Five Women (48 page)

Chapter Forty-two

S
CI-FI WAS IN THE PIPELINE
for fall ‘96 on TV. Alien invaders, alien abductions, scary things coming down from the sky. Strange life-forms in business suits working alongside human beings. Scientists who believed, and those who scoffed, constantly being tested by bizarre events. Eve was called to Hollywood to read for a pilot.

The one-hour prime-time show was to be called
They Are Here
, and it was rather lighthearted and fey as those shows went, although there was plenty of action too. Her character was named Cornelia, and she was a space alien who was also a scientist (weren't they all?) and it wasn't a lead or even one of the large supporting parts, but Cornelia was going to appear in every segment even when she had no lines. Eve knew it was her chance. Although she had put down television as being beneath her, when push came to shove she was ready to take a small recurring role because she knew that when the producers and the public got to see her work she would get a bigger part and then, finally, she would be a star. She was absolutely convinced of it. Apparently everyone had forgotten about her troubles on
Brilliant Days
, or perhaps people who did nighttime didn't keep up with soaps. At any rate, when she arrived for her audition everyone was cordial, and a few days later her agent told her she had won the part.

It was odd to be back in Hollywood again, and it would be odder still if the pilot was bought and she had to stay. The soft, warm air brought back memories, even though the traffic was worse, the sky was discolored with smog, and she was a good deal older and wiser. She would rent a little house, Eve decided, in Studio City near where the show was to be shot, with a palm tree in the backyard, or maybe even an orange tree, and possibly even a pool. This time she wouldn't have to support Nicole. She would be able to spend all her time and money on herself. Orange Fiestaware, she thought. And I've always wanted to put a ceramic flamingo in my yard.

Eve was euphoric. She couldn't stop bragging to Gara and Felicity and Billie in Yellowbird. She was sorry Kathryn had left town and wouldn't be able to know the news, but when Kathryn turned on her TV she would see. “I don't want to lose my apartment because it's cheap,” Eve told them, “so I'll sublet it. If you know anyone who wants to sublet, let me know.”

“If the pilot gets bought and the show is a hit, you could be in California for five years,” Felicity said hopefully.

“True. I could give up my apartment then. I could go from one series to another and buy a mansion in Bel Air.”

“I certainly hope this works out for you,” Felicity said. “My fingers are crossed.”

“Mine too,” Gara said.

In the spring, when Eve went out to shoot the pilot, Nicole insisted she stay with her, since she had broken up with Brian and was in between boyfriends and said she would enjoy the company. Nicole was quite a faithful little thing, Eve thought; she'd had those two long-term relationships and even though she met attractive men all the time at work she was careful who she dated. Nicole had a two-bedroom garden apartment in Beverly Hills now, in a white building that looked like a large private house, on a tree-lined street. She was driving a BMW convertible, like all the rich high school kids, but she had paid for hers herself and she only looked like a kid. It always amazed Eve how young Nicole looked, even though she was twenty-nine. It gave her a very wide range of roles.

Eve didn't have to worry about memorizing her part because she had only two lines: “Here's the laser, sir,” and “No, he's not here.” Waiting to be made up she flipped through
Vogue
and wondered if she should color her hair with more red in it so it would photograph better.

She was in the swivel chair under the hot lights. What were they—they were putting latex on her head! What was that thing? It looked and felt like a too-tight shower cap, and it had brown spots on it like Homer Simpson's boss's head, and they were gluing lumpy plastic on her face! “What are you doing?” Eve shrieked.

“Don't wiggle,” the makeup woman said sternly. Her name was Trellis, and she had made herself up to look like a member of a rock group, and was wearing black nail polish, which Eve had given up a year ago as being too common.

“They won't be able to see my face,” Eve protested. She was horrified. How would anyone know who she was? All she could think of was that humiliating day long ago when she had played Yahoo the Clown for a bunch of little birthday brats in Beverly Hills. “I'm allergic to this shit!” she shrieked.

