The Unidentified Redhead
Page 3
“Yeah, I have kicked some ass. Now go vomit. I know you want to,” she said, pointing me toward my room.
“I really just do. ‘Night, asshead,” I shot back over my shoulder as I went to collapse.
“‘Night, dillweed. Seriously, Grace. Five dirty martinis?” was the last thing I heard her say as I shut the door in her face and fell onto my bed.
Right before slipped into sleep I thought about my sparkly boobies and laughed a little to myself.
Chapter 3
The morning brought hellfire and brimstone … and that was just what I threw up. When I first opened my eyes, which took several minutes of prying through mascara goo, I knew that this day was possibly going to be the worst day of my life. I never, repeat never, have more than two cocktails.
I simply cannot handle it anymore. I would love to pretend that I can still hang with the younglings, knocking back cocktail after cocktail and feeling no pain, but that was no longer me. I felt the pain—oh how I felt the pain.
I attempted to get dressed, but gravity defeated me and I made my way out into the hall in an old button down Polo shirt, leaving my shorts on the floor of my bedroom where they had finally given up the fight. After repeated tries at balance, I made it down the hall, shorts-less, hugging the wall and then banister for support. I could smell coffee and, like a beacon, I was drawn to it. I could hear Holly talking on the phone, and I moaned at her damnable cheeriness. Holly never got a hangover. Bitch.
“Yes, right now you’re scheduled to do MTV on the seventh and then you have an In Style photo shoot on the twelfth of that same month,” she said, smiling at me while I poured myself a cup of coffee, wrapping my hands around the mug and inhaling deeply. I might feel human again in about a day or so. I burped and thought, well, maybe a few days.
“Listen, mister, do you have any idea how hard it was to sync up all the calendars for you guys? Half the cast is going to be there. You have to do the photo shoot on the twelfth. At least it’s here in L.A. so there’s no travel involved. Yes, I know this fall you’ll have plenty of travel. Honestly, Jack, sometimes you sound like such a little bitch.” She laughed as she gestured to me to sit down.
Knowing I was on borrowed time with my legs supporting me, I sank into one of the comfy armchairs in her breakfast nook. As I sipped at my coffee, I thought about meeting Jack the night before and smiled thinking of what the other side of this conversation must be sounding like.
“She just woke up. Yes, she appears to be quite hung over. Hold on, let me see,” she said looking carefully at me. “Jack is asking me to inspect your eyes to see if they look like … wait, what? To see if they look like cabbages?” She looked at me strangely.
“Tell Hamilton I said to suck it,” I groaned, letting my head drop down to the arm of the chair, oddly pleased that he remembered our conversation with such clarity—and surprised that I did as well.
“She said, ‘Suck it, Hamilton.’ No, she really did say that,” she answered back as I laughed quietly to myself. “He wants to know exactly what he is to suck, Sheridan,” she responded, rolling her eyes.
“Tell Hamilton that he has it exactly right, he is to suck Sheridan,” I yelled, making sure he could hear, but splitting my own head open in the process.
“OK, that’s enough of the telephone game. You guys can continue your last name foreplay another time. Jack, I’ll speak to you later. What? Jesus.
Fine I’ll ask her. Goodbye … I’m hanging up now.” She clicked her phone off and set it on the counter, looking at me carefully.
“What? What are you looking at me like that for?” I asked, realizing that I was grinning from ear to ear.
“You tell me. Why is he asking me about your sparkly boobies?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at me. I didn’t answer as I lowered my head to my coffee mug, fighting to not smile wider.
Holly took good care of me that day: She left me alone except to bring me Sprite and Saltines. I managed to control the crumb fall-out this time. I pretty much stayed on the couch. After a day of hangover hell, I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, it was dark outside and Holly was gone. She had left me a note and a stack of magazines on the coffee table next to me.
Lush,
Here are the stories you promised you’d read. I’m out for dinner with clients. I shouldn’t be home too late. Call me if you need anything, and clean yourself up.
