21. Just When You Think It’s Safe to Get Back in the Water…
Hudson
The rideto the War Memorial Opera House in San Francisco is just over an hour, and believe me, I’m spending the entire time trying not to imagine all the things we could be doing in the back of this limo. Things that would mess up her hair. Things I’ve been trying not to imagine when I’m in her office with her every day.
Because I knew this would be a problem for me, I planned ahead and brought out a little picnic spread of grapes, cheese, and crackers. “Something to hold us over until after the show,” I tell her as I set the basket on the seat between us.
“Basket food? My favorite,” she says with an adorable grin.
“And the best part is, I only picked foods that won’t stain our clothes if we drop them.”
“Genius.”
“I have my moments. Dig in,” I tell her, plucking a grape out of the bunch.
“I’m actually starving,” Allie says, picking up a cracker and placing a slice of white cheddar on it.
“I figured you might be. Women never seem to eat before these things,” I answer. “They’re always too busy getting ready.”
“It really was so much more work than I thought it would be. I can see why a lot of celebrities have an entire team for these types of things.”
“Yeah, that’s why I generally don’t show up at most of the award shows. I can’t stand the idea of wasting an entire afternoon having my hair done when I could be out surfing or doing something else I love.”
She has a bite of cheese and cracker, and I watch her while she chews and swallows it, knowing she has something to say. “But the guys must not need hours to get ready, right? Can’t you just throw on a tux and go?”
“Oh God, you should see all the stuff we do. Skin treatments, hair masks, it’s a whole thing. Mind you, it’s a lot easier than what the women are doing, but still, it’s ridiculous.”
“Do you ever want to just quit?” Allie asks, her enormous brown eyes fixed on me.
My gut tightens at the thought of my career ending. “I don’t know what else I’d do.”
“You could … open a surf shop or go back to college and become something boring like an engineer or a lawyer.”
“I like the surf shop idea,” I answer. “Somewhere down in Mexico maybe, right on the beach. That sounds pretty good.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” she says. “Afternoon siestas in a hammock under some palm trees, watching the sun set over the water every night.”
“Oh man, my agent is going to hate you because you’re literally talking me into giving it all up.”
We both laugh a little, then her face grows serious. “We can’t have that. You’ve got dozens of wonderful movies to make.”
“Well, one, anyway,” I tell her. “After that, who knows? Maybe I will be waxing surf boards for a living.”
“You’re worried about it, aren’t you?”
Nodding, I say, “This one is … really important. If I don’t blow the audience away, and more importantly, the critics, I’m done for.”
She scrunches up her face in confusion. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most popular actors in the world.”
“Yeah, as the young, fun guy, but my last couple of movies didn’t perform the way they used to, and I made one a few months ago that tested so poorly, the studio decided not to put it out,” I tell her, my jaw clenching.
“Oh Hudson, I’m sorry. That sounds awful. All that hard work for nothing,” she says, placing her hand over mine. It’s warm and soft and comforting, and I flip my hand so I can lace my fingers through hers. We both stare at our intertwined hands, and for a brief second, I’m worried that she’s going to pull away, but she doesn’t. She looks up at me instead. “But I’m sure it wasn’t you. It must have been a bad script or poor directing.”
Shaking my head, I say, “The audience didn’t like me in it. They actually said I should’ve been the villain.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, not ideal.”
“So that’s why you’re here. I thought it was just a PR thing.”
“That’s part of it, for sure. Laying the groundwork for my new image. I have to convince the world I am Dr. David Todd, or this whole life,” I say, pointing around the limo, “is over. And even though there are parts of it I don’t enjoy, I really love the job itself. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been really good at, you know? And if I lose that, I don’t know who I’ll be.”
“You won’t lose it, Hudson. But even if you did, or you decided to walk away, there’s so much more to you than just your acting ability.”
I shake my head. “Before I got into this, I literally never had a day in my life when I felt remotely good about myself. I was pretty much just a screw-up.”
“You were a kid.”
