Spur of the Moment (27 page)

“I've made Cornish game hens for everyone,” Camille said. “Except Jason, of course. Jase, you can take an extra big helping of potatoes and vegetables and salad, okay?”

“Wussy food for a wuss,” Mike said.

“Ah, I don't like to be mean to da animals,” Paul said in a little-kid voice.

“The poor little birdies deserve to be able to grow up and get a job and have a family just like us,” Mike snorted derisively.

Ana couldn't take it anymore. “Jason, aren't you going to say something? Are you just going to take this?”

That shut the place up. As usual, Ana's foot was so far down her mouth, it was halfway down her small intestine. No one said anything for the longest moment in the history of the world.

“He always was the sweetheart of the bunch,” Camille finally said. “While Mike and Paul were plowing down guys on the football field, Jason was sponsoring food drives for the homeless or collecting gifts for poor kids at Christmas time. He always did look out for the little guy.”

“If you were abused like this your whole life, I'm surprised you didn't grow up to become a serial killer,” Ana said. Everyone laughed at this, though she wasn't kidding.

Over dinner, Duncan talked a little bit about his real estate business. Paul and Mike talked about their cars and houses and vacations in Hawaii. Ana, Jason, and Grace barely said a word the whole time. Ana was thrilled when the meal was finally over and Camille started collecting the plates. Ana, Grace, and Jason promptly jumped up to help.

“I think we should we wait a few minutes until dessert, don't you?” Camille said.

“Uh, definitely, I'm stuffed,” Ana said.

“Would you mind bringing the coffee cups out to the table?” Camille asked Jason. “I'll make coffee.”

Jason and Ana returned to the table with coffee cups. Mike and Paul were brawling about something.
Brawling.
Grace, Ana, and Jason had only been out of the room for a couple of minutes—what had happened?

Many f-words and c-words and other unsavory language was exchanged. Ana and Grace just stared wide-eyed at their shoes. At length, Ana was able to understand that the argument had something to do with an old car and an ex-girlfriend. Mike was accusing Paul of being a girlfriend-stealing rapist; Paul accused Mike of being a drug-addicted alcoholic larcenous thug.

When Camille came into the room, Ana expected her to get control of her brood. Instead, she started screaming too, yelling about how her sons were such an embarrassment to her, didn't she teach them anything, were they born in a barn? And so on.

The screaming probably only lasted five minutes, but it seemed like hours to Ana. “Um, maybe we should just go,” she said quietly to Jason and Grace. “I'm pretty full. I don't need dessert.”

Grace nodded enthusiastically.

“Did you see that, you're driving off our guests!” Camille bellowed. There were many insults hurled as Ana and Grace tried to thank them for a wonderful dinner and wish them a Merry Christmas. They could hear the yelling all the way out to the car.

Ana, Grace, and Jason drove home in a mute silence. Ana dropped her mother off first. Jason jumped out of the backseat of the car to open the door for her. Grace gave him a big hug. “You are such a gentleman. Thank you for inviting us.”

“My pleasure.” Jason watched Grace until she got inside. He waved goodbye and got into the front seat. He put his seatbelt on and stared distractedly ahead.

“I'm sorry if any of tonight was uncomfortable for you,” he said.

“No, it's no problem. Are you okay? Is your family always like that?”

“Always. It was worse during the divorce.”

“How old were you when they got divorced?”

“They separated when I was six. The actual divorce took about three years.”

“Ouch.”

“To put it mildly.”

Ana thought for a moment. “You know what, Jason? You're iceberg lettuce.”

“Huh?”

“Don't you remember when you told me that I should never eat iceberg lettuce because they plant it around all the other vegetables to catch the run off, so it just absorbs all the pesticides and chemicals farmers use?”

“Yeah?”

“You're the iceberg lettuce of your family. You absorb all the bad stuff from your mom and brothers, take all their shit.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” He thought about it. “But you're iceberg lettuce, too.”

“I am not.”

“You are too. You're the iceberg lettuce of our house, taking care of everyone, making sure everyone's okay.”

“That's not iceberg lettuce. That's another kind of produce entirely. You stand up for the little guy. Why don't you stand up for yourself?”

He shrugged again. “I do. Just not with my family. Everything with them is an argument or a competition. I'd just rather not get into all that.”

