Page 30 of Hello Darling
“What makes you think he’ll have a love affair with this actress?” I ask, in a totally convincing nonchalant voice.
“Oh, you know. That’s kind of his thing, it seems. All of his past girlfriends were actresses he worked with, I think. I mean. Just from what I’ve read—what do I know.”
“Yeah, sure. Just how many past girlfriends are we talking about here?”Don’t tell me don’t tell me I don’t want to know.
“Oh I don’t know, let’s see, shall we?”
She wipes her hands on a tea towel and waits for me to pass her the iPad. I want to run, but where would I run to? Back to the gym where that damn sexy Englishman is waiting to toy with the local girl’s heart?
She pokes at the iPad screen with her index finger, then gives the thing back to me. My hands are trembling. I actually feel like I might throw up and get diarrhea. It’s all humiliating and so darn confusing, because why wouldIfeel likethisabouthim?
And then it becomes clear, as I scan the many, many photos of this same man who’s been making friendly conversation with me, with truly beautiful young glowing constantly smiling actresses. His arm around them at premieres and black tie New York fashion gala events and award shows. Yeah. That’s his real life. He’s just passing time here. He’s just a nice guy, chatting with the local normal people, probably as research for his next role.
That’s all it is.
I feel better now.
The cold sweaty palms are now dry and warm and ready to swat away all confusing thoughts.
“Thank you,” I say, passing the iPad back to Mrs. Flauvich.
Thank you, Google.
And you’re welcome, brain.
By the time I’ve returned to the gym, there are a few more members here working out, blocking my view of the actor, and a note from Billy that saysWTF weirdo?!?!?!
I respond to some emails, make some calls to suppliers, and when I hear the front door bells jingling, I look up to find a guy around my age, shaggy in all the ways that I’m used to, swiping a wet hood from his head and giving me quick once-over and the “s’up” nod that guys usually greet me with when they walk in here. Not that shiny smile and handshake baloney that a certain someone tried to fool me with.
“Hey. Didn’t realize it started raining.”
“Just a bit. How are ya, I’m Donovan.”
“Hey there, Donovan.”
He smirks. “Nice place you got here.”
“Glad you like it.”
He pulls a flyer out from a plastic folder and places it in front of me on the desk. “So, I’m the assistant location manager for the film that’s going to be shooting here in a couple of weeks—I don’t know if you’ve heard about this?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, I’ve heard.”
“Cool, well I’m just going around to all the businesses on Main Street, giving you our information. We’re in the process of applying for all the permits, but we just wanted you all to know that we will be disrupting things around here a bit some days.”
“Oh yeah?”More?
“You’ll always be notified days beforehand, but there will be street closures on and off, and parking for cast and crew around here.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It’s not gonna get too crazy or anything—most of the scenes that are shot around here are pretty quiet ones. But we’re going to be setting up a video village not far from your entrance here.”
He points out to the sidewalk.
“What’s a video village?”
“Like a covered area for the playback monitors and the sound equipment, you know where the director and producers and actors will have their chairs set up.”
