The Perfect Location (30 page)

‘If she gets through this challenge, whatever it is, by herself, then she will be the person she wants to be moving ahead in her life. Let her go, TG,’ Kelly said, gently but firmly.

‘Free, free, set them free,’ Chris sang the Sting song to accentuate Kelly’s point.

‘Fuck off,’ said TG good-naturedly. Inside, he knew what Kelly was saying was true. Calypso needed to do what she was doing; he just wished he could be there to catch her if she fell.

TG drained his beer. ‘Can you ask your woo-woo gods what’s going to happen between Calypso and me?’ He laughed but his eyes were serious.

‘Oh, so now you want the woo-woo?’ Kelly said with a glint in her eye.

‘Well, you know, I’m grasping at metaphysical straws here,’ TG answered, embarrassed.

‘As a matter of fact, I do know what’s going to happen but I’m not going to tell you ’cause you’re a fair weather seeker,’ said Kelly, crossing her arms.

Chris walked over to the table, setting down the veggie burgers. He sat down next to TG. ‘Buddy, she has been in that woo-woo room of hers, chanting your name, chanting Calypso’s name, and then there was white smoke pouring from the chimney. I think the signs are good.’

TG looked at him hopefully and saw he was teasing and punched him lightly on the arm.

Kelly became serious. ‘Dude, you need to let her know you’re there for her but also let her know that she has the freedom to explore what she needs and fight her own battles. Okay?’

TG nodded, listening. ‘Okay, I can do that.’

Kelly took his hands from across the table. ‘Then the rest is up to her. Free will and all that bullshit.’

TG felt his heart sink again. What if she didn’t choose him? He didn’t know if he could stand the waiting but deep down he knew he had no choice.

Calypso, however, was all action. TG was far from her mind as she reviewed her life and her future. Leeza’s video had thrown doubt into her mind about her career and her talents. What if she had only got where she had through Leeza’s seduction and dealings behind the scenes? What would her life be like if she was in charge, she wondered. Calling a business meeting at her house between her manager and her agent, Calypso had a few ideas about where she wanted to head in her life and none of them included her mother or TG. This time it was about her and it felt right.

‘I need to know what’s happening in my career,’ she said to Greg and Mandy, who had come to her home for the meeting at her request. Mandy Freed had left a big agency to start her own talent management firm, taking with her a major male movie star and his equally famous wife. Calypso had approached her in the toilets at The Ivy and the deal was done over a shared love of Nars lip-gloss in Chihuahua. Calypso liked Mandy’s candour and her willingness to listen to Calypso’s ideas about her own career – not that she had many of them yet.

‘Leeza is obviously no longer in my life in any form and I want to know what my options are. Where do you see me going? I want you to be real with me. I know I’m no Meryl Streep and I’m not going to be cute forever.’ She made a face. ‘So what are my options?’

Mandy and Greg glanced at each other. This kind of candour was unheard of and Calypso’s frankness was unnerving to the two seasoned professionals who were used to managing their clients’ egos.

Greg cleared his throat and started. Sitting on a vintage Wegner chair covered in pink paisley, he looked and felt ridiculous. ‘Listen, Calypso, I know this thing with your mom has thrown you but I want you to know, as I said before, you are a talented girl who has gotten where you are through talent and hard work. You can be anything you want. Oscars, even.’

‘Bullshit, Greg. Do NOT feed my ego. I don’t need it. I asked you for your opinion about my career going forward. There is no looking back for me. Come on, Mandy. What do you think?’

Mandy raised her eyebrows. Having come to work for Calypso when Leeza bowed out of the picture, Mandy had been waiting for this moment for the past year. The time had come to have the honest conversation that not every actor wants to hear.

‘I think you are very talented. I think you are very lovely to look at and a good person. I think with good directors, you do great work. When you get an average director you fall into mimicry of other actors. Everyone wants to be an actor. A serious actor. But what about the movie stars? Why can’t we have them any more? You put on thirty pounds or play a retarded person and then you’re a great actor? Winning Oscars? Fuck, Eddie Murphy should have one for all his movies then,’ laughed Mandy, clearly on a roll.

