Skinnydipping (23 page)

We began filming the following week, at a house in the Valley that the director said belonged to a friend of his wife’s. The script wasn’t the worst I’d ever read, but it certainly wasn’t going to win any Oscars. It also involved me taking off my shirt and kissing another girl, but I was beyond caring. Even if it went straight to video, they were paying me $500. And that was $500 more than I had in the bank. Nobody would ever see it, and what did I care if they did? I had to pay my rent.

I arrived on the set and while the blonde receptionist, Celeste, who was also apparently the makeup person, powdered my nose and arranged my hair, the director told me we would film the whole movie in four days. Being in the makeup chair made me feel cool and professional and glamorous, and I began to feel more positive about the
movie. Maybe it would be OK. Maybe it would even become a cult classic. It had that strange, offbeat, indie-film feel to it. Either that or it would be just another cheesy B-movie.

“OK, girls,” the director instructed. “First scene. You’re on the bed together, watching TV. You’re best friends, and there’s always been a certain chemistry between you. April is boy crazy, and Tanya, you’re the one who’s more mature and interested in experimenting.”

We climbed onto the bed. I tried not to show my nerves.

“Ready and … action.”

“This show sucks,” April said, pressing the fake remote. “Is there anything else on? When are the boys getting here?”

“Not for at least a half hour,” I said. “I think we’re going to have to think of something else to do.”

“Like what?” she said, all Midwestern innocence.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” I said it in my best teasing voice.

“What?” April giggled her lines. “Of course not! Have you?”

“No… but I’d like to try.” The script said that I slipped my arm around her waist as we both lay on the bed. “Maybe we should try it. Just to see what it’s like. As long as there’s nothing on TV …”

“OK,” April said it with a little thrill in her voice.

“Wait a minute,” I said, breaking character. I was feeling very uncomfortable. “Hold on. This is all feeling a little soft-core porn to me.” I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but something just felt wrong.

“What? No, no!” said Rick, in a booming voice, as if the very notion disgusted him. “It’s an art film. No, not soft-core porn, nothing like that.”

“OK,” I said, hesitating.

“It’s going to be classy and cool. I can guarantee it,” he said.

I looked at April. She smiled at me.

“Action!” Rick said.

I leaned on my elbows and tried to look slyly at April. “So, April,” I said. “Have you ever kissed a girl?” I could feel my face turning red, and willed myself to stay calm.

“Cut!” Rick yelled. He walked over to us.

“Just relax, Faith,” he said. “It’s film, not stage. You don’t have to be so loud. Think soft. Think
sexy.
”

“OK,” I said.
It’s acting
, I told myself.
Pretend you like kissing girls! You’ve never even kissed one before, so how do you know you
won’t
like it?

“Hold on,” said Celeste. She ran up to me and powdered my nose again, and arranged my hair around my shoulders. “You have such a great body,” she said. “I love your shoulders.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling creepy.

Celeste and Rick stepped back. “Action!” Rick called.

I regrouped.
Come on, Faith. You can do this. You need the money. It’s not so bad.

“So … Have you ever kissed a girl?” The words came out with surprising ease this time. I looked at her flirtatiously.

She stared at me, shocked. “What?” She blushed. “Of course not. Have … have you?”

She was actually pretty good, I thought. I tried to match her level of believability.
You’re the seductress, Faith. So horny, you’ll kiss anything.

“No… but I’d like to try.” I slipped my arm around her waist and then started rubbing her back. It felt strange, alien, to touch a girl like that. “Maybe we should try it. Just to see what it’s like.”

“OK,” she said, shyly but eagerly. We leaned in toward each other. I tried not to cringe. Was I really going to do it? Was I really going to kiss a girl? On camera?

Our lips met, and we kissed. I tried to make my lips do what they did when I kissed a man, but it felt so foreign. She seemed really into it. She started to make little moaning noises, and then her tongue touched my upper teeth. When she slipped her hand down the front of my dress, I pulled away suddenly, out of surprise, but fortunately, it was just when the boys came through the door, so it didn’t look like I was pulling away out of disgust. April was flushed and grinned at me. I suddenly became preoccupied with whether or not this counted as an actual girl kiss.

“Hey,” said one of the boys. “What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said. My ears were ringing and I felt a little dizzy and sick, like I knew I’d done something wrong.

“Nothing at all,” April giggled. “We were just talking about you guys.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Hey, we brought more beer and sandwiches, and this is Rita! She was just knocking off work and she wants to party with us.”

Rita, the character played by the other girl, slithered into the room with all the charm of a reptile.

“Hi, Rita,” said April. “Hand me a beer, will ya?”

“Cut!” Rick called. “Excellent, that was excellent work everyone. Great take. We’ll probably do it a few more times, but I’m loving what I’m seeing.”

