Cut to the Chase (15 page)

If she had wondered whether to tell Michele D. about the night before, she had her answer. “That mess with Jessica is yesterday’s news.”

“It’s still news, Avalon. The press is following you and Jessica around everywhere you go. They’re looking for any dirty laundry they can find. Your breakup did some heavy damage and you can’t afford any more crap like that.”

“So I’m supposed to become a nun? Jesus, Michele, dating is part of life.”

“And your life happens to be scrutinized every time you step outside. Do you know what I had to do to calm the producers down? They already think you’re unpredictable. Listen, I’m your advisor. I invest considerable time and money in your career, and I’m the one who gets you waived from going to the auditions that everyone else has to. But any more of this stuff and you’ll be back to begging for roles, Avalon. I’m warning you that you’ll go off the rails again if you get all wrapped up in the photographer.”

Gladys returned with a pantsuit and Avalon grabbed it. “This town doesn’t own me, Michele. Remember that.”

Avalon shut her out with a swipe of the curtain and listened while Michele turned on an expensive heel and clopped out of the wardrobe room.

Her cell phone began to play Israel “Iz” Kamakawiwo’ole’s version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” It was the ringtone she’d selected for her mother.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Avalon.” She sounded so tired. “Are you doing all right, darling?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“I watch the TV and I worry.” There wasn’t much else to do in that dead little town in Indiana. Avalon had tried to convince her to move to Los Angeles once, but she insisted on staying. At least there she could make a few dollars teaching etiquette to grade-school girls. It seemed that after Avalon moved to Hollywood, her mother needed others to mold into popular-and-perfectly-poised little people. Now that she had a famous daughter, other mothers would send their girls to her. It was a chance to get out of the Midwest, she supposed.

“I told you all of that is just BS. They only show the bad stuff.”

“There seems to be a lot of it lately.”

“I’m really okay. How are you?”

“It gets harder every day. The economy is pretty bad.”

“Do you need some money?”

“I hate to ask…”

“I’ll send you some, so don’t worry.” She’d been a stern mother and tried unsuccessfully to tame her tempestuous daughter, but Avalon knew she always had a vast amount of love at her core.

“Are you in trouble at all?”

“No, Mom.”

“Will you come home to visit soon?”

“I’ll try, okay?”

“Thank you, dear. For the money.”

When she hung up, a substantial weight hung in Avalon’s chest. Her mother wanted her to be so perfect. She’d ridden her constantly, watching her and redirecting her even when she ate dinner or watched a little TV. But as unyielding as the strict parenting had been during childhood, her mother seemed almost meek now. Maybe that’s why she railed against Michele D. so often. Just her approach, the way she clomped up to Avalon like an old schoolmarm to a high-spirited student, rankled her because she knew she was going to get some kind of admonishment. Of course, Michele D.’s motivation was cemented purely in business; it was her job to control Avalon’s world, for Avalon’s benefit, but it made her feel like a little child. She wondered if she rebelled because Michele D. reminded her of her mother and the frustration she’d experienced under such a relentlessly stern upbringing. But then again, maybe Michele D. annoyed her and made her sad because she reminded her of the strength and unwavering nature her mother had lost long ago.

And maybe part of what eventually broke her mother’s resolve had been Avalon’s constant opposition and insurrection. Nothing ever came easily at home; a fight erupted with every procedure or command. And when Avalon ultimately broke away from that world by leaving for Hollywood, she’d clearly been responding to that authoritarian world. It made sense that she’d depleted her mother’s strength and that the constant combat had rendered her mother weak and compliant.

She looked at her phone, now dead and disconnected from the woman who’d tried so hard to raise her well. Had she sucked the life force right out of her mother?

With every phone call from her, usually preceded by a TV show or magazine that mentioned her daughter, Avalon felt as if she were letting her mother down. While she’d satisfied the popular part of her rearing, the media didn’t often, if ever, portray her as a perfectly poised young lady.

Maybe she had lost herself along the way.

One of the assistants spoke from the other side of the curtain. “How is the pantsuit? May we see?”