Calypso sat down on the overstuffed blue linen couch and picked up a pink silk pillow and held it to her chest. Mandy was mesmerizing; her passion and humour was what Calypso had hoped for when she asked her to take over managing her career.

‘Calypso, you could be a great movie star. You could pull the occasional one out of the bag that shows people you have talent, real acting chops, but there will always be someone coming up the path, trying to get the serious roles. Let them have it. What the fuck is wrong with being a movie star, I ask you?’

Calypso was thinking. Greg was wiping his brow with his hand. He was clearly nervous. Calypso was a good client. When he had come here today, he was expecting to be fired. He didn’t know why he was worried, but instead she wanted advice about her career. Usually the actors told him what they wanted. This is what he had trained for, he had always wanted to help the talent in the way he knew best and this was his chance.

‘Greg, what do you think?’ asked Calypso.

‘I think Mandy is right, to be honest. I can get you anywhere you want but some things are harder than others. I suppose the question is, what do you want from your career? If you say to me, I want to win a Tony, then I will find you the play and then the rest is up to you. That’s the hard stuff. If you want an Oscar nomination, then I can do that also, but you gotta bring in the performance. What do you want, Calypso?’

Calypso looked at them both. ‘I’m tired. I’m tired of working. I don’t even think I like it that much. I did it because of Leeza. I don’t know anything else apart from this and right now I can’t think of anything worse. I don’t want an Oscar, I don’t. I know everyone says that, but I truly don’t. I want a life but one that affords me this and helps my father. I am a realist at best and I know I’m not the greatest actor in the world. I want to make one or two films a year and pay my bills and explore my options till I actually know what I want to do with my life.’

Calypso picked at her chipped pink nail polish. ‘What do you think?’ she asked tentatively.

‘I think you are a smart girl,’ said Mandy. ‘I know what you need to do, I already have a few scripts I think would be perfect. We can make this work.’

Calypso nodded listening.

‘It’s about image,’ said Mandy firmly. ‘We need to make you the eternal IT girl but without the bullshit that I see from all those horrible girls from the endless reality shows the networks churn out. We need class and accessibility at the same time. You seeing anyone at the moment?’

Calypso paused. ‘No, no one,’ she said as she bit into a fingernail.

‘Good, that’s terrific,’ said Mandy, writing on her notebook.

Fucking marvellous, thought Calypso bitterly as she looked out at the pool.

‘I think I would like to produce,’ Calypso said, trialling her idea on Greg and Mandy. Their relationship was strictly business and she knew she could count on them for an honest opinion. ‘I would like to create my own work. Movies I want to see. Fun films that take you away from the crap of your own reality and sweep you into another world. I don’t get to see or make enough of those types of films.’

‘Fucking great!’ said Greg, excitement filling his voice.

‘I love it,’ Mandy agreed. ‘The young, smart movie star who is in charge of her career and her life,’ she said, almost to herself.

‘We can get a script and we can get a studio to put your name on the producers’ credits. They will be happy to have you and then off you go,’ said Greg, leaning forward.

Calypso looked at him, her face aghast. ‘No, Greg, I really want to produce and to do that I’m going to have to learn. I don’t want some empty image. I want to walk my talk and I want to do the hard yards.’

Greg looked at her surprised. So many of his clients eventually became Creative Consultants on their successful TV series and then moved to Executive Producer roles to get more cut of the profits and prestige. But real actor-producers were rare.

‘It’s a hard gig,’ he said seriously.

‘I know I can do it,’ she answered him, poised and serious.

Greg had no reservations. What Calypso had been through recently had changed her and she was no longer a girl. Sitting before him was a new woman – and perhaps Hollywood’s latest power player.

Once Calypso had informed her management team about her new career direction she mentally looked at the next challenge on her list, which was to deal with the blackmailer. Meeting with the FBI, they worked out a plan for her to meet the blackmailer in a hillside bungalow at the Chateau Marmont, with the FBI in the bedroom, recording and ready to pounce. It was a surreal situation to Calypso and she had to remind herself she was not in a movie anymore; this was her life and she had to deal with it. To add to her stress levels, Leeza rang everyday, leaving messages as if nothing had happened between them. No mention of the tape or the two million dollars, thought Calypso angrily.

