Alone

I woke up aching everywhere. The sofa was ridiculously comfy to sit on, but not so much to sleep on. My shoulder was wedged at a weird angle and I’d reopened the cut on my wrist by pulling the gauze on in my sleep. At least it wasn’t bleeding everywhere. I got up reluctantly, switching off the TV and seeking out some plasters to cover my cut.

          I showered and all the usual junk, then sat and stared out of the window for far too long. What the hell was I supposed to do with myself today? I flipped open my laptop and reeled off an angry email to Van’s agent who had been withholding scripts. I suspected it was because they also represented an actor who tended to take similar roles to Van and they were showing him preference. I then looked up other agents just in case this all fell through, searched laws about breaking contracts in Hollywood and looked up similar cases online. I then checked Van’s twitter feed. There was a lovely photo of him and Luke; both were smiling, but it didn’t look convincing from Van. What had I done to him? Or was I being completely self-absorbed to think I could affect him so badly?

          I reported two new hate groups on face book, not bothering to update my status. All the people who had ‘friended’ me were haters anyway. I’d gotten bored of baiting them now that I was sat in an empty flat missing Van.

I spent the rest of the morning looking up the movers and shakers in Hollywood, projects that were up and coming for Van and just researching my job as much as I could. I didn’t have much else to do as he had nothing until Monday, and that was two straight days of auditions (7 in total) so I set about researching the directors of those and writing notes of what they liked in an actor and basically cyber stalking them. I had pages and pages of notes by the time I was done, but didn’t know if it would be of any use to him.

          God I was bored. The problem with this being a temporary accommodation was that Van hadn’t brought much with him; no books I could read (I hadn’t brought any of mine as I didn’t want to carry them around in my case) no DVDs apart from the Breaking Bad sets we’d bought, and I couldn’t watch them without him. It was either stare at a wall, go out or watch videos of cute kittens on the internet.

          When my phone rang I jumped clean out of my skin as the flat had been so quiet all day. I rushed to answer it, but it wasn’t my beloved, Masa or even my mum.

          “Miss. MacManus? This is Stacey Oberon from the *Agency’s name* Agency. I trust I find you well?”

Oh snap. I was going to kick this woman’s ass if she thought she was fobbing me off. It was easier over the phone when you didn’t have to look the person in the eye. Plus she couldn’t kick my ass if she didn’t know where I was.

          “Ms. Oberon, I’m glad you called. I assume this is regarding the concerns I outlined in my email?”

          “It is. I’ve called to apologise profusely for the delays we have been experiencing of late. The person responsible has been let go due to this and I can assure you it will not be happening again.”

          “My problem is, Ms. Oberon, Mr. Murphy could have lost out on several of those roles as he has not been receiving the scripts. I can only assume this was done to secure the roles for another actor on your books, and as such, Mr. Murphy would be well within his rights to find alternative representation that is able to accommodate his needs and behave in a more professional manner.”

          I could hear her stuttering on the other end of the line. She hadn’t been expecting that. I had encountered two types of business interactions since coming here. There was the ‘we’re bestest buddies forever’ bullshit where nothing ever got sorted out as everyone was too busy flattering each other and never coming to a proper agreement. The other was the badass, douche bag approach where screaming and threats were involved. I agreed with neither, so was trying a different tack. I was pissed off and I made it clear, but I saw no reason to shout or swear. I had threatened to leave their agency, but only because it was something that would potentially happen. I don’t make empty threats. I also liked to think that the over the top snobby British accent I put on helped. It sounded quite impressive if I did say so myself. There was no way she was going to tell me it was ‘cute’.

          “Ms. MacManus, I can assure you…”

          “Mr. Murphy and I are not impressed at how he has been treated recently and are in talks with several other agencies who are offering smaller commission rates and have better success stories than you are able to provide.”

It wasn’t true that we were in talks, but I had found other companies that looked a lot better on paper and did in fact take a smaller cut. They were newbie companies, but that just meant they’d try a lot harder to impress. They might not have the same contacts, but Van’s name was enough to get scripts, the agents didn’t actually do anything anymore other than receive his mail.

She stuttered again, not sure how to save this. He must bring them in a lot of money, and he was high profile. To lose him would not only cause a loss of cash, but also a loss of face. They couldn’t afford that, it would be all over Hollywood before a week was out, and would lead to other stars on their books thinking of jumping ship.

