19.
Carson smiles through photos like she’s actually excited to be there. I watch her the entire time, even when Dove gives me a tug on my elbow and guides me outside to take more photos with him.
It wasn’t until Carson, smiling so brightly like she wasn’t just complaining about going to the premiere on Charlie Shaw’s arm, turns and asks if we are ready to go. I nod my head, looping my arm through Dove’s.
The drive takes too long and bores me halfway there. I end up staring out the window, urging myself not to think about the expanse of freckles that rides up Carson’s hip.
We are the last in a line of four cars by the time we pull up to the theatre. Female ensemble casts always arrive at the same time, and I’m not shocked when Lupe is the first to step out, smile bright and cameras flashing.
We all follow suit, exiting the car with our hands interlocked with our fellow dates. I glance at Carson for a brief moment, to gauge the smile on her face and how genuine it is, and find that I can’t tell how she’s feeling. Overwhelmed? Annoyed? Ecstatic?
Dove is holding my hand too tightly. I find it difficult to focus on the cameras and cheers of our names when his hand feels heavy in my mine.
He whispers something about the way I look, but I barely pay attention. Men love to shower me with compliments on things I have no control of. My chest or my waist. It’s never about my personality or acting. Always the looks.
Photographers call our names as they snap photos of us, smiling and standing around each other. My arm is resting against Carson’s back, a gentle press to the smooth fabric of her dress. I try not to notice the way she shifts on her feet at my touch.
Soon enough, interviewers have taken our attention. I’m next to Carson as she’s talking animatedly about the movie, so excited to have worked with such an amazing cast, all of the Hollywood jargon you hear in every premiere interview.
“Greta Gill!” The man smiles, eyes crinkling too much. “Are you excited for the movie to come out?”
I laugh. What a stupid question. “Of course, it’s like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.”
“And you’ve gotten close with someone while filming,” he says.
I tilt my head slightly, reaching behind me. I know Carson is standing there. I take her hand, and she squeezes it without even looking back at me. “She is absolutely wonderful in the film. Absolutely.”
I let cameras get snapshots of the moment, knowing it will send Carson’s name right to the top of the papers. I let go a moment after, like it didn’t happen at all.
“Her and Charlie Shaw are getting steamy, yeah?”
My eyebrows furrow. “You would have to ask them about that, I don’t know.”
“But didn’t you set them up?”
Dove appeared behind me, a hand slid around my waist. “That’s all for questions.”
“Dove, when are you two finally getting married?”
Dove sneers. “I said that's enough.”
He pushes me forward, and I only stop when we meet up with the girls at the entrance to the theatre. I breathe out, slowly, through my nose. Carson links her pinky around mine for the briefest of moments. I almost miss the touch when she pulls away.
I raise my left hand. “Wave, Carson.” My smile is bright, I know that the cameras are posted at us. “Wave like we’re the goddamn queens of England.”
Carson follows, waving at the crowd of photographers and fans alike. It almost feels surreal, if I wasn’t used to all the attention by this point. It almost saddens me how unaffecting it all feels.
When we are seated, Dove leans closer to me and whispers, “You’re going to win an Oscar for this.”
It doesn’t sit right in me. “Carson is nominated too.”
“People will leave this theatre talking about you, Greta. I know it.”
I lean to see Charlie whispering in Carson’s ear. She’s laughing at whatever he’s saying, the smile so genuine it almost smacks me in the face when I see it. Longing fills my gut, and I force it down.
I knew about the freckles and he didn’t. It played on my mind like a loop.
“She’s really talented, Dove.”
Dove grunts. “Oh shut up, Greta.” I try not to flinch. “I’m sick of hearing about her constantly. People should be asking you about the movie, not about her.”
The lights dim before I can even say anything in response.
When I see Carson on the screen, I know she’s going to win an Oscar for this. I find myself laughing at all of her lines, genuine joy dripping off of me as I watch. She’s charming on the screen, squeezing at the audience's heart strings.
For an hour and forty-five minutes, instead of being jealous that I’m not going to be what everyone talks about when they leave the theatre, I’m happy. I was happy for Carson.