Avalon put her cell phone back on the chair and took a deep breath.
Don’t be sad
, she told herself. Maybe she wasn’t perfectly poised, but she’d gotten the other half right. It was a slim defense, but she’d cling to it.

She shook her head, trying to clear her sorrow, and stepped out from behind the curtain.

*

“Your cell phone is ringing.”

Paige was still facedown on a towel on the sand of Venice Beach, waking from the odd slumber that the hot sun and no sleep had plunged her into. She lifted her head. Dee Jae was asleep.

“Huh?”

Chris pointed to her bag. “Your phone.”

She pulled it out. “Hello?”

“I want to see you again.” It was Avalon.

“You do? I mean, yes, I’d like that.”

“Are you interested in a party tonight? There’s a charity event at the Abbey.”

She hadn’t been to the trendy West Hollywood gay bar in ages. “Sure. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at ten.”

She’d forgotten that partiers started later than usual. That would give her time to soak her head in the shower, take a nap, and do some work. “That’d be great.”

“And, Paige?”

“Yes?”

“Last night was wonderful.”

She needed to hear that. “It was.”

“See you tonight.”

She hung up and rolled over on her back. There were no clouds in the sky, something at which she shouldn’t have been surprised but somehow was. Avalon’s call had been a relief. It seemed that the night before hadn’t been a one-night stand, but a prickle of apprehension still niggled in the back of her brain. Avalon was beyond what she was used to in women. She was standing at the top of an advanced diamond ski run when she was more comfortable on the bunny slope.

“Was that Avalon?” Dee Jae said.

She put the phone away. “I thought you were asleep.”

Chris nodded like a bobblehead doll, her prediction now confirmed. “So, it wasn’t a one-night stand.”

“I guess not.”

“Damn, woman.” Chris took off her sunglasses and pointed them at her. “I’d be hollering from the top of the Capitol Records building if I were you. Avalon is calling you—for another
date
. It’s like you dropped a penny into the well and a million bucks came flying back up.”

“This pace…it’s not what I’m used to. I like things a bit more steady and normal.”

“You’re predictable to a fault, my friend.”

Paige’s sigh fluttered fretfully in her throat. She had a feeling
predictable
wouldn’t be an adjective to describe her upcoming date.

Paige and Avalon walked through the wrought-iron gates of the Abbey. Sitting on Roberson, just south of Santa Monica Boulevard, the bar had a reputation for encouraging everyone who went there to replace all their inhibitions with an attitude as open-minded as its open-air ambience.

They walked through the Cabana bar, lit with seemingly hundreds of candles set on iron holders and shelves, and ordered French Connections at the newer Effen Smooth bar. The dance floor was already full of bodies moving in stuttering flashes under manic strobe lights.

Paige was aware that everyone knew who Avalon was, but in the typical cooler-than-cool Hollywood fashion, they kept their eyes averted, blasé in their concentration.

Avalon kept her close. She held her hand and they snuggled romantically throughout the night.

She was glad to have worn an outfit that matched Avalon’s in style, but they would have blended in just as well if they’d worn holey jeans and tank tops. The crowd was dressed in a mix of everything that could be purchased on trendy Melrose Avenue.

Three acquaintances of Avalon’s came by, and though Avalon introduced them, it was hard to hear their names. Paige didn’t consider herself a complete fuddy-duddy, but she’d never understood the appeal of such noise-inflicted conversation. When Avalon would put her lips to Paige’s ear, she could hear fine, but otherwise she only partially followed the dialogue. Thankfully, the tallest of Avalon’s friends spoke in a volume that would challenge a Richter scale, so Paige didn’t feel that cut off. Avalon held her close and, dialogue or not, she was happy to be next to her.

They’d kissed when Avalon picked her up, and again at the stoplight on Santa Monica and Robertson. Paige wanted to kiss her again, and when she said something fairly inconsequential in Avalon’s ear, Paige nipped her soft lobe. Avalon tilted her head back slightly and closed her eyes. An exhilarating thrill rushed through Paige and she was happy her loud moan wasn’t audible.

*

Avalon felt the softness of Paige’s ear and an abrupt ache filled her. She needed to have her thighs wrapped around her again.

