Luke - Saviour of Van-kind

Another glorious day in a place that should be renamed the sunshine state. I don’t care if that’s Florida, it was heavenly here (weather wise and also if you like feeling that you’re going to die every time you step outside your front door.) I was in such a bloody good mood, I even smiled at the evil bitch that knocked on my door to complain I was ‘dressing too loud’ even though I had only gotten out of bed to answer her knocking. I had to think of a way of pranking her, she deserved it. I also suspected she was the ‘urinator’ that was leaving puddles outside my door.

          It was 3am and I should have been shattered, but I felt AWESOME! I had a plan. Ok, I had the plan to think of a plan, but it was a start. How could I cheer up Van? How could I put that big old stars and stripes smile back on his face? (Everything here was stars and stripes. In England it’s all crumpets, rain and tea. Heh heh heh) God I missed crumpets, they didn’t seem to have them here. I also missed bread that didn’t taste like cake (they put tons of sugar in it! It’s just wrong!), decent tea and knowing my way around, but I was willing to give those things up for my new life. And my new life needed a boost to bring his enthusiasm back. I’d lay off on the cigarette nagging for the time being, and maybe try to cut down on the caffeine abuse pushing that I was doing. He couldn’t be sleeping well if he was that wired all the time. But what else?

          I had it! A brainwave! I’d get his son here! He must miss him, and he couldn’t have seen him in over a month. That would cheer him up no end! But that would mean talking to his evil ex…Ok, that wasn’t fair. She wasn’t remotely evil from what I had heard, in fact she was lovely by the way everyone tells it, but she’s evil because she’s dated him. I sound just like a psycho fan girl, but I’m ok with it. I’d have to steal his phone somehow and arrange it. He had nothing this weekend so this could work. Awesome!

          I was entirely too chipper when I met up with him and he looked suspicious. And exhausted unfortunately. I handed him a coffee and rubbed his arm in what I hoped was comradary or appropriate affection. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he barely noticed he was so lost looking.

          “Could I steal your phone a moment? I want to nab a couple of the numbers of your agent etc.” I said laughing evilly to myself in my head. I was a genius.

He handed it over without a word, suppressing a yawn and leaning against the wall with such despondence that I wanted to hug him.

Awesome! I had her number, now I just had to excuse myself to call her. Would she think it was weird me calling? I didn’t care, I had to cheer him up.

          “Would you excuse me a minute, I have to call my mum back.” I said.

He nodded, pulling out a cigarette now that I was leaving the vicinity.

I dialed the number, panicking about what I was going to say. This was weird, really weird.

          “Hello?” A beautiful voice answered.

          “Oh hi Sofia, my name’s George, I’m Van’s PA.”

          “Oh hello, how are you? How’re you two getting on? Is he treating you well?” Damn her for being all sweet and lovely. I wanted to hate her!

          “It’s great, but I’m worried about him, he’s really, really down at the moment.”

          “He always is when he’s in Hollywood.” She said softly.

          “I was wondering if Luke could possibly come visit to cheer him up? Van’s free this weekend and I thought we could surprise him.”

          “That’s actually a really good idea, I’ve been meaning to call Van to arrange something. I’ve got friends there so I could bring him and make myself scarce until it’s time to take Luke back.”

          “That would be brilliant thank you so much.” I gushed, doing everything in my power to hate her. It wasn’t happening, she was bloody wonderful.

          “Ok hon, I’ll check times etc. and I’ll text you the details.”

          “Thank you so much, hopefully this will put a smile back on his face.”

          “Bless you for caring. His last PA used him for a modeling career. It never happened though and she spent months slating him in the press - all lies of course, but some people must have believed it.”

          “That’s awful! How could anyone do that to him? He’s so lovely!” I gushed. Reel it in sister.

I was now starting to find out the truth. He had had a PA before, but she had fucked him over. I’d find her and scratch her eyes out! He said I was his first! I was a little hurt, but I knew the reasons behind it. If I knew about what she had done, it might give me ideas to do the same. I think not, I’d do pretty much anything for him.

          “I know. That’s what Hollywood’s like, it’s why we prefer Luke to be in New York away from all that bitchiness and fallacy. By the way, you have the cutest accent!” She said happily. Grrrrr, she’d been doing so well up until that point.

          “Thanks…well, I’ll let you go I’m sure you’re really busy. Thank you again. Take care.”

