Nine Women, One Dress (11 page)

Hank planned to take care of the whole Albert-is-the-love-of-my-life media panic with another staged performance. He wasn't even consulting Albert or me anymore, just barking orders. That night Albert and his boyfriend were to “bump into” paparazzi outside Nobu 57, where they would explain the entire misunderstanding and emphatically restate that
Jeremy Madison is not gay
. They would both joke about how they wished he were, for the sake of gay men everywhere. Hank felt that the world would believe it coming from two gay men. It would be a perfect Hank Haberman production.

I vowed to do my part for integrity by ensuring that at least the statement “Jeremy Madison could not be reached for comment” wouldn't be a lie. I planned to be wheels up by four p.m. on my way solo to a private Wi-Fi-free beach without a reporter in sight. I figured I could use some alone time to think—until Natalie called to check on me, when I decided some Natalie time would be even better. Though I had sworn off rejection, I couldn't resist inviting her to come along. I had fun with her, and she was the perfect distraction from everything I was trying to escape.

“Do you have any time off coming?” I asked.

“I do…but I'm supposed to put in for it in advance. Why?”

“I need a vacation. I want to lie on a beach for a few days. Want to come with?” I said, hoping I didn't sound too desperate.

“Mmmm, beach sounds heavenly. When were you thinking?”

“Um…now?” I held my breath.

“Ha, I love it. Let me see if Tomás or Ruthie can cover for me. Give me ten minutes.”

“Don't you want to know where we're going?” I asked, laughing at her blind willingness.
Maybe she does like me after all.

“I don't care—all I need to know is beach. We'll be like Thelma and Louise! Maybe we'll even pick up Brad Pitt somewhere along the way!”

It was like a one-two punch: she saw me as her gal pal,
and
she wanted Brad Pitt. “Okay, call me back,” I somehow recovered enough to say.

My BFF Natalie and I met at Teterboro at four to board a private plane. She was so excited when she saw me that she leaped into my arms and wrapped her legs around my waist. She loved the private plane—her first time. She loved that the destination was a surprise. And at the first sight of the breathtaking coastline of Turks and Caicos her eyes almost popped out of her head. She thanked me more on that plane ride and on the way to the resort than my ex had in our entire relationship. I made a mental note to stop comparing her to my ex and start comparing her to Mitchell Grabow, my best friend at Camp Olympus.

When we went to check in I asked for two different casitas, one for each of us.

Natalie quickly jumped in: “We're not staying in the same room?”
She likes me?

“I just thought, well, what if your Brad Pitt is roaming around? You need to have a place to take him.”

She laughed. “If either of us finds our Brad Pitt, we can just go to his room!”

What the hell was she talking about? What would I want with Brad Pitt? Although actually I would love to meet Brad Pitt. He made the transition from twentysomething heartthrob to real grownup actor perfectly. She knows me better in a few weeks than my fiancée did after a year.

She shook my shoulder and said pretty seriously, “Jeremy, I want to spend every minute with you. I haven't felt this close to anyone this quickly since Lisa Rogell moved next door in the sixth grade!”

…likes me the way she liked Lisa Rogell.

“One casita, please.” For me and my bestie.

Our houseboy drove us to our room in a golf cart and showed us everything we would need to know. The place was perfect—simple but luxuriously comfortable. The bedroom was a glass-walled room jutting out onto the rocks overlooking the ocean. It was very minimalist. Just a sumptuous white king-sized bed, two walk-in closets, and a bathroom fit for a king.

Within minutes Natalie was quite minimalist herself, in her string bikini, her beautiful smile, and a sheer beaded sarong. It wasn't just her beauty that attracted me, the lines of her face and curves of her body; it was her whole being. Her aura. She was somehow both engaging and unobtainable. I threw on a suit and a T-shirt and we headed down to the beach.

Once we were there, a cabana boy approached to set us up. Natalie pointed to a secluded sunbed near the ocean and asked if it was available.

“For you, of course,” he answered.

“Is that okay with you?” she asked me.

“Whatever makes you happy,” I answered. She smiled. My ex would have turned that into a twenty-minute argument about me not clearly stating my needs or giving her what she wanted just to win points. She was always talking about points for her side and points for my side. I was doing it again, comparing Natalie to my ex. I tried thinking of her as Mitch Grabow, but the glow of her skin was making it really difficult.

