I Know Who You Are(29)
I give up resisting temptation and take another sip from my glass, glancing around the bar. It’s even busier now, standing room only, with more and more people coming here to relax and unwind after a long day of filming. Some faces I recognize, most I don’t, and when I see all the eyes staring in our direction, my shyness stings a little.
“You were great today,” Jack says. “The way you just turned on the tears was amazing, no eye drops or anything … how do you do that?”
I just think of something really sad.
I listen to Jack as he moves on to his favorite subject: himself, and continue to scan the bar from time to time while he talks. That’s when I see Alicia White. She glides in like a robotic swan, her long pale neck twisting out of a tight-fitting red dress in search of prey. I watch, transfixed, as she moves back and forth like a powerful Hoover, sucking up all the attention and any crumbs of praise in her path. I remember the lipstick, but dismiss the idea of her being involved with my husband, she’s out of his league. I almost didn’t recognize her; she’s dyed her blond hair dark brown, so that she looks a lot like me, albeit a much prettier version. I look away too late, she’s already spotted us.
“Jack, darling,” she purrs, interrupting him mid-monologue.
He leaps to his feet and embraces her, kissing both her cheeks and staring down at her cleavage briefly before making eye contact. “Alicia, how gorgeous to see you, tu es très jolie ce soir.” He allows himself another virtual drink of her body. My secondary-school French translates the compliment, but she looks a tad confused. “Let me introduce you to Aimee. We’ve been working on a film together, and she’s the next big thing, you heard it here first.”
Her face falters for just a second; she didn’t like hearing that. I wonder if Jack is learning French to try to impress Alicia somehow, and the idea of it hurts me a little.
“We know each other actually,” she says. The words are neatly unpacked, cool and crisp. “Aimee is like my little shadow. She followed me from senior school to drama school, and then a few years later got the same agent. You know Tony, don’t you, Jack?”
“Best agent in town.”
“Exactly, so imagine my surprise when little Aimee Sinclair’s name popped up right next to mine on his client list? Some might say she’s stalking me!”
Alicia throws her head back and they both laugh. I don’t, but I do manage a small smile. It hurts my face.
“What was the part you’ve just finished playing?” she asks me, as though she doesn’t already know. Her hair and makeup are perfect, as usual, and I now regret coming to the bar without any armor. Her bright red lips form a well-practiced pout in anticipation.
“It was the lead in a film called Sometimes I Kill, we finished filming today.” I notice the way her mouth twitches when I say the word lead.
“Sometimes I Kill,” she says, lifting her manicured fingers to her perfect chin in an exaggerated thinking pose.
Did I mention she can’t act for shit?
“Sometimes I Kill,” she repeats. “Oh, yes, I do remember now. Tony sent me that script, he said that I was the director’s first choice, but I turned it down. It wasn’t the right role for me, but I’m sure it was just perfect for you. At this early and uncertain stage in your career, I imagine you can’t be too picky. In fact, I suppose it’s rather lucky for you that I did say no—that meant dearest Tony could send them your headshot instead.”
“I suppose I should be thanking you?”
“I suppose you should!” She beams at me, either not understanding irony or choosing to ignore it. Then her face exchanges the smile for a frown, and she puts her icy-cold hand on mine. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about Tony slimming down his client list?” My eyes must answer for me, because she can tell from my face that I haven’t and looks delighted. “I just hope, for your sake, he doesn’t adopt a ‘last in, first out’ policy. It would be dreadful for your career if he dropped you now.” I zone out for a moment, remembering that Tony said we needed to talk, but hasn’t returned any of my calls since. I keep my concerns to myself.
Alicia joins us and I drink more wine than I should. I listen to the two of them gossip about directors, producers, and fellow actors, while silently worrying that my agent is about to dump me. Jack’s eyes are smiling and wide open, but he can’t seem to see her for who and what she is. Alicia isn’t just two-faced, it’s more complicated than that; she has several sides, all equally self-beneficial. She’s like a loaded dice, but most people don’t know when they’re being played. She spends the whole time constantly looking over Jack’s shoulder, to see if someone more famous is in the room for her to pounce on. Last I heard she was taking a break from acting for a little while, so it seems odd to find her here at Pinewood.
I admire her false eyelashes, which flutter with every false word, and stare in amazement as each tiny synthetic hair transforms into the shape of a letter. A paper chain of miniature black words start to stream from her eyes, her nose, the corners of her mouth, until her whole face is covered in a tattoo of little black lies. I know I am imagining this, and I consider the possibility I might have had too much to drink. She smiles and I notice a tiny bit of red lipstick has made itself at home on her white teeth; the sight of it brings me untold happiness, so I take another big sip of my wine in celebration.