Cut to the Chase (25 page)

“And how about you paparazzi? The ones who make a living off our lives? You chase us down for years and years, like hounds after the scent of blood. You think nothing of cashing in on the worst of our lives. The predator in you isn’t interested in the good we do, in the charity we perform. You’re in it for the money.

“The same stands for many directors and producers. You love riding the wave with us, but you’re also comforted by the fact that when we crash and burn, the next starlet will be there. You step over us when we go down in flames.

“And down we go.

“All for the sake of art.

“Is it?

“I admit I have caused my own hype. I’m solely responsible and have let you feed off the spoils. I lost the distinction between the role I play on film and that which is my real life. And yet, I have always separated the two, working competently and professionally in the jobs that I have been given.

“But I’m sure, unlike me, that you paparazzi, directors, and producers could stand the scrutiny of a microscope aimed at your personal lives. I mean, you never argue with your girlfriend or get falling-down drunk. Of course not. You must certainly never say the wrong thing to anyone.

“And yet, I do. I have. And you’ve been there to get it all on film or have been ready to make the phone call of rejection.

“The line between my work and my life becomes blurred to everyone. Even me. The buzz starts, the blemished images become reality, and then the jobs fizzle. No one remembers the work you do because there are too many pictures of the dirty laundry left hanging out to dry.

“But the work is what I live for. A well-known saying in this town is ‘Everyone adores you when you’re dead.’ They all quickly jump on board and become a fan. When I die, don’t jump on my death wagon. Say what you will while I’m still here. And I’ll do the same.”

When Paige finished, she paused as a bubble of nervousness caught in her throat from the frank and undisguised words she’d written. She gave Avalon a moment to absorb it all and then looked up to meet her eyes.

“Is this what you believe?”

“I do. And it’s what I hope you believe, too.”

Avalon’s look was intense. Her eyes bored into Paige’s and seemed to be deep in contemplation. Would she be hurt and angry? Were Paige’s words too offensive or revealing?

Finally, she drew Paige close, enfolding her in her arms. “I do.”

She kissed her for the first time since that day at the Chateau Marmont. Her lips were soft and so inviting. For a moment, Paige was not backstage or really anywhere other than with Avalon. Her touch and taste and feel were her only sensations, and her heartbeat quickened.

This was where she wanted to be. No matter what the press said or the producers did, Avalon was a beautiful woman inside and out.

“I’ve missed you,” Paige said. “So much.”

“Me, too, baby. I’m so sorry.”

They kissed again and Paige said, “Are you interested in doing the play?”

“Hell, yes.”

A whoop of joy rose from the other side of the curtain.

Paige laughed. “You just made Dee Jae happy.”

“I want to make you happy.”

A deluge of relief gushed through Paige’s body, dousing her previous nervousness into oblivion. She took Avalon’s hand. “I’d say that’s a plan.”

Michele D. looked confused when she arrived at Dee Jae’s theater. Avalon’s entire body crackled with energy as she met her out front and took her in. Billy was already there, and Avalon showed Michele D. to the seat next to him. The rest of the 150-seat theater was full and the buzz of low-level conversations filled the room. The stage curtain was down and soft jazz played from the overhead sound system.

“What’s going on, Avalon?” Michele D. said, unable to sit down completely in her seat. “We’re supposed to have our meeting with Garrett Chain right now!”

“We are,” she said, and nodded over Michele D.’s head.

Both Michele D. and Billy turned around. Garrett Chain was sitting a few rows back, looking equally perplexed. Michele turned back around and sunk into her seat.

Seeming exasperated, she mouthed, “What the fuck?!”

“I called his office and changed the meeting location. See you in a few,” Avalon said, and left them to join the rest of the cast and crew backstage.

Paige was there and Avalon hugged her, more from happiness than from anxious nerves.

“Are you all right?” Paige said.

“I’m great. I’ve got nothing to lose, actually.” She kissed her. “Not now, anyway.”