You look like shit.
Love you,
H
Holly was right. I did look pretty sorry. I headed up to my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I needed some energy, so I changed into my suit and grabbed a towel. As I walked back through the house, I saw the stack of magazines marked with Post-its on the table again, and after rereading her note, I picked up the one on top and thumbed through it to the first short story. I rolled my eyes at the fact that I was contemplating reading a romance story, which I usually avoided like the plague. Still, I took them with me out to the pool deck.
I marveled once again at how beautiful Holly’s house was. High up in the hills, it had great views from three sides. It was California modern, with an open floor plan and lots of natural light. It even had a sound system that worked throughout the house and on the patio. I plugged my iPod into it and selected my favorite play list of quiet-time U2 songs.
The best part of the house was the infinity pool that had the nicest view of all: downtown L.A. She even had the requisite hot tub, which is where I ended up after swimming laps for about thirty minutes. I had gotten myself back into shape by doing many different things, one of which was swimming at least three times a week.
I relaxed in the hot water, letting the jets massage away the last remnants of the alcohol and the way it had kicked my ass today. I took a sip from my water bottle and my gaze fell on the stack of magazines.
Oh, what the hell. You promised.
As I began to read, I remembered how insane Holly looked when she described her attachment to these stories. I had some trepidation, to say the least, as I did not want to succumb to the madness that so clearly had her in its grip. Sexy scientist Joshua, huh? We’ll see …
I was real y getting into it when I heard voices coming from inside the house.
I glanced in and saw Holly and a tall, good-looking man walking toward the French doors, making their way outside to where I was. She was dressed in a black wrap-around dress with gorgeous snakeskin sandals.
Damn, she looks good. She must have had a date with that tall drink of water … wait, is that Jack?
As they got closer and stepped out onto the patio, I realized this was not the same guy I met last night, and yet it was.
This was not the scruffy Hollywood hipster I was bantering with in the kitchen. This was a very handsome man dressed in a dark gray suit and tie, clean shaven, with gorgeous shaggy-blond curls. The night before, he’d had that damn baseball cap on and I couldn’t see the perfection that was his hair. I had a weakness for curly hair.
Crap, hide the magazine. HIDE THE MAGAZINE!
I quickly threw my shirt over the stack next to me, composing my face in what I hoped was a neutral expression.
“Hey, Gracie. I see you’re feeling better!” Holly called out as they closed the distance to the hot tub.
“Much better. I took a swim and now I’m just relaxing,” I answered. I was at a disadvantage, sitting so much lower than them, when Jack squatted down, resting on his heels.
“Hey, Sheridan. This is very Hollywood of you. Hot tub, moonlight, view of the city … ” he observed.
“Strategically placed jets of water for my enjoyment,” I countered, winking at him as Holly groaned behind him.
“Jesus, Grace, you are too much,” she said, laughing.
“Yep, that’s true. I am too much. Now hand me that towel. I’m pruning here,” I said. Holly obliged and then sat down in a chair, kicking off her high heels. “So, what are you guys up to tonight?” I asked, taking the hand Jack had offered to help me out of the water.
He gave me the towel, but not before I noticed him glancing down at my black racing suit. It wasn’t as flashy as a bikini, but come on, I wasn’t out there for a Sports Il ustrated cover. The way he was looking at my toned legs, flat stomach and strong arms, I would say those workouts were paying off. I shook my long hair, squeezing the water out before toweling off my body and slipping into the chair next to Holly. Jack took the seat facing us as we talked.
They had attended a dinner for People that night, and Jack was quite a hit.
I got the sense from talking to the two of them that this film was a bigger deal than I had realized, and he was getting quite a bit of buzz. They had spent most of the night meeting industry people and working the room.
