Varietyhad reported that David was remakingPride and Prejudice, and that he was looking for someone experienced but not too well-known whom he could turn into a star.
“I mean, that is pretty much me,” I said to Ben over our morning coffee earlier in the week. “I’m vetted, but not exactly well-known.”
He looked up from his mug and the Reagan biography he was nose-deep into, and said: “Yes, that does sound like you.”
“Wait, you agree that absolutely no one knows who I am?”
His forehead wrinkled. “Oh, I don’t think I heard you correctly. Sorry.” He recalibrated, rewound. “I think you are the town’s undiscovered diamond.” Then he grinned. “Better?”
He ran his hand through his hair, which needed a trim, but he hadn’t found the time for one. He hadn’t been sleeping well, I knew: the buzz onOne Day in Dallas(out next month!) was all positive, but even positive buzz meant new hurdles—PR folks who were lining up the awards push, media days that sucked up what little time he already had, less focus on the Alcatraz project, which was gunning for a season-long pickup at HBO, the only place to be in TV. (And even then, Ben remained slightly unconvinced that TV was the right next move, but the lure of the network that airedThe Sopranosproved too much.) Of course, it also meant more time away from me.
“I was only saying—they want someone seemingly kind of famous but not so famous it’s distracting. Do you think that’s me? You know I’ve been honing my accent.” It was an insecure, needy question, and in a different lifetime I might have fronted more bravado. But Ben meant that I didn’t have to.
His attention had drifted back toward his book. “Yes?” He rubbed his eyes, confused at the question. Then: “I don’t know?”
“I bet they’re looking at Lily Marple,” I said.
“Lily Marple has nothing on you. Besides, she actuallyissuperfamous.”
My face slackened. “Thanks.”
He laughed, extended a hand across the table to reach mine. “I meant that you are so much better for the part. Lily Marple inPride and Prejudice? No thanks.”
“You’re just saying that because I hate her for sticking her hands down your pants.”
“I may just be saying that because you hate her for sticking her hands down my pants, but I don’t need any excuse beyond that anyway.” He stood to kiss me, then disappeared into his office with the biography.
At the farmers market, Monster keeps trying to eat the strawberries off the table, and the vendor barks: “No dogs allowed! Can’t you read the signs?” So I buy three pints from her and plop on the sidewalk, feeding them to Monster from the palm of my hand, which I surely regret later when he poops them all over our backyard. I’ll pick them up before the gardener comes on Tuesday, though Ben tells me to leave it, but I can’t fathom the thought of paying the gardener to pick up our dog’s shit.
The vendor keeps staring, and I wonder, fleetingly, if she recognizes me from something I’ve done, maybeThe O.C., maybeCSI?
“These are really delicious,” I say to her. She cocks an eyebrow and turns toward other customers. Monster pants happily, his tail beating against my back, his drool spilling onto my yoga capris, when I see David and Franklin strolling into the top of the market. They appear to be midargument—David’s face is a wash of downward-pointing lines and Franklin’s hands are fluttering—and I start, then stop, then start toward them.
“Franklin, Franklin!” I wave, and skitter up to him.
His angry face turns surprised, and he pastes on a grin.
“Doll! Tatum!” He grasps both my shoulders and double-kisses me. David chews on his lip and stares at the ground, saying nothing. Franklin rolls his eyes. “Don’t be rude,” he says to him. “Don’t be pissy because you lost the argument.”
“I did not ...” David starts, then huffs. “I did not lose the argument. You are wrong, and you just can’t accept that.” At this exact moment, Monster chooses to jump atop David’s chest and run his strawberry-covered tongue across his cheeks.
“Monster! Monster, stop,off!” I yank his leash, and Monster reluctantly drops to all four paws, still wagging his tail enthusiastically, as if he hasn’t just physically accosted one of Hollywood’s most beloved directors.
“Tatum Connelly, meet David Frears,” Franklin says. “And Monster.” He claps his palms together. “Oh, you’re the perfect person to resolve this argument.”
“Oh,” I say, “I don’t know that I should get in the middle of an argument.”
“No, listen.” Franklin waves a hand, then scratches behind Monster’s ears absentmindedly. Monster repays him by leaving a large swath of drool across the left leg of his shorts. “David is currently angry with yours truly because one ofourdogs pooped on our white living room rug this morning, and he believes that it’s my job to wake up early and let the little shitter out.”
“Oh,” I say. “Yikes.”
“I was in the edit bay until two a.m.,” David snaps. “Of course it’s your job, since you were asleep by ten!”
“I do need my beauty sleep.” Franklin winks.
“Who’s responsible foryourdog?” David says to me.
“Uh ...” Well, technically, I am. That was the pitch when I brought him home two years back.I’ll take care of everything, I promise! I know how busy you are, Ben, and this will be great practice for kids!Not that we were discussing kids, not that I was anywhere near kids, since they’ll wreck my body and my body is fighting a battle against twenty-two-year-olds now, when I’m twenty-nine, nearly thirty. But still, a dog seemed like a good warm-up. Also, he’d keep me company, so I vowed to Ben that I’d do the heavy lifting. The reality of it was that ... it hadn’t quite worked out that way. I liked to sleep late, so Ben walked him at dawn, and though I did pick up the shit from the backyard, I wasn’t exactly meticulous about enforcing the no-couch rule or not feeding him from the dinner table, which was too temptingnotto do, but which admittedly did not foster the best manners from our behemoth animal. Still, I say: “Mostly me, I do most of the work, so yeah, Franklin, not to be a bitch, but I kind of have to takehisside. Late-night work means the buck falls to the other person.” Forget that Ben wakes early to deal with Monster regardless of what time he’s gotten home.