          “Bye hon, look after Van for us.”

          “I will.”

I hung up feeling a little disorientated. She was so sweet and caring, and still obviously thought about Van a lot. Why hadn’t it worked between them? They both seemed to be humble, grounded, lovely people. Plus she was a frigging super model so must be ridiculously attractive. I was thankful I was clueless the who’s who of the modeling world, my self-esteem couldn’t handle it. But I might have to meet with her! Crap, crap, crap. This was going to suck. But it was more than worth it if it made Van smile again. I missed it, it was like the sun going behind the clouds or rain in summer (Which unfortunately is the norm in England)

          I wandered back over to Van who was on his third cig if the stubs at his feet were anything to go by. He was clutching the coffee cup like it was the Holy Grail, sipping from it desperately.

          “You ok?” I asked.

          “It’s just this place, it’s draining you know, having to play nice with people you know are going to stab you in the back and that you can’t trust.” He sighed deeply, a weary, fed up sound that made my heart ache.

          “I’ve been sent some scripts, would you mind looking over them and let me know what you think?” He rummaged around in his bag and handed me a thick wad of paper. Everything about his movements was disconsolate and depressed.

          “That’s my job my lovely.” I said, taking them. “Ok, today is interviews, exciting stuff, but once it’s done, there’s only tomorrow and you have the whole weekend free! Crazy I know, what will you do with yourself?” I said with a laugh.

He managed a halfhearted smile and sucked on his cig, blowing out smoke rings.

          “Any plans?” I asked, trying to get him to engage and not dwell. I knew that was something I was guilty of and was an awful symptom of depression that stopped you from helping yourself by ruminating over things that meant nothing in the big scheme of things. Apart from the first few nights, I have been so happy here, and I knew that was solely down to him (and the sunshine, but mostly him) and I just wanted to snap my fingers and make everything better. He was exhausted; physically, mentally and emotionally. I saw the strain of being here on him, it was like Chinese water torture, a constant irritation that sapped all enthusiasm. This was my first time here, so I was still in awe, but I could see how easily it would be to become jaded to it all.

          “Nope. I think I’m just going to catch up on sleep and trashy TV.” He sighed.

          “Sounds good. When do you need these scripts by?” My voice was the perkiest I had ever heard it, but Van didn’t seem to notice.

          “Wednesday if you can. If you could summarise them for me and let me know what you would think if you were the audience as far as plot and story go. There’s two pilots and three movies. I need to get at least one of them, but notes on character etc. would be useful for auditions. I’m sorry to dump it on you, but I’ve not been sleeping and…”

          “Van, my darling, I am your PA. It is my job to make your life easier. It’s ok. I’m quite excited actually. I’ve never seen a script before.” I placed them in a folder to protect them and put it in my bag. I was laden down a lot now days, trying to keep healthy food on tap for Van, paperwork, all sorts of junk I probably didn’t need. My back was usually killing me at the end of the day, but it was more than worth it.

          “Have you had breakfast?” I asked.

He shook his head, knowing what was coming next.

          “Muffin or fruit? The muffins are bran, uber healthy, low fat, low

sugar….you’ll live forever.”

I handed him one and he bit into it like it was poisoned. Chewing contemptuously. He shot me an evil look, but softened it with a smile. Today he wore a heavy cotton shirt in a khaki colour that brought out a hint of green in his eyes. His jeans were deep blue and the usual low slung variety, looking entirely too good on him. He always managed to get away with looking slightly too casual. Everyone loved him, he could have turned up in rags if he’d liked no doubt. Had I been him, I probably would have been a bit smarter, but it would be to cover up the fact that I had no personality and nothing interesting to say. There would be a short photo shoot involved today, but nothing as dramatic as yesterday’s all day pain-fest. I had come out in a bruise around my wrist where that bastard had grabbed me, but from the way he’d been holding the camera, I’d hurt him more. Heh heh, don’t fuck with me mother fucker. I was coming over all Samuel L Jackson in gangster movies. Awesome! Though no one will ever be as awesome and Samuel L. Ever.

          We were let in to the building once Van finished his fiftieth fag (I was only exaggerating a little) and he looked no happier. He was up one muffin and an apple though, so I was feeling a bit better that he was eating something.

