Lou
After all these senseless parties, all these fake people who wouldn’t know good cinema if it hit them in the face, I suddenly felt the urge to be alone.
I wandered off the main deck, where the music was pumping, and headed downstairs into the living quarters. Down a long hallway, I paused to look at the pictures hung on the wall. There were mostly artistic photographs in black and white, a series of moody landscapes and patches of sea.
Farther in, there was a small group of women whispering between themselves.
I turned around and went off toward the other end of the deck.
As I approached, I could see that there was a bar in the back, shelves upon shelves of expensive liquors.
There must be a similar setup on the other levels, because this one was clearly not used for the party.
But when I got closer, I realized it wasn’t completely deserted.
A woman was standing against the counter, staring into a glass of whiskey.
She wore a silver floor-length gown with a plunging neckline that reached her belly button.
Her hair was secured in an elaborate updo.
I didn’t fully recognize Odetta Olson until she looked up, her eye makeup so pronounced it made her sizzling brown eyes look like bullets.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered.
For all my desire to confront her, I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Especially not now that she had one arm wrapped around her waist, her shoulders slumped, almost like she was in pain.
She looked up. “What are you sorry for?”
Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it was blunt. Tired.
My entire body stilled as I tried to process not just her question but her presence. For days now, I had wondered about what this woman had against me. I’d fantasized about what I might say to her. About getting answers, finally. And now that I had the chance, it was time to face the truth.
“Actually, I’m not sorry at all.” I stepped forward. “I’m not sorry I came, I’m not sorry I tried so hard to do the right thing for so long. I was good in the movie. I know I was.”
While I spoke, Odetta eyed me carefully, like I was a sea creature she’d never encountered before.
“Who are you?” she asked.
I almost laughed, but then I realized it wasn’t a jab. Could she be that drunk?
“You don’t know?”
She took a sip of her whiskey and made a face as the liquid traveled down her throat.
“I don’t know anything.”
“I’m Lou,” I said, barely audible, like I wasn’t sure my name was worth speaking out loud. “I’m—you really don’t remember?”
“There are so many things I don’t want to remember.”
I could walk away. I could spare myself the humiliation.
I’d gone through enough already. Why ask for more?
But in many ways, this already felt like the last night of my life.
And that was before I knew how terribly it would end.
By the time I stepped off this yacht, I would be a completely changed person. Forever.
But for now, I was still full of questions.
“I’m in your movie,” I said. “I was, anyway, before you cut me out.”
My tone had no heat, only resignation. She could pretend she didn’t remember, but that didn’t mean I had to let her get away with it.
“Before I cut you out.”
She nodded sadly and took another sip.
“Why’d you do it? Was it me? I know it happens. But why me? Why?”
This was my last chance to understand.
Odetta placed her empty glass on the counter and stared at it before focusing on me.
“Maybe it was you then? All these rumors? This nastiness?” She spat out the last word.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, mimicking me with a high-pitched voice. “You think that you can tear me down to lift yourself up.”
“No…”
“That because you’re young, you’re invincible. You have all that greatness to look forward to while I’m finished.”
“I don’t think that at all.”
“So you’re above all this, aren’t you? Let me guess, you don’t even read what’s written about you.”
“Nothing is written about me. There’s nothing to say.”
The rumor about my supposed romance with Dorian Fisher was old news already.
And yes, my social media following had grown slightly.
I’d been in numerous pictures at some of the parties I’d attended.
But people only cared about my outfits. Lou the actor had faded into obscurity as fast as she’d been plucked out of it.
Odetta laughed. “Lucky you.”
“Lucky?” I said, baffled. “I’d kill to swap places with you.”
“Because everything worked out soooooo well for me.” She pondered this for a moment, gazing down, like she was trying to steady herself. “I guess it did. That’s why I’m so happy. Why everything is so perfect.”
“It looks pretty perfect,” I said, though I wasn’t so sure about that. Not anymore.
She was down here, drinking alone. Not exactly the attitude of someone who was about to win the biggest award of her career.
She walked toward me and leaned in so close I could smell her sour breath.
“There’s nothing I can do for you. Nothing I could have done. You need me to be the villain in your story, like everybody else, but that’s on you. We’re all battling our own demons. You deal with yours, and I’ll deal with mine.”
Then she was gone.
I had confronted Odetta Olson, and it had made no difference at all.
But I couldn’t bring myself to go back upstairs.
I needed to forget that I was stuck on this yacht with all these fancy people who were determined to keep the doors firmly closed.
We could break into their parties, but I’d never make it through in the ways that mattered. I would never be anybody.
I found Constance first, after a long and slow wander through the quieter parts of the yacht.
She was on the lower deck, crouched against a lifeboat, curled up on herself.
Immobile and quiet. With the wind you could hardly hear the music.
It was almost like we were somewhere completely different. All alone.
I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me approach, but Constance didn’t glance up until I kneeled down in front of her, teetering on my high heels. I came to sit against the railing, close to her. We stayed silent for a long while.
When she looked at me for more than a few seconds, the sadness in her eyes hit me right in the heart.
“Everything’s great,” she said, her voice flat.
“Everything’s great,” I agreed.
I undid the straps of my shoes and removed them so I could cross my legs in front of me more comfortably.
“Best party ever,” she said.
“I’ve never had so much fun in my entire life.”
“I’m so happy.”
“I’m on a rocket ship to the moon.”
“Me too. It’s just beautiful, shining stars everywhere.”
“Everywhere,” I repeated in a whisper.
More silence.
A while later, muffled sounds of footsteps reached us. And then: the delicate sound of tears. Quiet little sobs in the dead of night. The lights hadn’t been turned on down here. We could hardly see each other.
“Marnie?” Constance said, incredulous.
She was swaying with the yacht, shoes in one hand, phone and empty glass gripped in the other.
She continued toward us without a word. Then, she tipped the glass upside down, like she was checking if it was empty. She shrugged and threw it overboard.
“I’m not drunk,” she said, when she noticed us watching. And indeed she sounded dead sober. “Unless you consider the fact that I’m drunk with rage.”
Marnie let out an exaggerated sigh as she sat down next to us.
She took a deep breath. “The reason I got us into this party, why I wanted you both here with me, was that I thought you could help me get to Dorian Fisher. That was a stupid idea. Just one of many. I don’t have what it takes.”
Shame pooled around me like an oil stain on the asphalt.
If Marnie could suddenly be so honest, then so could I.
I was going to tell them everything, right then.
I wasn’t the rising star they thought I was.
I would never be. I swear I was about to come clean.
But two people were coming toward us, the wind blowing their angry whispers in our direction.
“Let go of me!” the woman screamed quietly.
It was Odetta Olson.
The man was holding her arm, forcefully pushing her toward the back of the yacht, where we were. I glanced at the girls as the pair walked past, and their faces confirmed what I already knew. It was Dorian Fisher. You could feel the fury emanating from him.
I slid backward on the shiny floorboards, to better hide from them. Constance and Marnie did the same. Now the three of us were huddled against the lifeboat, plunged into a pitch-black corner, just a few feet away from them.
If they heard us, if they had any sense that they might not be alone, they gave no indication.
So we watched.
We listened.
We held our breaths.
We did not move.
Until they gave us no other choice.