Chapter 12 ~ Timeless Face
Bullets, chardonnay + no will-power.
Previously: A call revealed Skylar is making moves. Jenny turns on the alarm for the first time.
It’s Rage Against the Machine shoot day and Tag is in rare form.
He’s wearing purple suede Pumas and a tight t-shirt to match with Dickies. The band is his puppet. He’s at the top of his young-hot-video-director game and they are his clay for the day.
The hit song blares on the playback speakers - and the sound guy keeps giving us a seven-beat countdown. Way too much when it’s turned up to eleven. Typically three or four suffices.
The energy is high and this band is climbing the charts. The set sizzles.
The pretty female production assistants do their best to flirt with what they hope to be their rockstar husbands.
Why don’t I flirt more with these guys? Jenny thinks - a sugar daddy for Dava would not suck.
The director of photography checks the frame as his gaffers adjust the lights for that super contrasty look Tag is known for.
“We are an hour behind sir!” The Assistant Director, AD Mike, whips around to Jenny’s retort.
“Yes but we always are - we will catch up at lunch.”
“True we usually do - and let today be one of those days mister. I’ve got zero pad for more overtime on this one.”
A grip moving a light stand trips.
Smash!
“What the fuck!” Jenny’s brain explodes. First things first Jenny. Safety - then money.
“Anyone hurt?!” She yells, running towards the sound.
The electricians and grips are scrambling as the debris is sizzling.
“Hot glass!”
Then Jenny sees it - a PA in shock. A piece of glass in her cheek.
Then the blood. Oh - my - god.
“Medic!”
Everyone comes running - except the band. The production manager runs to Jenny.
“No medic on set. We didn’t have any stunts, so…”
Jenny’s brain explodes again. No medic?!
“Call 911!” The AD blurts to his 2nd AD.
A PA runs up with a towel. Jenny thinks fast but slows down. Everything that happens next is key.
“Honey sit - should I pull it out?…or maybe we leave it for the paramedics.”
The glass-in-face PA, Janice, is in shock - but tough. Jenny’s impressed. No tears - no hysteria. Strong one.
She holds her hand and guides her to a chair. The crowd has gathered.
AD Mike yells, “Give space - anyone not needed here back to your posts.”
“Janice - it’s starting to bleed but not bad.”
Lie it’s starting to gush.
“Do you want us to call a friend or someone? Paramedics are on the way.” The AD sounds somewhat reassuring.
Jenny holds her hand tight - thinking the overtime is now a definite - but perhaps an insurance claim?
Janice whispers, “How big is this? Should I pull it out? It doesn’t even hurt.” She raises her hand robotically towards the destruction of her gorgeous young skin.
Jenny stops her hand, gently grabbing it again.
“No, no - let’s leave it - don’t touch til they get here.”
“I feel nauseous though…”
Of course you do - you have a piece of a hot 18K embedded in your face.
“Janice - if you want to be a producer, you’ll see that every shoot something happens that you could never imagine - this one takes the cake.”
Janice smiles - then winces.
That is Jenny’s strength - dealing with aplomb whenever the shit hits. And somehow putting everyone at ease around her.
Foxy paramedics arrive at the same time as Sherry.
“Girl, did you bring them or just have ESP that I needed you?”
“Knew you were surrounded by drama once again.”
Normally Jenny would have thought that response from Sherry was funny - but her jabs are starting to feel more pointed.
“Well, can you take over here please.”
“Janice sweets - would you be okay if we got a roll on? Whilst they bandage you up or is that insensitive of me? You can tell me straight please.”
Janice the strong one nods. “Please roll - please take the attention off me.”
“Girl you will make a great producer one day. Get fixed up and go home. Decide later if you still want to be on for tomorrow - your choice.”
Sherry approaches Janice with the 2nd AD. Time for an accident report.
Jenny shivers as she walks back to the band and Tag in the green room. They’re playing video games and slamming Red Bulls, a new energy drink that is all the rage and tastes like fruity electrical burn.
“Okay gents - we can get rolling again - crisis contained.”
“Wow that was gnarly - she okay?” The lead singer seems to care.
“She’s a tough one - this job might leave a scar.”
The drummer perks up, “cool we can tattoo it for her.”
Jenny laughs but inside imagines the law suit coming her way.
Later that night as she tucks Dava in to bed she thinks about Janice and how her mother must be unsettled tonight. Her little girl got hurt and she wasn’t there to protect her. To soothe her in her pain and fear. Her heart aches as she realized some day she has to let Dava out in to the world - alone.
“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you kid.” She whispers and kisses his cherubic cheek and copper red tussle of hair on his forehead.
He does the usual don’t-go-mama routine and she can tell he’s no longer really scared - just snuggly. She sings him “Verdi Cries” - Dava thinks his mom’s a rockstar.
Downstairs a lavender and sage candle burns on her fire place mantle. It lights a family portrait - her stunning parents so obviously in love. Her sister, whom she hasn’t seen in a year since she moved overseas with her French-chef husband - looking regal in this ensemble. Her brother who just got off the road doing sound for Phish and is in detox. And her Dava, beaming in front. To her the lack of partner to her, and father to Dava is glaring. But she loves this portrait - the modern family.
On her way to the kitchen to pour her nightly glass of Coppola chardonnay, a thought torments her. No one is coming. No knight in shining armor. Girls like you don’t get that guy. Your mom is beautiful - blonde - valedictorian - homecoming queen. You are on your own.