The interviewer introduced herself to Van, ignoring me until he pointed me out. She narrowed her eyes when he wasn’t looking, but clearly decided I wasn’t a threat in my non named clothes. I’m sorry I can’t afford Gucci or whatever the high hell she was wearing. The soles of her heels were red; that was a famous brand wasn’t it? I had no clue and I didn’t care either. My wages went on stupid luxuries like food, electric and rent. The cost of her shirt alone probably could have gotten me a better flat. Plus she touched Van way too much. I needed to grow my nails so I could scratch a few eyes out when the need arose. He wasn’t impressed though, backing away from her as much as was polite without her noticing. He linked his arm through mine for self-preservation and began to tell the evil bitch all about me. It was the most animated I’d seen him all day. I hadn’t realised how much he listened when I spoke.

          “Yes -what a quaint accent.” She said to me with a sneer.

I bit back a laugh. Everyone hated me in this place and it was usually for the stupidest reasons; my clothes weren’t right, my nails were short and bitten, I didn’t wear makeup, I didn’t know who any of these people were, I didn’t watch TV, I liked being pale and drowned myself in sun screen. I quite liked being unique here. Back home I’d tried (unsuccessfully) to fit in as much as I could, but here…well I was going out of my way to be the anti-Hollywood and I bloody loved it. Van also seemed to, constantly telling me how good it was not to be around a ‘plastic’. This woman was definitely a plastic. No one’s lips are that size naturally, her forehead was unmoving despite her expression and her boobs were pretty much under her chin. That would just irritate me. Who wants two giant things getting in your way all the time? I’d stick to mine thank you very much.

          The woman indicated where the interview would take place, and as it wasn’t being filmed, Van insisted I sit next to him on the couch. She did not like that one bit, but would do whatever it took to keep him sweet. Whenever he wasn’t looking she would give me the most hate filled stare that I felt like moving away for fear of her hurting me. Her glossy red talons raked her knee, itching to go for my throat no doubt. I would simply smile sweetly as her as if she were my bestest friend in the whole world. I took out the scripts Van had given me and began reading so she would think I wasn’t remotely interested (and so I didn’t have to look at the evil harpy)

          “Well now, this is my first interview where a PA has sat in.” She said in a perky voice. Why bother veiling comments? Just come out and be a bitch!

I looked up and smiled.

          “You should do something new every day or so they say.” Van said, grinning.

He was baiting her. He was actually baiting her! I loved him!

Her smile dissolved on her face, but she quickly reassembled it.

          “I’ve been cyber stalking you Van and noticed that George…”

          “It’s Georgiana.” Van said.

Go Van, evil bitches don’t get to shorten my name.

          “…that she has been having some problems with your fans. Is that true?” She placed the tape recorder on the coffee table between us and smiled. All I could think of were snakes and piranhas when I looked at her.

          “I think it was all a misunderstanding. Iana and I just work together.”

          “Georgiana, what’s your take on it all?” Her voice was snippish when she addressed me.

          “I’m just here to work, I’ll stay out of the interview.” I said, closing the script with a sigh and setting it aside. I didn’t care if I was being rude.

          “You can’t deny he’s attractive though? Would you like there to be more between you?” She asked me.

          “I personally think when he fell out of the ugly tree, he hit every branch on his way down.” I said, biting my lip.

Van cracked up laughing which pissed off Miss. Bitch no end.

          “So you would like there to be more between you?” She continued.

          “We drove to Vegas last night and got married in one of those little white chapel things.” I said sarcastically. “I’m more than happy with things the way they are. Van is wonderful, but he’s my boss. I love my job and am quite content.”

          “So you didn’t stay at his apartment a few days ago?” She said, her smile widening. “You were photographed entering in the evening and leaving with him the next morning.”

I sighed deeply.

          “I’m his PA, sometimes I’m required to work after hours. We get on well. His apartment has two rooms. That is all. Surely you’re interviewing Van, not me. I’m not remotely interesting I’m afraid, I just organise his schedule and nag him about smoking.” I picked up the script again and began reading, or at least pretending to, as I could feel her heavy gaze on me.

          “Leave her be.” Van said in a deceptively cool tone.

          “Ok Van, how do you feel about Georgiana?”

          “Aren’t we supposed to be talking about the new movie?” He asked, taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose.

She took that as an admission of guilt, her painted lips shining in the dull light. She was incredibly beautiful, but she was also incredibly plastic and very evil. I was worried that if Van left to use the bathroom, I would be dead when he got back. Though I supposed I could just mess up her hair, then she’s be whimpering in the corner rocking back and forth.

