Chapter 7

Reader Advice From Stars—Q: I love my live-in boyfriend, but I have a crush on a co-worker. How do I decide?

Madison Dahl: Simple. Ask yourself who you really connect with. Not just which ones is cuter or cooler band T-shirts, but which one really gets you. And that’s your man.

—POPSUGAR

I jumped when I heard the voice the second I walked out of the building. “Want coffee?”

It was Mike leaning against the stucco wall. “You scared me,” I said, trying to avoid the question.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand,” he said. “But I wanted to tell you, I thought the class was being really unfair.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And I appreciate you standing up for me.” I reached into my purse for my phone. I was desperate to call Jeremy, even if he said, “I told you so.”

“I meant it,” Mike said. “I felt for you in there. I knew the minute I saw who you’d cast that those vultures were going to shred you, you know.” I thought of Mike’s agonized expression. It hadn’t occurred to me he was worrying about me. “I hope Larry was okay with you.”

I sighed. “Maybe that can wait until I’ve had caffeine.”

***

We walked to the nearest Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. I wanted to drown my sorrows in an iced blended, or at least smother the voice in my head telling me I had no talent and never would.

Even though I don’t think Mike liked my movie any better than Jeremy did, he had a much better way of expressing it. “I think Larry had a point, that the whole tabloid thing really worked against you,” he explained. “People believe what they’ve read about Madison. And they’re going to need more than five minutes to accept her in a really physical role.”

“I know, but I kind of had to cast her in the part she wanted to play,” I explained.

Mike waggled a long, green straw in my face, his dark brown eyes shining. “That’s where you’re wrong. She may be doing you a favor, but as a director, you have to make her see your vision. Make her think it’s her brilliant idea to play the role you want her to play.”

“You’ve never met Madison.”

“But I’ve met you.” Mike grinned at me. I’d never noticed that he had dimples before that very moment. “And I think you could talk anyone into anything if you wanted to.”

I blushed. And, as if on cue, my cell rang.

I looked at the number. It was Jeremy.

I thought about answering for half a second. I mean, it hadn’t been more than an hour since I’d been chomping at the bit to talk to him, after all.

Instead, I turned off my phone. I told myself I was simply trying to be polite, that I just wanted to hear what else Mike had to say.

“So, what do you want to do, Erin? What’s the story in your heart?”

I thought about that for a minute. I wasn’t sure I had a movie lurking in my heart or my head or anywhere else. I knew what I liked when I read scripts, and I knew what I liked when I went to the movies, but when it came to an idea of my own, one that had nothing to do with Madison or Clive or anyone else, I was drawing a blank. “I don’t know,” I said, feeling like an idiot.

“You don’t have to know, not yet,” Mike said. “Do what Larry suggested. Watch some movies. Let your mind wander. I think you’ll come up with something great.”

I smiled at Mike. He was so upbeat, so encouraging. Why couldn’t Jeremy be a little more like him?

“So,” Mike said, clearing his throat. “I’m glad we did this. Get coffee, I mean.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I actually do feel better about the whole stupid mess.” I looked into his smiling face again.

“Good,” he said, chomping on his green straw like an old-fashioned movie mogul. “And remember, a successful short is the best revenge.”

***

In the car driving home, I retrieved Jeremy’s phone message.

“Hey, hot stuff,” he growled, his voice low and sexy. “Wanted to see how you’re doing, how your turkey day went. I’m hanging out watching movies tonight if you can shake your prison guard. Call me.” Click.

It wasn’t exactly the most romantic message a girl could hope for. But I called him back.

“Come over,” Jeremy said as soon as he picked up the phone. “Roommate’s out getting loaded at some frat party.”

“You know I can’t,” I said. And part of me didn’t exactly want to. Why couldn’t he have critiqued my movie the way Mike had, back when I could have done something about it? Just telling me it “wasn’t me” didn’t give me a lot to work with, even if I was totally defensive about it.

“Don’t you need to watch movies for class? Tell your dad you’re doing homework. In your underwear. On my futon.”

