Cosmopolitan Girls (16 page)

Chapter 32

Three-D Day

Rule Number 5: Do something daring
and deliciously drastic.

The number on the building read 568, but the building didn't appear to be a typical spa. Charlie and I entered and caught the elevator just as it was closing. As the car climbed, the smell of sea salt and eucalyptus filtered in. We gave each other encouraging smiles, definitely a sign a spa was near.

Billie Holiday was crooning “Fine and Mellow.” Bright fluorescent white lights showed off the spa products on the wall shelves. The employees, dressed in black pants and white shirts and aprons, were jolted with energy and looked more like waiters than spa attendants.

“Ladies, welcome. Lindsay, sweetie, you're on this floor and Sienna will be your massage therapist. And Charlie, you're upstairs,” our check-in attendant said cheerfully.

I followed the blue-and-white wall guides to my locker. The locker room was relatively empty. I put down my purse and let out a deep sigh.
Today was officially Three-D
day.
A new adventure was certainly
daring,
and you couldn't get any more
delicious
than self-pampering.

I was naked and about to slip into a thin waffled cotton robe when my cell rang. I'd forgotten to turn it off. “Yeah,” I said in an unfriendly tone.

“Lindsay, I wanted to get you early. I'm out of pocket later,” Robert said.

The massage therapist came around the corner and called my name, “Lindsay?” I hesitated and asked Robert to hold on as I covered the phone. “Yes, I'm right here,” I called back to her.

“Good morning, I'm Sienna. Are you ready?”

“Not exactly . . .”

“I'm sorry, no cell phones.” Sienna could see I was trapped between my phone call and my purpose for being here.

“I'm turning it off now,” I said, apologetically.

“I'll come back and then we'll start over,” Sienna whispered. I reluctantly finished my call.

“Robert, unfortunately this is not a good time for me. Could you just give me a couple of hours?”

The fact this was
my
Saturday meant nothing to him.

“Lindsay, I'm extremely busy. I'm the CEO of a billion-dollar business, in case you haven't noticed. I've got budgetary concerns about this pilot, we're getting closer to the shoot, and I can't work around your schedule.”

I didn't utter a response. I swallowed my repugnance, remembering a quote from the book, breathing in for one
—Okay, Stand Up, Speak Out, Talk Back! I am going to
express my anger constructively—
now breathe out for two. “Robert, I wasn't expecting your call, and I'm in the middle of an appointment. I can't talk.”

“Look, I may have a few minutes around four, you can try me then on my cell,” Robert said and hung up.

What do you know, the book actually worked. That damn Charlie! I pressed power and tossed my cell into my locker.

I lay still, facedown, drifting in and out of dreamland on the massage table. The warmth from the heated pad cuddled my nude body. The blue-green textures on the walls and floor were soothing and made me feel like I was near the ocean. Sienna lightly brushed my skin with her fingertips from head to toe.

Sienna worked my shoulder blades, arms, thighs, and every muscle slowly and deeply. Eucalyptus and lemon-grass vapors lulled me into a deep sleep.

Next, I found myself sitting in the steam room. Still. Alone. I inhaled and exhaled deeply again, slinking into the thick, mentholated clouds. I could hear my mama's voice:
When you don't know what to say or do, just stand. Stand
steadfast and be still. God will speak to you.

My life was at a low: I don't remember the last time I called my family, and I've almost lost my self-respect because of a man and a decadent lifestyle of sex and alcohol. Enough was enough.

Where was the girl who came to take on New York, who was grounded and humble? I knew better and I'd have a hell of a price to pay if I didn't get my act back together and get back to what had gotten me this far: God and my family.

Charlie and I met at the checkout desk.

“I feel great. What about you, how do you feel?” Charlie asked.

“Uplifted and divine!” I said.

Later that night, we sat at a cozy table on the mezzanine of Town overlooking the twinkling bar and tables below. Town was tucked away discreetly inside the sumptuously modern Chambers Hotel. Sexy and very cosmopolitan, to match the fresh round we were elegantly sipping on. The quiet electricity of the city penetrated the walls. Festive people milled about the opulent bilevel restaurant.

The remnants of an elaborate spread of sea bass, salmon, escargot, leeks, and imported cheeses sat before us. We were basking in the afterglow of being queens for a day.

“I decided I'm ready to take the blinders off and start seeing my life and actions with clarity, with twenty-twenty vision. How about you?” I said.

“I know now that nobody's going to block my path in life. I'm the captain of my own ship.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, girlfriend!” I interjected.

The waitress approached with the check and we gagged at the total. There was one part of Three-D day I'd forgotten to fulfill. I whipped out my brand-new platinum Visa like lightning. “This is for something drastic!” I said, putting all three hundred bucks of our meal on my card. “To having good credit!” I winked.

We laughed and got comfortable for a few more glasses.

Chapter 33

Corporate Takeover

Today was the first day of shooting on the Alix Alexander pilot, City Heat. Robert hadn't given me my stripes to produce, but I had to remain professional. However, my future at the company depended heavily on this meeting.

Robert was a half hour late for the meeting I set up, but as much as I wanted to cancel there was no turning back. I stayed up half the night cramming verses from the text of
Stand Up,
Speak Out, Talk Back!
into my brain. It reminded me of my red-eyed college study sessions before a big exam.

