Falling Down(91)

"Damn."
"What?" she asks, oblivious.
"All you need is one of those long tight skirts and a white silk shirt, and with those glasses you could be a naughty school teacher."
The glasses are retro-looking, kind of the cat frames from 1950s, a dark brown color, and she looks sexy as hell.
She laughs. "You're such a perv," she says shaking her head and typing in her password.
"Wait. Hold the phone! What's your password?"
"Nevermind," she blushes.
"I saw it, I just want to hear you say it."
"Never," she laughs.
"Say it. You know you want to."
"I really, really don't."
"So, that's how much you love me, huh? I'm your password? Name and birthday. JKingston0121."
"Oh boy. Don't let it go to your head or you won't fit through the door."
I chuckle. "You're crazy about me, admit it."
"You drive me crazy, yes, that you do. Okay, here we go," she says changing the subject.
"What is this?" I ask as she pulls up a media file.
"My nightmare."
"Ah."
"Pardon me if I don't watch."
"You don't have to show me."
"I do. I want you to understand, about this anxiety. I'm really not being a baby."
I nod and she presses play. There she is, a younger version of Lucy standing behind a podium. She's smiling and reading from her cards. A bee buzzes around her head and she swats at it, lifting her hands and the wind takes her cards, blowing them all over the ground. I hear her gasp, but she recovers pretty well, looking nervous, wiping her hands on her skirt--then comes the Q and A portion.
They hammer question after question at her, not about her being in the movie that would go on to get her nominated for an Oscar, but rather about her being seen with the notorious womanizer she'd mentioned the other day. Question after question, even when she redirects them to the movie, they bombard her. I run a hand down my face.
"You can't be more than what, eighteen here?"
She nods. "It was only a couple months after we met, actually. I was young, unprepared, and obviously na?ve."
"Where's your agent?"
"She'd got stung by a bee and she's allergic so she and my mom were inside the building giving her an injection so she didn't go into shock."
"Christ, Lucy. That never should have happened. It wouldn't have happened if--"
"Oh, I know, but it did. And every time I get up there in front of the press, they ask the personal questions even though I'm there for the professional ones. They don't care about my success or whatever movie I'm working on, they only care about anything that will humiliate or create drama."
I nod. Having seen more than enough, I turn off the video and power down the laptop.
"Now you understand."
I nod. "I didn't need to see that to support you and try to ease your anxiety, Luce."
"I know. I just wanted--needed you to see why I'm such a pathetic mess about this. I'm not as bad up there in front of them now, having walked the red carpet enough I've learned to talk around the questions I don't want to answer."
I nod. I would like to punch every one of those f*ckers in the face, especially that one reporter. He was brutal. When she didn't give him the answer he wanted, he just kept asking and rephrasing until he was shut down by the other reporters.
"I'll be there, Lucy. I won't let that happen to you again. I promise."
She nods and takes her glasses off, putting them in the case, and setting it on the bedside table. I tuck her laptop into her bag and set it under the bedside table on my side and turn off the lamp.