That was what made Holly so good at her job. People forget that it is called show business for a reason, and it takes a lot of work to launch a career in the right way. All too often, a young talent gets lost in the shuffle of a hyped movie and then, without the right follow-through, they’re last year’s news. Holly was great at making sure that the actors she managed worked on projects that challenged them creatively, as well as succeeding commercially. To do that, you had to work the room sometimes, as they had done tonight.
While Jack joked about some of the funny people they had met and the Time hoopla that I was beginning to understand was unavoidable, I got the sense that he wasn’t quite comfortable with it yet. That was good, though—too many take themselves too seriously, and they burn out fast.
Holly was beginning to tell stories about when we had first moved out to L.A. so many years ago, and I knew it wasn’t going to be long before she embarrassed me.
“So, there was Grace, and she’s singing her little heart out for this director.
She’s convinced she’s going to get the part. She’s giving it her all and when she’s finished, she stands center stage, looking like she deserves a Tony for this performance,” she paused, looking at me for confirmation.
“Yeah, so there I am, thinking I nailed it. I was finally going to get cast in this new musical,” I continued. “Then I noticed that the director is dressed awfully casually for this audition. Too casually.”
“Like he is wearing a jumpsuit and has a bucket of cleaning supplies and mop next to him!” she screams, collapsing on Jack’s shoulder in laughter.
“What? Why was a director dressed like that?” he asked.
“Because he wasn’t the director, he was—”
“—the janitor,” I finished, hiding my face in my hands.
“Grace gave the audition of her life for a freaking janitor! She was so mortified she ran offstage and out to her car and was gone before anyone even knew what happened!” She gasped through her laughter.
“But I bet he was thoroughly entertained,” I reminded her.
Hol y’s phone rang, interrupting the moment, and she excused herself to take the call, chuckling. I shivered a little from the night air, still in my bathing suit.
“You should probably go get out of that wet suit. You’re going to catch cold.
I should get going anyway,” Jack said, getting up to hand me another towel.
“Yeah, it is getting late. I’ll walk you out,” I answered, standing up next to him.
He draped the towel around my shoulders and rubbed them a little bit to warm me up. We passed Holly still on the phone, and she gave him a kiss and mouthed the words, “Call you tomorrow.”
“So, Sheridan. Does this mean you’re a singer?” he asked.
“Yep, I was singing even before I was acting.” I sighed as we walked through the house toward the front door.
“Why do you say it like that, like it makes you sad?” he asked, turning to face me.
“It doesn’t make me sad. I just don’t sing as often as I used to, and I miss it sometimes. I’m actually going to start singing again at some open mike nights soon—next week in fact.” I smiled in anticipation of this.
“Well, be sure to let me know when it is. I would love to come,” he said, looking down at me. I was reminded that I was only in a towel and my bathing suit and decided to mess with him a little.
“Hamilton, I would love for you to come,” I teased, implication heavy in the air as I raised my hand and gave him a light slap on the face. He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Hmmm … ” he said, and opened the front door.
“What does that mean?” I grinned. Don’t chase him, don’t chase him.
He turned once more, giving me a thoughtful glance. “Hmmm … ” he repeated, and gave me wink.
“‘Night,” I said, as he started to walk away
“‘Night, Sheridan,” he called over his shoulder. And then he was gone.
I closed the door and leaned against it for a minute, just thinking about
“Hmmm … ” I pushed myself off the door and was startled by Holly watching me from the other room.
“Hmmm?” she smirked.
“There will be no hmmm-ing going on, I will have you know. He’s my new friend. That’s all. He’s twenty-four, for Christ’s sake!” I stated, as I walked by her on my way upstairs.
“You could use a good hmmm-ing, ya know!” she yelled up after me.
That was so true.
Chapter 4
I woke up feeling strangely disoriented. My back was stiff, and I realized that I had fallen asleep in the big chair by the fireplace in the living room. I stretched, listening to the tendons in my neck crackle and pop, until I noticed that Holly was sitting across from me with a grin like the Cheshire Cat.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, snuggling back under the throw I had wrapped up in last night while I was reading.
