Chapter 17
Avery
I’m getting ready for the LA premiere of Deadline for Love, although I don’t have much to do at all. The studio has sent over a ‘glam squad’ to do my hair and makeup, complete with a stylist to actually dress me.
The contrast with the premiere for Queer Girl Summer can’t be greater—then, I was allowed to dress myself, even to comb my own hair.
The stylist is a sweet guy named Jaz who correctly interprets my eye roll at the rack of dresses he brought.
“You might prefer a suit?” he whispers.
“Oh, how I might.”
“Is she allowing it?” He points at my publicist who has had too many meetings with the studio’s PR department. In Deadline for Love, my love interest is a man, and earlier she said that they would prefer if I dressed accordingly.
But I’m feeling defiant tonight. Antsy as well, and a good kind of nervous. But definitely not compliant.
“I don’t really care what she allows, Jaz.
” I flash him my brightest smile. “I think I’m old enough to decide what I want to wear.
” I know this is part of the game, especially now that I’m in the big league.
But five minutes ago, Leslie called to wish me luck and all I could think of as she was blah-blah-blah-ing was her sister.
Hence my uncooperative spirit. As I sit for way too long with my eyes closed while someone applies my makeup—the understated look I asked for, ironically, takes a lot of time—Nic pops up in my mind.
Stella tells me that I need time, and she may be right, but time has to pass first, and it seems to only be willing to do so at a glacial pace.
Because I can’t get Nic out of my head. I’ve wanted to drive to her house every single day since Sunday. It’s only Thursday, but still.
While Jaz puts together some more options for me to choose from, I check my phone. My heart skips a beat because there’s an email from Nic. I excuse myself from the room so I can read it in private.
It’s the driest message I’ve ever gotten from someone I had a torrid night with. Nic has sent me the details of my next therapy appointment with the replacement therapist she suggests, a woman called Jan Scott.
Maybe Nic is being very careful and doesn’t want to leave an electronic paper trail.
I can only suppose that I’m not allowed to tell my new therapist about Nic.
But what if that’s the main thing I want to talk about?
Surely, that’s a valid question—a question I can only ask Nic.
That I can only ask her in person. I don’t want to get Nic in more trouble than she already is but, I’ve been thinking about this for days now and, well, I’m Avery fucking Hall.
I have a glam squad in my house. Would anyone in their right mind ever conclude that Nic somehow coerced me into sleeping with her?
That she exploited me? The mere thought enrages me.
I read the email again, making sure I haven’t missed anything, and decide I might have to stop by Nic’s house to ask a legitimate question before my appointment with Dr. Scott. I don’t think I have a choice. Suddenly, it’s much easier to pull my lips into a smile.
“You know what, Jaz?” I say as I walk back into the room. “Put me in whatever you like. Just make sure I look my best.”
“That’s easy, darling.” Jaz mirrors my smile. “You’re gorgeous. Who’s your date tonight?”
“That would be me.” Admittedly, this was a lot more fun for my previous movie, when I had Sienna and Stella by my side—and before my career exploded into something akin to a circus.
“The best date ever then.” I like Jaz a lot. Do I need to employ a stylist now that I’m on the A-list? If yes, I’d hire him in a heartbeat.
In the end, he puts me in a golden dress that I would never have picked for myself, but makes me look like exactly what I am tonight: Hollywood’s hottest actress going to her big new movie’s premiere.
I’ve seen the movie several times by now and I’m glad I still like it.
The audience seems to as well. The experience is very different from seeing myself in reruns of Echo Bay on TV.
I don’t cringe so much when I look at myself.
I do a little when I kiss my male co-star, but he’s sitting right next to me, and he’s a gentle beta male I got along with swimmingly on set.
At the party afterward, a lot of my friends are there, as well as—to my surprise—Ida Burton. Ida’s date is not her wife, Faye Fleming, but her ex-husband Derek. Things are looking up even more.
“Faye’s so annoyed that she couldn’t make it,” Ida says. “She has a really nasty cold.”
“Hence my C-list presence,” Derek jokes.
I don’t know which one of them to smile at more. I’m over the moon with their presence. Ida’s because she’s Ida and Derek because of his connection to Nic. Although I must tread carefully. I have no intention of breaking my promise of secrecy, but I can put some feelers out.
“You must come to dinner,” Ida says. “I’ll have my people contact yours.”
Apart from a glam squad, I should now also have ‘people’, which I don’t. I have an A-list agent and a publicist thrust upon me by the studio. And I used to have a therapist.
“I would love that.” I look into Ida Burton’s iconic face.
At an event like this, everyone wants a piece of her, and Ida is whisked away, leaving me alone with Derek.
He looks at me in a way that makes me think he knows.
