7

With Rachel still out on location and out of mobile reception in India, I’d invited Meg to the after party. In just a fortnight, I’d gone from having a less than four figure sum in my bank account to a more than six figure one, and it felt right to thank her, not just for being my best friend over the last two years, but for sticking around for the last couple of weeks. I’d arranged to pick her up at the airport and I’d spent breakfast agonising about what to wear. It was strange – I’d spent the last fortnight 24/7 as Sue, happy and confident in the company of strangers and yet here I was, about to meet up with my best friend, dithering about an outfit. Since my night out at the premiere in London through my time on set, I’d spent more time in an evening dress than the sort of thing a twenty one year old girl might wear out shopping. I’d bought a shed load of clothes and shoes on the internet over the course of my hotel evenings-in and was still undecided when reception rang to tell me my taxi was ready. I plumped for a floor length dusky pink tulle skirt dressed down with a distressed denim jacket and (ironically, given how I’d bought so many shoes) a pair of Dave’s All Stars. Tying a matching chiffon scarf through my up-do, I headed down to reception and the waiting car.

I arrived at the airport just as the passengers from Meg’s plane were emerging into the lounge. Meg was one of the first out, turning heads as always in a gorgeous skin tight sleeveless black catsuit. She’d changed her hair since I’d left London and was looking awesome with a natural afro. I let the bulk of the crowd disperse before making my way over. She clocked me as I approached and whooped loud enough for the remaining passengers to turn to see what was happening.
“Whoooh! Look at you, you look good enough to eat!” she held her arms out for a hug.
I glanced around, embarrassed. The other passengers had returned to their own business. “Welcome to LA, Meg! Love the new hair!” We hugged quietly for several seconds before she stepped back to arm’s length to survey me again. She dropped her voice a couple of octaves and put on a southern American accent.
“Damn! A cute little white girl, all pretty in pink!” She grinned.
I blushed and looked around once again. “Ssshhh!”
She laughed. “This is crazy, isn’t it? Two weeks ago, if you’d told me I’d be in LA, and you were here, looking like THAT and all…Shit!” Then, more quietly. “Listen, I’ve got to thank you for this. This is amazing! You didn’t need to do this, you know.”
“Oh yes I did” I hugged her again and grabbed her suitcase. “Come on, we’ve got a busy day. We can drop this back at the hotel and then out shopping for something to wear tonight!”

The staff at the hotel salon had told me about a vintage wear shop just off Sunset and we headed straight there after dropping off Meg’s bags. The shop was understated. Scruffy, even. A plain aluminium shopfront around 4 metres wide and 50 years old contained a half dozen mannequins wearing a variety of outfits from the same era. Inside, the shop stretched back deep into the city block, retreating a decade or so every few metres. Initially we found ourselves in the 1980s. Meg squealed with delight as she lifted item after item out from crammed rails.
“Shit, look at this!” She was holding a bright turquoise creation in taffeta up in front of me. It was a riot of ruffles, bows and puff sleeves.
“That’s just totally hideous. You’ve got to be joking!”
“What’s the matter with you, I love this stuff!”
“Eurgh! It’s awful. I mean, it’s just so totally over the top. It’s the sort of thing a seven year old would wear to a party.”
“Hmm. Says the person wearing a pink tulle skirt!”
I smiled. “Okay. You got me. Listen, I’m going to have a wander further in. See if I can find something a bit more tasteful. See you later?”
I made my way through the shop. Ruched taffeta gave way to tie dye and other psychedelica, until eventually, like Marty in Back to the Future, I found myself in the 1950s. There, hiding amongst a moire pattern of polka dots, my eye was caught by a simple black cocktail dress.