          “Yes, but we’ve had some questions posted on our online forum. Enquiring minds want to know.” She ran her finger tips along her thigh. I vomited in my mouth a little.

          “Mac is my PA, we get on well and have the same awful sense of humour. We spend a lot of time together in a professional capacity and sometimes she will be staying with me to discuss work and schedules. That’s it. No girlfriend/boyfriend thing, no wedding, no kids. We done with this now?” He was clearly losing his patience with her, unable to find her as amusing as I did. She was oozing desperation, but was going about trying to get his attention in all the wrong ways. I’d noticed her skirt seemed to be ‘accidentally’ riding up her thigh a little. Yuck.

          “So Van, tell us about your new movie…”

I was able to tune the rest out as I’d heard it a couple of times before. Besides, I was utterly engrossed in the script! It was awesome! He HAD to audition for it! End of the world, small group of survivors, he would be using a sword! Fuck yeah. He had to poke me in the arm before I realised he was talking to me.

          “Sorry, this script is amazing!” I said with a grin.

He returned it and I felt a little warm and fuzzy at how full of affection it was. He may just have been trying to piss off Miss. Bitch, but I didn’t care. He liked me. He didn’t like like me, but he liked me. I tried not to laugh out loud at the train of thought my brain was on.

          “I’m heading out for a uh…carrot stick.” He said. “Wanna come?”

I rolled my eyes but followed him out, gathering up the scripts.

Miss Bitch watched him go with longing. Then watched me go with contempt.

          “What a hella bitch!” He said when we got outside.

I forced an apple into his open hand and laughed.

          “Yup. I am probably the most popular girl in Hollywood right now.” I said brightly.

He took a bite from the apple and rushed to catch the juice dripping down his chin. I could have offered to lick it off for him, but I didn’t think he would appreciate it somehow. WTF!?! Seriously! The sun or something was making me crazy! I don’t usually think things like that!

          He looked tired still, weary, but a little happier than this morning. Baiting bitches was clearly a favourite sport of his and was becoming one of mine as well. He managed to abstain from smoking, even though I didn’t say a word about it, settling instead on another bran muffin and stealing some of my carrot sticks again.

          “You got any plans for your first weekend off since you got here?”

          “Probably the same as you, slobbing around and reading these scripts. Seriously, you HAVE to do this one, and even better, look at the character description!” I found the page and handed it to him.

          “Van Murphy type. Well, I think I can manage that.” He said, his cheeks colouring a little. “What’s it about?”

          “End of the world, but most importantly, you’ll be using a sword!” I said, hopping from foot to foot happily. I had a thing about swords, always had. My room back in England had three samurai swords and a replica of Arwen’s sword from LOTR. I’m a geek. I’m ok with it. I wanted a broadsword, but thought it a bit excessive for my tiny room, besides, I wouldn’t even be able to lift it, let alone swing it. I had been caught several times -when my parents were out- running around the garden swinging a samurai sword against evil ninjas. Age didn’t stop something being fun as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t into that whole ‘dress up and fight in the woods’ role play shizzle, that kinda scared me if I was honest and I didn’t want any witnesses when I tripped over my blade or fell on it.

He shook his head and laughed, the sound shaking the imagery of my neighbours looking out of their windows with concerned faces as I hacked and slashed at weeds.

          “So you skipped the story and focused on the sword?”

I nodded, biting into another carrot stick. He was spinning a cigarette around his fingers, but made no attempt to put it in his mouth. It worked well as a mini baton. Could I add cheerleading to his almost endless list of talents?

          “I’m kidding. The dialogue is intelligent and witty, I’ve actually heard of the director and dystopia is HUGE right now. Unfortunately there are no zombies, but you can’t have everything.”

          “Ok, I’ll take this one and look it over. Let me know about the others.” He sighed deeply and fussed with his hair. He didn’t want to go back in there, the interview was not going well it seemed.

          “Do you want me to kick her ass for you?” I asked.

          “Please. There’s just no need to be like that! It’s why I hate this place.” He slid down the wall and sat, crossing his legs. I followed, sitting next to him. It was something Miss Bitch would never do. Sitting on the ground? Like a hobo? Please! She might get dirt on her extortionate skirt!

          “One more day to get through.” I said, trying not to smile.

