Stevie had promised Marnie she would stop drinking. They had had the conversation in the Beijing airport, Stevie's hoodie still smelled of smoke and Marnie had bags under her eyes from dealing with the chaos. Stevie had been numb but in that moment she would have given Marnie anything she had asked for because Stevie wasn't an asshole.
Truth be told it hadn't been hard. Not in the way she had expected it to be, not in the way she had been prepared for. She had worked herself into tears imagining shaking and crying as she poured out bottles and struggled to sleep. Instead, she had been awash in desperate boredom and isolation. It was as if she was stranded on an alien landscape without a translator. The parties she went to or the bars she sat at were filled with people existing on a plane she couldn't reach, feeling emotions in a way she couldn't sustain. What she had lost was knowing who she was when she walked into a room. She had lost the oblivion and the easy excuse when she wanted to lash out. She had lost the way to fill time when dread descended and she began to suspect she was a fraud.
It wasn't a melodrama, just a different type of stagnation. Instead of lying at the bottom of the pool she was floating on its surface. Like pond scum.
The crew dinner was its own test. She had to go. She was grateful to these people. They were Marnies. They worked hard so she didn't make a fool of herself. They also frightened her.
The dinner was held inside a restaurant set across the lot from the dorms. The much embattled 'Hometown Diner', fitting that Fast would stake his claim here. It was tradition to have dinner the night before a shoot and the other productions had delayed their moment.
The tradition was meant to be a postcard-perfect night. Gaffers passing the potatoes to the DP and everyone being reminded of the family values that were the backbone of the Greetings Channel mission.
"Apparently, they're orgies with cranberry sauce," Marnie whispered as they hustled their butts across the lot. It wasn't chilly but seeing banks of fake snow made you want to shiver. Stevie had grown up with snow soaked mittens and rosy windburned cheeks. She had missed it since moving to LA.
"When does the cranberry sauce make an entrance?" Stevie asked linking her arm in Marnie's.
"I hope it's on the turkey and not on the bumping uglies," she shuddered. "I hate being sticky."
"Marnie Smith, your daughter is waiting for you at home. What kind of Greetings Channel Ambassador would you be if you participated in a gelatin soaked sex party?"
"You're not guilting this Mama Bear, Stevie Astra," Marnie bumped her shoulder. "Ma and Vern have Tiffany until tomorrow morning. I am not going home tonight."
Stevie gasped in fake shock, "a skank, on the Greetings Channel lot?"
Marnie let go of her so she could punch her arm. "It's my turn. I have earned it after hauling the Skunk Bunch around for six years."
Stevie laughed, "I can't believe you called us the Skunk Bunch. That hurts."
"All you idiots wore was black and white checks and you reeked of reefer."
Stevie couldn't deny her. Pegasus had been a Hot Topic dream.
She stuck her tongue out, "only moms call it 'reefer'."
"Now you get to be squeaky clean and I am going to be the life of the party."
Stevie rolled her eyes as they came up on the set. From the outside, it was just a blank square building. There was something alive about it, an energy that said inside a party was raging. Stevie sucked in the tepid LA air and braced herself. Marnie opened the door and a wall of sound hit them. The set had part of the ceiling removed so the lights and cameras could crane through. All the tables had been pushed together to make one raucous line. Each seat was filled, people talking over each other and passing sagging foil containers of food. A jukebox was playing What's New Pussycat and despite the blaring, it could only barely be heard over the rabble. Stevie's steps slowed. There was the immediate discomfort she thought only existed at middle school dances. The abject certainty she was freak.
Fast was sitting at the end of the table, his chair turned out and his eyes watching the room carefully. He held a beer between his knees but it was mostly full. He spotted Marnie and Stevie's entrance and waved them over.
He stood up as the came near and clasped a hand on Stevie's shoulder.
"Thanks for coming," he muttered even though his look was dark and less than enthusiastic. He turned to the table and turned on the brightest smile Stevie had seen.
"Hey, animals," he called out. They turned to him in a hush and Stevie wished the floor would open up beneath her. "It's our star's first shoot tomorrow. Everyone give her a proper Greetings Channel welcome."