I couldn't afford for the pocket-sized, worn pages to fail me now. I had to be confident. I reviewed a verse from the book:
“I can prevent or remedy the little murders which are an
ever-present threat to my self-respect.”

I was busy staring out at the view, rehearsing my lines when Robert entered and loudly put down his coat and briefcase, startling me.

“What's up, Lindsay? You needed to talk?”

“Uh yes, I, umm . . .”

I swallowed hard, remembering the cheat sheet I'd prepared—just in case I got stuck.

“Robert, I've recently reassessed some key professional issues and have come to a conclusion.” Robert stared at me blankly. I paused. “A change is needed as it relates to my role here at the company, but more importantly, in my relationship with you.”

I caught myself. I was being too formal and academic. Robert was too busy for a bunch of words. The main message of the book began to pour from my memory:
a person
will “respect and work hard for the assertive supervisor who is
as free with praise as with criticism, who treats an employee
as a valuable human being without patronizing.”
My delivery suddenly became poised and relaxed. I was putting my cards on the table today, by any means necessary, and he wasn't leaving until I was finished.

“I'm your most loyal employee in this company, but we're going to have to set some parameters.”

“So shoot . . .”

Robert nonchalantly whipped out his Palm Pilot, jotted down a note of some sort, walked over to his desk, and sat down. I was thrown. All this moving around was distracting. He was giving off negative vibes and ignoring me, but I knew his game. My anger was brewing.

“I already strive for perfection and put enough pressure on myself. I don't need you making matters worse.” Robert looked up. I'd finally gotten his attention. “I like that you push me, and you give great advice most of the time, but you're going to have to respect that I exist outside these walls.”

“Is that it?”

“Well, no. I want to produce the Alix Alexander series. It was my idea. I got the talent. I have the vision.”

“It was a major undertaking and you weren't—”

“I know you think I'm not ready.” Now I was doing the cutting off for a change. “Robert, how am I ever going to be ready if I'm not given a chance?”

“I'm not running a lab, Lindsay.”

“I don't want a handout.”

“What do you want?”

“I want some respect. I want to prove myself.”

Robert stood up abruptly and pounded his fist on his desk. “I didn't become this successful letting my staff call the shots. You just gave a nice speech, but it's time to step back into the real world, Lindsay. We've got work to do.”

Things had gotten more heated than I had anticipated. I took another deep breath.

“Look, put me in charge of my own show. Please, Robert.” I was begging Robert for something that was rightfully mine. Robert's intercom buzzed. He made it a point to put his assistant on speaker.

“Mark Peters is here. He says it's urgent. Alix won't report to set.”

“Lindsay, I need to talk to
our
producer.” I was free to go.

I didn't know what to make of the meeting, or what I had accomplished. I wondered if I'd just made a fool of myself. Part of me felt exhilarated: I'd finally spoken up for myself. But the other side of me was totally dejected. Had I been insubordinate? I feared Robert would give me a demotion just to get back at my big mouth. I swallowed my pride and graciously exited Robert's office.

Turns out I was pulled into Mark's little emergency anyway. Tensions were high on set. Alix was two hours late for her first shot of the day. She was refusing to leave the hair and makeup trailer.

“I hate this fucking scene, Lindsay!” Alix said, yelling from the makeup chair, throwing the script across the room.

“Alix, calm down. Just talk to me. Everything is fixable,” I said in a clear, direct tone. Mark Peters anxiously shifted as he stood next to me. Just then Robert entered the trailer.

“Good afternoon, Alix. I hear we're having some problems,” he said. Robert was terrible at hiding the fact he had no patience for temperamental actresses.

“Alix, I'm sure if we can just get this first shot off . . .” Mark butted in, as if Alix were interested in negotiating with him.

“What part of “I-hate-this-fucking-scene” don't you understand? You are useless! Just shut up. I'm talking to Lindsay.”

Alix had turned into a nightmarish, Hollywood Diva right before my eyes.

“Alix, yelling isn't going to get us anywhere. I realize you've had three previous conversations about the scene, but I wasn't a part of those.” I casually cut my eye at Robert. “But I can assure you, we'll fix the scene together, and it will be what you want,” I said, turning to the production assistant standing with a headset on. “Please, bring Ms. Alexander some peppermint tea,” I asked, before returning my attention to Alix. “It'll help relax you, girl.” I was speaking a language she understood.

“Fine! I have my suggestions in my dressing room. Thank you, Lindsay,” Alix said, rolling her eyes at Mark and Robert. I knew that Robert didn't care one bit about Alix's little tantrum. In his head, he was counting up the hundreds of thousands of dollars Alix was costing production for the delay.

An hour later, the scene met Alix's approval and we were back on schedule. I was standing in front of a camera monitor, and Robert walked up beside me.

“Good job handling Alix earlier.”

“Underneath all the glam and drama, Robert, actors and actresses just want to feel like their opinions matter. The key is to give them an ear and let them know someone is listening,” I said, without taking my eyes off the monitor.

“Excuse me, Lindsay. Can you take a look at the wardrobe for the next scene?” the costume designer politely interrupted.

“Sure thing, on my way.”

As I turned to follow her, Robert touched my arm. “Keep up the good work, Lindsay.”

“Always!” I said confidently before walking away.