“I really just do. ‘Night, asshead,” I shot back over my shoulder as I went to collapse.
“‘Night, dillweed. Seriously, Grace. Five dirty martinis?” was the last thing I heard her say as I shut the door in her face and fell onto my bed.
Right before slipped into sleep I thought about my sparkly boobies and laughed a little to myself.
Chapter 3
The morning brought hellfire and brimstone … and that was just what I threw up. When I first opened my eyes, which took several minutes of prying through mascara goo, I knew that this day was possibly going to be the worst day of my life. I never, repeat never, have more than two cocktails.
I simply cannot handle it anymore. I would love to pretend that I can still hang with the younglings, knocking back cocktail after cocktail and feeling no pain, but that was no longer me. I felt the pain—oh how I felt the pain.
I attempted to get dressed, but gravity defeated me and I made my way out into the hall in an old button down Polo shirt, leaving my shorts on the floor of my bedroom where they had finally given up the fight. After repeated tries at balance, I made it down the hall, shorts-less, hugging the wall and then banister for support. I could smell coffee and, like a beacon, I was drawn to it. I could hear Holly talking on the phone, and I moaned at her damnable cheeriness. Holly never got a hangover. Bitch.
“Yes, right now you’re scheduled to do MTV on the seventh and then you have an In Style photo shoot on the twelfth of that same month,” she said, smiling at me while I poured myself a cup of coffee, wrapping my hands around the mug and inhaling deeply. I might feel human again in about a day or so. I burped and thought, well, maybe a few days.
“Listen, mister, do you have any idea how hard it was to sync up all the calendars for you guys? Half the cast is going to be there. You have to do the photo shoot on the twelfth. At least it’s here in L.A. so there’s no travel involved. Yes, I know this fall you’ll have plenty of travel. Honestly, Jack, sometimes you sound like such a little bitch.” She laughed as she gestured to me to sit down.
Knowing I was on borrowed time with my legs supporting me, I sank into one of the comfy armchairs in her breakfast nook. As I sipped at my coffee, I thought about meeting Jack the night before and smiled thinking of what the other side of this conversation must be sounding like.
“She just woke up. Yes, she appears to be quite hung over. Hold on, let me see,” she said looking carefully at me. “Jack is asking me to inspect your eyes to see if they look like … wait, what? To see if they look like cabbages?” She looked at me strangely.
“Tell Hamilton I said to suck it,” I groaned, letting my head drop down to the arm of the chair, oddly pleased that he remembered our conversation with such clarity—and surprised that I did as well.
“She said, ‘Suck it, Hamilton.’ No, she really did say that,” she answered back as I laughed quietly to myself. “He wants to know exactly what he is to suck, Sheridan,” she responded, rolling her eyes.
“Tell Hamilton that he has it exactly right, he is to suck Sheridan,” I yelled, making sure he could hear, but splitting my own head open in the process.
“OK, that’s enough of the telephone game. You guys can continue your last name foreplay another time. Jack, I’ll speak to you later. What? Jesus.
Fine I’ll ask her. Goodbye … I’m hanging up now.” She clicked her phone off and set it on the counter, looking at me carefully.
“What? What are you looking at me like that for?” I asked, realizing that I was grinning from ear to ear.
“You tell me. Why is he asking me about your sparkly boobies?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at me. I didn’t answer as I lowered my head to my coffee mug, fighting to not smile wider.
Holly took good care of me that day: She left me alone except to bring me Sprite and Saltines. I managed to control the crumb fall-out this time. I pretty much stayed on the couch. After a day of hangover hell, I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, it was dark outside and Holly was gone. She had left me a note and a stack of magazines on the coffee table next to me.
Lush,
Here are the stories you promised you’d read. I’m out for dinner with clients. I shouldn’t be home too late. Call me if you need anything, and clean yourself up.
