Skinnydipping (6 page)

I was almost able to get myself next to them and in hearing distance of their conversation. Chloe/Susan was rail thin with platinum blonde hair and big brown eyes. Her red lip gloss was slightly smeared at the side of her mouth and she had a silky, wispy little lavender dress that hung on her skeletal shoulders. Isabel/Donna was raven haired with full pouty lips, jet-black eyeliner, a sprinkle of girl-next-door freckles, and curves to die for. She wore high-heeled patent-leather stilettos and a tight black dress with a scoop neck that showed off the efforts of her push-up bra.

I cleared my throat. I would befriend them by telling them I was waiting for a callback from Larry Todd about a job. Or maybe I should say I’m a friend of Larry Todd’s. Or something more casual? “Excuse me,” I said as loudly as I could without sounding like I was yelling. Neither of them turned.

“Excuse me, Susan?” I tried again. “I thought you might want to know your lipstick is a little smeared there in the corner.” I smiled in a friendly, confidential, girlfriend way, but the bitch didn’t even look at me. She did, however, daintily wipe the corner of her mouth.

Maybe Donna would be more receptive. I moved in closer. “Excuse me, Donna?”

Donna did turn to look at me, but her eyes were like ice. She checked me out, up and down, exactly the way the flight attendant had evaluated my human worth with a cursory glance on my way to L.A. She began to turn away again, so I reached out and lightly
touched her forearm. “No, wait! I don’t mean to bother you, but I just wanted to say hello because I’m a friend of Larry Todd’s, and …”

“Did you just touch me?”

“What?” I was taken aback by her tone and the way she recoiled from me, like I was some venomous creature she wanted to crush with her spike heel.

She looked at me with pure disdain. “I said, did you just touch me? Don’t you ever touch me again. What’s wrong with you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned her back to me. Out of nowhere, a huge, muscle-bound man in a tight black T-shirt stepped between us and crossed his arms. Susan giggled and rolled her eyes, and they resumed their conversation.

I was humiliated. I felt ridiculous standing there in my cheap red dress with some lame TV star’s personal bodyguard staring me down. I turned away and plunged into the crowd. This was going to ruin my entire week. I’d been smacked down and I wanted to get as far away from those two bitches as possible. And yet something inside me bucked against this treatment. I’d show them who was worthy. I’d get a job on their show, and soon, they’d know exactly who I was, and they would be sorry they ever treated me that way. They had the chance to befriend me on my way up, and they blew it. Screw them both.

Just as I was considering turning around and going right back home, Brooke appeared in front of me. “There you are!” She was breathless, and had obviously been dancing. Her blonde hair was mussed in a sexy way and her cheeks were pink. A lusty-looking man with sandy, feathered hair and a beautiful face stood behind her, his hands lingering around her waist.

“Is that Rob Lowe?” I whispered.

“Who, him?” she said, looking behind her. “Nah, that’s Brett Jones. He’s an actor. I told him I’m not interested, but he’s following me around like a puppy.” She laughed. Surely Brett Jones had heard her, but he didn’t seem deterred. “We’ve been friends for ages. Where have you been?” I wondered if she was cheating on my father. I almost hoped she was. He was probably cheating on her, if the stories my
mother told me were true, and I couldn’t help wanting him to be punished for being such a crappy father.

“Getting dissed by Donna Shannon at the bar,” I said. “I can’t believe what an asshole she is. Susan Terence, too. I’m so embarrassed. And pissed off!”

“Fuck her, who even watches that show,” Brooke said loyally. “C’mon, you’ve got to meet this guy, he’s your perfect match. He’s just an actor, but I think you’ll like him.” Just an actor! I couldn’t help being impressed by actors, even though Brooke kept telling me to go for the producers. Brooke had access to an older, wealthier, more powerful crowd, and she understood who had the real power, but she also knew me and she knew what I liked. Once, when we saw Christian Slater in a bar, I was drooling over him. “Christian Slater would probably love to be sitting next to someone like your friend Larry Todd,” she told me. “It’s the producers who have all the power, you know. It’s not the actors.” But I still found it hard to believe. The actors were so beautiful and glamorous.

Brooke grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd, around the edge of the dance floor and over to one of the booths, next to the one where the shirtless girl was now sitting, eyes closed, cross-legged, as if to meditate.

She pushed me into the booth next to a tall man with wavy hair cut like a young Elvis. He had dark eyes, great facial structure, a prominent nose, and the body of an athlete—not muscle-bound, but broad and tight. Brooke slid in next to me and leaned over. “Tony, this is my friend Faith. Faith, this is Tony. He’s an actor, and … he’s from New York!” She sat back and crossed her arms, obviously pleased with herself.

I smiled my best movie-star smile. He was handsome in a rugged, Italian sort of way, a little rough around the edges, probably a character actor and not a leading man. No Rob Lowe, but still. I held out my hand.
Don’t tell him you want to be an actress
, I schooled myself.
Be mysterious, don’t be lame.

“Nice to meet you, Tony.”

“Hello.” He smiled and shook my hand, but he didn’t seem particularly thrilled to meet me. I was going to have to win him over. My looks were OK, not great, so that wasn’t going to seal the deal. But my attitude was a ten.

“So, you’re a New Yorker, too,” I said. “Do you ever just hate the fucking sun and pray for snow and cold?”

That got him to laugh. “I know what you mean. I’m shooting a movie in New York next month and I can’t wait to get back, even though it will be August when that beautiful garbage aroma wafts over the city.”

“I miss that smell!” I said, longingly, still in that bitter phase so many transplants from New York linger in, where we all say how much we hate L.A. and long for New York, even though we’ve obviously chosen to live in L.A.

Brooke leaned in. “Faith, you’ve been here for three weeks.”