I can’t wait to get him alone, but I’m the co-star in this movie and everyone wants a piece of me as well.
“Can we talk?” I ask him before following some bigwig from the studio that I’m not allowed to ignore.
“We sure can, darling.” Derek winks at me and then I’m certain that he knows.
Time passes slowly as I do the part of my job that I like the least but have to do more of now than ever before. Schmoozing. Ironically, I’m pretty good at it but, all the while, I just want to bend Derek’s ear. I’m dying to find out what Nic has told him.
At last, as I wave off everyone who wants to congratulate me, pretending I need the ladies’ room really badly, I find Derek and pull him into the darkest corner of the room.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk here.” He glances around skittishly. “I speak from experience when I say the walls have ears in places like this.”
“You’re right.” I can imagine that, with the kind of life he’s had, Derek is not exaggerating. “Can you meet this weekend? Do you want to come to my house?”
“Why don’t you come to ours? Ben would love that.” He leans in closer. “He knows,” he whispers. “We can talk freely.”
“Yeah.” I nod vigorously.
“Give me your number and we’ll set it up. Let me know when you’re available.”
“Thank you, Derek.” He might not have any idea what a favor he’s doing me with this invitation.
“No need.” He nods at the room full of people behind me. “Now go. Enjoy your night. I loved you in the movie.”
“Thanks.” I look him in the eye. “See you soon.”
The rest of the night is a blur of compliments and Hollywood smiles—real and fake.
At first, the producers of Queer Girl Summer didn’t know what hit them when the press kept writing about our movie, when cinemas didn’t remove it from their programming, and the online buzz took on a life of its own.
But now, they’re owning it. So much so that they’ve set up a photo shoot with Vanity Fair at the Chateau Marmont.
The accompanying interview is only next week—thank god, because after a week of press for Deadline for Love I’m rather sick of the sound of my own voice.
And I didn’t have therapy this week to vent and discuss my ambivalent relationship with fame.
Because of the movie we’re promoting, some of the poses we’re asked to adopt are very suggestive in nature. Sienna, who grew up in a showbiz family, is very adept at making a ‘no’ sound natural. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably have ended up kissing Stella for the camera.
During a break, while Sienna’s makeup is being reapplied, Stella beckons me to her. We sit on a lounge chair by the pool, out of earshot—I hope so, at least.
“I didn’t want to ask last night but, um, how’s it going?” she asks. “With, you know… the passing of time and such?”
“The passing of time is so fucking slow,” I say.
I can’t tell Stella that Derek has invited me over to his house and that he knows.
Secretly, but I will never admit this to any other living soul, I hope Derek has invited Nic as well and we can find a way out of the situation and create a magical happy ending.
I live in Hollywood. Most of my dreams have already come true. Why not this one? Although I know why.
“It’s slow at first, but it will go quicker.” Stella tilts her head. “Has there been any contact?”
Nic did send me that email, but it hardly qualifies as contact. I shake my head.
“I’m not going to lie.” Stella shoots me a smile. “I’ve been going nuts trying to figure out who it might be.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Sienna sits down next to me. “Who are you talking about?”
My heart races. For many reasons, Nic’s name is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t betray her trust in me.
It’s the only thing we have left between us, although I might be looking at it from a too romantic point of view.
Sooner rather than later, I’m going to need someone to help me unpack these feelings.
Because of my dinner with Derek and Ben tomorrow, it’s easy not to tell my friends.
“Who Silke is dating,” I blurt out, even though I have no clue of the relationship status of our movie’s director.
“Silke?” Sienna draws up her perfect eyebrows.
The photographer’s assistant walks up to us. “Five minutes, ladies.” She holds my gaze for a split second. “Is that okay?”
“I’m ready to go now.” To take the heat off what we were talking about, and prevent Sienna from asking more questions, I even throw in a little smile.
“It’s okay. Take your time.” She smiles back boldly. “I need to get back. Set up the next shot.”
Predictably, both Stella and Sienna coo like we’re in high school.
“Rae is so fucking hot,” Stella says. “And she’s into you.” I should thank her, really, for following my lead—but I’m not interested in Rae, no matter how hot and into me she might be.
“At least Avery’s not completely oblivious to it this time,” Sienna says. “Therapy must really be helping.”
“Sure.” I try to make my voice sound as flat as possible. I hate not telling them the truth—especially because I really want to.
“Are you making a move?” Sienna asks.
“Not today.” I could—perhaps I should, even. But I can’t even consider it with Nic still so at the forefront of my mind. Especially now that I have a date with Derek, and a plan to go and see Nic.
“Ladies.” Rae calls us over. “Ready when you are.”
“I’m not sure when Avery will ever be ready,” Sienna whispers in my ear as we go back to work.