          “Would you both give us the chance to prove ourselves to you? We are very proud to have Mr. Murphy under our representation and would very much like to repair the damage done to the relationship.”

          “I would be willing to put it to Mr. Murphy, but I can only assume you will be working without commission for two months for a trial period, and I want first refusal on ALL scripts that come through your doors that may be suitable for Mr. Murphy.”

          “I…I can’t… I…”

          “Then I am very sorry, but it is unlikely that Mr. Murphy will wish to stay with you. Your agency has done serious long term damage to his reputation by withholding scripts. It makes him look unprofessional for not at least acknowledging that he has received them. It is utterly unacceptable and…”

          “Ok, ok Ms. MacManus, you have us over a barrel. Two months without commission and first refusal.”

          “Can I take you at your word Ms. Oberon? I would very much like that in writing via e-mail and also to Mr. Murphy’s account.”

          “Of course.” She said, sounding defeated, hanging up.

          Wow, that had actually worked! Research rocks! I was feeling slightly proud of myself, and couldn’t wait to tell Van. I tried his mobile, but it went straight to answer machine. I hate those things.

          “Hi Van, I’ve spoken to your agency and they’ve agreed to work commission free for two months and you will get first refusal on ALL scripts that suit you, before anyone else. They’re going to email these details to you so we have proof if they try anything. I hope you’re ok. Give my love to Sofia and Luke for me. The flat is seriously depressing when you’re not here.” I said, regretting it instantly. Crap, crap, crap. “Uh…bye.”

          After banging my head on the table for five minutes, I felt I had punished myself enough for telling Van I missed him. Urgh. I had been all uber professional and kicked his agent’s ass, then I’d called him and undone all my awesome work and been unprofessional to a fault. No wonder he’s run away to another state. Hell, what an idiot!

          I spent the rest of the day channel surfing. 400+ channels and nothing was on. I watched a marathon of a reality show about someone who made cakes. It just made me hungry. I still hadn’t heard from Van, Masa or mum and was feeling pretty miserable. I decided I needed to get out of the house. It was yet another glorious day, I should not be moping about indoors. I’m British, I should be out getting red like a lobster. What was the saying? Only mad dogs and English men go out in the midday sun? Well, it was mid-afternoon, but whatever. Besides, I didn’t feel like I’d get murdered if I went out in this neighbourhood.

          I threw on some flip-flops, my most well-loved jeans and a strappy top, locking up behind me. I was greeted warmly by the man behind the desk and stopped to make polite conversation with him. He must get incredibly bored sat there all day, and he was the sweetest guy! Mid-fifties with salt and pepper hair and eyes that creased at the edges when he smiled, which he did a lot. I introduced myself properly as before it had just been ‘hellos’ and was mid-way through answering one of his hundred questions about England, when my phone rang. I excused myself, heart in my mouth. It dropped a little when I saw it was Masa rather than Van, and I felt guilty for that. I wandered out into the sun and answered it, wanting to feel a little of the excitement I had when I thought it was my beloved calling.

          “Hey Masanobu, how are you?” I tried to inject the right amount of enthusiasm into my voice.

          “I’m ok, are you free? I thought we could get a drink.”

          “Sounds like a plan.”

We arranged where to meet and I headed off, not caring that I probably should have changed. I was a lazy cow, but if he didn’t like me for me, it wouldn’t matter what I wore. It was casual, or so I told myself. There wasn’t anything left of the left knee of my jeans, but that was apparently in fashion right now.

          I walked inside the bar and grabbed a table, ordering with a waiter that passed me. I got Masanobu the same thing he’d drunk last time, and sat humming to myself, looking around at the movie posters that graced the walls. Just about every bar in Hollywood was decorated with either sports memorabilia or movie props. It was great, but I was yet to see anything from my favourite movies, which was a little disappointing.

          I was checking my phone, when I noticed a girl staring at me from the corner of my eye. I looked up and smiled at her, but she just carried on looking. The waiter brought the drinks and I sipped my diet coke slowly, wondering what the hell the girl’s problem was.

She began to edge closer, her steps nervous, her eyes still fixed on me.

          “Can I help you?” I asked when she reached me, trying to hide my irritation.

          “You’re Georgiana aren’t you?” She said, her voice shaking.

I nodded, unsure as to where this was going. I just hoped she didn’t have a knife -I had enough wounds as it was.

