You're Not Broken (22 page)

Chapter Six
Jessa

              As I stepped out of the car, there was an immediate flood of camera flashes from the paparazzi that had followed me from my hotel. I luckily had my large sunglasses on that covered most of my face. I saw from the corner of my eye Rowan pushing his way through the crowd to make room for me to enter the restaurant.

              Once in the lobby of the restaurant, the sounds hushed to a refined murmur of diners enjoying a very expensive lunch. Rowan and my security team stood by the front door. I knew that they would stand by, making sure no paparazzi sneaked in to grab a shot of me while dining.

              I didn’t think they would sneak in anyway since there were other celebrities at the restaurant who would very much be upset at the intrusion but I wanted to be particularly careful. I didn’t want my meeting with David Francetti to be too well publicized. I was afraid any added public speculation on our meeting might scare off the famous director from hiring me.

              I caught Rowan’s eye before the hostess took me away to my table and waiting guest. I saw him give me a quick wink. It was so fast I could’ve imagined it. But I had seen it.

              A calming warmth blanketed me. I smiled. I knew what he was saying.
Go knock ‘em dead, kid.

              I took in a deep breath. Well I would. I would give it all I had.

              I followed the beautiful hostess to the back of the restaurant where there were more private booths. All the hostesses in LA were beautiful. Every hostess, waitress, or bartender was as beautiful as any model strutting down the catwalk. And they were just as ambitious as they were beautiful.

              As I saw David rising from his seat in greeting, the hostess casually slipped menus down on the table, affording the director a healthy glimpse at her exposed cleavage.

              But David was an old pro in the business and had no time for such silly games. He didn’t even spare a glance. The hostess pouted and stomped away.

              “Jessa,” he said smiling. More like twitching. The man always had an odd nervousness about him that made nearly all his gestures seem like twitches or tics. “I’m so glad to see you. I didn’t think you’d make it with all the press you have this week.”

              Maybe because of how badly I wanted this meeting with David, my sensitivity was on high alert. What did it mean he didn’t think I would make it? Had he hoped I
wouldn’t
make it?

              I smiled brightly at the man and took his hand. “Anything for you David,” I said as we took our seats.

              David was in his late forties but looked much older. He had been working in the film industry since he was eighteen. He had started as an intern at a studio and had worked in every capacity possible on a film set. By the time he made his first movie, he knew how to do everyone’s job, including his own. Because of this, he became famous for running tight ships. He never hired two people when one would suffice. On his sets, you came to work and work only.

              But despite his obsessiveness and his stinginess, David was soon recognized as a creative genius. His films were instantly hailed as classics and icons of their genres.

              Not only was he artistically gifted, he also somehow possessed the magic touch for careers. Whether you were just starting out or on the waning end of your career, if you were in a Francetti film, you just got a second life.

              Archie Moss had been the lead in his last movie. Fifty six years old, the old actor had been out of steady work for nearly a decade. He had been a young heart throb thirty years ago but after a battle with drugs, he had mangled his good looks and charms and his reputation as well.

              Forty pounds overweight and with his handsome features now thickened into a more rough and manly look, many people only saw reality TV shows and D list blogs for Archie’s future.

              But David had taken a chance. He had given Archie an audition and once he had liked what he had seen, he had pushed the studio to give Archie the lead. David had even insured Archie with his own money in case the actor went off on another bender, wrecking the production schedule.

              But Archie hadn’t gone on another bender.

              Instead he had played Walt Holman, an alcoholic father who finds out his estranged daughter is dying. He played the character with such raw emotion, such purity, that it had blown every doubtful critic out of the water.

              Archie had been showered in awards the following year. And six months after winning the Oscar, he had lost thirty pounds and was looking better than ever. He was on every red carpet, constantly busy with new projects. His career had taken on an unbelievable second wind.

              That’s what I wanted.

              That’s what I needed.

              “So about the new project….” David started. David was never one for small chitchat when there was business at hand.

              And I was ready. I nodded enthusiastically. “I read the script, David,” I said. The tentative title so far was,
Spring’s Nature.
It was about a girl named Spring who went in search of her long lost mother who was also named Spring. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t think of a better director for such a project.”

              David just waved a hand at the compliment. “Well I know we were talking about the role of Spring,” he said, drawing shapes with his finger against the tablecloth.

              I nodded. “I’d really like to audition for her,” I said, trying to keep my voice eager but not desperate. “I have such a connection to her character and I think I can do her justice.”

              David flicked his eyes up at me before quickly looking down again. “I’m sure,” he murmured. “But of course, the studio is interested in auditioning several people.”

              I knew that. “Of course,” I said. “The studio should see every actress they think is appropriate for the film. I’m just hoping to get the chance to show you what I could bring to Spring.”

              The waitress came by and asked if we were ready. David was a notoriously poor eater. He drank more than he ate. He asked for a straight whiskey with a side salad.

              Not very interested in food either for the moment, I asked for a glass of white wine and the tuna tartare appetizer.

