Just for december, p.6
Just for December, page 6
‘Thank you,’ she says, snatching the material away from him as he moves to try and help her zip up. She does it herself, hurriedly, so fast it almost breaks, then adds: ‘I hope it’s been amazing to have me here as per your summons, oh godly one, but contract or not, I’m going home. See ya.’
She stumbles down the narrow steps of the trailer as she flounces down them, not sure why she’s gone off the handle with quite so much vigour except Jesus: she’s so over this Duke guy. Screw him. Screw this whole stupid thing. She should never have agreed to it. She’ll find the care home money another way – any other way. A man like Duke can’t just say jump.
She styles out her misstep and slams the door behind her.
Duke Carlisle is an egocentric jackass, she thinks to herself, trying to figure out which way it is back to the hotel. As she walks, she remembers how he helped her with her coat. Urgh!
8
Duke
It turns into a cloudless, bright-blue-sky day, and as the sun gets brighter it serves to melt away Duke’s thoughts about Evie. It’s been less than twenty-four hours and they’ve butted heads three times. Once can be forgiven, twice is unfortunate, but three strikes? Yeah. He’s out.
For a moment it seemed like they might be able to turn things around in the trailer, and then she went postal on him, storming out. The woman is obviously unhinged. Duke had imagined she’d be like the characters in her books, but he’s realised something else now: people who make art are seldom ‘normal’. Evie must just be another one of those people-who-make-things. Actors, writers, artists, designers, musicians … when you try to experience the world and then say something about the world, you have to have a paper-thin skin to let the world affect you, to let it run through you. He’s going to have to file Evie into the ‘genius-but-volatile-and-unpredictable-with-it’ category.
Even though it’s freezing the sun shines intensely, in the way it does in Europe. Duke loves his house in London – a rambling townhouse with real working fireplaces and dark, ssumptuously decorated rooms – but the city itself is hard for him. Obviously being British he wants a UK base, but he isn’t in touch with his old school friends up north and all his industry friends are in LA, where he also keeps a home. He loves the sunshine there, and the way the weather so positively affects everyone’s disposition. The weather in the UK is always somehow damp. In London, he always seems to have cold feet, like the water in the air permeates his bones. Sure, he’s wearing thermal socks on set today, and thermal long johns under his costume, but it’s not cold like it gets at home. It’s crisp and clear, and it makes him feel … well, better about things. His broken heart seems less broken here, the change of scene helping to change the way he’s thinking about what happened back at Pinewood.
They’re set up in the marketplace beside the town hall. It’s a wide, paved square with a terracotta-coloured fountain and ten-foot Christmas tree with white lights and a big gold star. Lights are strung through the trees dotted around, lit, despite it being daytime. The timber buildings are three storeys with wooden frames in red and black set against white walls. Everything goes smoothly, with the weather making everyone chirpy and efficient. They get what they need quickly, and Duke knows he’s done a good job. He has to admit Daphne is still amazing to work opposite – she gives him a lot, and it means he can give a lot back. The chemistry doesn’t have to be manufactured. His tentative okay-ness is sudden, a quick wind change, but since they spoke it’s sunk in for him that he and Daphne might really be better as friends. He can see how that might be true.
She didn’t have to shag the director, though.
If he’s truly honest, his ego might take a bit longer to heal than his heart.
For all her bluster, Evie has returned to set. Duke is aware of her behind the monitors, catching glimpses of her between takes. She’s got her sunglasses on now and looks ready for the slopes. Duke wonders if she does actually ski. He’s spent time with Kate Hudson and her family in Aspen – they get on like a house on fire, and he loves Kurt and Goldie, they’re a real laugh. They’d like Evie, understand her tortured-artist routine.
Okay, that’s peculiar. Thinking about Evie on holiday with him is creepy.
He glances across to where she’s stood again. She looks up. He turns away. Hmm. He’s still going to give her a wide berth. Apparently she isn’t off home like she threatened earlier, but still, their worlds should probably remain separate.