“Nobody is allergic to it. Hold still.”

At least she could move her mouth, at least she could talk. The mask was surprisingly mobile. If you looked closely and you knew her you could tell it was Eve Bader, otherwise nothing looked familiar except the eyes. At least they had left her eyes. The eyes that were the mirror to the soul.

“Nobody told me I would be doing this part in full drag,” Eve snarled.

Trellis laughed. “What did you think? You're a space alien.”

“So are the people on
Third Rock from the Sun.
”

“But they're in disguise as humans, remember?”

Eve crossed her arms and set her lips. There had never been any description of the space aliens in the script she had read, and she had really not given their appearance much thought.

“You might want to cut your hair short,” Trellis said. “This cap really messes it up, and it's very hot, too. Unfortunately they haven't found a way for it to breathe.”

“I will
never
cut my hair,” Eve said.

“Suit yourself.”

On the set Eve drank bottled water through a straw and cursed her agent. Even though she had only those two lines, she was in some other scenes in the background and they wouldn't let her leave. She had been appalled at the way she looked in the mirror and when she looked around at the other space aliens toiling away in their laboratory, she felt like one of the Munchkins in
The Wizard of Oz.
Who was going to discover her now?

The director, Nelson Gruen, was a tall, thin young man who looked as if he should be dating Nicole. “Good work,” he said, patting Eve on the shoulder as he went by.

Good work? Suddenly Eve felt her depression lifting. He had noticed her, he had singled her out. People
would
know who she was. Maybe not that she was Eve, but that she was Cornelia, and then they would read
TV Guide
, which would surely write about the show, and there would be a group picture, at the very least, and she would be identified. Her part would be bigger by then. Maybe she would have a love interest. She glanced at the other space aliens and then at the humans and thought that she could easily be matched up with either species. After all, she had the power. This show was going to do it for her, at last. She was sure of that.

“They made me wear a mask,” she told Nicole that night at dinner. Nicole had taken her to Spago to celebrate. “My skin still hurts. I have very delicate skin, you know.”

“People will love you,” Nicole said. “Just behave yourself.”

“What does that mean?” Eve asked, insulted.

“Do your job, be nice, don't ask them to change anything. Do what I do. You'll be working forever.”

“And since when did you become the mother and I the child?” Eve said.

Nicole actually thought for a moment. “I don't know exactly,” she said. “But I like it better this way.”

“I have something to say about that, you know,” Eve said.

Nicole only smiled.

As she had hoped, the pilot was picked up, and they were going to start to shoot the series in mid-July, to go on in the fall. Eve sublet her apartment for six months, without telling her landlord, who frowned on subletting because he would rather she leave so he could raise the rent, and told him the bearded artist who would be staying there was her cousin, house-sitting while she was in Hollywood becoming a star. She was going to go out to L.A. in early June so she would have plenty of time to find her little dream house and fix it up before the hard work began. Of course she had to have a going away dinner at Yellowbird.

“Why do we have this table?” Eve asked Billie when she got there and saw Gara and Felicity sitting where the sight lines were not good. “I don't like this table.”

“We're busy tonight,” Billie said.

“Well, I'm going to Hollywood tomorrow to become a star, and this is my swan song here, so I want my table changed. I want that one.”

Billie shrugged and picked up their menus. “Come on, star,” she said.

Eve smiled, and sat down where she could see everything. “I heard that Eben has a woman living with him this summer in the Hamptons,” she said to Felicity. “She's twenty-four.”

“Good luck to her,” Felicity said.

“I don't care anymore,” Eve said.

“Neither do I.”

The truth was Eve didn't care; Eben's sex life had become nothing more than interesting gossip. She was sure to find a good replacement for him in Hollywood, maybe even a live-in lover again, like the old days. But this time of course both she and her man would have money. Eve felt that she was on the threshold of the best of all possible worlds.

Felicity left early, looking tired. Eve, however, was wide awake. “Let's go somewhere to have a drink,” she said to Gara.

