Chapter 15 #2
“No,” Rebecca said and tipped back her drink to finish it off.
Her neck flashed a streak of creamy white under the dim lighting.
“It’s how this works. You’re the most famous person, you’re getting the most publicity, they’re putting you on the poster.
It’s basic math. And I promise you that everyone understands that. ”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t always seem that way. Don’t you ever feel like that? When you’re the only one getting features or interviews?”
Rebecca leaned out to call over the server to order another drink.
“Yikes,” I said. “That bad?”
She leaned back in her seat and gave me a look I couldn’t interpret. “I’m all smoke and mirrors, Gardner.”
I had no idea what was happening, but it was still the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me.
“After I’d done a few small productions,” she said, “this opportunity at the Bushwick Starr came up and I thought, yeah, I could do that. I really wanted it. But I didn’t have a ton of connections yet, and on paper I wasn’t impressive.
My friend Sasha works for a PR firm, and she pushed this little story about me doing this one-night event—it wasn’t much of anything, but Sasha knew how to make me sound compelling—and a couple outlets picked it up.
And that is not why I got that show, but I did get that show, and it was partially because suddenly people had heard of me.
And it kept happening, I swear, I’d breathe, and someone would cover it in their theatre news. ”
“And also,” I said, “you look like that.”
Rebecca laughed. “You understand what my life’s been like, right, Gardner? I was this tall by the time I was halfway through high school. Kids were brutal. Even at Wellesley and then after college—well, things were better, but I did not foresee … any of this.”
I found myself holding my breath as the waiter stopped by with Rebecca’s drink.
“Since theatre was hardly paying all of my bills,” she said after taking a sip, “I always have another gig. Sometimes two. Sometimes five. Anyway, I interviewed to be an assistant to a stylist, and when I walked into her office, she said, you’re tall, and basically hired me on the spot.
And I did assistant work but she’d also just …
style me. Like I was her personal doll.”
“Wait,” I said, “I can’t tell if this is a good story or a creepy one.”
Rebecca laughed. “To be honest, me either. Even now! But I’m a great assistant, and Liz pays me shit but plies me with freebies. And, I don’t know. I got good at it. I stopped slouching—remember how bad I used to slouch?”
“I always liked your slouch,” I admitted, remembering how we’d sit next to each other in bed at night sometimes, reading the same book, Rebecca’s chin on my shoulder despite our height difference.
“Yeah, well, you were biased,” she said with a laugh. “I stopped letting my mom pick out my glasses—yes, I was in my twenties, it had been long enough, we can agree there, right?”
“I’ll give you that one,” I said with a smile.
Rebecca thanked our server as he set down our entrées and turned back to me. “Anyway, I’m a sham. I know what my image is, but I still work for Liz sometimes. As you now know, I’m in my thirties and my parents pay my phone bill. I’m staying with my ex-wife for eight weeks, for god’s sake.”
I glanced at her hands, gold rings sparkling.
“Oh,” she said, and touched a diamond stud in one of her ears. “These are from Target! They look real, though, right?”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously! A lot of the rest—I got most of my grandmas’ jewelry when they died, and Mom and Parker are too no-nonsense for most of it—I know, imagine being too no-nonsense for the classiest shit you’ve ever seen.”
I laughed and shrugged. “I don’t wear any jewelry a stylist doesn’t put on me.”
“Oh god, you too.” She shook her head and laughed. “Anyway, my life’s a figurative second-hand store. Sometimes a literal second-hand store! And if you’re wondering why I don’t just become a stylist, congrats, you sound like my dad.”
“I wasn’t thinking that at all.” I still hadn’t touched my branzino because I couldn’t pull myself away from Rebecca, from her story. “You’re an incredible director and even though you’re so good at other things, I’m so glad it’s what you decided matters to you.”
Rebecca stared at me, and I worried I’d said too much. So for some reason, I kept going.
“Also, you’ve worked a ton since then,” I said.
“In between the Bushwick production and Arcadia. You have a career, Rebecca! There’s no way you got hired for everything on your résumé because you get good press.
I mean if the point is that you faked it ’til you made it …
you made it! What’s the scam, that you’ve directed shows people loved? That you’re hot? These are not scams.”
Rebecca laughed, as I tried to act normal about calling her hot to her face. “Thank you, Gardner. That genuinely means the world to me.”
“I do wish I could see your closet though,” I said, though, again, was that too personal? Closets were generally in bedrooms, after all.
“Oh, god, no!” Rebecca leaned over and speared a piece of fish from my plate. “Sorry, it looks too good and you’re taking too long for me to politely ask. Anyway, my closet’s a disaster and there are racks all over my bedroom. Smoke and mirrors, remember?”
I smiled. “Well, it’s a good show.”
After we ate, we walked outside together and I waited while Rebecca ordered a Lyft. I wanted to offer her a ride but it would have involved walking uphill to my place to get my car, and then the jig was truly up.
“We should do this again,” I said without really thinking, but Rebecca looked up from her phone and smiled at me.
“I’d love to. Next week? I can check my calendar when I get back to my computer. You can browse Yelp for some good ideas.”
“Actually … I don’t know. Is this weird? Maybe you could come over, and I can make dinner, and you can meet Rosie.”
“Gardner, you fucking know I want to meet Rosie,” she said, smiling even harder. “I’m going to win so many points with Gracie and Wilder, you have no idea.”
She waved as a car pulled up to the curb. “That’s me. See you tomorrow.”
I watched her go before walking uphill alone and wondering what would have happened if I’d invited her over right now instead.
And then I reminded myself that the answer was nothing and I wouldn’t have extended next week’s invitation if it were anything else.
Anything else, even if I thought Rebecca would actually be interested, didn’t fit into the life of Professional Actress Tess Gardner.