“Stop it!” I squealed.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “At least stop by on the way to your house. I want to give you something.”

I rolled my eyes. Jeremy and his double entendres. “I bet you do.”

“No, really. I got you something. But you don’t get it unless you come by. Tonight.”

“Fine,” I sighed. Hey, a gift’s a gift.

***

The instant I walked into his apartment, Jeremy wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a long, slow kiss. I closed my eyes and melted into him. He smelled good, like pine trees and fabric softener and maybe a little shampoo. If I could have bottled his scent and taken it home with me, I would have.

Jeremy nuzzled my ear. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you, too,” I said, and I meant it. “But I can’t stay long.”

“I know.” Jeremy took me by the hand and led me over to the sofa. “But you have time to open your gift, right?”

“Of course!” Who doesn’t have time for that?

“Close your eyes,” Jeremy said. I heard rustling as I clapped my palms over my face. “No peeking.”

Jeremy pulled my hands away from my face and put something that felt like a box into them. “Okay, open them.”

It was, of course, a box (duh). I opened the lid.

Inside, on a bed of white cotton, was a silver chain. On it hung a tiny charm shaped like an old-fashioned movie camera.

“For my favorite director,” Jeremy said, putting his arms around me. “I found it at this place in Santa Barbara and thought of you.”

“I love it,” I said, pulling it out of the box to put it on.

“No.” Jeremy grabbed my hand. “Read the inscription.”

I looked at the charm, turning it over in my palm. It read ‘J. LOVES E.’ in block letters, exactly what he’d spelled out in sticky notes on my office ceiling not so long ago.

I smiled. “Really?”

Jeremy kissed me again. “Really.”

“Thank you for the necklace,” I whispered. Whatever stupid quibbles I’d been having with Jeremy melted away in an instant. “I think E. loves J., too.”

***

Okay, so I didn’t make it home exactly on time. There was a little bit of a make-out session on the futon, which was followed by a brief snuggling interlude, and a cardio-intensive round of tickling.

I wish I had gone home then, right after I’d caught my breath.

“Oh my God,” I panted, my sides aching. “It’s not fair. You have more upper body strength than I do.”

“The better to pin you down, my pretty,” Jeremy said, wheezing next to me. “Hey, I never asked about your class.”

Oh yeah, boot camp. Exactly what I wanted to talk about, not. “It’s okay,” I said.

Jeremy propped himself up on one elbow to look me in the eye. “That’s it?”

“The instructor’s fine. But some of my classmates suck hard.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

I shrugged. “They’re stuck-up, pretentious art-movie geeks.”

“They didn’t like your movie, huh?” Jeremy was looking at me with this sad puppy face, like I was a little kid who needed cheering up.

I stood up, straightening my shirt. “I’m late,” I said. I’d had a long day, and the last thing I needed was Jeremy’s pity.

Jeremy grabbed my hand. “No, no, talk to me. Come on.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine, really. I could tell some of the kids were just jealous that I had access to Madison and Clive. And the teacher told me he thought it was pretty okay.”

“Good,” Jeremy said. “I mean, it’s your first film. You’re still learning.”

I made a face. That sounded like something Victoria would say when she was in smug older sister mode. “Mike said it wasn’t really the film itself that people didn’t like. They just couldn’t accept Madison playing a spy.”

“Who’s Mike?” Jeremy asked, absent-mindedly playing with my shirt hem.

“Another guy in my class,” I said. “Jenna’s friends with him, too.” And then I started explaining to Jeremy how Mike was the guy who admitted to liking “Star Wars,” and how he was the only guy honest enough to say some of the crappy movies we’d seen didn’t make sense and were out of focus, and how Mike came to my defense when everyone was tearing me a new one. I must have gone on and on about Mike, because after a while, Jeremy pulled me towards him and clamped a hand over my mouth.

“Enough about Mike,” Jeremy sighed. “I feel like I barely get to see you anymore. You’re so busy with school and your new friends and your babysitter.”

I grabbed my jacket. “I’ll call you,” I said, giving Jeremy a quick peck on the lips before running to the door. “We’ll have more time to spend with each other soon, I promise.” When, I had no idea, but I didn’t have time to worry about it.

