Hollywood Ass. (7 page)

“I’m not sleeping with Matteo! We’re friends. And I’m sorry you had to come all the way here and that I didn’t answer my fucking phone and that I’m such a mess, but I really don’t need you to judge me either. Everybody’s already doing a swell job of that.”

B
was coming alive while I was starting to feel my weariness again. I had found her and completed my mission and all I wanted at that moment was to go back to sleep. We could deal with all the drama and questioning later.

And like she was reading my mind, it was exactly what
B
intended to do too. “We’ll continue this talk tomorrow,”
B
said and closed her eyes.

I sat on the side of the bed like a parent, until she snored and then I started arranging the pillows for myself on the penthouse sofa.

***

I woke up to find the sun peeking through the window, hinting about another beautiful day in the eternal city. My lower back ached from spending the night on the small and stiff sofa, but I saw it as a small price to pay to find that
B
was in fact alright and that she hadn’t been up to any coital activities with her dark, Italian friend. I looked over at
B
who lay there in her large bed, clothes still on, hair frazzled, make-up smudged in her face and completely unaware that I was there, watching her. She was a mess, but somehow still managed to pull it off, the way attractive women could with just about anything.

I took a long shower, one where it felt like I was getting rid of dirt that had lodged itself in cavities I didn’t know I had. When I stepped out, I was dry as a prune, but refreshed, looking forward to spending the day with
B
while trying to understand what was going on in that beautiful but confused head of hers.

My spirits rose as I sat down outside on the massive terrace, the sun gazing at me and a cup of warming instant coffee in my hand. The view was spectacular from up there, where you could see Rome open up with all its beautiful domes and buildings and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of joy to be there again. I sipped my coffee and wondered what would happen, if we would go back to LA, if she would like to stay in Rome or even go to New York to see her husband and make amends. They were all possibilities and with
B
it was almost impossible to figure out what she had in mind until she told you.

Suddenly I felt a presence behind me and I turned around to see a zombie, imitating B, standing there in her clothes from yesterday and looking absolutely miserable.

“Morning,” she said, in coarse voice.

“Morning,” I replied.

She sat down opposite me by the outdoor table and buried her head in her hands, “Why, oh, why, oh, why do I drink?” she said loudly, the last part almost coming out as a cry.

“To get away from yourself maybe?” I said, casually and poured her a cup of coffee.

“I think I need a proper breakfast, some fats, bacon, eggs, cheese, the works.”
B
said, still covering her face and ignoring my comment, “I didn’t eat much last night.”

“If you can eat now you can’t feel
that
bad. Will the heart attack breakfast package be suitable for madame?” I said and could sense a smile before I walked inside to call room service.

B
took a shower while we waited for the breakfast guy. She came out of the bathroom looking less like a zombie and more like a beautiful girl with rosy cheeks and wet hair in need of a good comb.

“That was nice,” she said, while drying her hair with a monogrammed hotel towel.

“You look less dead now,” I replied and smiled.

“You’re such a sweetie, Darryl.”

Breakfast came on a large rolling tray pushed by a guy in a bright red uniform, curly black hair and a thin mustache. He smelled of cheap spray deodorant and stared at
B
like all starstruck people do. I gave him a look that said “
yeah, it’s her
” and handed him a ten euro bill in tip.

I picked up a croissant and looked at it like it was a bitter enemy. In one way it was, I have never been good at saying no to pastries and being in a country that prided itself on food wasn’t going to be easy.

B
put her fork through a fried egg and snatched it between her teeth like some kind of jungle cat. She could eat like a pig if she wanted to, so I was lucky the breakfast was large enough to feed four starving body-builders.

We were both quiet for a while, going at the food like it was an Olympic event. After my second cup of coffee I decided it was time, since my belly rumbled and I could be running to the bathroom soon. Big breakfasts and coffee did this to me.

“So the guy’s just a friend?” I said, it coming out a bit more tense than I expected. I didn’t want a fight, I just had some annoying curiosity to kill.

“Yes, he is. We met at that film-shoot two years ago where he managed the wardrobe. I think you were in the hospital then?”

“Yeah,” I said and thought back to when I was hit from behind at a red light by a senile lady with blue hair. I ended up getting a bad whiplash injury and couldn’t go to Rome with
B
. She never told me about this guy though, which concerned me.

“I know you might think he’s gay because he’s in fashion or whatever, but he looked very into you from the 30 seconds I saw of him.”

B
gave me a deadpan look. She thought I was clueless about these things. In a way I was.

“Believe me, he’s gay. A woman knows. You feel it.”

“How do you feel that? He didn’t get a boner when he hugged you or what?”

“You’re such a lovely conversational partner, Darryl. Do I ever tell you that?” She said, and at first she looked really angry with me, for which I wouldn’t blame her, but then she started laughing and I started laughing too.

It was the best moment we’ve had in a while and I felt a glimmer of hope that the real
B
could come back.

If she wanted to.

***

After breakfast we decided to take a long walk. With the six-hour time difference, it was still too early to call
A
and tell him the good news, so we had some hours together to just enjoy the city and do what we did best, which was talk.

“Imagine if I could walk the streets this unnoticed back in LA? How different my life would be.”
B
said from behind her big sunglasses.

I noticed many people give her an extra look-over so I was pretty sure she was exaggerating her escape from the public light, but at the same I understood how good it must feel for her to walk around for a while without a group of camera-carrying buzzards circling around her.

“You would like to be less famous? I thought a big part of you loved it?”

“I don’t know, it’s up and down. I guess part of me really likes being seen and analyzed constantly, it’s something I’ve wanted ever since I was a little kid. Maybe it’s some kind of residue from being an only child or maybe it’s just what everybody wants.”