I wasn’t. In fact, I wasn’t loving any of this. I wasn’t loving the kiss, or April, or Rick, or Celeste, or the sleazy studio, or the grungy set in the strangely abandoned house, or the meaningless script. If this wasn’t soft porn, I didn’t know what was. I wasn’t loving Henry for getting me into this, or the temp agency for sending me to a place that agented films like this. In fact, at this moment, I wasn’t loving La Fenice or my new apartment or Perry or Jake Mandell or even Vince Beck. Most of all, I wasn’t loving
me.

You’ve got to finish
, I told myself.
Follow through.

So I did. I finished out the week. I kissed April probably a hundred times. And the girl who played Rita. And both the boys. I took my shirt off, and nobody would know I wasn’t enjoying every minute of it. The director loved me. He said I was a natural, and I realized with increasing horror, as the week rolled on, how easy it would be to keep doing movies like this, and how it could slip into something even darker, until I was swallowed up in a black hole. Until I would be able to call Sandra and say, sure, sign me up, I can be a call girl; it’ll be a step up from what I’m doing now. Until I’d be willing to do anything.

At the end of the week, we wrapped. I got paid. As I walked out of the studio, April called after me, “Call me, Faith!”

Faith. I thought about my name. The word echoed in my ears.
I went home to my empty apartment that Perry and I hoped would be a new beginning, but felt stale already.

There were two messages on the machine when I got home. The first was from the restaurant: “Faith, this is Givanni, from La Fenice. I’m sorry, my dear, but the restaurant is going through a slow period. We’re going to have to lay you off. I’m so sorry, you’ve done a good job for us. Come in for a drink though, on me. We’ll get you back here when we can.” Lovely. Perfect.

The second message was a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize. “This message is for Faith. This is Trina Beck. Vince Beck’s wife.” Her voice was filled with poison. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but I want you to stay away from my husband, you little slut. Just because we’re separated doesn’t give you the right to steal him away from me. We’re working it out now, and he told me everything, and if I ever see you again, I won’t be responsible for what I might do. You bitch.”

I felt incredibly stupid, and incredibly free. So that was it for me and Vince. The coward never even had the guts to tell me himself. I would never again have to agonize over whether or not he was the one. He was
not
the one, and I was never going to be Mrs. Vince Beck, because there already was one. My heart was torn in two, but I also felt cool and calm. I’d been released—from my obsession, from this path I was on. And I realized I’d had enough, not just of auditions, not just of acting, but of L.A. itself. Suddenly, I missed New York like I’d never missed anything before.

I took a deep breath and calmly packed up all my essentials into a suitcase and a carry-on. Perry could either throw out the rest of my stuff or send it to me. I wrote her an apologetic note. I put Muffin in the car and drove straight to the airport. New York on the red-eye. I was going home.

PART TWO

chapter seventeen

Five years later…

I
just need a week.
Please.
Can you give me a week?”

The woman from the charge card company paused, as if consulting the script in front of her, looking for the part that tells you what to say when the in-default charge card customer starts begging. “Your payment is already three months late,” she says finally, without an ounce of emotion or empathy.

“I know. I do.
I am trying
,” I said, “but ever since I moved back to New York from L.A., nothing has worked according to plan. I am not trying to get out of paying, and I am not making excuses. Really. Just give me a minute to explain. I think things are finally about to turn around.”

“Ma’am, I sympathize, but we need your payment or I’m going to have to refer your account to collections.”

I snorted. Collections. Collections and I go way back. Still, if I could avoid it …

“If you can look in my records, you’ll see how regular my payments
have always been,” I said, hoping she couldn’t really look back and see that they weren’t very regular at all. “I’ve been through a lot but I almost always make my payments on time.”

“That doesn’t mean you can stop making them now,” she said.

I sighed. “Can you tell me your name?”

She hesitated. “Gloria Murphy.”

“Gloria, I’m Faith.”

They say you’re supposed to humanize yourself to violent criminals, so they don’t hurt you. I figured it might work with creditors, too.

“I know your name, ma’am,” she said. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Look, Gloria. Maybe we can work something out. Membership has its privileges, right?”

“Yes, and we’re about to revoke yours,” she said.

“Oh c’mon now, don’t you think that’s a little harsh? Just let me explain. Will you let me explain?”

Gloria sighed loudly. “All right,” she said. “But don’t take too long, I’ve got a lot more calls to make. And this better be good.”

I stood up and started pacing across my tiny apartment on the Upper East Side, the apartment I was barely managing to afford, trying to find a new angle that might possibly buy me a little more time.

“O.K. the short version. When I moved back to New York with nothing but the clothes on my back and my dog, I started working for a high-end event-planning business in the evenings. But it still wasn’t enough money to get by. So I tried to figure out what else I could do. I’m a huge fan of eBay. You know eBay, right?”