‘Hey,’ a voice says from behind him when they break for lunch. ‘Hey!’
He turns. Evie. So much for that wide berth. He takes off his own sunglasses and sees immediately that she’s mad. No surprises there, then. It’s her default state.
‘Hey, me?’ he asks, incredulous.
‘Have you seen this?’ she asks, handing him her phone. It’s a text thread, with the name Magda at the top. The last message says: Erm, okay girl. Talk FAST please!! Then there’s a link to a gossip site. He takes off a glove and opens it. The headline reads: DUKE CARLISLE TAKES A WRONG TURN WITH EXPLOSIVE AUTHOR FIGHT ON THE SET OF ON THE ROMANTIC ROAD.
There’s a series of photographs of them from six hours ago, outside the make-up trailer, with Evie gesticulating wildly and Duke looking half amused, half pissed off. He moves his body to shield the phone from the glare of the sun, and squints to read the piece:
Hollywood heartthrob Duke Carlisle was pictured having what appeared to be a heated exchange with a colleague on the set of his new movie today.
The Anywhere You Go star, 37 – wowing in a snug grey tracksuit and form-fitting T-shirt – was said to have entered a war of words that ended in tears.
Author Evie Bird, 36 – looking pale and unkempt in exclusive photographs taken just hours into filming on location in Würzburg, Germany – stormed out of a trailer after a blazing row, sources revealed. The movie in question is an adaptation of her romance novel On the Romantic Road, with Duke playing lead character George.
Handsome Duke clearly isn’t known for keeping the ladies of his latest movie happy, as he’s also fresh out of a break-up with his co-star Daphne Diamond. She was caught cavorting with married director Brad Beckonoff not long after filming in London commenced, and their affair is believed to be ongoing. Brad is married to Caterina Falange, and they have three young children.
Tension is alleged to be high with bad blood between all the stars on set, with Duke working under the man who stole his girlfriend, the ex who spurned him, and now the author he just can’t seem to get along with.
Evie Bird is no stranger to explosive sets herself, raised in Hollywood by esteemed writer-director and now estranged father Donald Gilbert. Gilbert was fired as head writer on his TV show Let’s All Just Get Along after allegations of unprofessional behaviour.
The argument comes as another blow for the film, a UK production in collaboration with Starry Night Studios, as gossip from set continues to eclipse production. The nature of this argument is unknown.
Bestseller Evie has an average 4.2-star rating on review sites, for novels that feature themes such as palliative care, teenage abortion, extramarital affairs and chance meetings that lead to love.
On the Romantic Road was optioned for film after the book went viral online, and is slated for festive release next year.
‘Right.’ Duke nods, his nostrils flaring. ‘Well, I come across as a total bloody idiot, don’t I?’
He looks to Evie for moral support, since they’re in this together, but if his nostrils are flaring Evie’s are positively tunnel-like. She’s gone bright red.
‘Duke, you get stuff like this written about you all the time. I am in sixteen pictures! Why does anyone need sixteen freakin’ pictures of me calling you a … a …’
Duke looks at her.
‘A what?’ he asks, genuinely curious.
‘That’s my face, all over the internet! And what’s all this about my average star rating for my books, too? Four point two is good. They say it like I’m publishing blank pages that still manage to disappoint. A four point two is incredible.’
‘I agree.’ He nods. ‘A four point two is like … eighty-four per cent on Rotten Tomatoes? In fact, you’d be certified fresh on Rotten Tomatoes for an eighty-four per cent. Not that I’m surprised.’
She blinks ‘Thanks,’ she says, and he can’t read her tone.
‘Also,’ he adds, because he can’t help himself. ‘I didn’t know you were Donald Gilbert’s daughter.’
‘I’m not.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘They got that bit wrong. Duke, what are we going to do about this? No. Wait.’ She seems to reconsider what she’s asking. ‘This is your fault. What are you going to do about this?’
‘Nothing?’ he offers, and her face darkens. Duke shakes his head. ‘Evie, this is showbiz. The papers write things, and, like you’ve just pointed out, most of it is made up.’
