’t you?” He looks up at me, caught off guard, uncharacteristically bashful, and for the first time since we met I have a very real flash of what we could be like together, as a couple. Without hesitating I lean forward and kiss him. The restaurant and all its people and politics and pretense disappear around us. It is just his willing lips and mine. When I pull back there’s an achingly sexy, slightly surprised look in his eyes. I want him so much it hurts. You’re in a restaurant, I tell myself, it’s just a first date; you barely know this guy.
Nick’s face cracks into a smile and I fail to suppress a giggle. I’m so happy.
“Shall we get the bill?” he asks, quietly.
I nod. “Yeah, if I stand half a chance at getting any sleep before tomorrow, we’d better,” I answer, gently. I can’t go home with Nick tonight, even if I’d like nothing more than to do that and then stay there with him indefinitely. Even if I need to enlist Lucy as a night guard and to barricade my own apartment door, the most important thing is that I am rested and ready for tomorrow. I can’t let myself be derailed by threats and I certainly can’t let myself be derailed by horniness.
When he pulls up outside the Ellis Building to drop me off, he takes my cool hand in his warm one and squeezes. It’s strange but I haven’t felt this close to another living person in a while, not even to George in our final year. I try to remember the last time a man took my hand; ironically George’s first premiere comes to mind.
A cloud passes over my thoughts as I remember that I’m leaving LA after the test tomorrow. I can’t stay and I might never see this man again. I lean in and kiss Nick once more, desperately.
The sound of a car horn blares in the far distance, breaking the spell. As I emerge from the car I feel the safety of his gaze on me, taking in the delicate fabric of my dress as it clings and shifts with the contours of my body, until I disappear into the apartment building.
27
Video Footage
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14
Lucy is ready and waiting for me at reception when I enter, her sober expression bringing me back down to earth with a jolt. She obviously got my note.
“I heard about the issue last night,” she confirms as I approach.
“Thank God. And did you see anyone come in at around that time?”
“No one. Just your assistant,” she says. “No one else came in.”
“My assistant?” I repeat straight back at her.
She seems momentarily baffled by the question. “Yeah, Michelle, your assistant.”
The air is sucked completely out of me. “Lucy, I don’t have an assistant,” I hear myself say. I try to maintain my composure, completely dumbfounded, but my heart is already hammering, my body fizzing with instinctive panic as the implications of what she is saying begin to spiral out of my control. “I don’t even know anyone called Michelle,” I continue. “Okay. Is there a chance you might be mixing me up with another person, another apartment?” I can hear the desperate hopefulness my voice.
Lucy lets out a nervous laugh. “No, of course not, I’m talking about Michelle. Your personal assistant, Michelle.”
I involuntarily slam a palm down onto the counter. “Lucy, I do not have a personal assistant. I just don’t have one, okay? I don’t know anyone called Michelle.”
I watch the meaning of what I’m saying seep into her, and her face slowly falls. “Oh,” she says in a tone that tells me I am not going to like what’s coming next.
I take in a slow breath. “Lucy, has somebody called Michelle been going into my apartment?”
Lucy’s eyes have a low-key wildness to them as she nods, her lips pursed. “Yeah,” she answers.
A silence falls across the counter as the full ramifications of that pass silently between us.
“Okay,” I finally manage.
“But she had a key. She said she was your assistant.” Lucy shakes her head slowly in disbelief at what seems to have transpired.
She had a key. She had my lost apartment key from four days ago. I think of Joanne. Has Joanne been paying me nighttime visits? Whoever it was has had my key for four nights. How many times have they been in?
“When did you first meet Michelle, Lucy?” I ask. There’s a thinness to my voice.