“That’s exactly the kind of statement that makes people worry,” I say, but the call has already ended. Vin and I stare at the blank screen in silence for a long time. I feel a long way away from wet dreams and an aching erection.
“You wouldn’t really give it up, would you?” Vin asks slowly.
“What?”
“It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from the first time we talked. Everything you worked for.” He looks bereft, and I feel bad. We spent so many days and nights struggling, and Vin eventually went to the business side of the industry, but I know part of him has always lived vicariously through my success. He knows all the ups and downs better than anyone else.
“Would anyone notice?” I ask. “If I said I didn’t want to do this anymore. If I wanted to disappear for a few years, do you think anyone would really care?”
He scoffs. “You aren’t some midlist actor who’s been on a cable cop show for the last eight years. You’re Damian Marshall. No one will ever let you disappear.”
His words make me shiver. We’ve been out of LA for less than a week, and already the idea of going back makes me queasy. How long have I felt like this? It’s not just since Cannes. Maybe since the shoot? I knew the film was crap. It’s why I hooked up with Anderson. Boredom. A career like this shouldn’t bore me.
But Roberta’s question about what I’d do for a year if I wasn’t acting rings in my head, and the answer is, I don’t know.
I grab the script off the coffee table.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?” Vin asks.
“I’ll read it.” Maybe. I pick up the phone on the nightstand, and a chipper voice answers promptly at the front desk.
“I’m going fishing,” I say, not bothering with introductions. They know who it is. “Can you have some breakfast sent down to the boat?”
“You’re running away again,” Vin says when I get off the phone.
“I’m coping. You banished me out here, and I’m doing the best I can.” I rummage around for clothes.
“So you’re leaving me here all day again?”
“You know you’ll spend the day on the phone getting updates from Ivy anyway.” Pretty sure this is yesterday’s underwear but whatever. With any luck, I won’t be in them very long.
“Fine,” Vin says. “Marci and I are going to come up with all sorts of fun ways to embarrass you while you’re out.”
“Sounds good to me.” I stumble as I try to put on my shoes, then realized I’ve skipped over my jeans entirely. Vin laughs, and I glare at him. He blows me a kiss as he scoops up his laptop and heads to the door.
“You’ll tell Jack who you are today?” he asks with one hand on the doorknob.
I freeze with one foot in my jeans and nearly fall over again. Truthfully, I don’t want to. It’ll complicate what’s between us when everything else is already complicated enough. But Vin’s right, and especially if things get physical with Jack, he deserves the truth.
I’d complain, but Vin would point out that the common denominator in all my problems is me.
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh as I finally finish getting dressed. “I’ll try.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m by myself, and despite what happened with me and Jack yesterday, part of me really wants to climb back into bed and pull the blankets over my head. I can’t believe I suggested I would quit. How did we get to this point? But the more time I spend here away from the crush of contracts and shoots and cameras, the more I’m starting to wonder how much of it I was really enjoying. Making movies is still the best job in the world, and I have Roberta andShadow Leagueto thank for that, but maybe I don’t need to keep doing it the way I have been.
I leave the hotel and make my way down to the dock. Jack’s waiting for me, and where I should be excited to see him, the sight of his smile as I step down onto the boat leaves me with an empty, sick feeling. I don’t want him to treat me differently than he has.
“Hey,” he says, and his eyes dart nervously from my face, then lower, then quickly over my shoulder like he’s worried someone will catch him checking me out even though we’re fifty yards from the hotel.
“Should we get going?” I try to step past him and wind up brushing against him instead. I can’t help the way I shudder at how close he is coupled with the anxiety coursing through my nervous system.
“Probably a good idea.” He brushes the side of his hand against mine in a way that would look accidental to anyone watching but absolutely isn’t. I must make a sound or breathe funny or something because he pauses with only his pinky finger touching mine. “You okay?”
No? Maybe? I just said I was ready to give up my blockbuster career, so an existential crisis is warranted.
So of course all I say is, “Yeah, everything’s great. Let’s get going.”
I’ll let Vin yell at me later.