You look like shit.
Love you,
H
Holly was right. I did look pretty sorry. I headed up to my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I needed some energy, so I changed into my suit and grabbed a towel. As I walked back through the house, I saw the stack of magazines marked with Post-its on the table again, and after rereading her note, I picked up the one on top and thumbed through it to the first short story. I rolled my eyes at the fact that I was contemplating reading a romance story, which I usually avoided like the plague. Still, I took them with me out to the pool deck.
I marveled once again at how beautiful Holly’s house was. High up in the hills, it had great views from three sides. It was California modern, with an open floor plan and lots of natural light. It even had a sound system that worked throughout the house and on the patio. I plugged my iPod into it and selected my favorite play list of quiet-time U2 songs.
The best part of the house was the infinity pool that had the nicest view of all: downtown L.A. She even had the requisite hot tub, which is where I ended up after swimming laps for about thirty minutes. I had gotten myself back into shape by doing many different things, one of which was swimming at least three times a week.
I relaxed in the hot water, letting the jets massage away the last remnants of the alcohol and the way it had kicked my ass today. I took a sip from my water bottle and my gaze fell on the stack of magazines.
Oh, what the hell. You promised.
As I began to read, I remembered how insane Holly looked when she described her attachment to these stories. I had some trepidation, to say the least, as I did not want to succumb to the madness that so clearly had her in its grip. Sexy scientist Joshua, huh? We’ll see …
I was real y getting into it when I heard voices coming from inside the house.
I glanced in and saw Holly and a tall, good-looking man walking toward the French doors, making their way outside to where I was. She was dressed in a black wrap-around dress with gorgeous snakeskin sandals.
Damn, she looks good. She must have had a date with that tall drink of water … wait, is that Jack?
As they got closer and stepped out onto the patio, I realized this was not the same guy I met last night, and yet it was.
This was not the scruffy Hollywood hipster I was bantering with in the kitchen. This was a very handsome man dressed in a dark gray suit and tie, clean shaven, with gorgeous shaggy-blond curls. The night before, he’d had that damn baseball cap on and I couldn’t see the perfection that was his hair. I had a weakness for curly hair.
Crap, hide the magazine. HIDE THE MAGAZINE!
I quickly threw my shirt over the stack next to me, composing my face in what I hoped was a neutral expression.
“Hey, Gracie. I see you’re feeling better!” Holly called out as they closed the distance to the hot tub.
“Much better. I took a swim and now I’m just relaxing,” I answered. I was at a disadvantage, sitting so much lower than them, when Jack squatted down, resting on his heels.
“Hey, Sheridan. This is very Hollywood of you. Hot tub, moonlight, view of the city … ” he observed.
“Strategically placed jets of water for my enjoyment,” I countered, winking at him as Holly groaned behind him.
“Jesus, Grace, you are too much,” she said, laughing.
“Yep, that’s true. I am too much. Now hand me that towel. I’m pruning here,” I said. Holly obliged and then sat down in a chair, kicking off her high heels. “So, what are you guys up to tonight?” I asked, taking the hand Jack had offered to help me out of the water.
He gave me the towel, but not before I noticed him glancing down at my black racing suit. It wasn’t as flashy as a bikini, but come on, I wasn’t out there for a Sports Il ustrated cover. The way he was looking at my toned legs, flat stomach and strong arms, I would say those workouts were paying off. I shook my long hair, squeezing the water out before toweling off my body and slipping into the chair next to Holly. Jack took the seat facing us as we talked.
They had attended a dinner for People that night, and Jack was quite a hit.
I got the sense from talking to the two of them that this film was a bigger deal than I had realized, and he was getting quite a bit of buzz. They had spent most of the night meeting industry people and working the room.