“I think it’s time to leave,” Avalon said, and whether Paige heard her or read her lips, she nodded earnestly.

They deposited their drinks on the bar top, and Avalon led her toward the front of the Abbey. As they passed back by the Cabana bar where the noise had dissipated, Avalon caught a flash of an arm reaching out to grab her.

It was Jessica.

She loathed the look in her ex’s eyes. That familiar glare brimmed with derision and malice.

“I’m busy, Jessica,” she said sharply, trying to match her stare.

“Who’s your new friend?”

Avalon tried to get past Jessica’s evil force field by jerking her arm out of the unpleasant grip. Jessica, however, planted her Victoria Beckham No Heel Boots expediently between Avalon and Paige.

Avalon gritted her teeth at the malevolent look Jessica aimed at Paige and cringed when she said, “What’s your name, honey?”

“Jessica, really?” Avalon’s temples started to pound.

“What?” she said, as an imitation of innocence dribbled from her lips.

“It’s none of your business.”

“As long as your dildos are still at my house, it is.”

Now she was incensed. She moved Paige behind her to face off. “Don’t start this.”

“I’m not starting anything, baby. I’m just curious who’s sharing your bed now.”

“Leave it alone.”

Jessica moved way too close. “Now, how am I supposed to leave it alone when we both know this little bitch, here, is just going to become collateral damage?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Her voice increased in volume with each word. “And get out of my face.”

“There was a time, I recall fondly, when you didn’t want me or my crotch out of your face.”

Her peripheral vision caught a few cell phones pointed toward them, and though every muscle in her body tensed in cautious alarm, it was impossible to shutter her mouth.

“That’s enough. It’s over, Jessica. Get that through your fucking head.”

Jessica’s laughter erupted. “Oh, I’m not concerned about our breakup. I just don’t want to see you run this poor girl over with your typical steamroller behavior.”

“Keep her out of this, Jessica.”

“I think it’s too late, baby.” She scanned the room like an overdramatic searchlight. “Your little date is already being uploaded by now.”

Avalon leaned forward until her nose was almost touching Jessica’s. “Fuck. You.”

She wanted to show Paige that she was sorry, but her face was so tight with fury, she couldn’t do anything but look at the ground and lead her out of the bar and straight to her car.

Paige hadn’t uttered one word the whole time and Avalon couldn’t blame her. She accelerated up Doheny and turned left on Santa Monica Boulevard. “I’m so sorry for that. I should have guessed Jessica would be out tonight.”

She placed her hand on Paige’s thigh, the silence between them made more agonizing as her hand lay there, untouched by Paige’s. She stopped for a light and glanced her way. Paige stared straight ahead, as if she were watching zombies or some other surreal vision through the windshield.

“Paige? I’m really sorry about what she said.”

“That doesn’t bother me,” Paige finally said. “But what you said does.”

She hadn’t expected that response. “She went on the attack. I was trying to defend you.”

“That you had to talk to her at all is what I mean.”

Avalon didn’t understand. You couldn’t just avoid engaging with the likes of Jessica. And she hadn’t gotten where she had by backing down from about a million different situations. “People like that just don’t go away quietly, Paige.”

When she didn’t get a response, she said, “Let’s just go back to my place and—”

“Do you mind taking me home?”

“Paige,” she said, “let’s please not ruin tonight.”

It wasn’t until the light turned green that Paige finally said, “Then come over and we can unwind. Talk, maybe?”

That wasn’t what she had pictured for the night exactly. She’d hoped they’d eventually end up in bed again, not just to have sex, but so she could understand more about what Avalon might be feeling for her.

Now, the discomfort of what had just happened with Jessica tainted the end of the evening, and while the sensible part of her thought it best to wind up the night right there, maybe some conversation could help. A little decompression would be better than ending on the sour, unpleasant note that currently tasted so disagreeable to her.

*

Paige opened the leaded windows of her apartment, and the fresh aroma of night jasmine drifted in from the Villa Primavera courtyard. The fountain splished and splashed in its usual tête-à-tête, reminding her of a conversation between two old ladies.