I tear up when Beth dies, attempting to catch my tears with the tip of my finger. I glance at Dove and find him glaring at the screen. Instead of focusing on him, I reach over his lap and squeeze Carson’s hand. Her head turns, catching my gaze, and I offer a watery smile.
She squeezes my hand back and it feels like she’s gripping my heart for a moment.
I know that, later, Dove is going to find a reason to hit me. But, whatever excuse he comes up with, it will be for this.
***
The afterparty is already packed by the time we arrive. I hold onto Dove’s hand, slightly damp with his sweat already. He released me, telling me he was going to look for the bathroom, and then he was gone. I wiped my hand off on the side of my dress.
I crane my head around, looking for Carson. I can’t find her, my eyes squinting against the rush of people around me. These parties are usually fun, an excuse to get drunk and dance around with industry members. I never get too sloppy, too afraid that something will spill out of my mouth as the alcohol loosens my tongue.
Shirley finds me as I’m excusing myself from a woman with a terrible haircut, wearing the ugliest shade of yellow I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Her hand curls around my wrist, and it looks like her eyes are about to pop out of her head.
“Shirley–” She cuts me off, pulling on my wrist. I whine, the edges of her nails digging into my skin as she pulls me along to the laundry room.
“What are you doing?” I ask, visibly annoyed. I don’t like getting shoved around, you see.
“Just close the door, Greta.”
I huff out a breath, leaving my glass on one of the washing machines and shutting the door behind me.
“Carson Shaw is going to win an Oscar for this.” Shirley says, eyebrows furrowing.
I nod my head. It’s obvious to anyone who saw her in the film. It takes everything in me to keep the smile off my face. I’ve never been so proud of someone who wasn’t me.
“Don’t you see this is an issue? She upstaged us, just like we thought.” Shirley looks like she might just explode with the anxiety in her body. Her hands are shaking. I take her drink, downing it in one gulp. She says nothing.
“It’s fine, she did great. You saw it.”
“Greta,” That furrow in her brow turned annoyed. “What are we going to do?”
“What do you mean what are we going to do? There’s nothing we can do at this point.”
Shirley closes her eyes and breathes deeply. I know I should care more, but I have a chance to win Best Actress. Carson and Shirley are competing for Best Supporting Actress.
“You don’t get it, do you, Greta?” She says, hands wringing nervously in front of her. “Jo said this would happen, and she was right.”
“What do you want me to do about it? Everyone was right about Carson, she’s brilliant and gorgeous. Sometimes it’s best to just cut your losses there.”
Her lip curls. “You don’t see the way she looks at you, do you Greta? Are you seriously blind?”
My heart pounds. I swallow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Shirley huffs, shoving past my shoulder. “Carson Shaw has the biggest crush on you.”
My breathing is shallow, and I make an attempt to catch it. She stares, rolling her eyes. “By the way, Dove is upstairs with one of the actresses from Sunset.”
Her figure disappears, and I’m left alone in the laundry room. I stand there, silent, mind racing.
Could she know? Carson having a crush on me was ridiculous in my mind, I couldn’t even wrap my brain around it. I knew it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. I was more afraid that Shirley had figured me out, that she could see through the façade so easily. A hand goes up to my chest, cold fingers pressing into the heat that had gathered there. I knew I was flushed red, like someone had slapped me. In a way, Shirley had.
The red creeps up my neck, ugly and unflattering. My heart is racing in my chest, and I find it hard to catch my breath. Thoughts swirl, making it hard not to spiral into that pit of anxiety that always follows me. I force myself to breathe, take in a deep inhale of air, only to let it out of my nose slowly. It’s fine. Everything would be fine.
My eyes close, and I find that I’m not even thinking about my boyfriend cheating on me. I just need to find Carson.
As the thought crosses my mind, the door opens. My eyes fly open, only to be met with Carson Shaw’s face. I breathe out shakily, like I’m stepping into my own doom.
“Greta, what are you doing in here?”
The breath felt stolen out of my lungs. My brain screamed get out, run away, protect yourself. But, I was frozen. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth.
Silence passed between the two of us, Carson’s eyes fixed on mine. I forced myself to speak, “How did you find me?”
“Shirley said you were drinking in the laundry room. I thought that was a code for something.”