There was a pause and then a cacophony of cheers and applause. Ranging from warm to halfhearted before they each returned to their food. Stevie waved awkwardly and was grateful when Fast released her.
"Nervous?" He asked returning to his seat.
"A little," Stevie smiled.
"You'll be fine. I've worked it so you shoot with me for a couple of days before we bring Thelwell into this."
Stevie hoped she didn't look too relieved but judging by the knowing smile Fast gave her she obviously didn't succeed. Perhaps she couldn't act.
"I get it," Fast said. Marnie, Stevie noticed had already melted into the crowd. "It's like being expected to take care of a tiger because you have a house cat. None of us feel worthy."
"Really?" Stevie leaned in a little closer. Fast was an intimidating figure on set but he seemed to see people for who they were. Even if he didn't trust them to tie their own shoes.
"I mean, I'll be fine. I can fire his ass."
"Do you think he will come tonight?" She looked around her.
"He might," Fast leaned in and beckoned her closer. "Don't think you have to like him to act like you're in love with him. And don't think you have to make him like you. At the end of this shoot, we are all walking away with a paycheck and a handshake."
Stevie nodded and tried to smile. She knew he was trying to comfort her but she still clung to wanting this to be more.
"Go sit," Fast waved her away. "Sound men are the most fun and you want the lighting crew to like you."
Stevie saluted and tucked her hands in her pockets. She didn't want to admit they all looked the same to her.
---
Lionel hovered outside the set building. He was waiting for Neve to pick up. The sound down the line was a hollow buzz as it reached across the ocean. The hinge of his flip phone dug into his shoulder.
"Everything is good, find your breath, today is a gift that is why they call it the present," Neve murmured in his ear as soon as she picked up. He had woken her up, he could hear the sleep clinging to her voice.
"You're such a bitch," he answered her. He heard her sigh and the mattress shift as she rolled to her side. Julia would be in bed with her. She would be trying not to wake her. Lionel could picture the domesticity of it. The comfort. He longed for something so normal.
"Are you going to call me every time you have a crisis? Don't you have friends?"
"Do I have to go?" He asked over her.
"Whatever it is, yes you have to go," Neve answered on the edge of sleep.
"This place is like a prison," he whispered. His eyes always darting for interlopers. There was some relief knowing the paparazzi couldn't get this close.
"American Industrial Movie Compound is the preferred term," Neve yawned.
"I met my co-star today," he interjected. Neve was silent for a moment.
"Stay away from her."
"That won't be a problem. She thinks I am an asshole."
"Smart girl."
"I thought you didn't like her."
"I don't like the bad publicity that follows her. I don't know have an opinion of her personally."
Lionel paused bouncing his weight from foot to foot.
"Why is she doing this?" He understood why he was here but why was she?
"You will have to ask her yourself," Neve yawned again.
"I thought I was supposed to stay away from her?"
"Then I guess it will remain a mystery," Neve's voice sounded like it was growing distant. "Goodnight Lionel, go do your bloody job."
The line went dead and Lionel closed the phone with a snap. He dropped it in his pocket and steeled himself against whatever scene was on the other side of the door.
He had missed the food but he was grateful. Judging by the swirls of pink on the plates it had been standard American fare, vaguely horrifying. The crew were in clumps around the set; some danced, others spoke with wide gestures and loud laughing, most were drinking.
The crowd went silent and parted for him as it always did. He might as well be an exotic bird the way people stared. He always tried to smile. If you couldn't belong you could at least be obliging.
Parties with Tawny had been this way. It was part of the reason she liked him, but he had realized that later. She liked being the centre of attention. Untouchable.
He drifted at the edge of the crowd. He snagged a drink from the bar. The woman who had come for Stephanie was leaning against it. She smiled at him. She had told him her name. He had forgotten it.
"You look uncomfortable," she shouted over the crowd. The wall of people swallowed her voice so he could still barely hear her. He drank the cold gin, running his tongue over his teeth. Americans coveted sweet things.
"Of course not," he answered her. He smiled, allowing his eyes to soften. He didn't want her to know.