Dee Jae addressed the huddle of actors and playwrights. “I’m very proud of all of you. Tonight we have fun. Go out there and enjoy yourselves!” She made her way to the stage and Paige and Avalon watched from the wings.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dee Jae said to the audience. “Thank you for coming to our showcase. We are very pleased to present to you our night of one-act plays. Our first, from writer Paige Cornish, is
Underneath It All
.” She raised her arm, level to her waist, bowed slightly, and walked off the stage as the curtain rose.

The entire backdrop was an enormous, life-size painting of Sunset Boulevard, on the corner of Vine Street, looking west. The 1960s geodesic icon of the Cinerama Dome was in the background and the boulevard was busy with the blur of traffic.

“Break a leg,” Paige said as Avalon walked on to the stage.

Dressed in a shimmering silver knee-length dress, she looked radiant and sophisticated. Paige held her breath and bunched up her fists, trying to quell her nervousness.

Avalon began her monologue. Of the one-act plays that night, hers was the only one-woman piece. And it seemed appropriate that Dee Jae had started with it because it was a real-world soliloquy that would herald the fictional pieces that followed.

As she spoke, Paige watched her own words become wholly Avalon’s. This was a declaration of Avalon’s Hollywood, a simple but direct discourse about the experience of one actor and the frank disclosures not many were bold enough to express. In the weeks since Avalon had been blackballed, her agent and manager had imposed a compulsory exile that had silenced her thoughts and feelings. This stage finally provided the platform for her voice to be heard. Good or bad, Avalon was in it now, moving with her words, striding across the stage, looking out into the audience and asserting herself.

Avalon had pointed Garrett Chain out to her and she watched him for a reaction. His face was as frozen and immobile as an icy lake. When Avalon got to the last part of her monologue, Garrett cocked his head to the side like a German shepherd reacting to a shrill whistle.

“But the work is what I live for.” Avalon had come back to center stage to stand in a lone spotlight. “The work is what I want to be remembered by. A well-known saying in this town is ‘Everyone adores you when you’re dead.’ They all quickly jump on board and become a fan. When I die, don’t jump on my death wagon.” She paused and her chest rose as she inhaled deeply, proudly. “Say what you will while I’m still here. And I’ll do the same.”

Paige jumped when the audience erupted in applause. Avalon still had a serious look on her face, but she could read the triumph in her body language as she walked off the stage and into the wings. They grabbed each other, hugging tightly as Dee Jae clapped Avalon on the back.

“Fantastic!” she said as she went back onstage to announce the next act.

Avalon felt glorious. The monologue had been more therapeutic than she’d imagined. From the wings, she looked out into the audience.

“Oh, no,” Avalon said.

Garrett Chain had gotten up and filtered through the row toward the exit aisle.

Michele D. and Billy saw him leave, as well, and their pale complexions predicted the temperament of the conversation that awaited her.

Avalon and Paige had been backstage no more than five minutes when Michele D. and Billy found them in the green room.

Michele D. skipped the formalities of a greeting. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

The few actors and writers who were there exited quickly, and the room suddenly felt both cavernous and confined.

Girding herself for what had already transpired and was now inexpugnable, Avalon said, “It’s done, Michele. I needed to say what I said.”

“Did you
need
to commit professional suicide? What the hell were you thinking? And inviting Garrett Chain here? Are you fucking—” Aggravation rose so quickly that she stopped speaking.

Billy took his turn. “I’ll call him and apologize. Or tell him it was meant to be a farce.”

“It wasn’t a farce.” A wisp of dread curled up Avalon’s spine. “I’m an actress and I performed a monologue. It was what I wanted to do, and you’re not going to call and apologize or lie about it.”

Michele D. threw her head back like an abandoned marionette and looked at the ceiling. “Jesus.”

Avalon took Paige’s hand and said, “We’re going to enjoy the rest of the showcase, so if you don’t mind…”

As they walked out, Paige squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?”

“I hope so.”

*

The marine layer was dense that night, choking the moon from its connection with Earth. Because of that, the ocean below Avalon’s house was indistinguishable from the sky. Only the recurrent swell of waves rumbling their approach and crashing on the sand gave any indication of its existence.