“It wasn’t.”
She laughs, and the knot tightens. “I can see that.”
Carson stands there, staring at me. I wonder if maybe Shirley was right, if maybe Carson did have a crush on me. I think back to the way she had looked standing in my bedroom, in nothing but her bra, holding my shirt. Those damn freckles. It seemed my brain was ahead of me, because just as she opened her mouth to say something, I blurted out,
“Do you like women?”
Carson’s entire face flushed a deep red. She stuttered, opening her mouth and then closing it in the way that she did when she got nervous. I could see the gears turning in her mind, the way she was looking for a way to answer the question. She looked just as confused as I felt.
“Why would you ask me that?”
I step forward. My heart raced. Breathing wouldn’t help this time. “Just answer the question, Carson.”
She stepped backwards, until she was pressed against the door. I watched her, the way her lips attempted to form around words. That gorgeous flush that had spread all the way up to the tips of her ears, and down to where her dress covered the rest of her chest.
Her hand went to reach for the doorknob, and I had my answer. I grabbed her wrist and it elicited a gasp from her. “Greta, what are you doing?”
Before I allow myself to think about it, my lips are on hers.
She tasted sweet, like the cocktail she had just been drinking. Her lips are soft, so much softer than Dove’s. My hand curls around her waist, the same way I had kissed girls back in high school. It was obvious she had no idea what she was supposed to do, where she was supposed to touch.
I guided her hand around my waist, shivering at the touch of her fingers. It took everything in me to stay grounded, to not float away. Still, my mind fell into the kiss much like Carson did. It was like she was melting, and I was the only thing keeping her standing. My hand was firm on her back now, pressing her closer to me.
When I ran my tongue across her bottom lip, she gasped, allowing me to slip into her mouth. I explored and licked like it would be the only taste of her I would ever get. I found myself groaning into the kiss, pushing her against that door.
I didn’t care that my boyfriend was cheating on me upstairs, or that there were dozens of people here who would rat me out to Grapevine. I cared about the way that Carson was trembling in my arms, how she couldn’t stop whining into my lips.
I was Hollywood’s biggest star, kissing the woman that would be all over the news just the next day, in the laundry room of our movie premieres afterparty.
I broke away first, running my thumb across Carson’s bottom lip to collect that salvia that had stuck there. Carson gasped again, leaning forward to chase after my lips. I shook my head at her.
“Not here.”
I disappeared out of the door before I could think about it, leaving Carson in that room.
I headed up the stairs to where I knew my boyfriend was. I opened every door until I saw Dove shoving the edges of his shirt back into his pants, a woman getting dressed behind him. His eyes went wide, and when I turned to run, he followed.
“Greta, wait, it isn’t what you think.”
I shook my head. I wondered where he got the nerve, cheating on someone like me. He grabbed my elbow, and the little bubble I was still floating on popped. “Let’s talk about this at home, Greta.”
I forced myself not to look for Carson, for the tuft of brown hair and the red of her dress. The dress that had been underneath my fingertips just a few minutes ago. Jesus.
Jo appeared, looking more sober than the last time I had laid eyes on her. I rushed to her side, looping one arm around hers. “Where have you been?”
She smiled, a look in her eye that I couldn’t quite place. “I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Can you take me home?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re not going home with Dove?”
I shook my head.
She nodded. “Okay, yeah, let’s get out of here.”
I was thankful that she didn’t ask questions, didn’t press. I got into the front seat of her car, a small blue Chevy, just as the door to the house was shoved open and Dove stomped up to us.
I refused to roll my window down, enjoying the way I had control over how I listened to him as he yelled. “Greta! Please, just listen to me!”
“You can talk later, Dove.” Jo said, backing out of the driveway.
We were both silent as we drove down the winding roads of Hollywood, closer and closer to the home that Dove and I shared. When we were on Sunset Boulevard, I started talking.
“Did you know Dove was cheating on me?”
Jo shrugged. “He has a penchant for women he's just met. I thought you knew, or didn’t care.”
“I didn’t know, and I do care.”
Not because I loved him. No, I don’t think I ever loved Dove. I loved the way he got me press, how people loved us together. The business he brought in, and the money and fame I gained from him. But never him.