“But most kids are good at something—music, school, sports. The only thing I could do was make people laugh, and by people, I mean the other boys. I didn’t exactly have a lot of potential, you know?”
“So you were a late bloomer. Lots of highly successful people are late bloomers. Einstein didn’t walk until he was two, and he had trouble learning to pronounce words. Look what he accomplished.”
“I’m no Einstein, Allie,” I tell her. “In fact, I’m about as far from a genius as you can get.” I look up at the ceiling for a second, then add, “Except right now I’m holding the hand of a real genius, so I guess that’s pretty close.”
She doesn’t laugh, which was what I was hoping she’d do because I really need to lighten the mood. Not just for her, but for me. This is not something I talk about with people. Ever. Instead, she stares at me for a second and chews her bottom lip. “You’re underestimating yourself.”
I open my mouth to object, but she lets go of my hand and puts her finger over my lips. “Facts aren’t up for debate. You’re definitely underestimating yourself. And I just realized I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“I’ve been leaving you to your own devices this entire time when I should’ve been helping you learn.”
“Hey, I’ve been learning. Those videos and the podcast? All good stuff.”
Shaking her head, she says, “Not good enough. First thing tomorrow morning, we need to get to work.”
“Allie, you can’t?—”
“I can do both. Trust me,” she says in a firm voice that makes me believe her.
Smiling at her, I say, “Someone needs to make a movie about you.”
She grins back. “That would be the world’s most boring movie.”
“Would not. You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”
She opens her mouth, but this time I stop her with a finger to her lips. “Facts aren’t up for debate.”
By the time we arrive at the opera house, we’ve switched gears from our serious heart-to-heart to having pure unadulterated fun. We’ve been competing over who has the most embarrassing moments. I just told her about my first ever nude scene when the weather dropped ten degrees by the time we were ready to film, and she told me about a time when she tried to see if she could do a somersault in the ocean, only to pop out of the water with a victory leap to discover her bikini top had slid down to her ribcage.
The limo pulls to a stop, and I glance out to see the camera crew waiting. When I look back at Allie, I can see she’s nervous. “You’re going to be fine.”
“I’m going to make an ass of myself.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll be right there with you the whole time holding your hand.”
The door opens and I get out, then turn back and hold my hand out for her. Allie steps out of the limo, a vision of loveliness that I hope the cameras are able to capture. I smile down at her, proud to be here with her, even if it’s just for tonight. As soon as she’s standing next to me, I lean in and say, “You truly are stunning. Not just in this dress either.”
Her cheeks flush and she offers me a soft gaze. “You’re good at this.”
“I’m just being honest,” I answer as the flashes from the camera go off. “Come on, let’s get inside.”
I offer a quick nod and a smile to the crew as we hurry past them. In under a minute, the entire thing is over and we’re inside the brightly lit lobby. I turn to Allie. “There. All done. We could actually leave if you want to.”
Shaking her head, she grins. “No way. Let’s go watch the ultimate cautionary tale for players.”
It takes us nearly fifteen minutes to get to our seats. We’re stopped every few feet by someone wanting to say hi or get a photo. Allie is gracious about the whole thing, even offering to take the pictures. When we’re finally in the box on the second floor, I turn to her. “Thank you. You were wonderful about all that.”
“It was fun.”
“I love meeting fans, but it can get in the way sometimes, like tonight, when I’m trying to show a girl a good time.”
She grins at me. “Don’t worry. I’m having the best time.”
She holds up the playbill. “My only problem is that I love reading about the cast before a play, and I let my mom talk me out of bringing my glasses.”
A pit forms in my stomach because I know where this is going.
She holds it up to me. “Do you mind reading it to me?”
Desperation sweeps over me as I glance at the playbill, then back up to her face. Lifting her chin, I say, “I have something more fun in mind.”
Leaning in, I leave just the tiniest bit of space between our lips. We’re so close I can feel the warmth of her skin. “I know it’s customary to wait until the end of the first date to do this, but I’d very much like to kiss you right now.”