***

The weekend was full-on boot camp, morning until night. You wouldn’t think you could learn a lot in two days, but you’d think wrong.

I was completely bleary-eyed as Larry revved up the computer first thing on Saturday morning. “Now that all of you have turned in your projects, I want to show you the most famous short film ever made. It’s called “Un Chien Andalou.” That’s “An Andalusian Dog” in English, but it doesn’t matter, because this film has nothing to do with a dog at all.”

“I haven’t had enough coffee for this,” Jenna mumbled next to me.

Then Larry started talking about the Surrealist movement, how the artist Salvador Dali and the filmmaker Luis Bunuel made this bizarre little movie. It had all these disjointed, disturbing images, like someone slicing open a woman’s eyeball (yeah, ew, but it’s not real or anything) and a man dragging a piano that has dead donkeys and two priests attached to it. Larry warned us that the movie didn’t make sense—and that was the point.

“This film is going to frustrate you. It might even make you angry,” he said. “But you have to remember, these guys wanted to shake people up. So they threw out characters, they threw out plot. And while you watch this, I want you to think about the expectations you have when you go to the cineplex. You expect to have a hero to root for, an antagonist to root against. Maybe you expect a love interest or a happy ending. And sometimes that’s fine. But films can be art, not just entertainment. Great filmmaking challenges you. It makes you think. Keep that in mind, and this film should completely rearrange the way you look at movies.”

Okay, “Un Chien Andalou” was pretty gross, I’ll tell you that much. A lot of the images were nightmare stuff (like that eyeball thing and a severed hand). But watching it, I started to understand what Larry was saying. Honestly, I was pretty set in what I wanted for my $15 ticket to the AMC. I didn’t exactly go running out to art films (snore) or even the end-of-year Oscar contenders. Hell, I’d pick a cheesy Hallmark TV movie over anything that got a rave in the New York Times. And now I had to wonder if I’d been missing out. No wonder Larry liked all my jerky classmates’ movies better than mine. At least they were different.

After the short, Larry started talking. And talking. And talking some more. I noticed Jenna slumping forward in her chair, barely able to keep her eyes open. But I was mesmerized. Finally, the guy was teaching and not just handing out compliments like candy.

Larry would screen scenes from famous movies, then explain things to us that I’d never thought about. He showed us how the harsh lighting in film noir movies like “Double Indemnity” made the action feel ominous and scary regardless of what was happening. He made us watch a gunfight from “The Wild Bunch,” then told us that the way it was shot (all slow motion and quick cuts, stuff we totally take for granted today) was considered not only revolutionary but even kind of a political statement about the Vietnam War. It blew my mind that stuff like editing and lighting wasn’t just something that made actors look good but could actually mean something important.

At lunch, Jenna still looked bleary-eyed, even though she’d been awake enough to lasso Mike into joining us on our Denny’s run.

“This is so boring!” Jenna howled, burying her face in her menu.

“I don’t know how you can say that!” I sputtered. “Larry’s explaining to us what makes great films great. How can that be boring you?”

“I’m with Erin,” Mike said. “I’ve never thought of movies this way. It’s like I want to go back and re-watch some stuff now. And I want to see ‘Double Indemnity’ all the way through. That looked good.”

“I know! I’m dying to see that!” I yelled, slapping Mike on the arm.

“Maybe we could watch it on Prime,” Mike suggested. “The three of us, I mean.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “You two are on your own. Who can watch a black and white movie?”

“Larry said you should explore your talent,” I reminded her.

Jenna blushed and looked at her hands. “But maybe I’m being too closed-minded,” she mumbled. “And black is one of my favorite nail polish colors.”

“Then it’s decided,” Mike said. “Film noir, popcorn, and good company.”

I thought of Jeremy complaining that I barely made time for him anymore. And here I was, booking an evening with my boot camp buddies. But I figured that didn’t mean anything, right?

