Mean Season (3 page)

“You're such a prick,” Lars said. “I've been with you for an evening, and I'm sick of you already.”

“Yeah, right,” Joshua said. “You say that and then you get your ten percent and you shut up awfully quick about how sick you are of me.”

“Fuck you,” Lars said. He stood, too, and stared at Joshua. “I don't care how big you think you're getting. It's not worth it. You're not worth it.”

“Oh, no,” Joshua Reed said. His voice was sarcastic.

“Joshua, please. Lars,” Judy said, but neither man paid any attention. They reminded me of cats in a standoff, staring at each other until one backs away.

“Fuck you,” Lars said again. “You want me to see to it that you don't work here again?”

“In Harper's Ferry? Go right ahead,” Joshua said.

“You know that's not where I mean,” Lars said.

“You can't do that anymore. You don't decide,” Joshua said. “Just try.” And then he stalked off.

“You're an asshole!” Lars called out after him.

There were only a few tables where people were still eating, but from where I sat, it looked like everyone in the room turned to stare at Lars. I shrank a little in my chair.

“He is,” Lars said. “Sorry.”

Judy took hold of Lars's arm and pulled him back to his seat.

“Leanne, I'm so sorry,” Judy said. She dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “I'm sorry you had to see…hear that.”

“It's okay,” I told them, though I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Sure, no one likes to be insulted, or have the thing
or the people they care for held up as goofy or uncool. But it was hard to take it personally. Joshua Reed didn't know me, or my family, or Pinecob. He was just mad, and I knew that, whatever the reason, it had been there before he met me.

“It's not okay,” Lars said again. “It can't always be okay. It's not okay to insult you, to make Judy cry. I'm really fed up with this kid.”

“He's not a kid,” Judy said. “That's the problem.”

“He doesn't act like any adult I know,” Lars said. “So much potential and I have tried—really—to get him to use it, and not waste goodwill on these outbreaks. I'm serious. I can get a lot of agents not to touch him, but someone out there is going to offer him representation.”

Judy nodded.

“Listen, Leanne. It's late,” Lars said. “You can take the car back home now, if you want. But why don't you let us put you up here tonight? You can have a nice night away. We can have breakfast in the morning—I know Judy wanted to talk to you about the movie, didn't you, hon?”

Judy nodded again.

“We can put this incident behind us,” Lars said.

“Oh, do stay,” Judy said. “They've got a great breakfast buffet.”

Like I needed convincing. I'd never stayed in a hotel that nice, and the thought of sleeping in a big bed and getting to use trial-size shampoos, that sounded fun. So I said okay, and Lars jumped up to take care of things.

“Joshua is going through a difficult period,” Judy said, quietly, once Lars was out of earshot.

I nodded like I knew what she was talking about. All I knew was that he was getting more and more famous, and getting to star in a bunch of different movies, and getting to date models like Elise. I wasn't a guy and I didn't live in Los Angeles, but it didn't sound all that difficult.

“He's…he's adjusting to a new level of celebrity, and that's hard,” she said.

“How long has it been difficult?” I asked.

Judy thought a moment, then shook her head. “Pretty much since I've known him, I guess.” She smiled but looked sad at the same time.

“That can't be fun. For you, I mean,” I said.

“It's not. A lot of the time. But he's an excellent actor. He really is. He's more talented than any of my other clients. And when I see him work,” Judy said, “it's almost worth it. For Lars, it's different. He doesn't really like actors, so he's got a lot less patience.”

“Was he serious about dropping Joshua?” I asked.

Judy seemed to think about it. “He might have been. Something to sleep on, anyhow.”

Lars returned then, with a room key for me. He gave me a brief tour on the way to the lobby. There was a bar that stayed open late, to the left of the restaurant. There was a smaller dining room, where the breakfast buffet would be served.

“What time do you usually wake up?” Lars asked. “For breakfast.”

“I'm usually up around six,” I told him.

“Yow,” Lars said.

Judy laughed. “You're quite the morning person, but that's a little early for us,” she said. “Especially since that's three in the morning California time. How about around eight we meet down here?”

