Mean Season. Heather Cochran
no,” Joshua Reed said. His voice was sarcastic.
“Joshua, please. Lars,” Judy said, but neither man paid any attention. They reminded me of cats in a standoff, staring at each other until one backs away.
“Fuck you,” Lars said again. “You want me to see to it that you don’t work here again?”
“In Harper’s Ferry? Go right ahead,” Joshua said.
“You know that’s not where I mean,” Lars said.
“You can’t do that anymore. You don’t decide,” Joshua said. “Just try.” And then he stalked off.
“You’re an asshole!” Lars called out after him.
There were only a few tables where people were still eating, but from where I sat, it looked like everyone in the room turned to stare at Lars. I shrank a little in my chair.
“He is,” Lars said. “Sorry.”
Judy took hold of Lars’s arm and pulled him back to his seat.
“Leanne, I’m so sorry,” Judy said. She dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “I’m sorry you had to see…hear that.”
“It’s okay,” I told them, though I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Sure, no one likes to be insulted, or have the thing or the people they care for held up as goofy or uncool. But it was hard to take it personally. Joshua Reed didn’t know me, or my family, or Pinecob. He was just mad, and I knew that, whatever the reason, it had been there before he met me.
“It’s not okay,” Lars said again. “It can’t always be okay. It’s not okay to insult you, to make Judy cry. I’m really fed up with this kid.”
“He’s not a kid,” Judy said. “That’s the problem.”
“He doesn’t act like any adult I know,” Lars said. “So much potential and I have tried—really—to get him to use it, and not waste goodwill on these outbreaks. I’m serious. I can get a lot of agents not to touch him, but someone out there is going to offer him representation.”
Judy nodded.
“Listen, Leanne. It’s late,” Lars said. “You can take the car back home now, if you want. But why don’t you let us put you up here tonight? You can have a nice night away. We can have breakfast in the morning—I know Judy wanted to talk to you about the movie, didn’t you, hon?”
Judy nodded again.
“We can put this incident behind us,” Lars said.
“Oh, do stay,” Judy said. “They’ve got a great breakfast buffet.”
Like I needed convincing. I’d never stayed in a hotel that nice, and the thought of sleeping in a big bed and getting to use trial-size shampoos, that sounded fun. So I said okay, and Lars jumped up to take care of things.
“Joshua is going through a difficult period,” Judy said, quietly, once Lars was out of earshot.
I nodded like I knew what she was talking about. All I knew was that he was getting more and more famous, and getting to star in a bunch of different movies, and getting to date models like Elise. I wasn’t a guy and I didn’t live in Los Angeles, but it didn’t sound all that difficult.
“He’s…he’s adjusting to a new level of celebrity, and that’s hard,” she said.
“How long has it been difficult?” I asked.
Judy thought a moment, then shook her head. “Pretty much since I’ve known him, I guess.” She smiled but looked sad at the same time.
“That can’t be fun. For you, I mean,” I said.
“It’s not. A lot of the time. But he’s an excellent actor. He really is. He’s more talented than any of my other clients. And when I see him work,” Judy said, “it’s almost worth it. For Lars, it’s different. He doesn’t really like actors, so he’s got a lot less patience.”
“Was he serious about dropping Joshua?” I asked.
Judy seemed to think about it. “He might have been. Something to sleep on, anyhow.”
Lars returned then, with a room key for me. He gave me a brief tour on the way to the lobby. There was a bar that stayed open late, to the left of the restaurant. There was a smaller dining room, where the breakfast buffet would be served.
“What time do you usually wake up?” Lars asked. “For breakfast.”
“I’m usually up around six,” I told him.
“Yow,” Lars said.
Judy laughed. “You’re quite the morning person, but that’s a little early for us,” she said. “Especially since that’s three in the morning California time. How about around eight we meet down here?”
We were standing in the lobby. My room was down the hallway, theirs was upstairs.
“Eight’s fine, too,” I told them.
My room was small, but so neat, and the blankets were turned down and there was a chocolate coin on the pillow. I checked the bathroom, and there was a little bottle of shampoo and another of conditioner and also lotion and two kinds of soap, and a shower cap and a sewing kit. I put everything in my purse right away, then put the shampoo back, since I would need it for the shower in the morning.
I called home so that Momma knew where I was. And then I called Sandy at the beach.
“You’ll never guess where I am,” I told her.
“In Joshua Reed’s bedroom?” she guessed, whispering.
“No. But I am in the same hotel, and I’m staying here. In my own room. For the night.”
“So?” Sandy asked.
I told her all of it, and she was a lot more pissed than I was.
“What a butthole,” she said, when I finished.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Leanne,” Sandy said.
“No, I’m really okay about it,” I told her.
“It still shouldn’t have happened. That was a butthole thing to do.”
I agreed.
After I got off the phone, I was still wide awake and figured I might as well poke around the resort, in case a maid had left her cart out, and I could get more shampoos to bring home for Beau Ray. I didn’t find a cart, but I wandered through the various lobbies and waiting rooms until I found myself by the door of the bar. The bartender looked up from wiping the counter and waved me inside.
“Hey, have a seat,” he said. “You were eating with that movie guy earlier, weren’t you?”
“Joshua Reed,” I said, nodding. “Yeah. I hope the yelling didn’t disturb you.”
He just shrugged, as if one man calling another man an asshole across a nice restaurant was something that happened every weekend.
“What’s he like?” the bartender asked, and then he looked past me and said, “speak of the devil, I guess I’ll find out.”
I turned on my stool and saw Joshua Reed swagger into the bar. He looked over at me, frowned, and then walked up and took the stool next to mine. I got the impression that he had kept drinking between dinner and just then. He ordered a martini and turned to me.
“Leanne Gitlin,” he said.
I turned to him, trying my hardest to look like I didn’t care, or like I’d sat next to lots of movie stars in lots of bars before that particular night.
“I hope you’re not angry with me.” He smiled. I’d seen that same smile on Colin Ashcroft.
“Why