They drove in silence for several minutes. It hadn't snowed since October, and the roads were clear. There were almost no cars on the road, and they made good time.

“So where did you get your bleeding heart? It certainly wasn't from those people.”

“No, actually, I think it was. I remember Mike and Paul always just railed on me, and I was younger and smaller than them and I always thought, how easy is it to pick on the little guy? Why not
look out
for the little guy?
That
would take some effort. And in grade school, I remember learning about inner city schools, how they had school books that were thirty years out of date; Pluto hadn't been discovered yet, so their books taught them about only eight planets circling the sun, that sort of thing. I thought, I can look out for people who are less fortunate than I. I realized just how lucky I was. I've never gone hungry. I've always had a roof over my head. I went to a good school, free of gangs or violence. I wanted to give something back. I started volunteering at a soup kitchen . . . it was such an eye-opener. I don't know, trying to give back, no matter what I do, it never seems like enough, but . . .”

“Every little bit helps.”

“Exactly. Every little bit helps. And the more you learn about the injustice of the world, the more you want to do about it. There is so much injustice in the world. So much injustice.”

At home, Ana got ready for bed. Scott had only been gone for twenty-four hours, but already she missed him so much her chest filled with a dull ache.

45

New Year's

J
ay had to be in Paris for Christmas. One of his cousins was holding a big bash at her estate in France, and family members from all over the world were flying in for it. Marin was disappointed she couldn't join him, but her filming schedule wouldn't allow it. She had to be on the set Christmas Eve and the day after Christmas, so there was no time to make a transcontinental flight. Part of her wished he'd stay home with her, but she knew that was selfish. Anyway, they'd only been dating six weeks, they weren't to the part of the relationship where you ditched family to be together. She was disappointed she still wouldn't be able to meet his family, but he promised he'd make it up to her by taking her to a romantic lodge in the mountains for New Year's.

On New Year's Eve, she and Jay spent the day skiing at Mt. Baldy, then had a quiet night at a lodge, complete with a bearskin rug and a roaring fire.

“I made sure to stock up on lots of strawberries and champagne,” Jay said.

“Oh,” Marin winced. “I don't actually like champagne. It's too bitter and it always gives me a headache.”

“That's blasphemy. You must never have had good champagne before.”

“No, I have.”

“Come on, just one sip. For me.”

“Okay, okay.”

He popped the champagne and poured two glasses.

“Happy New Year,” he said.

“Happy New Year.” They clinked glasses and she took a sip. “Nope, yuck. I just don't like it.”

“You need to have your head examined.”

“I just don't like the bubbles. I don't like soda pop or sparkling water or any of that.”

“You like beer.”

“But beer isn't this carbonated. I just don't like bubbles exploding in my mouth. I never have.”

“Well, more for me I guess. Shall I get you some red wine?”

“Yes, please.”

He got her a glass of wine and led her to the living room, where he undressed her. They made love slowly on the bearskin rug. Cliché it might have been, but it was also damn nice. Marin could get used to living like this.

When they were both sated, Marin picked up her glass of wine, and sipped it slowly, savoring its rich plum taste. She loved the way the rug felt beneath her body; she loved how different the world felt without the barrier of clothing, the soft rug against her nipples, her hips, her thighs.

“So,” she said, taking another sip of her wine, “we finish taping this week.”

“I know.”

Marin wasn't quite sure what to say next. “So what'll happen then?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean between us.”

“What do you want to happen?”

What did she want to happen? Part of her would love it if he proposed, but that was ridiculous. She'd never thought of herself as the marrying type. Why was it suddenly so easy to imagine? Anyway, they hadn't even known each other two months. Nobody but movie stars got engaged after just two months. But her life had been so unbelievable these last several weeks, anything seemed possible.

“My plan was to go back to Denver until we find out whether the series gets picked up. If it does, I'll move back here. If not . . . I don't really know.”
Ask me to move in with you.
She wasn't sure how she'd answer, she just wanted him to say it. But she couldn't abandon her friends, could she? She did miss them. But she probably did need to live in L.A. to work on her career. They'd understand that.

“I love Colorado,” Jay said. “I'll fly in and see you whenever I can. We can hit all the ski resorts.”