“Then I’m sorry.” Jo said, turning her head to look at me for just a few seconds. “I should have told you.”
“There are a lot of things we don’t tell each other.” I knew she knew what I was hinting at. Her hands gripped the steering wheel just a little bit tighter. I needed her to tell me it was okay.
“What if we did it now?”
“Did what?”
“Told each other the truth.”
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, shaking her head lightly. “I would say I can’t burden you with that, bird.”
“I have skeletons.”
She laughed. “You’re a Hollywood star, and a bitch sometimes. Those secrets aren’t bad.”
I found myself laughing along with her.
“And you know what I am.”
“I do.”
When she turned down a familiar street, I realized that she was taking me to her house. Neither of us knew what Dove would do to me.
“You can deny it, though. If people ask. You don’t have to hear about it.”
My hands fisted in my lap. “Maybe I’m ready to know.” My eyes lifted, looking at the darkness of the road ahead of us. “Rob the bank.”
“Greta,” She sighed. “I don’t want you to have to keep that secret.”
I forced myself to breathe evenly. “Well, maybe I have that secret in me too.”
We pulled up her winding driveway, towards her home. It was large, not as large as mine and Dove’s, but big enough. “You’re not like me, Greta.”
My nostrils flared. “I am, I have been. For a long time. And I think Carson might be too.”
Now, she nodded. “Yeah, I think Carson might be too.”
When the car was parked, she turned to me. I met her gaze. “You knew?”
“I thought she might have feelings for you.”
I felt stupid, like I was the last one who could have seen what was right in front of me. Silence stretched between the two of us, me picking at the paint on my nails and Jo tapping her fingers against her steering wheel.
“I’m leaving Dove.”
“Good. I’ve been waiting to hear that for ages. I can’t stand him.”
I realized that I couldn’t stand him either. Haven’t been able to for a long while.
“Are you ready for what that means, Greta?”
“I know what I’m doing.” I couldn’t stay with him, not for one more day. Even if the thought of being alone again terrified me.
“I know, I just want you to be prepared.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Okay,” She unlocked the doors, stepping out. “Let’s go to bed then. It’s been a long day.”
I realized, very quickly, how tired I was. My body was aching, metaphorically and literally. I got out of her car, making my way up to her door.
Jo’s house was decorated tastefully, art hanging on the walls that I could spend hours looking at if I wasn’t so damn tired. I made my way up her stairs, curved and beautiful. She set me up in her guest bedroom, unzipping the back of my dress for me while I washed my makeup off with a far too expensive bar of soap. She offered me a pair of her pajamas, plaid boxer shorts and a t- shirt that rode up on my tummy. I was much taller than she was.
“I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.” She squeezed my shoulder, and I reached up to squeeze her hand.
“Thank you.”
She looked at me for a few moments, a gentle breath leaving her lips. “I work for the studio, Greta. As long as they are happy, my job is to keep you happy. But their job…”
“Is to make Dove happy. Okay.”
Jo looked at me hard, staring like she could see the soul beneath my skin. A smile graced her lips as she left, closing the door gently behind her.
I didn’t toss and turn that night. I knew that Jo was in my corner, the first inkling of true friendship I think I’ve ever felt in my entire life. It was terrifying, knowing that Carson knew about me, and that word could be spread at any moment. But, instead of thinking of all the bad, I forced myself to think of Jo. My closest friend, the person who listened and believed me when things were hard. My other half.
The next morning, I piled into Jo’s car and prepared for the worst. The drive back to my house had my palms sweating, that nervous feeling spreading all the way across my body until it felt like I was going to pass out. It wasn’t going to be good, whatever happened.
Instead of being met with Dove and his anger, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I knew our relationship was over, that the choice I thought I had made at that party had been made for me. I tried to not let anger take over me, the bitter taste of him controlling one more thing in my life making my hands shake.
I couldn’t focus on it, because where Dove wasn’t waiting for me, Carson was.
Standing there on my doorstep, looking like she was ready to explode with anxiety. She kept twisting her hands around, blinking rapidly as she turned and saw Jo’s car approaching.