“I’m also an only child, but I don’t think I ever wanted the spotlight or fame.”

“And that’s why you’re in Hollywood, working with me?”
B
gave me a smirk like
you must be kidding
.

“Good point,” I said and smiled back.

We walked until our feet hurt and went for a late lunch at a restaurant Matteo had recommended, located in a suitably anonymous location, off a side-street from the large Piazza Navona. We sat on an elevated terrace, shielded by trees and enjoyed a bottle of white wine, when I remembered I had promised to call
A
. It was early morning in New York, but I knew he was bound to be up anyway, lifting weights, jogging or just studying himself in the mirror.

I excused myself from the table and walked to the side while
B
was thumbing away on her phone.

“So you found her, but she doesn't want to go home?”
A
half-shouted into my ear. His reaction was rough, but still understandable.

“She wants to stay a few more days to relax and clear her head. I wouldn’t see it as a big deal.” This was my attempt at taking some weight off of the situation, after all, this was
all
she was trying to do. Take a little vacation. With other men.

“Is she going crazy, Darryl? Is that what's happening? Because this doesn't sound like a very sane person to me.” I had heard this resigned tone in his voice far too often by then and it had become a big worry for the soundness of their marriage. He was slowly giving up and
B
needed to show him he had no reason to.

“She's better now. I think she just needed some distance from the incident. I wouldn't be too concerned at this point.”

“It’s kind of hard NOT to be concerned when your wife fucks off to another country without telling you.”

“I understand that. She does too. But I don’t think stressing her to come home when she feels like this is the way forward. You told me to go here and find her and I did that. Now she wants a few more days in the city and I think the easy way is just giving it to her. You’re busy anyway.”

It was when I said this that I realized
I
really wanted to spend some more time with
B
in Rome. We had a nice chemistry here and I thought I had seen lots of the “old”
B
since the other night. I wished I could have bottled up this good feeling of sanity in case it evaporated when we came home.

“Okay, if this is what she wants, I’ll give her the space. I’ve always been understanding when it comes to her wishes. But I need you to really keep an eye on her, I’m worried she’ll do something stupid. I haven’t seen her like this before.”

“You have my word on that. I’m sure we’ll be back in LA in no-time, re-energized and ready for a new start.” This wasn’t really true, I had no idea what the outcome of this trip might be, but I had to come up with something positive to say.

After I finished the phone call I had a hard time telling whether I should be impressed or scared by how casually
A
dealt with his wife’s emotions, wasn’t he worried enough to come for her? Why didn’t he talk directly to her? And why didn’t she talk directly to him? Had things gotten so bad they needed me as a mediator for everything? At that point I didn’t know.

When I got back the table I didn’t want to tell
B
about my gloomy prediction, I needed to help her maintain her refreshingly good mood.

“So what did he say?”
B
jumped at me like a starving dog.

I sat down and took a sip of sparkling water, “Well, he supports you and whatever you need to do to feel good about yourself again. He says you should take your time and that he loves you very much.” I said, with lots of icing on top.

B
made a wheezing sound to this. “If he was still passionate about me he’d come here himself and drag me back to him. He’s a changed man, Darryl.”

“Well, in all fairness, you left him without a word and went to Rome to hang out with another man, friend or whatever. So let’s try to see this in a balanced way. I think you have both changed and it’s time to either get used to the situation or deal with it. Hiding from each other won’t exactly help, although I understand your need for a break.”

B
’s voice traveled up a pitch, “Balanced way? I don’t think there’s anything balanced about human relationships? Only single people talk like that.”

That hurt. It really did. I hated being reminded of how lonely I was, because most of the time I thought I was fine. I decided to take a step back and get us to smoke the peace pipe.

“You might have a point. All I’m saying is that I think he’s being an adult in giving you the space you need. Don’t take it as an offense. All is good in the hood.”

“I don’t know which hood you’re referring to, but I can’t see much good in this situation right now. It’s kind of hard to shake the feeling that he’s just
over
me and it makes me want to be over him too.”

B
poked around her food with her fork and looked like a mix between pissed-off and miserable. It made my heart sink.

“Is it that easy to be
over
someone after five years? That sounds ridiculous to me. I think you’re just protecting your feelings. There’s still plenty of life in your relationship and you know it. But you must both be willing to sit down with each other and blow some life in it.”

“You and your metaphors. The heart knows what the heart knows, that’s all I can say at this stage. Which in this case means that he’s fucking someone else. And I have a strong feeling about this so don’t give me some bullshit or try and cover for him. Let’s talk about something more fun.”
B
finished her glass, put it down on the table and looked me in the eyes. She suddenly seemed changed. Now she had taken on the look of a determined woman, completely in charge of herself and her emotions.

But I feared it was only her acting skills talking.

***

After our late lunch the mood was not exactly down, but solemn and contemplative.
B
seemed to have made up her mind that her husband was a cheating bastard and she wasn’t going to let him enter into conversation again. My guess was that she just wanted to put him as far from her mind as possible and although she was smart enough to know that it wasn’t going to work in the long run, she felt it was the best decision for enjoying the present, something I couldn’t disagree with.

We were walking around the picturesque streets, pointing to beautiful details on the facades and commenting on the remarkably elegant people and on how vibrant and romantic the city felt compared to LA. I noticed how she slowly got more into the groove, a smile sneaking onto her lips and her eyes opening properly. The city had a clear effect on her and I must say I really liked the
B
that came out. She was natural, charming and humorous. We had a really good time and I couldn’t help but think how much we were both smiling and laughing - a rare occurrence those last 12-18 months.