“I know, but I haven’t met any other New Yorkers here yet. It makes me nostalgic!”

“I know,” Brooke said. “That’s why I found Tony for you!”

Tony leaned in toward me. “How about some X?” He held out his hand confidentially to reveal two brown pills with the word
LOVE
stamped on them.

“OK,” I said. Let’s get the party started. I swallowed them with the last of my drink, hoping I wouldn’t regret it.

“Do you want to dance?” Tony asked me.

“Sure. Why not?”

He grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor and we started to dance, shoulder to shoulder with all the beautiful people. I liked that he wasn’t so perfect looking. I felt like we matched. We danced close, moving apart and back together. He began to brush his crotch against my hip. I could feel the beat of the music in my chest. I felt the intense need for another drink.

The lights swirled around me and the whole club looked like a beautiful kaleidoscope. I grabbed on to Tony, feeling a little dizzy.
I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt like I’d known him all my life and he was my best friend.

He grinned at me. “Let’s get another drink.”

“I need some water.”

He nodded and guided me through the crowd. I felt like I was with the best man in the whole club. I wondered how successful of an actor he really was. At the bar, he raised his hand for the bartender. He was so tall, his arm extended above the crowd. “Two vodka martinis,” he said.

Brooke slid beside me again and motioned for another sex on the beach. “How’s it going? Do you like him?” she stage-whispered.

“We’re rolling,” I said.

“Cool,” she said.

Tony and I danced and drank all night. We were feeling passionate and thirsty and rubbing all over each other and making out to the waves of euphoria. Occasionally we collapsed in a booth and talked and made out a little. It felt casual and friendly. Then we’d talk some more, telling each other all our stories. He was smart and curious and articulate, in spite of the alcohol and drugs. It was a turn-on. There was also something inaccessible about him, which I took as a challenge. We definitely had sexual chemistry. I told him all about Susan and Donna, and how angry and embarrassed they’d made me. “You’re getting upset about what two immature little Hollywood soap opera actresses think about you? What kind of New Yorker are you, anyway?” he asked.

“Good point,” I admitted.

“Tomorrow they’ll be yesterday’s news. Longevity is the key. Once you hit it, never let it get away. That’s what I plan to do. It’s a rocket you hang on to, and I can guarantee
those
two don’t have a clue,” he said. “Besides, haven’t you noticed how wildly superficial everybody is in L.A.? They’re all big-timers and they’re all fronting. It means nothing.”

“I guess so,” I said. “But they still made me feel like a piece of shit.”

“Come here, I have an idea,” he said. He pulled me out of the booth and led me over to the bar, straight toward Susan and Donna.

“No, no, no, no …” I protested, panicking.

“Stop,” he said. “Trust me. Just pretend you don’t even notice them at all.”

“OK,” I said doubtfully. I was starting to come down off the Ecstasy high and suddenly, everything wasn’t coming up roses anymore.

He put his arm around me, then pretended to bump into Donna accidentally. He looked at her with complete disinterest. “Oh. Sorry. Whiskey soda and a cosmopolitan!” He called out the drinks to the bartender, who immediately stopped what he was doing to start making them.

Donna Shannon turned, and the annoyance on her face melted away as soon as she saw who had bumped into her. Then she looked at me, and then at him again. Her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said, trying to sound cool. “Hi, Tony.”

Tony ignored her. Her face turned just one shade pinker. She nudged Susan, who turned around and froze when she saw Tony. Who
was
this guy?

Susan looked at me with alarm. I smiled and looked away. “Thanks, honey,” I said to Tony when he handed me my cosmo. Payback was sweet. We took our drinks back to the table, and I could feel Donna’s and Susan’s eyes on us the whole way.

“Who are you, anyway?” I said as we sat back down.

“Just an actor,” he said, laughing.

“But what are you in?”

“I love that you’re only just asking me that,” he said. “Most girls would have led with that question.”

“I was more interested in your status as a New Yorker,” I said. “But obviously your mere presence impressed the bitches. Why?”

“I’m on a Showtime series called
American Money
.”

“The one about Wall Street?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh my God. I don’t have Showtime but I’ve heard of it. I thought you looked vaguely familiar.”

“Vaguely, huh?”

“Yes, vaguely.
Only
vaguely.”

“That’s actually very refreshing,” he said.

The more famous I realized he was, the cuter he got. At one thirty a.m., the bartender announced last call and I hadn’t had a drink in a while because I knew I had to drive home. Tony said, “I know where there’s a great afterparty. Do you want to go?”

“We’ll go,” said a voice from behind Tony. He turned around. Donna Shannon and Susan Terence were there looking hopeful. “We’d love to go. Do you have room for us?” Donna asked, somewhat sheepishly.

Oh, this was too good.

Tony looked at me: my call. This forced Donna and Susan to look at me, too. “I don’t know,” I said. “We’ve got to fit Brooke and Brett and you and I, and that convertible only seats four.” I looked doubtful. Donna and Susan looked desperate.

Just then, Brooke came bouncing up behind me with her pseudo-boyfriend Brett in tow. “Do you want to go to a party?” I asked Brooke.

“I drove my car, so I’ll take Brett,” Brooke said helpfully, with a half smile. “You take those two,” she said, as if she had no idea who they were. “We’ll meet you there.”

Tony gave her the address, then turned to Donna and Susan with a pained look. “Shall we?”

I loved that Donna and Susan followed
me
out of the club. When the valet brought “my” car back around, Donna’s mouth practically fell open. As they climbed into the back, it was with a newfound respect.
This
is what I’d been looking for all along, even if I hadn’t really earned it yet. They obviously thought I was some rich trust fund chick. If only they knew the truth—that I hadn’t even been able to afford my own apartment. That I wasn’t getting any money from Daddy at all. I was, nevertheless, someone to contend with.

chapter four