***

Class was supposed to go until seven p.m., but Larry realized the natives were getting restless by four and let us out early. Since Madison was on hiatus, I thought I might as well swing by her house and say hi while I didn’t have Miss Do breathing down my neck.

Madison opened the door wearing a sweat-soaked T-shirt and yoga pants, her face flushed and dripping. “I’m so glad you’re here!” she wheezed. “Now I don’t have to finish my cardio!”

I noticed Benny standing in the hallway behind Madison. “That’s not true,” he barked, but he was just joking. I think.

Madison ran over to Benny and gave him a long, passionate kiss. “Now can I skip those last ten minutes?”

Not surprisingly, Benny crumbled like coffee cake. “Alright,” he said, trying not to smile. “I’ll be lifting weights if you care to join me later.”

Madison sent Benny on his way with another big, wet one. “Have you let Patty know about your new boyfriend?” I asked.

Madison rolled her eyes. “Forget her. If she can’t see how great Benny is, she can work for someone else.”

“Sounds like you guys are serious.”

“I hope so.” Madison smoothed her damp hair off her forehead. “Except his work visa is about to expire and I don’t want him to get deported.” A grin spread across her face. “But hey, maybe we can trade him for Miss Do!”

I grinned right back. “By all means,” I said.

“I’m not kidding, Erin,” Madison warned me as we walked towards the kitchen. “That New York lawyer’s trying to get his visa renewed and he says he has some loopholes he’s exploring with Miss Do. Consider it my early Christmas gift to you.”

I felt a little pang of guilt right then. Of course I didn’t like having a babysitter, but did I really want her kicked out of the country? I was still mulling it over when Madison opened up the fridge, revealing a wall of food in neatly arranged plastic containers. “Want any Thanksgiving leftovers?”

“Why? Aren’t you eating any?” I asked. Madison was looking pretty healthy, but I did remember her doctor saying something about overexercising being a symptom of anorexia. The girl certainly seemed to be hitting the gym pretty hard, this ten-minute reprieve notwithstanding.

“Uh, yeah,” Madison said, looking at me as if I was a special kind of stupid. “Those little turkey chickens are a great source of protein, and we ate most of the tofu stuff. The stuffing I don’t even have here, because I sent it home with you guys. Simple carbs are lethal.”

Gee, so glad she gave my family the toxic leftovers, but whatever. I was more interested in talking about the real turkey day centerpiece. “Hey, you never told me what happened with Sheila.”

Madison shrugged, shutting the Sub-Zero door. “She didn’t seem to have a real agenda. Not that I trust her or anything.”

No agenda? Sheila, the woman who’d groomed Madison to become a walking cash machine since she was a baby, was just dropping by to say hi? I wasn’t buying it. “Good. You shouldn’t trust her,” I said. “What did she have to say, anyway?”

“Sheila said she’s in therapy now,” Madison said. I noticed that even though she wasn’t glowing when she talked about her mom, she didn’t seem particularly angry, either. It seemed like Madison was gradually letting her defenses down, and the very thought of her inviting that witch back into her life made my blood run cold.

“You know she’s just playing you, Madison. Sheila can’t be trusted, no matter what she says.”

Madison tapped me on the shoulder and smiled. “Hey, you never told me how your movie went over,” she chirped.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Yes, I am,” Madison said brightly. Even though she was joking around, I got the message. The topic of Sheila was off limits, at least for the time being.

Of course, I kind of wished the topic of boot camp was off limits, too. “They didn’t exactly love my short,” I admitted.

Madison’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “You’re not serious!”

“My teacher said he thought some of the kids were probably jealous that I had professional actors.”

Madison nodded furiously. “I knew it! Yours WAS the best, and all those whiney little twerps couldn’t handle the competition!”

I knew I needed to tell Madison the brutal truth, that people had laughed watching her brandish a handgun while running around in a catsuit and high heels. It was bad enough that it happened in front of an audience of fifteen high school kids. But it would be so much worse if Madison’s spy-jinks had people rolling in the aisles all across the country.

Instead of coughing up the bad news, I choked. “Larry said next time maybe I should do something more low profile. Like, shoot in my house with some friends or something.”