              Once the waitress left, I could see David floundering awkwardly to pick the thread of the conversation back up again.

              “What do you think, David?” I asked softly.

              David gave an awkward half shrug. “You’re obviously a fantastic actress,” he started, not meeting my eyes. “Anyone would kill to have you in their project.” I felt my stomach tighten as I braced for his next words. “But I just don’t know if
Spring’s Nature
is the right kind of project for you.”

              “Why?” I asked, softly again.
Remember,
I reminded myself,
you had expected resistance. You had expected doubt.
But it didn’t make it sting any less.

              Again the awkward half shrug. “Jessa, you’re great at what you do. There’s no denying that. You’re a fierce talent. But
Spring
is a very different type of vehicle that I don’t think would carry your talents very well. You’re strengths wouldn’t be shown to the best of its abilities.”

              “My strengths are more than a joke and a kiss, David,” I said calmly. “There’s a lot of me that hasn’t been explored yet on screen and I know I can do it as Spring. I’m just asking for a chance, David.”

              But before David could reply, the waitress returned with our drinks and food. David took a good healthy swallow of his whiskey. I took a polite sip out of my wine, too on edge to really taste what I was swallowing.

              Picking up his fork, David pushed about the salad leaves on his plate, clearly not in the mood for anything besides alcohol. My tuna tartare sat untouched.

              “An audition is all I’m really looking for,” I said, taking the bull by the horns. “No promises, no guarantees. Just a chance to show you what I can do.”

              David sighed. “The studio is already leaning towards Mara Winston,” he finally admitted. “And I have to say, for the first time in a long time, I agree with the studio. I think Mara could do Spring justice.”

              It felt like a blow to the stomach. Mara Winston was three years younger than me and had only been in one other major movie. But all her previous credits had been well-respected indie films that had won several film festivals. She had grittiness and earthiness to her. Critics had hailed her as “more than a actor but a thespian.”

Yes, if anyone was going to do a David Francetti film, Mara was an obvious choice.

I swallowed my bitter disappointment. Even still, I knew I could do a good job for David. I could be a great Spring. Maybe even a better Spring than Mara Winston’s.

“So you’re not even auditioning?” I asked.

“No, we’ll still audition,” David said. He took another big swallow of his whiskey. If he kept drinking at that rate, he’d go through a whole bottle before the end of lunch. “The studio wants options and so do I. But I’m just letting you know as kind of a head’s up that the winds of favor are blowing towards Mara.”

He raised his glass up as if to take another sip but then lowered it slowly, as if he thought better of it. He fixed me with a curious look.

“Spring gets dirty in the film,” he said. “She gets very raw. There’s a very explicit sex scene that’s critical to the narrative and has no chance of being cut out.”

“I know that,” I said. And I did. I had read the entire script. Twice. I had no qualms about any part of the film. It was a beautifully written character and I wanted to inhabit her like I wanted to inhabit a second skin.

David gave another of his awkward shrugs while his hand hung in midair with his nearly empty whiskey glass. “Then why would you want to do it?” he asked. “No movie is ever guaranteed. This one might flop. But even if it did succeed, you might’ve done irreparable damage to your reputation. You might not ever be seen the same way again.”

I tried not to sigh. “But that’s just it,” I said. “I don’t want to be seen the same way again. I’m more than what you’ve seen, David. And I don’t want to be caged in anymore.”

David finally took the last swallow of whiskey and plunked his glass down on the table. He shook his head as if still confused over some problem. “Why risk it?” he asked. “You have likability. That’s rare in this business. Most actors aren’t really liked. Admired, sure. Hated, often. But liked? Rarely. You’re likable. Why risk that?”

Suddenly I felt very hollow inside. I felt as if a wind could blow right through me as if my body wasn’t there at all. David forked a few leaves of his salad and stuffed it into his mouth with a grimace, as if taking medicine.

I picked up my fork and took halfhearted stabs at my food.

“Right,” I said softly. “Why risk that.”

Chapter Seven
Rowan

              She had hardly touched her food.

              I knew I shouldn’t stare at her while she had her lunch but I couldn’t help it. My eyes were drawn to her like magnets. And even from the distance, I could tell the meeting had not gone well.

              Sitting in the car, listening her to talk about her dream and her big break, I felt a stir in my heart that I had never felt before. She was so frank and so honest. She didn’t have all those layers of guile and coyness about her. There was something just refreshing and good about her.

              Although she didn’t like hearing it, I could see why so many pegged her as likable.

              Her smooth, fair skin had practically glowed as she talked. And although I could tell she had tried to dress more conservatively, her womanly curves still poked through. It was impossible to hide her lushness, her softness. It was hard not to look at her and want to grab her tight, so tight you leave bruises on that fair skin.

              I knew from the moment I met her there was more to her than her simple movie persona. She was far too complex, too intelligent to be a simple heroine who needed love to come rescue her. She had guts and gumption and a healthy sense of humor.

