33. Luke
LUKE
The call doesn't go through.
I stand outside the soundstage with my phone against my ear, the Moroccan heat coming off the concrete in waves.
Nothing.
No ring.
Straight to voicemail.
I look at the screen.
I try again.
Same thing. Her phone is off.
A production assistant walks past carrying three coffees and a headset, talking too fast into a walkie. Somebody yells for picture cars. Somewhere behind me, Rebecca laughs at something one of the stunt guys says.
The world keeps moving like it didn't just put a hand around my throat.
I text her.
Call me.
It sits there for one second.
Then it doesn't deliver.
I stare at it.
Try again.
Anna, call me.
Not delivered.
My thumb hovers over the screen. I open Instagram. Her account is gone. Or I'm gone from it. Same difference.
I search her name.
Nothing.
I stand there in full costume, fake blood drying near my collar, dust in my hair, a sword strapped to my back, and I feel like the dumbest man alive.
She blocked me.
What the hell?
"Mr. Wolfe," the PA says.
I look up.
"We need you."
"Yeah."
I hand her my phone.
We shoot the fight scene.
"Action."
I duck the punch. Drive my shoulder into the stunt guy's ribs and throw him into a table made to break.
My timing is off.
"Let's go again," Max yells. He comes over to me. "Everything alright?"
"I'm good."
"Do you need a minute?"
I shake my head.
We shoot it twenty-two times. Too early or too late. Thinking too much or not enough.
On the sixteenth take Max comes over.
"That's it," he says. "That's the one."
He looks at me.
"What's going on? Is it Rebecca?"
"No, Rebecca's great."
"You two aren't."
"She's become a friend. Nothing. I swear."
"Good."
"It's another girl."
"Right. Whatever it is, it's costing me money. Fix it. I have a rule. Never let pussy cost me money."
"Wow. I should write that down."
"You should."
He walks away.
I ask the PA to use her phone.
It goes to voicemail.
She definitely blocked me.
Lunch is in a long white tent with fans blowing warm air from one side to the other.
I call Nina.
"Hey, did anything happen with Anna when she left?"
"No."
"Nothing weird?"
"No. She was clearly upset. Depressed. But nothing. I don't know why."
"Huh."
"I don't think she's coming back."
"Why do you say that?"
"She pretty much said goodbye to me like I'd never see her again."
"What the hell is going on with this girl?"
"Did something happen?"
"If I knew why would I be asking you, Nina."
I hang up.
We finish the day. Danny was released today.
I go to his room.
Danny is there with Jen. His cane is hooked over the back of the chair. He has a plate full of food and the cautious, annoyed look of a man still learning how to sit down without making it a whole production.
Jen has a salad, sunglasses on top of her head, one hand around a bottle of water.
I sit across from them.
"You have a cane? Old man," I say.
"You look worse than me," he says.
"Good to see you too."
"I didn't say it wasn't good to see you. When can you come back?"
"A week. No stunts for three so the schedule is changing."
"All because of you."
"That's how stars roll," he says.
Jen studies my face.
I pick up a fork. Set it down.
Danny chews for a second.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Great. Then this'll be a short lunch."
I look out past the tent. Extras in armor are smoking by the trailers. A camel handler leads two camels across the dirt like that's a normal thing to see on a Tuesday.
"Anna blocked me," I say.
"Why? What happened?" Jen says.
Danny stops chewing.
"I don't know. No idea."
"You check Instagram?" Danny says.
"Gone."
He exhales through his nose.
Jen takes a sip of water.
"I think she broke up with me."
"Really?" Jen says.
"She blocked me, Jen."
"I heard you."
"That means something."
"Yes. It means she's hurt."
"It means she doesn't want to talk to me."
"Maybe."
"There's no maybe. That's literally what blocking someone means."
Danny points his fork at me.
"He's not wrong."
Jen looks at him.
Danny lowers the fork.
"I mean, technically."
"She left. She went home. She blocked me. How much clearer does she have to be?"
Jen leans back and looks at me for a long time.
"Well, it's for the best, right?"
"What does that mean?"
"I mean you didn't really want her to come."
"I told you why I didn't invite her. And for your information I did invite her last week."
"If you wanted her to come, you would have begged her."
"It didn't make sense for her career."
"She doesn't give a shit about that."
"She does."
"She moved back to Montana."
"I don't know why she did that."
"You should have asked her."
"Well, you should have mentioned that before we left."
"I did."
"No, you asked me if she was coming. That's what you said."
"It was implied."
"Implied my ass. If you weren't hurt, I'd kick your ass."
"You dream you kicked my ass. You should wake up and apologize."
"Okay, settle down," Jen says.
She isn't angry. She isn't dramatic. She's just sitting there with the truth like a knife she doesn't need to wave around.
Danny shifts in his chair. The movement hurts him, but he does it anyway.
"What are you going to do?"
I get up. "I'm going to my room."
I call Delia.
She answers. "Hey, how are you doing?"
"What's going on with Anna?"
"What do you mean?"
"She going back to Montana,” I say.
“She told me.”
“Can you talk her out of it?”
"She's my client too and she made her decision.”
“I’m asking you to talk sense into her.”
“I’m not going to discuss my client with you.”
"I'm getting pissed off, Delia."
"Get pissed off. Why don’t you get your girlfriend not to leave town.”
I hang up.
I don't throw the phone.
A knock at the door.
Rebecca.
She's changed out of costume. Hair down. She looks — she looks the way Rebecca Anderson looks.
"Hey," she says. "Bad day?"
"Yeah."
"I brought wine. That should help." She holds up a bottle. "Thought we could talk about tomorrow's scene."
She comes in.
I can tell this isn't about tomorrow's scene.
"Rebecca—"
"What?" she says.
"I'm having a problem."
"Tell me. Maybe I can help."
"You can't."
"You'd be surprised what I can do."
"My girlfriend dumped me over email."
"Wow. That sucks. You have a wine opener?"
She comes closer.
"Means we're both single, Luke."
Rebecca smiles. Small and real.
"I'm not. I'm not single."
She looks at me.
"Oh. No, you're not, are you?"
She goes to the door. Stops for a moment, her back to me.
Then she leaves.
I stand there wondering what to do.
I open my laptop and look for flights to Montana.