“Are you kidding?” Madison screeched. “You shouldn’t have to kowtow to those stupid kids. You have real actors, real sets, and real props at your disposal. Do you think your classmates would be shooting video in their parents’ garages if they didn’t have to?”

She had a point, I had to admit. I didn’t like the idea of doing anything to appease the twerps in my class. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to shoot another movie on the studio lot, either. I still hadn’t found the movie in my heart, but after Larry’s lecture I knew I wanted to do something different. Maybe not “Un Chien Andalou” different, but definitely not a quickie rip-off of a studio action movie.

Of course, explaining that to Madison would involve getting a word in edgewise. “Your movie looked as good as anything I’ve seen on TV, and if your classmates and your teacher don’t like it, who cares?” she yelled. “We’ll edit together a directing reel for you, and you’ll get an actual directing job on ‘Family Style.’ Then we’ll see who laughs last!”

Madison ripped open a cabinet drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. “You’ve got another project coming up, right? I know Gwyneth Paltrow is shooting some period drama on Soundstage 10, so maybe I can see if we can sneak in there. I can totally talk some of the costume girls on my show into getting us some hoop skirts and white wigs and all that. Now we just have to come up with an idea that fits. I do a wicked English accent, by the way.”

I was pretty sure the movie in my heart was not a period drama about English royalty. But already I could tell the train was rolling out of the station and picking up speed. Within seconds, Madison had cast Clive as an evil king and herself as the poor scullery maid forced to marry him.

“This is going to be so great,” Madison gushed, looking over her chicken scratch notes. “Do you think Jeremy would play the prince who comes to my rescue?”

I’d let Madison hijack my homework once before, but it wasn’t a mistake I would make twice. “Give me that,” I said, snatching the pad of paper away from her.

“What?” Madison blinked at me, entirely clueless. I knew she was just trying to help, don’t get me wrong. But the only way I was ever going to figure out what I wanted to do was if she stopped being so damn helpful.

“Madison, I’m really, really grateful for all you’ve done,” I said. “But the only way I’m going to learn is if I do some of this stuff myself.”

Madison grinned. “Sorry. I guess I just got carried away.”

“Yeah, and I want to get carried away, too. Today in class Larry taught us so much cool stuff, it got me really excited about making movies.” And that’s when I told Madison about all the scenes we’d watched, and how so many little details made a big difference in the finished product, and how I’d completely revised my checklist for what makes a movie good or bad.

I think Madison might have tuned out when I started talking about camera angles, but she got the point.

“I think this class is really good for you,” Madison said. “I’ve never seen you so excited about making movies before.”

She was right. Before I’d always dog-paddled along in Madison’s wake, watching other people show off their creative talents. Now I wanted to make some waves of my own. “I really want to do this. But it has to be my own idea. Something I care about.”

“Of course,” Madison said, patting me on the arm. “I’ll leave the development process to you. You just let me know when you need me to show up and what character I play.”

There was no way around it. “There’s something else,” I said, racking my brain for a nice way to break the bad news.

Madison’s face clouded over. “What?”

“Some of the kids in class didn’t exactly take you seriously as a spy.”

“What do you mean, didn’t take me seriously?”

“They said you looked too skinny. That you’re too much of a girly-girl to be convincing.”

Madison crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s why I’m working out with Benny.”

“I know,” I said. “But I think they sensed something beyond what you look like. It was as if they could tell your heart wasn’t in playing a spy.”

Madison didn’t say anything for a while. “Well, duh,” she finally muttered. “Tell that to my agent.”

“You should tell that to your agent, Madison,” I said. “I know they have their reasons for you to be the next Black Widow or whatever, but it’s not right for you. The only thing you liked about making that short was the costume.”

Madison shook her head. “It’s too late. I just have to get through it. There’ll be other roles.”

“But there may not be other roles for Ang Lee,” I said. “You would be great in that, Madison. And he’s this genius director. You’d be able to learn so much from him, not just about acting but about the art of filmmaking. Plus, you’d show everyone what you can do as an actress. That has to be worth something.”