          “I just wanted to say that I thought what happened to you at the premiere was awful, and it wasn’t fair.” She said, looking at her feet.

Her gaze moved up to my stomach. I hoped she didn’t think I was actually pregnant. Van and I had taken to the social networking sites to point out it had been a joke, but some people chose to believe that we were hiding our secret relationship. I was painted as a black widow, intending to move on to the next movie star when I was done with Van.

          “Were you there hun?” I asked. She was wearing a t-shirt from one of Van’s movies. “Love the t-shirt.” I said trying to smile, but feeling really uncomfortable.

          “No, I couldn’t make it. Is Van here?” She asked, looking around desperately.

          “Sorry hun, he’s in New York at the moment. I’m just meeting a friend.”

Masanobu appeared then, smiling brightly.

          “Oh…I see.” She said, shuffling away. How weird.

          “Who was that?” Masa asked.

          “One of Van’s fans. Try saying that ten times fast.” I pushed his drink towards him and was about to ask about his day when he cut in.

          “I saw you at the premiere, I didn’t realise you were so famous.” He looked even more uneasy with me than he ever had before. This wasn’t just shyness, it was intimidation. I wasn’t famous! I just wanted to be a PA and be left alone! I had no desire to be in front of the cameras, and I was thoroughly fed up with people thinking I was.

          “Masa, I’m not famous at all, apart from for being the most hated person in town. It was the first premiere I’ve ever been to.” I stopped before I blurted out how rabid and insane his fans were, and how many death threats I got a day.

          “You’re Van Murphy’s PA, he’s huge.” He said with wide eyes.

          “Yeah he is, which I didn’t realise when I took the job. I had no idea who he was.” I said with a laugh.

          “I had to buy all the newspapers you were in, I got a bit excited.” He admitted with a self-depreciative smile, his eyes on the table. He was so incredibly sweet, humble, grounded –just like My Van, but he didn’t have that spark that Van did. He was too much of all those things to the point where he almost seemed scared to be alive.

          “So did I. I also asked my mum to buy all the ones in England. No one’s interested in me Hon, it’s just that I was with Van.” I hadn’t noticed any paps following me when I was alone thank god, so I took that to be true. Small town, skinny, pale Brit girl- who’d want to see that in a magazine?

          “It said you’re pregnant.” He said sadly.

I snorted, coughing up coke.

          “It was a joke my sweet. Van likes winding up the paps. Look at me, do I look six months pregnant?”

          “I guess not.” He said looking relieved. “Are you and Van…?”

          “Nope. But try telling his fans that! They want my blood!”

We chatted about work, though I wasn’t able to say much as I didn’t want to risk leaking anything about Van. Who knows whose listening. Besides, I lived my life, I wanted to talk about something else. I demanded Masa give me his recipes for the gorgeous cupcakes he’d made. He blushed and wrote it on a napkin for me. He knew it by heart it seemed. I was going to make a shit load of cupcakes for when Van came back. The whole flat was going to be full to bursting with them. All with pink icing of course and little sugar flowers. I needed to stop thinking about Van, it was getting obsessive. I didn’t want to end up on face book making hate groups for every woman he had a conversation with as that’s where it seemed to end up with his fans.

I gave Masa my full attention and banned myself from thinking about Van for the rest of the day.

          One of the great things about America is that there is always SOMEWHERE open. I bought no end of cupcake ingredients from a local health food store that was open practically 24/7. They were a Vegan’s idea of heaven with every kind of fake meat and fake cheese you could think of. I spent way too much in there, but I figured I don’t really spoil myself very often. The most recent thing I bought of any value was the picture for Sofia. I should text her, just to check Van’s ok. I should text her because I love her to pieces, but also to check on Van. I could pretend it was purely in a professional sense, but I knew she’d see through it. She had a read on me that I’d never experienced with anyone else before, even people I’d known since childhood.

          I got back to the flat, the caffeine from the coke streaming through my veins. I wasn’t going to sleep. I set about making batch after batch of cupcakes, leaving the TV on in the background so I didn’t feel so lonely. It just so happened the cake program was having another marathon, so I could compare mine to the ones on the TV. Theirs won obviously, but mine were ok considering I’m not someone who bakes very often. I’d leave them to ice tomorrow, it was gone midnight when I was done, and regardless of how little sleep I thought I would get, I needed to try.