18. Bambi
Bambi
Bambi normally wouldn’t be caught dead in a restaurant in this part of town, but Jason had insisted she go with him tonight. Why Bruce and Kimberly even opened the place here is beyond her. Even though it is technically still in Beverly Hills, no one of any note comes here.
“Just smile and be polite,” Jason instructs her before they get out of the car.
Bambi turns to him and gives him a look. “I know how to act in front of cameras, babe.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times. It’s different with paparazzi.”
“Cameras are cameras,” Bambi replies. His hand shoots out to her wrist and gives it a forceful squeeze. “Just don’t make a scene.”
Bambi tears her arm away. “Relax,” she says as a valet opens the door.
She gives him a curt little nod. Paparazzi waiting at both ends of the restaurant rush forward, and lights begin flashing.
Bambi smiles and gives a little wave as Jason gets out and comes to her side.
He grips her wrist again, hard, and whispers in her ear, “Behave.”
Outside the front door, she gazes up at the restaurant sign that says Empire and cringes.
A pretentious name for a hole in the wall.
What an embarrassment. Bambi’s stomach growls with the scent emanating from inside—something warm and doughy.
She smooths her hands over her waist, making sure her fitted white dress isn’t creased.
Jason takes her to the side before they go in.
“Let’s stick together in there, make a good appearance.”
Bambi smirks, unable to help herself. “I know.”
Jason leans in and tilts his lips up to her ear. “There are press inside.” She tingles, snowfall along her shoulders and spine.
He tries to hold her hand. Bambi yanks it back, but it’s too late. He’s caught her two fingers, so Bambi lets him.
“You’re not still mad about the other night …” he coos.
“I’m not mad; I just want to get this over with.”
“Just fake it, babe. You’re good at that.”
Bambi turns on her smile as Bruce, an older man with a fake tan, receding hairline, and sportscaster white teeth, spots them through the door.
He waves and comes toward them, followed by a camera.
“Of course,” she says, feeling emboldened because they are out in public.
“I forgot how much you like it when I fake it.”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
Jason yanks her hand, jerking her whole arm sharply as the camera turns toward them. He smiles large, his leading-man smile.
Bambi marvels at the way his whole energy shifts as he turns on his charm. It makes her feel sick.
“Hi, Bruce! Great place you have here!”
“Welcome to Empire!” Bruce almost shouts, angling toward the camera. His teeth are even whiter up close. “We are happy and excited to have film star Jason Redfern here and his wife, Bambi.”
Bambi waves at the camera gingerly and blows a little kiss. The camera stays on them, and she hangs on Jason like it’s the red carpet.
“So, Jason, tell us about your latest film coming up.”
Jason steps forward, letting Bambi go. “Well, we just wrapped on The Hurting Game, starring myself, of course, and the beautiful Lauren LaMonte. And next up, we are shooting Without Her in Europe for the next eight weeks.”
“Without her? Without LaMonte?” the journalist asks.
Jason smiles and strokes his hair back. “No, no, it’s the name of the film. It’s a psychological thriller about a man whose wife mysteriously goes missing in Paris. I play a very complex guy, the husband. Great script. Amazing cast. I feel so blessed to be part of this film.”
Bruce nudges the camera guy on the arm. “And are you excited for Empire’s grand opening?”
Jason smiles. “It has been an incredible journey for me, personally, watching him make this latest restaurant happen.”
“And what does your wife think of Empire?”
Jason’s eyes gleam, that movie star charm oozing from him. “I think she likes it. Right, honey?”
Bambi gives a little smile. “I’ll let you know in an hour or two.”
Bruce clears his throat. “Okay, thanks so much, guys. Drinks are over there by the bar. Please, enjoy. Have a great time. I’ll catch you in a few.”
The camera turns, capturing more people entering behind them.
Jason pulls Bambi past a few familiar faces she doesn’t want to stop and talk to. “Why did you say that?” he whispers.
Bambi shrugs. “Because it’s true.”
Jason’s eyes widen, and he grips her arm harder. Bambi stiffens beneath his grasp. “I don’t need this from you tonight,” he whispers, his face relaxed like he’s saying nothing at all. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
His words ripple through her like a shock wave. Stupid? He doesn’t mean stupid. He means reckless. Like posting an anonymous post on Craigslist, for example. Bambi smiles to herself at the secret.
He pulls back from her and finds a server with a tray of champagne flutes and plucks two off. He hands one to her, then sweeps his eyes across the room. Bambi gets a pang in her middle. “Will she be here tonight?” she says, keeping her voice low.
“Who?” Jason asks, playing innocent.
“Lauren.”
Jason shakes his head and looks away. “I think she’s already in Europe.”
“Oh,” Bambi replies and stares into the bubbles floating up from the bottom of her glass.
A tray of hors d’oeuvres passes by. Jason reaches out and grabs one. “I’m starving,” he says as Bruce returns with a gaggle of young women and men dressed in suits.