You could tell the quality just by looking at it on the hangar before even lifting it off the rail. A silk taffeta bodice with a built in corset lined in gorgeous lilac satin, a low cut sweetheart neckline and fastened with a row of tiny black satin buttons up the back, I lifted it out. The skirt was cut from a full circle of material, falling in a very full a-line which hung asymmetrically to knee height at the front and mid calf at the rear. Tiers of net petticoats trimmed in lace added to the effect. I found a changing room to try it on. It fitted beautifully, except for the low neckline which revealed my lack of assets in that area. Meg reappeared.
“That’s gorgeous, but you don’t have the tits for it”.
I’d have been offended, but I was used to her by now. She was clutching a piece of bright emerald green satin in one hand.
“Here, take a look at this.” She thrust the label towards me. It was a Halston. She held it up in front of her.
“I dunno, you need to try it on.”
She disappeared again as I changed back out of the black dress, then reappeared looking like an African queen. The dress hung off one shoulder, with a loose drape of material forming a sleeve to the other arm. A ruche pulled it in at the waist, from where it billowed softly out again into a skirt. The dress didn’t look like it had been made or even conceived by a human. It looked like Meg had been gently embraced by a soft green breeze.
“That looks fantastic! You’ve got to wear that tonight! I’m buying it for you; my treat!”
Meg grinned and gave me a squeeze. We made our way towards the till. On impulse, I grabbed the black dress back off the rail. I might not have the body for it now, but who knew about the future.

We lunched at a seafood place on Sunset and then headed back to the hotel for an afternoon of pampering in the spa. We had a massage, we had a sauna, our hair done, nails, make up…eventually all that was left was to get dressed and we headed back to my room. I’d organised for the hotel to dry clean Meg’s new dress. They’d also cleaned mine – I’d borrowed the long red dress with the ribbon lattice back that I’d worn in my scenes as a hostess in the casino. I loved the dress – bright red, tight fitting, slinky – with my hair done in finger curls again it felt like I was the epitome of Hollywood glamour. But chiefly I’d chosen to wear it tonight because of what Ryan had said off script at the end of the scene in the bar after Debbie had found out about the coke shipments. I’d liked that he’d liked me in it, and I wanted him to like me in it again. I sat perched on the end of my bed whilst Meg patiently laced up the ribbon across my back. We’d been rabbiting on like two old women across a garden fence ever since I’d picked her up from the airport and for almost the first time since that morning there was a break in the conversation. Meg looked up from behind me and caught my eye in the mirror opposite.
“You look great.”
“Thanks.” I smiled back at her reflection. “You look pretty awesome yourself.”
“No, I mean, yes, you look great, but I meant you look happy. I wasn’t sure what it was going to be like, coming out here this weekend. I mean, I’ve only known you as Sue for what, a few hours? I could see that night when we were waitressing that you looked like you were just so comfortable as her. I mean, Dave’s been my mate for so long, but he was always a bit awkward. Lovely, and kind and gentle and funny, but a bit awkward. Like he hadn’t quite found his fit in the world.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve been thinking about it this week. I think that’s maybe what deep down attracted me to acting – being more comfortable in someone else’s skin than my own.”
She finished tying the ribbon in a bow where the skirt started in the small of my back. I stood up, smoothed my dress and turned to face her.
She smiled. “Happy’s not quite the right word. Radiant, maybe.” She was grinning now. “In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d guess you were pregnant.”
We both burst out laughing as I launched one of the pillows in her direction.

The reception was in the rooftop bar of the Metropole Hotel. The lights of the city twinkled below us, as soft piano music twinkled around us, reflected off the surface of the pool, the panoramic floor to ceiling windows onto the terrace, and the Italian marble flooring. We’d just had time to gather a drink when my on-screen nemesis, Frankie de Luca AKA actor Tony Romero, approached with a smile.
“Sue! It’s great to see you!”
“Hi Tony!” We air kissed. “Let me introduce my best friend from London, Meg.”
We’d only been talking a few minutes when Ryan came over to join us. We grabbed a table and sat sipping our drinks as the two boys regaled us with their Hollywood stories. Some were shocking and some were hilarious and the time flew by as we listened and laughed. I’d not been on the receiving end before, but there was a good natured testosterone generated anecdote competition happening for our benefit, and we were enjoying being the focus of their charm. After a while, Tony leaned in to the rest of us, conspiratorially.
“See who’s at the bar just now?”
We turned around and I saw that Jack Jones, whom I’d met and with whom I’d spent a lot of the evening of the ‘Others Prefer it Cool’ premiere, was standing there, accompanied by a group of male friends.
Ryan whistled softly. “Wooh! It’s not often we get to see an A lister like Jack Jones coming out to something like this. I wonder who he knows here?”
Tony answered back. “I’d go say hello, but his minders would probably throw me into the pool before I got close…”
I leaned in to Meg’s ear and whispered. “Watch this!”
“Excuse me boys for a moment.” I got up and made sure they were watching as I made my way over to Jack.
He spotted me as I approached. “Sue! Rachel told me you were over here shooting a pilot! I wondered if you’d be here!” He flung his arms around me and we kissed.
“Yeah, we’re just celebrating finishing the shoot. You want to come over and meet my friends?”
The look on Ryan and Tony’s faces when we joined them was priceless.

