Someone Else's Fairytale

Twenty-Nine: My Question

Two weeks later, I was much more put together. I was done with work for the day – I'd found a job as a barista at a coffee joint within walking distance of my apartment. The tips I got in that neighborhood were something else. I'd stopped by the apartment to get the mail, then caught a cab over to where Jason was filming. They were shooting a bunch of scenes at dusk this week.

The cabbie gave me an odd look when he pulled up to a crowd of gawkers. “You gonna watch them shoot this movie?” he asked. He had an accent I couldn't even guess at. Nigerian maybe? Ghanaian?

“Something like that,” I said. “My roommate works in catering.”

“Catering?”

“Provides the food for the cast and crew.”

“Can you get autographs?”

I tugged loose enough bills to pay for cab fare plus tip. “You want one?”

“My wife is a Jason Vanderholt fan.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out an autographed picture. I had to use my big purse to carry the mail, as there were several large envelopes. “Here you go. I can't get it personalized, I'm afraid-”

“No, no, you keep this.”

“I can get more. Don't worry about it.” I paid him and got out into the sweltering heat. The pictures were the last of a stack I'd gotten for the people at work. Kyra had come by one day, full of stories about life on set, and they'd hounded me for autographs ever since.

I texted Dave as I jostled my way through the crowd. “I need to get past,” I explained to the scowling faces that turned my direction. “Let me through, please.”

Dave met me partway through the crowd and ushered me the rest of the way in. I went from the press of bodies to the open, empty street beyond – a narrow side street.  “You know you can call me for a car,” he reminded me.

“And you know that if you send one for me when I don't call, I don't like it,” I replied.

We walked in the cool shadow between the highrises and then got blinded by the sun again as we rounded the corner. The catering truck was right in front of us and Kyra stood outside, chatting with a woman who munched a sandwich.

Dave lifted his hand to wave goodbye and darted off in the direction of the trailers.

“So, why is she working at a coffee shop?” the woman asked.

I hesitated.

“Well, she's not going to just hang around here.”

“Why not? If her boyfriend's here?”

“That's how she is. So not interested in being a famous guy's arm candy. She's into having her own life.”

“She's weird.”

“No she's not. She's really cool. She's just not into this lifestyle.”

“But you guys live with Jason, right?”

“No... he's at the hotel. We've got an apartment.”

“She doesn't even eat here. She could if she wanted to.”

“No, she buys her own food and does her own laundry-”

“Now that's just a waste of time.”

“I think it's cool.”

“Vanderholt could pay for laundry service, easy.”

“I know, but they hang out in the laundry room. He carries her basket up and down the stairs. It's way cute.”