Paige had Avalon in her arms and they lay in bed under the comforter. She brushed a lock of hair from her cheek and felt the full and wonderful weight of her lover when she inhaled and sighed deeply. “You seemed a little distracted when we made love. I can only imagine tonight was intense.”

Avalon sighed again. “I’m not sure what the fallout will be from the play. The audience seemed to love it, and there will probably be a review about it tomorrow. But movies about movies don’t usually do well.”

“Because producers and directors hate for their inner sanctum to be exposed?”

“Exactly. And I frickin’ did some pretty good exposing.”

“Do you regret doing it now?”

“No. Not at all. There are a lot of things I regret, but not tonight.”

“But you’re worried about making matters worse?”

“Yeah. I keep telling myself to stick to my guns and not panic.”

“Remember RSUA,” Paige said.

Avalon turned in Paige’s arms and looked at her. “Are you—”

“Don’t interrupt the teacher. Now, follow me. Take slow, deep breaths in and out. Four times.”

Avalon laughed.

“That’s not breathing.”

She settled back in Paige’s arms and they breathed together, slowly and deeply. After four cycles, they lay together quietly, listening to the cadence of the ocean’s surges.

Avalon broke the silence. “I adore you.”

Paige kissed her cheek, inhaling the lovely scent that was exclusively Avalon. The light, floral aroma reminded Paige of forsythias, which seemed so perfect because that very flower comes to life after a long, harsh winter and bursts into colors overnight.

“I’m so proud of you.”

“At my last AA meeting, I realized something. A person there was speaking about how our brains can talk us into anything, how they can make us believe whatever we want or convince us to chase certain needs. I thought of my work and the never-ending circus that follows, and then I understood the difference between what my head wants and what my heart wants. I’d lost the ability to separate the two. I thought what my head wanted was exactly what my heart wanted. I was convinced that all the things my brain said—
you need your fans
,
you have to stay in the limelight—
was all that mattered.”

She raised up and faced Paige. “I couldn’t see past my head and was doing such stupid things. My heart was nowhere in the mix. Then I realized that’s where you live. So as I sat there at the meeting, a clear-cut equation came to me.” She pointed as she said, “Head equals celebrity and heart equals…you.”

It was that simple, Paige thought. A million details could blur the picture, but Avalon’s simple math made sense.

“I love you, Avalon Randolph.”

Before kissing her again, Avalon said, “I love you, Paige Cornish.”

*

The morning sun was shooing the beach fog from the coast. Avalon and Paige sat across the street from the house, at the edge of the bluff overlooking the ocean. Their cups of coffee sat on either side of them on a memorial bench dedicated to the early 1900s film director Thomas Ince. They had a bag of bread slices and were throwing them in the air for the seagulls that crisscrossed above them, squawking noisily as they snatched pieces in midair.

“I’m still deliriously happy from the reviews of
Underneath it All
,” Paige said.

“Who knew that practically everyone in town would be praising your play?”

“It’s mind-blowing.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Avalon said. “I’d like to find some land and design my first home. Of course I’d need an architect, but I want to create something amazing.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Paige moved closer and kissed her.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll go to college and study architecture so I can design it myself.”

“I think that would make you happy.”

“Being with you makes me happy, Paige.”

At that moment, Avalon looked so humble and hopeful that being with her was natural and easy.

A horn honked and they turned to see Michele D.’s car coming down the street. It pulled into her driveway, and Michele and Billy jumped out and trotted up to her door. Avalon shouted and waved them over. It was incredibly comical to see Michele D. trying to run in a designer dress. Behind her, unathletic Billy, in his black business suit, looked like a mortician chasing a runaway casket.

“Avalon!” Michele reached them and paused, her mouth open as she sucked in whatever air she’d lost in the past eighty feet. “Garrett called this morning.”

Paige instinctively reached for Avalon’s hand. She didn’t know which direction the news would take, but she wanted Avalon to know she was right there.

“And?” Avalon said.