“Here he is, the man of the hour!” Bruce chimes. “Everyone, meet Jason Redfern. And this is his wife, Bambi.” The women’s eyes flick to Jason, then quickly to her, and back to Jason. Bambi loops her arm in his, but Jason removes it as he steps forward and shakes each of the men’s hands.
“We loved you in The Hostage,” one of the women, wearing bright turquoise earrings, offers. “Great movie. You were great. Just great.”
Jason lifts an eyebrow. “Great, huh?”
She nods eagerly as another smacks her lips and steps toward him. “Of course, my favorite film was Nightfall. Oh no, Strangers at Midnight. Yes, that’s the one.”
Jason gives a tense smile that Bambi knows means he’s displeased. “You know, I was nominated for an Oscar for Bring Me Caramel.”
“Oh, I didn’t see that one,” the woman with the earrings replies.
“You should watch it,” Jason advises. “You should watch them all. I don’t make bad movies.”
Bambi scoffs a little under her breath. Jason turns to her.
“I don’t make bad movies,” he repeats.
“Well,” she finds herself saying. “The Telegraph. That wasn’t so great.”
Jason turns and stares at her, then puts his arm around her, pulling her close. He squeezes the flesh of her upper arm hard. “My wife is such a joker,” he says, crushing her arm. “It’s the Scandinavian in her. They have such a strange sense of humor.”
Bambi smiles weakly. “It’s true, though,” she says to the group. “The Telegraph wasn’t a good movie at all. It got really bad reviews. Don’t you remember, babe?”
“I do remember, babe,” Jason says through gritted teeth. A server appears in the center of the group with an enormous smile. “Hors d’oeuvres?” she offers.
Everyone grabs a few morsels from her tray, including Jason. He sniffs a cracker with a circle of piped cream on the top, then shoves the whole thing into his mouth. “This is delicious,” he says to the server.
She nods expectantly. “That’s our crab-infused ricotta on an olive oil ciabatta crouton.”
Jason reaches for a napkin from her tray and spits the last morsels into it. “What?”
The server stares at them, alarmed. “Crab-infused ricotta?”
“Fuck!” Jason shouts. “I’m allergic to shellfish.”
“Oh my God,” the server intones. “I’m so sorry, sir.”
Bruce appears at their sides. “What’s wrong?” he says, taking in Jason’s expression. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
“What the fuck, Bruce?” Jason shouts. “Fucking crab? You could have killed me with this shit! You know I’m allergic to shellfish!”
Bruce nods, a panicked look on his face. “Yes, yes, I’m so sorry, man. I forgot. I’m so sorry.”
Jason turns to Bambi, eyes aflame. “Don’t just stand there. Get my EpiPen.”
Bambi darts outside, her heels clicking heavily against the floor, then the pavement of the street as she reaches the valet. She hands him her ticket. “We need the car immediately,” she tells him. “It’s an emergency.”
The valet grabs her keys and takes off running while Bambi waits and watches the sun drift past the horizon, a small vapor of smog tinting the sky a dark, hazy orange. Overhead, the moon and stars have started to peek through. Cars honk loudly, and faces stare at her on the street corner.
In moments, the white Wraith appears and breaks her reverie.
Bambi throws herself inside toward the central compartment and grabs Jason’s EpiPen, prepping it as she runs back inside and shoves through the crowd that’s formed around Jason, who’s now clinging to Bruce, his lips swollen.
Bruce turns to the two security guards rushing toward them and points to the cameras filming everything. “Get them out of here! Now!”
Bambi runs to Jason and shoves the EpiPen in his hands. Jason shuts his eyes, stabs himself in his thigh, and then crumples out of Bruce’s arms and falls to the ground. He breathes heavily, and Bambi takes his hand.
“Can someone get him a wet towel?” she shouts.
“Yes!” Bruce answers. “A little help over here!” he calls to one of the nearby servers, who rushes over with a damp cloth for Jason’s head.
The whole restaurant turns quiet. Someone lowers the music.
Hushed whispers and stares encircle them.
Bambi can practically see the headlines already.
Her skin crawls as she thinks back to the moments before, as she prodded Jason about his film.
Playfully, but still. She knows now what’s done is done. And he won’t see it that way.
“Should we call an ambulance?” someone in the crowd says.
“No,” Jason replies. “I’m fine. I’m going to be fine now.”
He sits up and meets her eyes with a slow-burning rage. Bambi feels herself backing away. “I think I’ll go find the ladies’ room,” she says and makes her way through the crowd of ogle-eyed wannabes and hangers-on. Her stomach turns as she passes them, avoiding eye contact.
In the back, she finds the women’s restroom and heads inside. Double sinks. Low lighting. The scent of floral air freshener. She leans against the counter for a moment, bracing herself, steadying her breath.
She flicks open her purse and fishes for the little gold compact and checks for the tiny blue pill waiting for her inside.