Broken Glass (2 page)

“This is work. He’s got great artistic taste and is very respected as a director. The movie will be well received and look great. Just be professional about it. Think of it as a job—which it is.”

I remembered what Daniel said about Star—that she was a veteran, born into this world. Strong. Not fazed by anything. Wished I could be more like her. “So how does it work, exactly, on set, when you do heavy sex scenes?” I asked.

“Well, the set will be closed. That includes everybody except the director, cameraperson, sound, and wardrobe.”

“Wardrobe? But I’ll be naked except for my privacy patch and nipple pasties!”

“You’ll have your own personal costumer, who’ll be there with a robe to cover you the second you need it, in between takes, don’t worry.”

I nervously twiddled a lock of hair. “There are BDSM themes in this movie—stuff like that.”

“Believe me, it’s so technical—as you discovered already—that it’s just like any other day of shooting. The only difference is you’re almost naked. First day is awkward and then it’s a breeze.”

“The real reason that’s killing me? I’m so obsessed with Daniel and I know working with him every day . . . kissing . . . and these sex scenes and . . . well, I’m going to fall even harder, and I know he’s still in love with his late wife and he’ll never—”

“Janie, he’s really into you, I can tell.”

“You think so? I’m so crazy about him, it makes me sick. I mean . . . literally sick. Look at me.”

“You can’t blame Daniel for your lazy eating habits.”

“You noticed, huh?”

“He’ll come around eventually, you’ll see. The good thing is you’ll be able to keep tabs on him because you’ll be seeing each other every day. As director
and
leading man? Trust me, he simply won’t have time in his schedule for fucking Natasha Jürgen lookalikes.”

STAR LEFT, AND THE NURSE gave me a sponge bath, and then my dinner. My period had ebbed away so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. I mulled over what Star had said; she was right. I needed to be professional. Think of it as a job and nothing else. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my messages. Two from Star, one from Pearl, one from my dad saying how excited he was that we’d be seeing each other (when was that arranged?), and one from Will announcing they were coming for a visit. News to me. But I missed them and felt a surge of excitement. Even though New York wasn’t far from Vermont, I didn’t get to see them that often. I hadn’t told them I was in the hospital, and by the sound of both messages, they had no idea I was here. As far as I knew, nobody had their numbers to call them, anyway.

There was a text message from Daniel wishing me a good night’s rest. I wondered why Cal hadn’t gotten in touch and then reminded myself of how badly he’d been treated. Perhaps he felt betrayed by me in some way. We still hadn’t spoken since yesterday. I’d call him—we needed to talk, and up until now, I simply hadn’t had a chance.

Cal answered on the third ring.

“Janie,” he said, “so sorry I didn’t call.”
He
was apologizing? I felt instantly guilty.

“Cal, so great to hear your voice. I’m sorry I haven’t called either, but I got taken to the hospital—nothing terrible, don’t worry.”

“I know,” he said.

“Oh, really? Who told you?”

“I was just leaving for the airport when there was a commotion and they called 911 after you fainted. There was nothing I could do; my plane was set to leave.”

“Yeah, Daniel told me. He sent you to New York in his private jet.”

“Cool, huh?”

“
Cool
? Cal, you were basically fired from the movie, how can that be
cool
?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” I asked, confused. Cal sounded like he was about to explode with happiness, I could hear his big grin over the phone, wrapped like a ribbon, around his voice box.

“I got a major TV role. The lead in a pilot that’s going to be shot in Vancouver.”

I exhaled a gust of relief. “That’s incredible! Great timing, what a coincidence!”

“Well, not really, Daniel got me the part.”

“He’s the director? I don’t understand.”

“No, silly, how can he be the director when he’s already doing
The Dark Edge of Love
? His friend, who’s the producer, owed Daniel a big favor, and he cast me with no audition, just from my video clips of work I’ve done. Isn’t that amazing? I mean,
The Dark Edge of Love
was huge but this is five times the money, plus I get to keep my
Dark Edge of Love
fee, plus extra severance on top, courtesy of Pearl’s generosity—she didn’t have to do that—my agent was amazed. So I’m, like, stinking of fragrant roses right now. If the TV show’s a hit, it could run for years. Everyone knows the kudos is with TV now, with shows like
Breaking Bad
and
Game of
Thrones
 . . . film has lost its power.” He was almost breathless with delight. He’d obviously forgotten all about our road trip to Santa Barbara.

He rambled on, “My part is great, too. I play a corrupt cop who also sees visions . . . you know like Christopher Walken in that movie,
The Dead Zone
? Well, it’s like that, all mixed up with politics, a bit like
House of Cards
meets
The Dead Zone,
meets whatever that show was called with Patricia Arquette, but my part is kind of like—”

“When were you going to tell me all this?” I cut in, a little hurt. He hadn’t even texted me. I was the last to know! And, as for Daniel procuring this part for him, why hadn’t Daniel told me himself what he was up to?

“Sorry, Janie, I just felt a little weird, you know? I guess a bit guilty getting special treatment from Daniel. I see what you mean—he’s very cool, very generous.”

I wanted to enlighten him to the fact that Daniel had ulterior motives, that his “generosity” was laced with selfish intentions, but didn’t want to wound Cal’s pride. “You know Daniel will be replacing you as my leading man?” I said tentatively. “I mean, he himself is going to act opposite me.”

“Yeah, I know, good luck. Hey, Janie, I’ve gotta go, have to be up at the crack of dawn—a car’s coming for me so I need to get some shuteye.”

“You’re already about to start filming?”

“Have to go shopping with Wardrobe.”

