Page 49 of Caught in a Storm
“Take five,” Harry shouts into his megaphone, and the set takes a collective breath.
Lawson stretches, then walks across the sound stage. It’s a dull cement building in Los Angeles, like an airplane hangar, but movie magic will turn it into the leafy British countryside soon enough.
“Tanya, can we get Lawson a bit of a touch-up?” Harry shouts.
Tanya springs to action and starts rolling her makeup cart toward him. Lawson points to the tea station that the crew set up for him, Hugh, and Harry, who are the only Brits on set. “Teatime, love,” he says.
Tanya redirects to the plush leather chair that’s written into Lawson’s contract.
“How do I look?” he asks.
Tanya tilts her head, squints her left eye, chews her gum. These are lovely affectations—among the few highlights of this preposterous project. “Little ashy,” she says. “Forehead’s shiny, too. Especially that last take.”
“Can’t have that, now, can we?”
An assistant whose name Lawson can’t remember—Trig, possibly Trey—hands him a cup of tea and a small stack of Hobnob biscuits on a dish.
“Interest you in a cup, Tan?” Lawson asks.
Tanya makes a disgusted face—their little inside joke. She guzzles the battery acid that is Diet Pepsi all day but turns her nose up at tea. He sips, and she works his skin with tickly little brushes, and Lawson does his best to ignore the makeup artist’s breasts, which are inches from his face behind a thin layer of cotton. Tanya is older than Willa Knight but younger than Lawson, and he briefly imagines a simpler life with a gum-chewing makeup artist from Malibu. Lawson does this: he falls carelessly in love with nonactors on set. He’s not sure why, maybe because it’s less complicated than falling in love with his costars, which is also something he does. Tanya stands on her toes and bites her lower lip as she smooths and pats down Lawson’s hair.
Maybe just have a seat right here then, love, he thinks but doesn’t say. Instead, he redirects. “Can I ask you something?”
Tanya says, “Hmm?”
“You ever been to Baltimore?”
“Maryland?” Tanya’s nose crinkles. “No, why?”
“I’m having the damnedest time finding anyone who has.”
“I think it’s near D.C. I don’t know the East Coast very well.”
Then Lawson does something he’s done often recently: he takes out his mobile so he can digitally spy on his ex-wife.
Quite the journey Mar has been on of late. Sweet at first—that little concert with the amateurs in the pub. The look on her face as she drummed was like some surgical deep dive into Lawson’s long-term memory. Brow furrowed, jaw clenched. And, of course, that hair falling across those eyes.
“Well, look at you, Mar,” he whispered the first time he watched it; then, again, the twentieth time he watched it. This was back in London. The production for Car Chase hadn’t shifted to L.A. yet. Yes, the movie is called Car Chase, because they didn’t even try coming up with a proper title for this floating turd.
It’s not as if Margot hasn’t come up from time to time over the years, what with them sharing a child and her being one of the most celebrated drummers of her era. He’ll hear a Burnt Flowers song on the radio or playing in some posh shop. He watched her alongside Nikki and the other two on that Netflix documentary a fortnight ago. He sees her frowny face in his record collection back in the London flat. These new videos, though, have affected him more than that old rubbish. The reason, he supposes, is that this is the real Mar, not some past version. And, well, real Margot Hammer looks quite fit.
He glances over Tanya’s shoulder at the messy set—green screens, a carved-out shell of a Porsche. What would Margie think of all this buffoonery?
Didn’t you used to do Shakespeare?
Easy, love. A few for the studio, then a few for me. That’s the game.
Sounds like a dumb game.
“Close your eyes for me a sec,” says Tanya.
Lawson does, and she powders his eyelids. “As long as I’m asking questions.” He holds his phone out. There’s a shot from HypeReport of Margot and Billy at an outdoor restaurant. They’re holding hands at the middle of the table, talking. “What do you think of this bloke? Honest opinion.”
Tanya tilts her head, more gum chewing. “Oh yeah, I saw this one. They’re cute.”
“Cute?”
“They work, you know,” says Tanya. “They’re a good couple.”