On the morning of the meeting, Calypso arrived at the hotel, dressed for her confrontation in her most comfortable Lee jeans, a Paul and Joe orange cotton shirt and a vintage straw bag with a woven parrot on the front which had always made her feel joyful. Today she needed all the help she could get in the joy department, she thought as she walked up to the lobby desk to claim her key.

‘Hello, may I help you?’ asked the handsome man at the desk, not looking up.

‘Hello, I’m Calypso Gable, I have a bungalow booked.’

She pushed her white Ray-Ban Wayfarers onto her head and smiled prettily.

‘Hello, Miss Gable, of course. I will get your room key right away.’ He jumped into action, recognizing Calypso and wondering how he could get her his headshot and bio.

Calypso waited and then he was back. ‘I’ll get a porter to bring your bags,’ he said, looking around her.

‘No need, thanks anyway,’ she said as she signed herself in.

‘Do you want me to show you where your room is situated?’ he fawned as she walked away.

Calypso waved her hand dismissively.

‘Bitch,’ he said under his breath.

Walking through the tropical, lush gardens, Calypso thought she was going to throw up but kept walking. Stay calm, she told herself as she climbed the steps to the bungalow. Walking inside, the FBI was already there.

‘Hello, Calypso,’ said the female agent. ‘I’ve got to wire you up, so if you can come into the bathroom, I will get you all set.’

Calypso put down her bag on the chair and followed the agent into the bathroom. The living room was normal but the curtains were drawn. Walking through the bedroom, she saw the three other agents, one of them testing a recording device.

The agent shut the bathroom door. ‘So, I will need to tape this to you, the tape may pull a little. I’m pleased you wore something that isn’t too tight. It’s not bulky but anything tight shows the wires.’

‘Won’t he know we’re recording him?’ asked Calypso as she undid her shirt and held out her arms.

‘Maybe, maybe not. They probably don’t think you would have gone to the authorities.’ She pulled at Calypso’s bra, pinning and stretching the wires up, which were taped to her toned stomach.

‘All done, feel okay?’ she asked.

‘Is that it?’ asked Calypso, panicky. ‘Now what do I do?’

‘You wait,’ said the agent, raising her eyebrows at her.

Calypso waited for forty minutes, then there was a call to her room.

‘Hello, Miss Gable. I’ve a guest here for you. They said you were expecting them. Shall I send them to your bungalow or would you like some lunch by the pool? I can organize a table,’ he said solicitously.

‘My bungalow is great, thank you.’

Calypso hung up the phone and thought she was going to hyperventilate. She banged on the door of the bedroom. ‘I can’t do it, I can’t. They will know,’ she hissed through the door.

‘Just pretend you’re acting,’ hissed back the female agent through the crack in the door.

Calypso turned away from the bedroom and opened the curtains of the room. Nervous, she sat on the chair, and then stood again. Take a moment, she thought. Breathing slowly, she composed herself.

There was a knock at the door and she walked to open it. In front of her stood an obese eighteen-year-old boy, or perhaps older, wearing a Sailor Moon t-shirt and a smile. His braces were multicoloured and on one foot he wore a green Converse and on the other was a pink one.

‘Hello,’ said Calypso, smiling. It was a fan; he must have seen her come in and worked out which room she was in. Or tipped a staff member for the information. This was bad timing, she thought. ‘I’m actually meeting someone here in a minute, I’m sorry. Perhaps an autograph?’ she said kindly.

‘Calypso Gable,’ the teenager laughed with a high-pitched giggle and covered his mouth. ‘I love you.’

‘Thanks,’ said Calypso. ‘But I really am waiting for someone, so I hope you understand.’

‘It’s me,’ he said, laughing again, running his fat fingers through his blond-tipped hair.

‘I’m sorry, have we met?’ said Calypso, looking up the path behind him.

‘Not yet, but it’s me. I wrote you the letter. You emailed me, silly.’ He laughed hysterically and slapped his legs which were swathed in pale blue denim.

Calypso took a step back in shock. Her idea of the blackmailer was not this fat, unusual man/child in front of her.

‘Okay, well you better come in then,’ Calypso said, feeling a lot more confident than she had before the knock at the door.

‘Sit down,’ she ordered, scrambling for what to do next. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,’ she said, changing her tone again into a more cajoling one.