“You’ll be okay?” Jo said to me, and it sounded like static in my ears.
“Yeah.” I got out of her car, waving goodbye as she peeled out of my driveway. I took a moment before I turned, forcing in a breath of air. The air was quiet as I made my way up to my doorway, taking Carson’s hand in mine.
When the door was closed behind us, she opened her mouth to speak, but I was quick to cut her off. “Carson, I need you to know that I’m not,”
Denying myself had been so ingrained in me that it fell off my lips easily. The lie still sat in my chest, burning with desire to get out. “There was a girl when I was in high school. My best friend. She and I were–”
“I don’t want to hear about that, Greta.”
I swallowed. “Okay. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“I know that.” She turned, looking at me that same way Jo had looked at me the night before. Like she knew, like she understood. Like she wanted to understand.
“I never liked Charlie, you know that.” She said, “Not for a second.”
“Of course, I know. It was stupid to set you up with him, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have pushed.”
“Greta,” Her smile turned fond. “I never liked Charlie because I wanted to go to the premiere with you. This is terrifying for me, I’ve never felt like this about someone before, much less a woman. The only person I think about is you.”
My breath catches in the back of my throat, nearly sending me choking. I blinked once, twice, the weight of her words settling on my shoulders all at once. I didn’t even reply, setting up the stairs and packing up my bags.
I put that wine stained shirt, still tucked neatly within the confines of my dresser and away from Dove’s eyes, with the rest of my stuff.
***
I stayed at Carson’s apartment for the next week, barely stepping outside at all. I knew the papers were going to be writing about me, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. The photo of Carson and I holding hands, both speaking to our own interviewers, had made it through my cracks a few times. Carson liked to leave her papers out on the kitchen table.
Carson and I slept side by side in her bed, never touching, but so close that I found it hard to focus on sleep sometimes. The gentle fall of her hair down her back distracted me, and the way she had just the slightest snore when she was dreaming kept me wide awake.
Carson was still working, set on a new film about a young woman living in the city with her best friend. I stayed in her apartment, thumbing through the copious amount of books she kept lying around. When that got boring, I would turn on the tv, only to promptly turn it off when the news was speaking about me once more.
We never kissed. A few times we would stare for a few moments too long, eyes catching in the morning. It was those moments where I thought, why not? Why wasn’t I allowing myself this?
Then I remembered my career. And Dove.
It couldn’t be real. The two of us were the biggest names in Hollywood at the moment, and the scandal of coming out and being perceived by the world was too much pressure. I didn’t want the world to think of me as Greta Gill, lesbian actress. I just wanted them to think of me as an amazing performer.
I only indulged Carson in my thoughts. I allowed myself to think about what it would be like to be photographed holding her hand, kissing her behind a street lamp. What it would feel like to have millions of my fans also be fans of hers.
I thought about curling up beside her every night, holding her in my arms. Kissing her forehead as she drifted off, the slightest of smiles on her face. Her skin was warm and soft beneath my fingers, the way she would melt against me like she had in the laundry room.
It was okay for me to think about Carson like this, because our energy was just a quirk we had. And it would stay that way until I lost the energy to pretend.
It happened on a Saturday morning. I was making breakfast for Carson and I, humming quietly under my breath as I shuffled around the kitchen.
There was a knock at the door, and as I opened it, a grin split my mouth. Probably the first time I had genuinely smiled in the past week.
“Joey!” I ushered her inside, wrapping her up in my arms.
“Are you cooking?” She laughed. “Are you sure it’s edible?”
“Oh shut up!” I laughed, feeling a little more carefree than I had just a few minutes ago. I let her into the apartment, stepping away from the door and back to the kitchen. “Would you like some eggs?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to poison me if I actually eat them.” She peeked into the pan, shaking her head.
“You’re so mean to me.” She just smiled at me, sitting down at the table.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but why are you here?”
She slid me a piece of paper, the header of the Grapevine all the clue I needed. I sighed heavily, scraping my spatula against the bottom of the pan to scramble Carson’s eggs.
“Let me guess, I’m officially a single woman.”
“You are.”
I didn’t even care as much as I thought that I would. I assumed that Dove would have told the gossip column everything they needed to know. “Why did he say we broke up?”