I checked my phone and saw a text from Sofia. Everything was planned, I just needed to make sure Van was at his apartment for 7pm. This was going to rock! I actually couldn’t wait even though I probably wouldn’t witness any of the cuteness when he saw his son, but it wasn’t my place to invade on family time. Besides, I was scared of meeting Sofia. I also wasn’t a ‘child’ person. I didn’t find babies adorable, I didn’t want any and if I was honest, I found them boring. It vomited? Hardly requires a round of frenzied applause.

          “Tomorrow night, make no plans around 6pm. I’m buying the take out.” I said. “I would offer to cook, but I can’t. I’m commandeering your flat though or we’ll get yelled at by my neighbours.”

He nodded but was beginning to look like he was falling asleep. I ‘encouraged’ him to drink some water, which he made a face about the whole time he was drinking it (big kid) and we headed back inside.

 

The afternoon was… I got a lot of the scripts read and really enjoyed it. I was one of the first people in the world to know about these TV series and movies! It was so very cool! But I divided my time between the paperwork and watching Van wrestle with his twitchiness. A couple of times I had to interrupt with my own answers to questions as she was hounding him relentlessly about pointless things. Why did he drive a truck when he could afford better? Why t shirts and jeans and not Gucci and Prada? What was his skin care routine? How long did he spend at the gym? Did he get manicures? Spray tans? Botox? Vanity, thy name is Miss Bitch. I think he was slightly in awe of the amount of dumb questions she actually asked. He would be the main feature of the magazine, a six or seven page spread, but who honestly cared what skin care products he used? I didn’t think he did. He showered, brushed his teeth and headed out, like men are supposed to. Don’t get me wrong, if a guy wants to use products, more power to him, but it shouldn’t be the norm! Women love men for their differences from females. I do anyway. I liked how ‘normal’ Van was despite being a movie star, model and ridiculously attractive guy. He let me nag him, call him ‘darling’, ‘honey’ and even ‘babe’ once. He was so laid back normally, but interviews seemed to set him on edge. Especially ones like this.

          “Ok, last question.” She tapped her perfect nails against her note book and smiled like a snake unhinging its jaw.

          “Will you be taking Georgiana to the premiere in a couple of weeks?”

          “I haven’t asked yet, but it was my intention if she wasn’t busy.” He was managing to be polite and pissed off in the same breath. His eyes didn’t leave hers and I could see the smile melting from her face. I really, really wanted to be there when she had one op too many and her face caved in. Maybe I should make a note of her name for when it happens. Now that was bitchy! I was not a nice person in Hollywood. I then backtracked to what he had just said. Me? Premiere? I think not baby puppy.

          We gathered our things and left far more quickly than was polite. We stopped to thank the lighting team and the rest of the runners, but avoided Miss Bitch like the plague.

          Van dropped me at my flat, taking my hand as I moved to leave the car. He squeezed it gently and looked deep into my eyes.

          “I can’t thank you enough for getting me through the last week. Come to the premiere with me?”

          “You’re just asking because she guilted you into it. Seriously hon, take someone who can walk in a straight line in heels, doesn’t look like a drag queen when wearing a dress and can go five minutes without swearing. It would only end badly, but I am flattered. Really.” God, I would love to be on his arm, but everything I had just said was true. I really would fall arse over tit (as the delightful English saying goes) and the whole world would see it! My parents would be so proud!

          “You think I’d do anything because that hateful bitch wants me to? I want you to come with me. I hate these things, I need your sarcasm and snarky comments to get me through it. Besides, you wanted to see one of my movies. I’ll take you dress shopping…” He did seem utterly genuine. He had pretty much the whole female population to choose from, why me?

          “You say that like it would be a selling point. I HATE clothes shopping.” I squeezed his hand back and slid out of my seat, bending to meet his gaze again before I closed the door.

          “There are no end of beautiful, smart women who would kill to be on your arm. And they’re much better behaved.”

          “Mac. You’re coming. I’m putting my foot down as your boss and making this one of your duties.” His expression was comically Machiavellian. He had me there.

          “You know I love you, but right now, I want to kick you in the nuts.” I fluttered my eyelids and closed the door, waving at him as he drove away.

A premiere. A movie premiere with cameras and tons of people and dresses and actors and models and people and… I felt ill, genuinely ill. I couldn’t do this. Maybe if I explained about the anxiety attacks or the way I can make myself agoraphobic at the most inopportune times… I was the queen of bad excuses. I just needed to find one that would work.