Page 27 of Hello Darling
“Have you ever been?”
“To?”
“To foggy London town.”
She shakes her head. “No. Never even considered it, actually.”
“No interest?”
She raises her chin, a bit defiantly. “Not in the least.” I don’t pursue the conversation and that seems to disappoint her. “Is that where you live?”
“It’s where I grew up and it’s where I own a home, yes.”
“Ah. But all the world is your stage?”
I grin at that. “Hardly. But I have to go where the work is. Been a bit of a vagabond my whole life, really.”
She nods.
I don’t offer anymore on the subject. I wait for her to bite. I don’t have to wait long.
“You travel a lot?”
“Quite a lot, yes.”
“Is this your first time in Washington?”
“Besides the airport in Seattle, I believe so, yes. I’ve been to Vancouver, Canada for a film. That’s quite close.”
“Yes. It’s nice up there. If you like big expensive cities.”
“I’ve nothing against them. You do, it seems.”
She shrugs. She’s removing the letters from the letter board. “I wouldn’t say that. Just wouldn’t want to live in one.”
After I’ve done a suitable amount of warm-up stretching, I pull my iPad out from my messenger bag. I have to read a script that my agent sent me, and although it isn’t the kind of thing I could pass along to my assistant, I don’t think it warrants more than a cursory read-through on the treadmill. I reach into the side pocket for my reading glasses, and before I put them on I notice Stella watching me and smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just want to see what you look like with glasses on.”
“Ah, well. Prepare thyself. It’s pretty great. You ready?”
She nods enthusiastically, like a little girl.
I place my black-rimmed glasses on and turn my head to both sides. “Pretty incredible, right?”
“It’s everything I’d hoped it would be.”
She does make me laugh, this one. When the Billie Holiday song is over, she pokes around on a phone, and suddenly one of my favorite Clash songs comes on. I wonder if I’ve ever mentioned liking this band in an interview and if she’s Googled me, and then immediately despise myself for thinking it. Everyone likes “Should I Stay or Should I Go.” It’s a classic.
“If you don’t mind,” she says, disappearing into what looks like the back office, “Since I’m here, I think I’ll get my sweat on while I can.”
“By all means.”
I look up and see her in the reflection of the mirror in front of me when she returns from the staff restroom, hair pulled up and back in a ponytail. I have picked up my pace on the treadmill and she is wearing sweat pants that fit snugly around her marvelous hips, and a tank top with a sports bra under it. I do like her body. Rounded but fit. In good shape but not too thin or too muscular. Womanly. Not unlike Katharine Ross.
I love that she appreciates that film. I once asked a young actress if she preferred Butch or Sundance, and she said: “Sundance is the most fun. And then the Toronto film festival and then Cannes. Where’s the Butch festival?”