"It's okay," she put a hand on his arm for the briefest moment. They were overly affectionate too. "I practically had to drag Stevie here."
Lionel instinctively looked out to the crowd. So she had come. Now he was looking, he caught sight of her choppy blonde hair and scoop-necked sweater. He could see her pale shoulder as she leaned in and smiled at a tall man with a ginger beard. Another man had his arm over the back of her chair. She held a beer in her hand but he noticed she didn't drink.
Her friend followed his eyes. Stephanie looked up at her. The woman raised her eyebrow and Stephanie lifted her bottle. Marking on the neck with her thumb that it was still full. Then she saw Thelwell and her smile dimmed before she turned back to her companions. He knew her friend marked it.
"She is a bitch when she is nervous," the woman said leaning easily into his space. Lionel was certain she was a little intoxicated. "She puked when she found out you were going to be her co-star."
"Is that a good thing?" Lionel asked reaching over the bar and filling his glass back up to the brim with gin. The woman laughed. He hadn't been joking.
"I am not sure, but tell her I told you and I will make you disappear."
Lionel clinked his glass with hers and tried to laugh.
Stevie watched them carefully. She tried to keep one ear on the conversation happening around her but drunk Marnie had loose lips. Especially when the person in question was handsome. At least he looked uncomfortable, she thought.
"Are you excited about tomorrow?" Brent asked her, Stevie forced her eyes back to him as his meaning sunk in.
"Excited is the wrong word, terrified of making a fool of myself," she smiled.
"You'll do great," Jeff assured her. He reached over with his beer and clinked hers. If he noticed she didn't drink after he didn't make a fuss. It was a good prop. It kept her hands busy and no one offered her a drink.
They talked for a while after that, Stevie lost track of Marnie but she could always feel Lionel in the room. A shark swimming at the edges of the pool. The party was beginning to pair off and clear out. She could feel it. The change in the air. She was used to this but it was different sober, the sweat from the too-hot room drying beneath her sweater and the smell of cigarettes was giving her a headache. Jeff's arm had been creeping tighter around her shoulders. He kept smiling and talking to Brent but it was like a python was on the back of her chair. She smiled and stood up.
She slipped away from them.
They let her go as their conversation started to slip into upcoming union negotiations. She couldn't find Marnie. She wandered through the remains of the party and poked her head into the eddies of people. Belatedly it occurred to her to check her phone. She pulled out the pink rectangle and the small screen had a blinking envelope on it.
She flipped it open and read the message.
It was short and to the point. gone 2 form cu 2morrow
Marnie must like whoever she had taken home if she used one of her few text messages to let Stevie know where she had gone instead of coming to find her.
She was texting back "skank", hitting the seven four times to get to the 's' when she tripped on shoes. Large hands reached out and caught her but not before her beer, that she had haphazardly tucked under one arm, poured all over her jeans.
Stevie let out a stream of curses as she tried to right herself and step over the puddle of beer and turn to see who she had tripped on.
"Why are you sitting like that?" She asked looking accusingly at his feet stuck out from the chair.
"Why are you looking at your phone while walking?" he fired back. He shoved himself up a little dizzily from his chair. She was close enough to notice the warm way he smelled, of liquor and sweat. Maybe a little lemon rind. Of course, she could not judge as she would reek of beer.
She snapped her phone shut and shoved it in her pocket. She looked at him more carefully.
"We should get out of here," she said putting her beer on a nearby table.
"Excuse me?" He muttered but his head fell forward and he moved his hand over his face. He was drunk. And alone. She had been in the same position.
"They are starting to pair off for the orgy," she said trying to make him laugh. Instead, he looked at her with his earnest eyes as if he was looking deeper into her than anyone ever had. She wanted to poke his eye with her finger. "We should leave."
She took his lapels and started to haul him up. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward. He wasn't that much taller but he seemed to fill all her senses.
"Are you suggesting we 'pair off'?" He mumbled. His weight was pushing on her and she wondered if she was the only thing holding him up. His voice somehow managed to be dismissive and warm.
He was subtly rejecting her but still wanted her to say 'yes'.