It was one of the best answers she could have hoped for, but she was disappointed anyway. She couldn't believe she wanted to ask him where this relationship was going. It was so unlike her. She did want to know, but she restrained herself.

“Hey, did you notice the time?” Jay asked.

It was one minute until midnight. They watched the final seconds of the year tick away, until the final ten seconds, in which, by tradition, they counted out loud.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

As they kissed, Marin felt a flicker of unease. What was wrong with her? Ana was the worrier of the group, not her. Where was all this confusion and self-doubt coming from? This wasn't like her at all. She was probably just a little apprehensive because the last year had been such an amazing year, this one had a lot to live up to.

O
ne day in the first week of January, the director said, “It's a wrap,” and he didn't mean just for the day. He meant that was it, taping was over, he'd gotten the footage he needed. There was a moment of silence as everyone looked around, trying to understand the full weight of his meaning. Then the cheers and hugs came, along with an invitation from the director to celebrate that night at his place.

Marin had planned to get together with Jay that night, so she called him on his cell and asked him if he wouldn't mind a change in plans. She told him about the party.

“I really don't want to spend the night with a bunch of fledgling actors,” he said.

“Thanks a lot.”

“You know what I mean. I just want to be with you.”

“We always do whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it. We never do what I want to do.” She couldn't believe how whiny her tone was. What was wrong with her, where was this coming from? She wished she could swallow the words back. Anyway, they weren't true. Jay always made the plans for their dates because he knew L.A. and she didn't, that was all.

“Look, why don't you go? We'll get together another night. I'll come out to see you in Denver real soon.”

“No, no. I want to see you. I can skip it.”

Jay met her at her hotel room, and they made love. Marin couldn't get into it tonight though. She kept thinking about whether Jessica was sleeping with the entire crew and writing team, so that if
Roommates
did get picked up by the network, Jessica would have finagled a way to edge Marin out entirely.

Marin couldn't help but feel she was missing out. She'd spent two crazy months with these people; it would have been nice to celebrate with them.

She was being silly. She didn't even like most of the people she worked with and she loved Jay. Of course she should be with him.

Shouldn't she?

 

 

T
wo days later, the Spur gang and their significant others were waiting at the airport for Marin's plane to arrive. They all wore plastic sunglasses. Ramiro and Scott held a big sign that had been covered with so much glue and sprinkles it looked like the words were about to melt right off the poster. “Welcome home, movie star!” it read. The Spur of the Moment bunch had no time for subtlety.

As they waited, they people-watched. A number of teenage girls wearing clothes too tight, too short, or otherwise ill-suited to their bodies walked by, simultaneously puffed up with feelings of omnipotence and importance and beaten down by feelings of self-doubt and self-loathing. When one particularly unfortunate Fashion Don't passed by, Ramiro said under his breath, “So what happened, were all the mirrors in Denver confiscated? What was she
thinking?”
Which made everyone titter gleefully.

Several bitchy comments later, their fashion-patrol duties were halted by the arrival of Marin.

When everyone had been thoroughly hugged and screamed out, Marin introduced the man who been hovering behind her. “Everyone, this is Jay. Jay this is everyone.”

Chelsey and Ana exchanged wide-eyed looks. “Hmmmmm good,” Chelsey said under her breath. Ana nodded in agreement.

“We've heard so much about you. All good, natch,” Chelsey said, reaching out to shake his hand.

More introductions followed. Ana noticed that Jason was the only one who didn't say anything to Jay.

“Tell us everything!” Ana said, grabbing Marin's arm as they made their way through the airport to the parking lot.

“I've already told you everything.”

“Tell us again.”

“Should we go to aMuse?” Ramiro asked.

Jason: “We always go there.”

Ramiro: “Everyone needs a place where everybody knows their name. This is ours.”

Marin: “Okay by me.”

So they went to aMuse and drank copious amounts of beer as Marin regaled them with tales of the parties she'd gone to, the people she'd worked with, and the adventures she'd had. They asked Jay lots of questions, too, about his travels and the people he knew and things he'd done.

As they talked and laughed and drank, Marin felt as happy as she'd ever been in her life. She had great friends, a great boyfriend, and a career that was going someplace. Just as she'd always known it would, her life was really coming together.