“Abandonment.” I scoffed. Of course, I was the bad guy here. Not the man that left bruises up my ribcage.
“That reason isn’t why I’m here though, Greta. There’s something more important.”
“What is it?”
She slid the article closer to me. “He’s leaving you the house. And half of his money.”
I turned, finally, a drop of egg falling onto the floor. “Why the hell would he do that?”
“So,” She paused, waiting to see if I would get it. “You can’t talk to anyone, at any time, to talk about what happened between the two of you. I have a court order.”
My eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Oh, but he can talk, can’t he?” Jo nodded. “Why would I go for that?”
Jo looked sad, eyes cast downward, and then it hit me. “The studio is dropping me.”
Dove was winning this war that I didn’t even want to be part of.
“They’re going to loan you out, and then that’s it. You’re on your own.”
“Well fine! Carson is freelance, I’ll just hire an agent.”
Jo nodded. “You should, but Dove wants to black ball you from getting an Oscar nom.”
I swear, at that moment, I saw red. My first Oscar, ripped out of my hands. I was going to get loaned out, put in movies destined to fail, and then I wouldn’t be considered at all. It wasn’t fair.
“He can’t do that.”
“He can, and he will. I’m so sorry, Bird.”
I’ve never felt smaller in my entire life. Dove was worth more to the studio than I was. He would get them more revenue, more money, because he was the golden man of Hollywood at the moment. It hurt.
I heard Carson shut the shower off.
“So that’s it, huh? If I’m not with Dove, I’m nothing.”
“That’s not true, and you know it. Dove doesn’t want you with anyone if it can’t be him.”
It was barely reassuring.
“So he just buys my silence with a house and money, and he gets to ruin my life.”
“It’s a lot of money.”
It didn’t matter. Money was never important to me. I wanted glory. Carson came out of the bathroom in a robe, her hair sticking to the sides of her face.
“Oh, hi Jo!” She smiled. “Just give me a minute.”
“Don’t hurry on my part, I was just leaving.” Carson stepped into the bedroom, and I looked to Jo.
“Thank you for telling me.” She nodded, and as we walked to the door, she gave me a hug.
“You can do this, Bird. You know I’ll never doubt you. I hope that we can still be friends after all of this.”
“Shut up,” I shoved her shoulder. “We’re best friends, you couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted to. Even if we don’t tell each other everything. That will never change. As long as you still love me.”
“I do, you know I do.”
“And I still love you.” I put my hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “It’s you and me, Joey. Rob the bank, right?”
She smiled. “Rob the bank.”
I watched as she left, getting into her car. I waited until she drove off, mind reeling with the information I had now. That was that.
I was losing everything. The only thing I had left was the money, and maybe that was enough for now. As I watched Jo leave, car peeling out onto the road, I realized there was one more thing that I had. Something that I wasn’t allowing myself to have until that moment.
I went into Carson’s room. She was still in her robe, towel drying her hair. She turned when she heard the door creek open, opening her mouth to say something.
She couldn’t get the words out before my mouth was on hers.
A gasp left her lips, and in the same way she had melted against me in the laundry room, she did the same. The towel dropped to the floor, and my hands went to the tie around her robe.
I was drowning in her. The way her shampoo smelt, fresh with the smallest tinge of floral. Her skin was smooth, warm and pliable underneath my fingertips. I could feel her tremble, her hands shaking as they went to my cheeks, pulling herself closer to me.
We moved slowly, I waited to see if she would stop me. She didn’t, her hands moved from my cheeks to rest on my shoulders. I pulled away, panting, waiting for her to say that she didn’t want this.
There was silence between the two of us, only the sound of our breath mingling as we both took in what this meant.
I allowed my eyes to go down the dip of her cleavage barely visible underneath the fluffy white of her robe. My hands moved on their own, pushing the fabric away, and there she was.
The freckles, one of my favorite parts of her, the way her chest rose and fell as I looked at her. Her skin was creamy, fair and splotched red in bits and pieces. I drag one nail down her collarbone, watching her shiver in anticipation.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” She whispered, eyes half lidded when I met her gaze.
I smiled. “Don’t worry, I do.”