"No, I am saying this isn't our party and we should exit with a little professionalism."
"Ah yes, we are professionals," he said mockingly. He righted himself and Stevie could breathe again. She tugged his arm and he started walking. His gait was loping and tended to lean towards her as he veered just right of his path.
She muttered encouraging things as she pinballed him out of the party. If she was annoying him, he didn't show it. She assumed she just formed part of the background noise as she got him outside.
The lot was quiet, above them the stars were faded by the light pollution but she still looked up. Only the brightest stars managed to push through the sickly orange halo. Lionel had the fingers of one hand tented against his temple. Stevie wondered if he was much of a drinker.
"Are you okay?" She asked. The beer on her pants was pulling in the cold and making her more than a little miserable.
"Champion," he muttered. His accent was a little thicker. It made her smile.
She started walking her hands shoved in the pockets of her leather jacket. She heard his feet on the gravel behind her. A little skidding and stumbling but moving in the right direction.
The lot was a strange place, each set and warehouse mixed. The interiors were inside the small beige squares and the exteriors rose up in their quaint wholesome shapes. The technical departments had legions of small trailers in front that could be dragged wherever they needed to go. Same with the cast trailers. The small eddies outside sets a reminder that other Christmas miracles were wrapping just as theirs was beginning. She felt useful and part of something for the first time in a long time.
"You're smiling," Lionel Thelwell observed from behind her. She didn't know how he knew but he was right. This place made her happy. "Why?"
"It's not the company," Stevie called over her shoulder. She stalled her steps so he could catch up with her. "Are you okay?"
"You keep asking that," he answered as he drew alongside her.
"Puking would be a bad idea. Santa will put coal in your stocking."
"It's August, I have a long time to earn his forgiveness." Lionel looked at her for a moment. He smiled and she didn't know why. Or why she smiled back.
"It's Christmas," she stuck out her tongue.
"You Americans and your holidays," he shook his head but it wasn't without affection. "All Sunny talks about is Halloween. Then it will be all about Thanksgiving. You are inconsistent in your passions."
"Just because we celebrate normal things. No St. Norbert's day fish for us."
Lionel paused for a moment, "you made that one up."
"You had to think about it," Stevie accused with a twitch of her lip. Lionel laughed.
"At least, our holidays have a little dignity. I don't understand your obsession with pageantry."
"It's called 'fun'."
They walked in silence for a little bit. The dorm was growing larger in the distance. The walk seemed shorter on the way to the party.
"Who is Sunny?" She asked to fill the space.
"My ex's daughter," he answered. His mouth twitched and she wondered what he wasn't saying.
"You still talk?"
"On occasion."
She let it slide. It was none of her business. He seemed less drunk now, the fresh air always helped. He looked around, his eyes always scanning. He kept his distance too. If she stepped closer he guided his path so there was always an arm span between them.
They reached the dorm and he pulled open the door. She ducked under his arm and fished her key out of her pocket. He hovered behind her as she unlocked the vestibule door. It made her nervous. She had butterflies. It was familiar coming home with a man, having him wait as she fumbled with the lock. She pulled open the door and they walked into the beige utilitarian lobby.
"What floor?" She asked as she called the elevator.
"Third," he answered, still hovering behind her. She nodded. Her too.
The elevator arrived with a rumble. She stepped in and he followed her. She hit the button and leaned against the mirrored back wall. His eyes slid from the button to her. She wondered if he thought she was making a move. She kept her eyes on her shoes and gnawed her lip. The doors opened and she sprung out first.
"Well, I am that way," she said pointing over her shoulder to the other end of the hall. She smiled at him as he stepped out after her. He was very close. "Stay out of the mini-bar."
"Thank you," he said lowly. He leaned forward and she froze. He kissed her cheek, his nose cold from outside but his mouth was warm. He stayed close to her, hovering for a moment.
"For what?" she asked thickly.
"For the escort," he shrugged. He turned the other way and walked down the hallway. Stevie watched him and her heart thudded.
"Traitor," she murmured to herself as she made her feet turn so she could not see what room was his. At least, she thought, Fast had made it so they wouldn't see each other for a few days.