‘But this wasn’t made up. We had a fight and somebody here caught it on camera. And who are all of these “sources”?’
‘MADE. UP,’ Duke reiterates. ‘They even gave you the wrong dad! That’s how made up it is!’ He notices tears threaten in her eyes. ‘Look,’ he says, trying to be calm. ‘I’m sorry if the story has upset you, and I can understand how intrusive it must feel. As you have already pointed out, you don’t even want to be here. In fact, I thought you were going home, so, if that’s still your plan you can be certain of the fact this won’t be repeated. At least not for you, anyway. For me, it’s part of the job.’
‘I’m not going home,’ Evie grumbles, looking at the ground.
‘Oh?’ Duke says.
‘That contract is legally binding, apparently. You’ve got me here as a hostage. A hostage who is now being photographed against her will.’
Duke considers this. He feels for her – he does! – but the machine is bigger than he is. He can’t rewrite the laws of the biz, established a century ago.
‘I’ll see if I can do anything about the contract, okay? I can’t control the paps, but if you really do want to go home, I’ll ask how we can make that happen.’
She looks at him from under her lashes then, like she hates having to acknowledge what he’s said might be a solution.
‘Don’t worry about saying thanks,’ Duke sarcastically offers, when it’s obvious she isn’t going to give any words of gratitude for his suggestion.
She scoffs at him. ‘I’ve got nothing to thank you for,’ she tells him.
Seriously, what crawled up her jacksy and died? It’s like she’s incapable of basic niceties.
‘This is your world, and you’ve dragged me into it,’ she tells him. ‘So I’m not saying thank you for you cleaning up your own mess. Just get it sorted, okay? So we can both go on with our very separate, very different lives?’
Duke sighs. This woman. He’s never met a more difficult, stubborn, obstinate human.
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘Thanks for the pep talk.’
She turns on her heel and the way she storms off makes Duke realise he’s never truly seen anyone flounce before. At least not since this morning.
Duke calls his therapist, Phoebe, that night. He’s been seeing her on and off for six years now, after Jennifer Aniston told him it was imperative he get a neutral party to talk to if he was going to survive his career. It helps give him another perspective when he’s stuck in his own head. In fact, Phoebe doesn’t often say much. Mostly he talks, and she nods or makes a ‘hmm’ noise, exactly like she’s doing today.
‘So I feel like, okay, we’re in the papers. But what did she expect? This is what happens in this world. Although, actually, I suppose she did say she likes being a nobody, in the make-up trailer, when we actually had the fight. So … maybe I do have some culpability here. Hmm. Well. I can own that, you know? I can own my culpability. It’s just not a good look for any of us, now it’s out there. It makes the movie look bad, and God … Ben and J.Lo proved that the last thing you want to be known for is your personal life over The Work. Urgh. I can’t believe I just said The Work. I know it’s not minimum wage on a factory line, but it does matter to me. I think. I’m kind of interested in how Evie avoids any sort of public scrutiny at all. I might even be a bit jealous. That’s a horrible feeling. Jealousy. And I suppose I feel a bit rejected by her, which is obviously my trigger. She just isn’t impressed by me, and after everything with my mum, you know, all I want is her attention, her approval, and it’s just this stupid … compulsion that I have, that everyone has to like me. I want to control the situation so that I am liked, which is actually kind of the opposite of being a good person, isn’t it? Not that I’m looking for evidence that I’m a bad person, I know we’ve been through that. But in terms of my behaviour matching up to my best self … what do you think? Am I doing okay?’
He waits for Phoebe to speak.
‘What do you think, Duke?’ she asks. Typical. Duke sighs.
‘I think that it’s manipulative to try and make people like you, so I should try and stop. I think that’s what Evie probably represents, or whatever: I got her over here, I expected all these things from her, and now I’ve really screwed things up because I had no idea she was so private and she’s in the press. So … I can say sorry, and do what I said I’d do and get her out of here.’
Phoebe makes another hmm sound, and then announces, ‘Okay then, Duke, well that’s time for today.’