The evening raced by. As night drew into morning, some partygoers began to leave, whilst others migrated to continue the evening on the dance floor. Jack had left, with promises to catch up when I was back to film the rest of the series (which he insisted was going to be a massive hit.) Tony had disappeared to catch up with another group of guests. Meg excused us to Ryan and led me away to the restroom.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Who? Ryan? Yeah, he’s a really nice guy….”
“No. I mean you like him, like him. I can tell by the way you look at him when he’s talking.”
I said nothing.
“He likes you too, you know.”
I stood there awkwardly, clicking the cap of my lipstick on and off.
“So here’s the thing.” She went on. “If I was to say I’m really tired and jet lagged now, and you’d be doing me a big favour if you stayed here with Ryan whilst I go home to bed, that wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”
“Oh, Meg! What did I ever do to deserve a friend as good as you!” I hugged her tight.
“Good Luck! I want to hear all about it in the morning!” She grinned, and headed for the elevator.

“Looks like we’re the last ones standing.”
Ryan rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Part timers, eh? Shall we dance?”
He took my right hand in his left and pulled me close. I placed my other hand on his breast. I was acutely aware of how small I was next to him, my head fitting under his chin, my hand dwarfed in his, warm and roughly calloused from his carpentry. I slipped my free hand under the lapel of his jacket, closer to his skin.
“You’re wearing that dress. Do you remember me telling you that you looked good in it?”
I nodded.
“You look even better tonight.”
He pulled me closer. Our bodies swayed softly together to the rhythm of the music drifting over the pool.
“The thing I like about you in this dress, though,” he paused, “is that I can do this.”
He plunged a finger through the gaps in the lattice ribbon into my ribs, and I jumped, squealing. He grinned. Typical Ryan, I thought. Evading any emotional depth with a joke. And yet, somehow, by doing so, it made him even more attractive.
The moment gone, it fell to small talk to plug the gap.
“So what happens now?”
“Whaddya mean?”
“With the show. Now we’ve finished shooting?”
“Oh. So post production. CGI and stuff. Editing. I don’t know where the producers are with making a deal with a network, but then there’s a slot in the schedule to agree...”
“So how long does all that take?”
“Difficult to say. Maybe a few weeks. Could be longer.”
“It would be nice to know when we might find out if we get to film the rest of the series.”
“Yeah.” He paused and looked at me more intently. “I hope we do.”
“Me too.” I smiled. “It’s been amazing.”
“So back to London for you?”
“Yeah.”
“You got work there?”
“Not acting work. But hey, something will turn up. How about you?”
“I’ve some documentary work to do in Kenya for the next few weeks. After that, we’ll see. Hopefully we might have a series to film by then.”

The conversation quietened again. I rested my head gently on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat; smell his scent. I nestled in to his body, his contours matching mine.
He cleared his throat. “I was thinking. You know, even if we don’t get to make the series, I’d really like it if we could...”. He was interrupted by his phone ringing.
“Shit. Who’s that, at 2am in the morning.” He looked at the incoming number, and raised the phone to his ear. “Yeah....Fuck. How far away is it?...Shit!...Yeah. Yeah...I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He put the phone away slowly, deep in thought, then turned to me. “That’s my neighbour in Montana where I’m building my house. There’s a forest fire heading our way. Doesn’t look good. I need to go.”