That was what made Holly so good at her job. People forget that it is called show business for a reason, and it takes a lot of work to launch a career in the right way. All too often, a young talent gets lost in the shuffle of a hyped movie and then, without the right follow-through, they’re last year’s news. Holly was great at making sure that the actors she managed worked on projects that challenged them creatively, as well as succeeding commercially. To do that, you had to work the room sometimes, as they had done tonight.
While Jack joked about some of the funny people they had met and the Time hoopla that I was beginning to understand was unavoidable, I got the sense that he wasn’t quite comfortable with it yet. That was good, though—too many take themselves too seriously, and they burn out fast.
Holly was beginning to tell stories about when we had first moved out to L.A. so many years ago, and I knew it wasn’t going to be long before she embarrassed me.
“So, there was Grace, and she’s singing her little heart out for this director.
She’s convinced she’s going to get the part. She’s giving it her all and when she’s finished, she stands center stage, looking like she deserves a Tony for this performance,” she paused, looking at me for confirmation.
“Yeah, so there I am, thinking I nailed it. I was finally going to get cast in this new musical,” I continued. “Then I noticed that the director is dressed awfully casually for this audition. Too casually.”
“Like he is wearing a jumpsuit and has a bucket of cleaning supplies and mop next to him!” she screams, collapsing on Jack’s shoulder in laughter.
“What? Why was a director dressed like that?” he asked.
“Because he wasn’t the director, he was—”
“—the janitor,” I finished, hiding my face in my hands.
“Grace gave the audition of her life for a freaking janitor! She was so mortified she ran offstage and out to her car and was gone before anyone even knew what happened!” She gasped through her laughter.
“But I bet he was thoroughly entertained,” I reminded her.
Hol y’s phone rang, interrupting the moment, and she excused herself to take the call, chuckling. I shivered a little from the night air, still in my bathing suit.
“You should probably go get out of that wet suit. You’re going to catch cold.
I should get going anyway,” Jack said, getting up to hand me another towel.
“Yeah, it is getting late. I’ll walk you out,” I answered, standing up next to him.
He draped the towel around my shoulders and rubbed them a little bit to warm me up. We passed Holly still on the phone, and she gave him a kiss and mouthed the words, “Call you tomorrow.”
“So, Sheridan. Does this mean you’re a singer?” he asked.
“Yep, I was singing even before I was acting.” I sighed as we walked through the house toward the front door.
“Why do you say it like that, like it makes you sad?” he asked, turning to face me.
“It doesn’t make me sad. I just don’t sing as often as I used to, and I miss it sometimes. I’m actually going to start singing again at some open mike nights soon—next week in fact.” I smiled in anticipation of this.
“Well, be sure to let me know when it is. I would love to come,” he said, looking down at me. I was reminded that I was only in a towel and my bathing suit and decided to mess with him a little.
“Hamilton, I would love for you to come,” I teased, implication heavy in the air as I raised my hand and gave him a light slap on the face. He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Hmmm … ” he said, and opened the front door.
“What does that mean?” I grinned. Don’t chase him, don’t chase him.
He turned once more, giving me a thoughtful glance. “Hmmm … ” he repeated, and gave me wink.
“‘Night,” I said, as he started to walk away
“‘Night, Sheridan,” he called over his shoulder. And then he was gone.
I closed the door and leaned against it for a minute, just thinking about
“Hmmm … ” I pushed myself off the door and was startled by Holly watching me from the other room.
“Hmmm?” she smirked.
“There will be no hmmm-ing going on, I will have you know. He’s my new friend. That’s all. He’s twenty-four, for Christ’s sake!” I stated, as I walked by her on my way upstairs.
“You could use a good hmmm-ing, ya know!” she yelled up after me.
That was so true.
Chapter 4
I woke up feeling strangely disoriented. My back was stiff, and I realized that I had fallen asleep in the big chair by the fireplace in the living room. I stretched, listening to the tendons in my neck crackle and pop, until I noticed that Holly was sitting across from me with a grin like the Cheshire Cat.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, snuggling back under the throw I had wrapped up in last night while I was reading.