              I hardly recognized the feeling and yet I knew that my heart had already begun to beat for her. She was something special. Around her, I was constantly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her, protect her, ravage her, hold her. She drew out nearly every instinct within me and it was hard not to act on any of them.

              She had been put into a neat little box for moviegoers and she was sick of her cage. She wanted to be free. She didn’t want to be stigmatized by her previous history.

              And if anyone knew anything about stigma, it was most definitely me.

              I grimaced as I tried to push back my memories. The darkness of my past always haunted the corners of my brain, threatening to come back out at any moment.

              But as I watched Jessa talk with this big shot director, I could see her expression slowly dimming. Whatever was being said, it wasn’t being said in her favor.

             
Well then, he’s a fucking dipshit.

              Anyone with half a brain could see the pure talent radiating from this girl. Whether she was smiling or glaring at you, she drew you in. She had an aura that kept you focused on her. There was a reason why she attracted as many stalkers and crazed fans as she did and it wasn’t just because of her ticket sales.

              I stood by the front door, the muffled shouts of paparazzi as they yelled at incoming celebrity echoing around me, as I watched from afar as Jessa tried to keep a brave neutral face as what was clearly her ‘big break’ was falling apart around her.

              What was being said? The director didn’t seem like he was angry or aggressive. In fact, the man looked like he was twitchy as hell. If people didn’t know better, one would think it was the director asking for a job from Jessa. But however calmly or nervously things were being said, it was clearly not anything good.

              But before I could feel anymore disappointed for her, Jessa suddenly stood up. They had barely touched their food, if you could call that rabbit food real food. The director looked surprised by her sudden rise.

              He stood up as well.

              I watched as she smiled at him and said a few words. There was real warmth in her smile even though I could see the hurt in her eyes as clear as day.
This kid,
I thought.
She could break a man’s heart.

              And then without a backward glance, she started for the front door. “She’s on the move,” I said to the small security team around me. The men immediately straightened up and prepared to fight against the hustle of the crowd outside. One of the men called the driver to pull up.

              Without a word, Jessa slipped by me, put on her sunglasses and nodded, indicating she was ready. Two of the security men swung open the doors and a flood of lights came at us again.

              Using my height and size, I shielded her as best I could as I ushered her into the waiting car.

              “Get the fuck out of the way, dude! You’re blocking my shot!” a scrawny photographer called out from behind me. I saw him lower his camera, trying to slip it under Jessa’s skirt.

              I shoved him back hard enough so he would drop the camera. Once it was dropped, I gave it a good hard stomp.

              I turned around and fixed him with a glare. I could see the man’s twig like neck bob as he gulped. “Sorry,
dude
,” I said as I got into the SUV, shutting the door.

              The driver immediately headed back to the hotel.

              It was a silent ride. Jessa kept her sunglasses on, only reinforcing the wall she had put up around herself.

              I knew it was crazy. I had only known her for a couple days. There was no way that I could feel anything significant towards someone who was essentially a perfect stranger to me.

              And yet.

              As I looked at her from the corner of my eye, I took in her small but firm chin. Her full and soft lips. Her porcelain smooth skin. I admired her wavy mahogany hair as it glinted against the sunlight. This was heart and sweetness and beauty all wrapped up in one delicate package.

              And fire, I thought with an internal smile, remembering her initial reaction to me when we met. She had guts. She wasn’t a fool.

              Knowing all of this, feeling all of this, I felt helpless seeing her as disappointed as she was. It was even worse seeing her trying to bravely swallow the disappointment in silence.

              It would’ve been highly inappropriate for me to just pull her into my arms. There was the driver and extra security in the car. And besides, I was pretty sure this was a one sided affair. No matter how grounded and real Jessa was, she was still Jessa Blair, movie star. And I knew someone like her had no place for someone like me.

              But still, I wanted to offer some kind of comfort.

              The black SUV smoothly rolled up the driveway of our hotel. As we got prepared to step out of the car, Jessa suddenly leaned over my foot.

              I was sitting with one leg crossed on my thigh. She leaned over the crossed foot. I watched as she carefully plucked something shiny out of the heel of my shoe. She held it up curiously.

              I looked at it as well.

              “It’s a piece of a lens,” I said, recognizing the shattered fragment.

              Jessa gave the lens another look before she looked up at me. “A lens? From where?”

              “A camera,” I said.

              Above her large sunglasses, I saw her brow crease in confusion. “What camera?”

              “The one I stomped on at the restaurant,” I said simply.

              I saw the corners of her lips twitch. “A paparazzi camera?”

              “Yes,” I said.

              “Was it trying to take an up skirt photo?” she asked without rancor. She was used to such behavior from the photographers.

              “Yes,” I said, nodding.

              There was a short beat of silence before a small but amused smile grew on her lips. “Good,” she said softly before turning towards the door, ready to leave.

              I grinned.

              It wasn’t hugs or flowers but it would do. A stomped camera was the best I could offer to make her day a little bit better.