The ego of every actor. I’d forgotten that. It seemed all Cal was interested in was himself and his part. He hadn’t even asked if I was okay. “Well, have fun, keep me posted. And congratulations, Cal.”

“Thanks, see you around, Janie.”

I pressed END and felt a lone tear fall down my cheek.
See you around.
So much for Cal being boyfriend material! Typical actor behavior. Self-centered. I’m-alright-Jack.

My mind wandered back to Daniel. He obviously
did
care about me; his manipulative hiring and firing proved it. I
knew
he felt something for me. But still, I did
not
want to be his rebound relationship. Just because his late wife was dead and gone did not make me number one in his eyes. He’d told me, to my face, I was the last person in the world he wanted a relationship with. His words:
“I’m feeling very angry right now. I’m in no state to have a relationship,
least
of all with you
,”
ricocheted in my brain. I wished I could fast-forward time. Be the sophisticated actress I would be five years hence, when Daniel would be mentally free of Natasha Jürgen and all her beauty, glamor and sophistication, and the lost child they would have had together, and be ready for someone like me. No, not someone like me.
Me
.

Me, me, me,
me
!

Calm down, Janie, get a grip.

I decided I needed to come clean. Tell Daniel how I felt. Clear the air. Confront him about his fuckathon. After all, I was about to get up close and personal with him, what if he’d caught a sexually transmitted disease on his rounds? That flimsy cock-sock he’d be wearing and the miniscule thingy to cover my girly bits would hardly protect me from raging genital herpes or Hepatitis C. I’d insist he get tested and
insist
that he keep clear of other women until we’d finished filming. I could even get my lawyer to write it into my contract.

Yes! I’d do the role, but on certain conditions.

I mentally made a list of my limits:

•    No sexual relations with anyone else during filming.

•    Mandatory testing for STDs and HIV, with rights to see the doctor’s report with my own eyes.

•    No tormenting me with sexy talk about fucking me or spanking me. (Or had I imagined that)?

•    No kissing me off set or whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

•    No cameras or videos allowed on set during filming, other than the main cameras.

•    Everyone who is connected with the movie to sign a non-disclosure agreement.

As I was embellishing my mental list by the second, polishing any tarnish off the fine details, my phone rang. There was breathing down the line. At first I thought it was the wrong number, then a dirty caller, then Daniel making a sexy call (wishful thinking), and then I realized it was my brother Will.

“Janie, we’re on our way.”

“Right now? You caught a plane already? Talk about giving me notice. I didn’t even know you were planning on a visit!”

“I can do numbers. I can gamble. I can do numbers. Want to go to Vegas. We can meet there.”

“
What
? Vegas? What are you saying, Will? No! Just, no!”

“Dad thinks it’s a good idea.”

My father had always been somewhat irresponsible, my mom the organizer, the fixer, the one who thought for the two of them. But
this
? This was crazy.

“Will, there are so many things you can do with your life, but going to Vegas and gambling is not one of them.”

I had visions of Will being beaten up by the mafia for winning too much money in clandestine ways, left to bleed in a gutter somewhere. Worse, shot in the head. It was true he was clever with math—like a sort of computer, but his therapist always told us that nurturing that facet of his brain would hinder, not help him. It would cause the creative, “social” part of the brain to shut off. He needed to make friends and interact, not hide inside a numerical cocoon.

“Where are you now?” I asked.

“At JFK, changing planes.”

“
What
? Why didn’t Dad let me know about this?”

“I told him I’d spoken to you and that you said it was great, that we could meet there.”

“You lied? That’s a lie, Will, I did not say it was okay!”

“We’re on our way to Vegas, on our way to Vegas, on our way to—”

“Put Dad on the line.”

“On our way to Vegas . . . ” he sang, and then he was gone.

I frantically dialed Dad’s cell. It was off. Crap, crap,
crap
! This was all I needed right now.

2

T
HE NEXT DAY, after I’d been cleared by the doctor and given a pep talk about how I had to eat more iron-rich foods and take my vitamins, Star came to pick me up from the hospital and took me back to her house. As we drove, she told me all the details about how she had once been kidnapped, amazingly by her brother and some loony Russian, and how she’d fallen in love with her assistant director, who was also acting as her bodyguard—they’d been locked up together, downtown LA. How they were finally freed, but Leo—the guy she loved—got shot, and her brother arrested. I’d read the story once, and seen it all over the news on TV, several years earlier, but had no idea the story had been so complex. It made me understand how vulnerable she was; how, as such a major movie star, she was a walking target. Did I want that kind of attention?
The
Dark Edge of Love
—if it did well at the box office—could change my life as I knew it.

I told her the whole Will saga, and Star agreed I should go to Vegas, and even offered to come with me.

“It’s fine,” I told her. “Really, I can handle it, and I’m okay—I feel rested and strong enough to fly.”

She looked doubtful. “
Really
?”

“Really. I’d rather deal with my family alone. No offense, but you know how it is.”

“Yeah, I do. Family can be really fucked up.”

When I got back to Star’s house, I spoke to Dad, who was horrified that Will had fibbed to me, saying what a great idea it was to go to Vegas.

Unfortunately, it was too late to turn the clock back now. Or rather, the
invisible
clock, because we all know that in Vegas they have no clocks. Will had been missing since five a.m., from the hotel. I knew what he was up to: playing in a casino somewhere.

“There’s no point in you even coming,” Dad objected. “You’re weak and need all your strength—you can’t be running around Vegas looking for Will in your condition.”

“I’m worried about him, Dad. He could get into serious trouble if they get wind of his game, his method, whatever . . . that is, if he has one.”

“He’ll be okay,” Dad said, sounding unconvinced.

“How much money did he have on him when he left the hotel this morning?” I asked.