The cabana boy set us up with towels and ice water and Natalie ordered us two piña coladas. She lay down right next to me. Not touching me, but so close that her legs would occasionally brush up against mine. She sat up. “Are you bored?” I wasn't. I was happy just lying there wondering when her leg was going to brush up against mine again. She rooted around in her bag and pulled out the two scripts I was supposed to read—I had charged her with making me—and sunscreen. “We should definitely put this on now,” she said, gesturing for me to turn over onto my stomach. She proceeded to put sunscreen on my back, then asked that I return the favor.
Mitch Grabow, Mitch Grabow
, I thought, but as I rubbed the soft white cream over her shoulders, I knew I was a goner. When I reached the two dimples that sat like the gates to Disney World on the top of her bum, I knew I couldn't take any more. “All done!” I said, trying not to sound as turned on as I was.

“Which script do you want to read first?” she asked, holding one up on either side of her happy face.

“Neither!” I laughed.

“Come on, I'll read it to you. I'll even do the voices.” This was exactly what I needed to take my mind off Hank and Albert and the press.

“Here.” I tapped on the lighter one. It was a romantic comedy. Hank thought that after my last two action films I should do something sexy and funny and overtly heterosexual. This film was shooting next month, and they were looking to replace the lead at the last minute—rumor was that the original lead had entered rehab. Hank was begging me to take it. Maybe a happy ending onscreen would rub off on my personal life.

She began.

“Fade In. EXT.” She stopped, the cutest frown wrinkling her forehead. “What's EXT?” she asked.

I went over the notations with her. “EXT means exterior—it means the scene is outside.” I flipped a few pages in and pointed. “INT means interior—the scene is inside. Sometimes it says INT/EXT, which would be looking inside from outside, like through a window. Get it?”

“Yes. This is so cool!”

“For you maybe. You know how many scripts I have to read before I find the right one? Or more often the wrong one.”

“Well, I'm gonna read this one, so keep explaining,” she instructed.

“Okay. It's pretty simple. After that we have the scene description in all caps, under that the action, and then the dialogue. The dialogue is always written under the characters' names.” I handed the script back to her. “Here, try it.” It was great having it read to me so I could just lie in the sun and listen and try to picture it.

She sat up and began.

“Exterior. Snowy day, ski resort, Vermont. Nancy Straub waits with bated breath at the foot of the mountain. She anxiously looks at her watch. She stares up the mountain again and—
Oh my god, look by the tiki bar, it's Flip's fiancée.
”

I opened my eyes. “What? Let me see that,” I said, reaching for the script. “A tiki bar in a Vermont ski resort? This already makes no sense. Let's read the other one.” I took the script from Natalie's shaking hands.

Her eyes were teary. “It's not in the script. It's real. It's Flip's fiancée. I recognize her from the wedding announcement and the many Google and Facebook searches I did on her. This must be their honeymoon. Oh my god, and there's Flip! He saw us! They're coming this way!”

She looked heartbroken. I couldn't take it—I'd whisked us both away to escape, and I'd brought her face-to-face with the one thing she most wanted to forget about. It was like one of those ridiculous coincidence scenes in a romantic comedy. Only in the rom-com the writer would have saved the day with some huge romantic gesture. So I thought,
What would Nora Ephron have me do?
I scooped Natalie up in my arms and carried her into the calm blue ocean. She laughed nervously and wrapped her hands around my neck as I dunked us both up to our waists. She was playacting. I was sure her motivation was to put on a show for Flip, while I ceased acting the minute she wrapped her arms around my neck. I had such strong feelings for this girl. I could see Flip heading toward us, nonplussed by the little scene we were creating. He seemed determined.

Natalie whispered, “Are they still coming our way?”

She actually looked scared. “I got this!” I responded, and kissed her. At first gently on the lips but then passionately and with everything I had. I don't know if it was from vengeance or passion, but she responded equally, and anyone within view, including Flip and his new wife, got quite a show. Both of us kept going, though probably for different reasons. I kept going because I was enjoying it immensely; I imagined she kept going because she was just plain scared of what would happen when we pulled apart. We continued until the famous—and surprisingly short—Flip Roberts called out to us.