Duke looks at the clock. 8.55 p.m. He rings off the call with Phoebe and starts scrolling through his phone for the exec producers of the film, desperate to be a man of his word. He hates that Evie is right: he’s abused his power, here. That’s a bitter pill to swallow.
9
Evie
Evie is still fuming, even by evening. That’s her face, all over the internet. It was basically the middle of the night back in Utah, when Magda saw it, but she hasn’t been sleeping, what with the divorce, and was apparently scrolling stupid gossip sites in bed so saw the story literally as it went up. After asking Duke to deal with it (or, rather, telling Duke to deal with it) she’s come back to the hotel, and she’s pacing up and down at the bottom of the bed, letting her thoughts run wild. She doesn’t want to be here. Her agent has said she has to be. She just wants to go home.
Evie hates herself for doing it, but she googles her name. The ‘story’ is everywhere. She is everywhere. There are hundreds of search results already.
It feels claustrophobic. It feels invasive. And in the pit of her stomach there’s a ball of something close to fear. When she examines it, the most she can figure out is that this fear relates to her dad. ‘Dad’. His fame destroyed her family. She doesn’t want anything even close to her own celebrity – notorious or otherwise – in case it destroys her. How did they even get hold of the fact that she’s related to him? Thank God Duke didn’t seem to push the issue. Nobody has. Still … she doesn’t want her stupid freaking face up there. She tells people she works in marketing at the coffee shop she works from sometimes, avoids literary festivals and bookshop events because people make her nervous. She hates talking in front of crowds. Sure, she doesn’t sell as many books because of it, because she won’t hop on TikTok or Instagram Live or run a Facebook group with read-alongs. But that’s okay. She doesn’t know a lot about life, but she does know that if you do what Duke has done – if you do what her father has done – and give the world a tiny piece of yourself, it will never be enough. Better not to give them anything. And besides, the lie she can tell herself is that maybe her father doesn’t know how to find her, how to track her down. If she’s offline and untraceable, there’s a reason he’s never been back in touch. But with her face and name all over the news, surely he’s going to see it, and then Evie will know for sure that it isn’t because he can’t find her that she hasn’t seen him in over twenty years. It’s because he doesn’t want to.
Her phone beeps. It’s her agent again.
Okay, the text says. Apparently, production have an idea about how to proceed with everything. They want you in suite 304 for a meeting at 8 a.m.
Evie exhales. A solution. Good.
Sure, she texts back. Thanks. Any clue what the solution is?
None, her agent tells her. But just stay open to hearing it, okay? I think you’ll have to stay out there, but at least there will be ways to make it bearable and worth your while.
Hmmmm. Evie considers this. She hasn’t written a word today, and she swore she’d try for a few thousand. She takes a shower to wash the day off her and sets an alarm for 6 a.m. She’ll do it first thing, bash out what she can before the meeting.
Tomorrow will be better, she tells herself. It sure as hell can’t get any worse than today.
10
Duke
‘Absolutely not. No. No way. That’s ridiculous.’
Duke’s had an hour’s head start on coming to terms with what Evie has only just found out: that they should, according to the movie heads, fake-date.
‘It’s for the investors,’ Marnie, the head of production, clarifies. ‘I cannot overemphasise just how nervous what happened in London made them, and now there’s this. Gossip forums are rife with stories about the film being doomed, and you know what? We deserve more than that. I, for one, have worked too hard for this to all be dead in the water. We all have.’
Duke watches Evie size her up, eyes shooting daggers.
‘As a woman, you honestly think this is okay?’
‘Yes, actually,’ Marnie tells her. ‘Because as a woman I know that gossip is a tool of the patriarchy, a way for women – because it is mostly women on these sites, and it’s mostly women clicking on all the articles too … what was I saying?’ She appears to lose her train of thought.
‘The patriarchy,’ Duke supplies, and now Evie’s daggers are mentally fired at him. The fury in her face is enough to make it feel like she’s actually pierced skin.