We were standing in the lobby. My room was down the hallway, theirs was upstairs.

“Eight's fine, too,” I told them.

 

My room was small, but so neat, and the blankets were turned down and there was a chocolate coin on the pillow. I checked the bathroom, and there was a little bottle
of shampoo and another of conditioner and also lotion and two kinds of soap, and a shower cap and a sewing kit. I put everything in my purse right away, then put the shampoo back, since I would need it for the shower in the morning.

I called home so that Momma knew where I was. And then I called Sandy at the beach.

“You'll never guess where I am,” I told her.

“In Joshua Reed's bedroom?” she guessed, whispering.

“No. But I am in the same hotel, and I'm staying here. In my own room. For the night.”

“So?” Sandy asked.

I told her all of it, and she was a lot more pissed than I was.

“What a butthole,” she said, when I finished.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“I'm sorry, Leanne,” Sandy said.

“No, I'm really okay about it,” I told her.

“It still shouldn't have happened. That was a butthole thing to do.”

I agreed.

 

After I got off the phone, I was still wide awake and figured I might as well poke around the resort, in case a maid had left her cart out, and I could get more shampoos to bring home for Beau Ray. I didn't find a cart, but I wandered through the various lobbies and waiting rooms until I found myself by the door of the bar. The bartender looked up from wiping the counter and waved me inside.

“Hey, have a seat,” he said. “You were eating with that movie guy earlier, weren't you?”

“Joshua Reed,” I said, nodding. “Yeah. I hope the yelling didn't disturb you.”

He just shrugged, as if one man calling another man an asshole across a nice restaurant was something that happened every weekend.

“What's he like?” the bartender asked, and then he looked past me and said, “speak of the devil, I guess I'll find out.”

I turned on my stool and saw Joshua Reed swagger into the bar. He looked over at me, frowned, and then walked up and took the stool next to mine. I got the impression that he had kept drinking between dinner and just then. He ordered a martini and turned to me.

“Leanne Gitlin,” he said.

I turned to him, trying my hardest to look like I didn't care, or like I'd sat next to lots of movie stars in lots of bars before that particular night.

“I hope you're not angry with me.” He smiled. I'd seen that same smile on Colin Ashcroft.

“Why should I be angry?” I said.

“Exactly,” he said. “You get it.”

“Sure, I get it,” I told him, even though I had no idea what he was talking about.

“You don't know what it's like,” he went on. “All these people putting demands on me, expecting me to do this, do that. I just want to live my own life. You understand that, don't you?”

“Sure,” I said again. I was afraid that I was starting to sound stupid even though I did know a fair bit about demands and expectations.

He took a sip of his drink and turned and looked straight at me. “Why the fuck do you do it?” he asked, and even though I'd heard him swear at dinner, it still made me flinch. It was hard to get used to him as someone who swore so casually. He never swore in the interviews I'd read.

“What do you mean? Do what?” I asked.

“Because you seem smart enough. I figured you for the usual ditzy fan, but you seem smart, so why do it? The fan club bullshit.”

“Oh.
That.
” I was glad to figure out what he was talking about. “I don't know,” I said. “It's different. It's something dif
ferent.” I'm not sure he heard me, because he started in again while I was still talking.

“You fans sort of freak me out,” he said. “It's like some weird fantasy. I don't understand you people.”

“I guess I do it more for Judy than I do it for you,” I told him.

Joshua looked over like he wasn't sure whether or not to believe me.

“Really? Yeah, I can see that now. She gets a lot of people to do things for her. She's good at her job.”

“She's a good person,” I said. I wanted him to understand the difference. “Other people matter to her.” I hoped that was true. It struck me that I didn't know Judy as well as Joshua did.

“You think?” Joshua Reed asked. “Believe me, I've seen her act like they do. But I'm not so sure, in the long run. Hell, I know
I
matter, but I pay her bills.”

I didn't want to follow his conversation to somewhere ugly, so I switched subjects and asked him whether he thought that Lars was serious about dropping him as a client.