Madison scowled at me, anger flashing in her eyes. “This isn’t school, Erin. This is real life. I have to work, I have to make money, and sometimes I have to do things I don’t want to do.” She looked up at the clock on the wall. “Benny wants me to squeeze in some ab work before dinner,” she said.

I got the hint. “I’ve gotta go, too,” I said. And then I had an idea. If I couldn’t convince Madison to pick the right project, maybe a classic movie could. “Any chance you and Benny would want to watch some movies with Jenna and Mike and me on Sunday?”

Madison shrugged. “Sure, whatever. Come over,” she sighed, then smiled a little bit. “Wait. Mike? What about Jeremy?”

I fingered my new necklace as it jangled around my neck. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought I could invite him, but I didn’t see a reason why not. “Maybe he’ll be there, too!” I yelled, letting the door slam behind me.

***

On the way home I grabbed a few bags of Doritos at the Ralph’s down the street. I had my fingers crossed that Madison would let us watch “Double Indemnity” and the other movies at her house, since no way did I want to host. I didn’t need Miss Do reporting to my Dad I was watching “godless” movies with my friends.

When I walked into the house, my dad was sitting at the kitchen table reading a Korean newspaper while Miss Do was doing dishes. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought they were an old married couple. “Erin, come here,” Dad said, gesturing me over.

On the table was a pink sticky note. “Boy call here for you. Mike Ohara.”

“What did he say?” I hadn’t given Mike my cell phone number, so he must have looked up my home phone on the class registration sheet Larry handed out to encourage “networking.”

“That you have class together. Watch movies.” My dad stared at me, as if trying to copy my mom’s old mind meld technique. “This boy Japanese?”

“I guess,” I muttered. Why did Mike have to give his last name?

“You friends with this boy?” My dad’s tone was absolutely clear; he was not thrilled at the thought of me getting buddy-buddy with a Japanese guy.

“Sort of,” I admitted.

My dad had to think about that for a while. “He grow up American, though?”

“Sure.” God, next thing I knew Dad would want Mike to give him a blood sample or something.

My dad waggled a finger at me. “Japanese, be careful. They look down on Korea.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Mike doesn’t look down on me, Dad.”

“All I say is be careful,” my dad said, giving me a meaningful look before turning back to his newspaper.

“Okay,” I said, grabbing the pink sticky note and hightailing it to my room.

It killed me that my dad was all bent out of shape that Mike was Japanese. The guy was as American as I was, but it didn’t matter. I guess (and this was all kind of confusing to me because I’d only heard the version my mom and dad told me, and they were never exactly history buffs) Japan used to rule over Korea for most of the 20th century up until the end of World War II. But that was a long time ago. I mean, come on, my dad wasn’t even alive back then. So the idea he was still suspicious of Japanese people decades later and in a whole other country made absolutely no sense to me.

I wished Jenna was around to explain to my dad that since I was Asian and Mike was Asian, we were a match made in heaven. Ha. It was pretty clear to me that my dad wouldn’t be happy with any guy I brought home unless he was one of the losers Miss Do picked out for me at church. And as far as I was concerned, all that meant was no guy I dated ever had to come over to my house. That was actually kind of a plus.

I flopped onto my bed, feeling Jeremy’s chain slide back against my neck. It was a pretty brilliant gift, because it reminded me of him with almost every move I made. And now I was reminded that I hadn’t invited him to movie night yet. Not that I wasn’t going to, I swear.

“Not exactly the romantic evening I had planned, but I’m a sucker for film noir,” Jeremy said when I called him. “Are you inviting your class so they can make fun of Madison in person?”

“No, just a few people,” I said.

“Like your new buddy Mike?”

“And Jenna,” I countered.

“Don’t get twisted about it,” Jeremy said, laughing a little. “I’m looking forward to meeting the guy. No joke.”

Somehow, I didn’t think he sounded completely sincere. But I figured we were just sitting around watching movies. I crossed my fingers and hoped the drama would stay strictly on Madison’s plasma screen TV.