“Natalie? Is that you?” he shouted from the shore, his somewhat attractive wife by his side. Nothing was stopping this guy.

She gave me a shrug as if to say, “We can't stay in this ocean forever.”

I carried her back out and placed her right by my side in the sand. She straightened herself out and asked, as if she'd been acting all her life, “Oh my, Flip. What are you doing here?”

“I thought that was you.” He stumbled on his words.

“We're on our honeymoon!” the somewhat attractive wife responded with a sting. And then it happened. We both saw it. She recognized me. She nudged Flip three times and then outright kicked him. Natalie tried to fight the smirk that formed on her lips but finally lost to a full-on smile when the wife asked straight out, “Are you Jeremy Madison?”

I smiled my best movie-star smile and answered, “Not this weekend. This weekend I'm just Natalie Canaras's boyfriend, so please, please don't spread it around that you've seen us. We came here to escape the press.” Flip looked like he wanted to die.

His wife was pretty, I guess, in an uptight kind of way, but nothing compared to Natalie. There is no way she could have Natalie's sprit, or sweetness, or soul—not possible. Though I still couldn't figure out how Natalie had ever been attracted to this guy, I wanted her to be happy, and if sticking it to Flip made her happy, then I would lay it on thick. Natalie had yet to speak, the wife yet to shut up.

“Maybe we can all have dinner together one night,” she said eagerly. I looked to Nat for the answer. She smiled yes but her eyes screamed no. I wrapped my arms around her.

“I'm sorry,” I said, “but we'll be eating all our meals back at our casita. It's a short stay and I want her all to myself.” I tickled her a bit. She laughed. Flip died. His bride looked on with envy—not because I was a movie star, I thought, but because what makes a woman feel better than a man saying he wants her all to himself? I added, a bit cruelly to Flip, “You must understand that.” Flip made a noise halfway between a cough and a splutter as he took his wife's hand purposefully.

“Goodbye—enjoy,” he said, turning and marching away across the sand.

“You too,” Natalie called after them, barely suppressing a giggle.

If she could have jumped up and down in the sand fist-pumping with complete abandon, I think she would have. Instead she curled up next to me on the sunbed and leaned against my chest. “Jeremy,” she said, “you are the finest actor I've ever seen, and I will never, ever forget what you just did for me. Ever.” She kissed me quickly on the lips. The way you kiss a puppy.

The next few days were spent mostly in and in front of our casita in our private pool. This break was exactly what I needed—peaceful, with no chance of being recognized, plus we read both scripts and I was seriously considering doing the romantic comedy set in Vermont. Natalie was also happy to hole up. Though she liked to be around people, she wanted to avoid seeing Flip again. She didn't want to ruin the perfect bump-into. Apparently this was a thing; I'd never even considered it, but girls spend a lot of time obsessing over it. When will they bump into their ex-boyfriends? Will they look good or will they be walking home from the gym on the hottest day of the year? And it has to be unplanned to qualify as a true bump-into. It can't be, let's say, at a wedding, where you have the heads-up and know to look your absolute best. Apparently bumping into your ex while frolicking in the waves with an A-list movie star and looking great in a bikini was like hitting the trifecta of bump-intos.

At night she would sleep in the almost nude, on her stomach, and she would always fall asleep before me. I would watch her. Not in a creepy way, I swear. Her suntanned body and her peaceful face and her tousled hair—it was like looking at a sunset. I couldn't help but watch her until my eyes got tired and shut as well. Two more nights and I would have to fall asleep to Jimmy Fallon again. I used to think that was just fine.

She was obsessed with the great service at the hotel. She had been so pleased to learn that whenever you threw something into the little hamper in our room, it magically appeared clean and folded on our bed a few hours later. She didn't take anything for granted and was grateful for everything. It made me realize how much I needed that in my life. On our last night we ordered in lobsters and champagne, and on account of everything being clean and dry and packed up, Natalie convinced me to go skinny-dipping. I know you're thinking I probably didn't need that much convincing, but I didn't think I'd be able to make it through. I'd somewhat resigned myself to being platonic, and had gotten used to keeping a safe distance. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop myself from kissing her if we were naked in the water together. But she really wanted to go, and I couldn't say no to her.