“No, I don't think so. I'm tired too.”

“Well, I want to do something.”

“I want a cab,” Gara said.

They paid their bills and started to leave. “Aren't you going to say goodbye to Billie?” Gara asked.

Eve shrugged. “She was never very nice to me. She's moody.”

“Moody?”

“Don't you think so?”

“No.”

Eve waved and smiled at Billie, who waved and smiled back. They headed for the door. There at the front booth was Nelson Gruen, her young director, sitting with a good-looking older man, in his fifties, Eve thought; not exactly her type, a little too elegant and snobby-looking, but she was leaving New York anyway. “Well, hello, Nelson,” Eve said, stopping, pleased to see him on a social basis so she could bond.

He looked at her for a moment. “Oh, Eve,” he said.

“What are you doing in New York? And in Yellowbird of all places?”

“My roots are still in New York, and Yellowbird—this is Michael Hinthorn, Eve Bader—Yellowbird is Michael's hangout.”

“I've never seen you here before,” Eve said to the older man. “We must come here on different nights.”

“Or maybe on the same night sometimes,” he said. He held out his hand to Gara. “I'm Michael Hinthorn.”

“I'm Gara Whiteman.”

“I've seen
you
,” he said.

“You have?”

Eve couldn't imagine why he had noticed Gara and not her. Nobody ever noticed Gara; despite her sometimes bright clothing, she always seemed to be wearing the protective coloring of an animal at risk.

“Why don't you two sit down for a minute?” Michael said.

That was all Eve had to hear. She sat down next to Nelson, and Gara sat across from her next to his friend. “I hope we're not interrupting your discussion,” Gara said.

“The discussion was finished, and now we're just relaxing.”

“Michael is my lawyer,” Nelson said. “He makes my deals. Eve is in the show.”

“Ah. And you, Gara?”

“I'm a therapist,” Gara said.

“We all need one of those,” Nelson said.

“Would anyone like a drink?” Michael asked. “Eve? Gara?”

“White wine,” Eve said.

“Thank you,” Gara said. She was looking more comfortable now, but she had her arms wrapped around her breasts again in that mannerism of hers, which she apparently wasn't even aware of. What did she think, that they were going to fall off? I must do that some time in a scene, Eve thought, if I ever do a breast cancer movie. There would be plenty of them to do, she was sure.

Michael ordered a bottle of white wine. “I come here for the music,” he said. “Sometimes late at night. As far as I'm concerned the best music was written between the mid-sixties and the mid-seventies.”

“That's what Billie always says,” Gara said. “Except for her few favorites from the past.”

“Did you ever hear her night tape?”

“Oh, yes.”

“That was Billie.”

“I know.”

“I'm looking forward to starting work,” Eve said. “I'm leaving tomorrow to settle in.”

Nelson was looking at her with a squinty-eyed look. “So you're Nicole Bader's mother,” he said.

“Yes, and I taught her everything she knows.”

“You taught her well.”

“I also taught myself,” Eve said, a little defensively. After all,
They Are Here
was her show, not her daughter's.

“You must be very proud of her,” Nelson said. “She's so talented, and so beautiful.”

“Oh, I am.”

“It's nice to see your children follow in your footsteps,” Michael said. “You always think they won't want to. My daughter and son are both lawyers, too.”

“And your wife?” Gara asked.

“Ex-wife.”

“Oh.” It was obviously not his wife's occupation she was interested in but his marital status, and of course he knew it too because he was smiling. But then she looked away and busied herself with her glass.

Poor Gara, Eve thought, she'll never know how to flirt with a man. I wonder how she ever got her husband.

They stayed there until midnight. After they had finished the bottle of wine Gara got a little more friendly with Nelson's lawyer, and Eve was relieved because that gave her the chance to have Nelson to herself. She wanted him to remember her, so he would make her part bigger and give her more lines. Eventually she offered to fix him up with Nicole, since he was apparently such an admirer of hers, and they were both available. He said he couldn't think of anything nicer.