She throws open the fridge and grabs the lovely gold-labeled bottle of her best friend, Chardonnay. She salivates thinking of what she’s about to taste. And feel. The 1950s diamond-shaped leaded glass kitchen windows bounce her reflection back at her. She looks good - but slips in to pity.
What if I can’t protect him? Please God send someone to protect me - us. Tired.
She pours the wine as a knock on the door scares the shit out of her. She puts down the bottle - not the glass.
At the door is Barbi.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Barbi is lit up like a neon sign. How does this girl still look gorgeous even when fried to the gills on blow?
“Sorry, is Dava here - he sleeping?” She’s tweaky. She hugs and kisses Jenny and pushes her way in the door.
“Yes - sleeping - it’s 10 o’clock. What did you get in to?”
I went with Brad to see Love Jones. He had blow.
“On a school night?”
“Hah yeah I know bad choice - but he handed me the bullet and I had the fuck-its.”
Jenny knows them so well. She takes a huge swig of her wine. “Fuck it is right my girl. Today sucked.”
“Brad is sooooo hot. But sketchy. Sorry to just show up but he dropped me off here cuz he had to go “home” (she does the quotes finger gesture) and there was no way I could go home alone on this shit.”
Barbi pulls a bullet full of blow out of her Cynthia Rowley baguette.
“Oh my god nooooo. Dava is upstairs and so much drama at work. Today a grip dropped…”
Barbi squeals and shuffles across the room and plops on the over-stuffed sofa - “It’s been sooooo long since we’ve been just us - talking and having a moment - let’s just have a glass of wine - then I’ll go home.”
Okay one glass can’t hurt.
Jenny brings another crystal wine stem from the kitchen and a freshly cracked Coppola chard. She lights more candles and sits cross legged on the couch. She knows a cranked Barbi can talk her face off - so she settles in to be talked at for hours.
Midnight will be bedtime - no later.
An hour later Barbi continues on about Brad and all his shortcomings, peppered in with his hotness - and stops abruptly. “So sorry - I’ve done all the talking. This blow is wow. Tell me honey - tell me everything.”
“A grip dropped a light - hot glass embedded in a PA’s face and I’m probably going to get sued. On top of all the other fun that makes up my…”
Barbi binks and inhales heavily - “Guess who was at The Mint? I can not believe I forgot to tell you! Sam.”
“Wow, Sam.” Jenny hadn’t thought about the dalliances with Sam in years. A high-powered manager back when she was working her way up as a production assistant.
Sam hit on her on his band’s music video shoot by constantly asking her to bring him drinks and candy from the craft service table. She handed him a lollipop and he made her unwrap it - then eat it.
She should have stayed at the wrap party at Lucy’s El Adobe. He must have gotten her phone number from the call sheet and paged her three times before she called back the unknown number from the dirty payphone.
He insisted she walk next door and meet him at Dragonfly.
When she finally got home at 4AM she fought the feeling that something bad had just happened. It’s fine that he was insistent on sex. She wanted it. She thought maybe that’s what would transpire when she got in his car after three martinis. She was uneasy as he slipped his hand down her pants driving up to the Hollywood sign. She did not expect him so quickly, and forcefully inside her.
“Jesus - Sam. How did he look?”
“He looks great - rich, powerful, a little older. He has the same gorgeous hair as Dava. I love gingers.”
Wait - what?
Jenny grabs the bullet from Barbi and inhales. One can’t hurt.
When Jenny is high she feels the earth spin and time slip away. The coke and chardonnay fill her empty core. She listens to Barbi ramble on about her work at the agency. It’s Barbi’s night as storyteller.
The morning light pierces the window as Jenny and Barbi are coming down. They rode three lines of blow over the last seven hours - reliving every high and low of their friendship. Since they met at Emerson College, she’s number two to Sherry, but more enjoyable - she doesn’t chide.
“Ew, it’s 7AM I gotta get Dava up - and to school.”
That vampire feeling sets in. Jenny hates seeing the sunrise when she’s been up all night. Her core hurts - her soul sick. She fucked up.
Other 28 year-olds are doing the same thing. Sans child.
“It’s fine, we can take him to school in a cab.”
Jenny cringes at the vision of it - but agrees. No other options.
She wakes Dava as Barbi gets him cereal and juice. Just two coked out moms getting the kid off to school.
“Barbi please call the taxi!” Jenny yells from upstairs as Dava brushes his teeth.
Jenny changes in to her fave Adidas track suit and flip flops - brushes teeth and covers the smoke and wine smell in Chanel No. 5.
“Yes dear - I am your fucking assistant.”
“A dollar!”, Dava screams from upstairs.
The big yellow taxi pulls through the Hollywood Schoolhouse roundabout. Nothing to look at here folks - car trouble.
Dava is super excited - he loves cars and talked the driver’s ear off the whole way - asking a thousand questions about how the meter works, how he knows where to take people without looking at a map and how long he’s been driving and if he thinks Dava should follow in his footsteps.
Dava hugs and kisses Jenny - her kryptonite. “Have a great day baby - I’ll see you after.”
“Aunt Barbi, love you and please put a dollar in the swear jar!” Dava demands in his high, sweet voice.
“Yes, yes munchkin - take all my money.”
Hours later as Jenny slips in and out of consciousness, she sets an alarm for 4:30PM to pick up her dream child.
*GLITTER FADES is creative non-fiction. Names and details have been changed.*