“I don't know,” Joshua said, shrugging. “I guess. We'll see. I can always get another agent. I'm a prize bull at the county fair.” He stood up, unsteady. “I've got to get out of here,” he said. “The drinks are on me,” he said, though he hadn't ordered me one. He dropped money onto the bar. “See you around, Leanne Gitlin.” And then Joshua Reed wandered off.

I looked back at the bartender, who I figured had been listening to us the whole time anyway.

“Does that answer your question?” I asked him.

 

I slept until almost seven. After my shower, I pocketed the rest of the shampoo, and then put my clothes back on. I was downstairs at eight, but no one was around so I picked up a Virginia travel magazine and sat in the lobby. I read an arti
cle on horses until 8:10. I read an article on Thomas Jefferson until 8:15. And I read up on Richmond restaurants until Judy rushed in at 8:20.

“Leanne, oh, I'm so sorry!” she said. “This morning has been unbelievable,” she said. “I've got to get some coffee, but, my God! I just got off the phone with the studio. Because of some sort of farming statute, they can't start filming for another two months.”

“Is that a problem?” I asked her.

“That's not even the start of it.”

Judy said she wasn't hungry and only drank coffee, but I figured I ought to take advantage of the breakfast buffet, because I'd never been to one so nice. So I was eating an omelette that the chef made special while Judy told me the story.

Apparently, after Joshua wandered out of the bar the night before, he had found the keys to one of the rented limousines and had taken himself for a ride.

“But he'd been drinking,” I said.

Judy sighed. “It's not the first time,” she said, then pulled back a little and looked at me. “I'm sure it was a mistake,” she said, more slowly. “I'm sure he didn't realize how much he'd had.” Judy said that Joshua had crossed the Potomac into West Virginia, though she didn't figure that he had actually meant to go for a late-night visit to Pinecob. “He was probably looking for a bar or a girl or something. God only knows,” Judy said.

A weaving limousine stands out on West Virginia roads, and the police tried to pull him over. “And if that's not bad enough,” Judy said, “I guess the lights or siren startled him. The limo ended up through a fence in a field. He hit a cow. He hit a goddamn cow!” Judy said.

I didn't know the right reaction to news like that, so I just nodded.

“Apparently, it's fine. The cow is fine,” Judy went on. “I've
already been on the phone, calling around to find a way to mend the fence. A perfect metaphor for my day.”

“At least the cow's okay,” I said. “He must not have been going very fast.”

Judy shook her head. “This is my personal nightmare,” she said. “This is the exact sort of thing I dread. Now I've got to either try to keep a lid on this, or put some sort of good spin on it, and at the very least, try to get him out of this mess. Lars has gone over to the station where they kept him overnight. He'll probably be able to get him out, but Jesus!” Judy laughed. “What a fuck-up,” she muttered. “I'm really sorry you've had to see all of this. I can't tell you…”

I shrugged. I offered her a bite of omelette but she shook her head.

“What I want is a cigarette,” she said, “but I quit, and Lars would kill me.”

 

“All I'm saying is that there must be
something
we can do. It's West Virginia for Chrissakes. It's not like it's a serious state.” Joshua was trailing behind Lars as the two walked into the breakfast room.

He wore the same clothes as the night before, though his shirt was untucked and wrinkled, and a grass stain smeared one knee of his pants. He hadn't shaved, and he looked as though he hadn't slept, but even so, Joshua Reed was striking. Actually, I thought he looked just like the character Stormy Bridges, the street-smart runaway he'd played a few years back.

Lars stopped in front of our table. “Okay,” he said, turning around, “first off, how about you not driving drunk anymore? How's that for an idea?”

“Well, duh, but that doesn't help our particular problem,” Joshua pointed out.

“
Your
particular problem,” Lars snapped. “Because, legally, West Virginia
is
a serious state. Hi, sweetheart,” he said to
Judy. He kissed her on the cheek. “Morning, Leanne. I trust Judy has brought you up to date on our most recent disaster.”