Friends With Way Too Many Benefits (28 page)

"Sorry." She held back a giggle.

"Um, so, Miss Joseph also suffers from a bit of O.C.D. so if you need to..." He pinched the bridge of his nose holding back a laugh. "...um if you need to hand her anything, you must be holding that item with a tissue between your fingers and the item."

"Really?"

"Yes." Suddenly, his eyes widened with panic. "But don't hand her the tissue. Don't do that."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Jillian rolled her eyes.

Paul shot her a tired look and grumbled, "And that's why you'll notice boxes of tissues everywhere."

A woman asked, "Does this also go for the men?"

"It does and I already covered this with them along with their specific rules."

"Really, what are their rules?"

"Oh, are you planning a sex change in the next eight weeks?" He raised his eyebrows mockingly waiting for a reply.

"Um, no."

"Well, then I would just focus on the rules that apply to you." After letting out a sigh, he asked, "Any questions?" After a few seconds of silence he continued, "Great, you can all go, except for Jillian. Jillian do you have a minute?"

Jillian remained behind along with Marcia, the P.A., and as the other women left the room Paul said, "Amanda would like to talk to you today."

"About what?"

"She wants to discuss the character with you, to get your take on her interpretation."

"Okay, sure." She gave him a concerned look. "But, uh, how can I talk to her without looking her in the eye?"

"You can look in the general area..." His voice cracked and he gestured with his hands as if he were near the end of his rope. "...but just don't look directly at her."

With her jaw hanging open, she shook her head, perplexed. "I don't even know what that means."

Sighing, he tapped his finger against his upper lip. "Look, just... just... figure it out. We're going nuts still struggling to find things on her contract list."

"Like what?" Jillian widened her eyes, intrigued.

"Like, um, you know those ice cubes that are cylinder shaped, but have holes in them?"

"Yeah, I love those." She nodded, wearing a wide smile.

"Well, Miss Joseph apparently shares that opinion." He sighed. "We found some cylinder shaped ones, but they didn't have holes in them so we, uh, tried drilling them, but they fell apart."

"Wait, you
actually
tried drilling holes in ice cubes?" She scoffed.

Shooting daggers into her with his glare, he spread his fingers wide with his hands shaking for a few seconds until he balled them up into fists and took a deep calming breath. "Yes, we're dealing with a lot right now."

"I think they sell those at the Giant supermarket," Jillian said.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

He lifted his hands in the air, pleading. "Please tell Marcia where that is."

"Sure. Anything else?"

"I don't think so, um..." Turning to Marcia, he asked, "Are we missing anything else?"

She reviewed the sheet on her clipboard. "Let's see... we found the flexible bendy straws, the sandalwood-eucalyptus candles, the organic fruit and that special brand of water, the candy and oh, yes, we got the peach colored napkins."

"Get this, she had to have thirty seven peach colored napkins... not thirty five or forty..." Paul rolled his eyes. "Exactly. Thirty. Seven."

"Wow, that's a specific amount, maybe it's a lucky number or—"

He sneered, angrily. "Or maybe she's out of her fu—" After clearing his throat, he rubbed his hands together with his eyes closed and took a deep breath. During the short break the two women shared a concerned look. When he finally returned to them, he forced a smile. "She's an artist. She's very, very, very artistic."

Leaning in close to him, Jillian whispered with a grin, "Keep saying it over and over."

He nodded then headed toward the door, calling back as he went. "Jillian you're a lifesaver with this ice thing."

"Where can I find the ice?" Marcia asked as she readied her pen.

Two hours later, Jillian was led by Marcia to a luxury trailer parked on the side of the house. Marcia knocked twice then waited, smiling politely at Jillian. After ten seconds and still no answer, she knocked again. Suddenly a middle-aged, balding man wearing an expensive suit ripped open the door. "What is it?"

"Ms. Grayson is here to see Miss Joseph."

"Who?"

"Jillian Grayson, she's the author of the novel."

"Oh, yeah, right." He turned to look inside the trailer. "Do you want to see her?"

"Yes I do. Please give us a few minutes."

The man held the door open for Jillian. Hesitantly, she slipped inside the trailer and got her first look at the superstar. Wearing a satin full length pink robe, Amanda Jo lounged on an overstuffed chair sipping a bottle of Fiji water. Despite Jillian's opinion, she looked pretty damn beautiful.

"Miss Joseph." Jillian looked at her then suddenly remembering tore her eyes away and looked directly at the bottle of water.

Amanda followed her gaze. "Would you like a water bottle?"

"No, thank you."

"Have a seat."

Glancing around the room, Jillian spotted the stack of peach-colored napkins and held back a smile before sitting down and turning her attention to Amanda. "You wanted to talk about the character?" Jillian looked past her and over her head.

Amanda turned to look behind her, made a face and returned to the nervous writer. "Do you need something?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"No, I mean, Yes, I'm fine."

Amanda shook her head. "Anyway, I've read the script and I have to tell you, I love the story."

"Thank you." Jillian smiled, glancing quickly at her then away.

"Now the Anastasia character, she's suffering from some sort of mental illness, right?"

"Um, no..." Returning her attention to Amanda, she shook her head. "What makes you think that?"

"So then she's just a pedophile then."

"What? No, she's—"

"Oh, I love a challenging role like this." Amanda stood and grabbed a copy of the script from the table, placing a finger to her lips. "Remember Angelina Jolie won an Oscar when she played a sociopath in
Girl, Interrupted
."

"Wait, I think you—"

"I like to create a back story for all my characters." The superstar plowed ahead. "So just tell me if you think I'm in the ballpark or if I'm way, way off."

"Um, okay..." Jillian sat nervously shaking her leg.

After flipping to a post-it marked page, Amanda took a few moments to read shaking her head and smiling then suddenly she looked pointedly to Jillian, who quickly turned her head away. "I don't think this is the first time she's molested a young boy. She's done it before... yes many times." Amanda tossed the script down and brought her hand to her chin, narrowing her eyes intensely. "But the question is was she abused herself as a child or did something else manifest this behavior?"

"Wait, no she's—"

"And... and..." The diva plowed ahead without giving her a chance to reply. "... did Anastasia have full sex with her very first victim or did she start like with hand jobs and work her way to intercourse?"

"Victim?" Jillian narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure you understand... um, no, offense, but you do realize this story is based on true events. Anastasia is actually based on me and how I met, my second husband."

"Really?"

"Yes, sure some of the scenes are embellished for—"

Oh, thank God." Amanda chuckled. "So that scene where he's sleeping and you pull down his blankets and fondle him, that didn’t actually happen?"

"I did not fondle him." Jillian replied a bit horrified.

"But you did pull down the blanket?" Amanda shot her an accusatory look.

"Well, yes, I, um, just a little. You see I was sort of writing a book at that time and it was strangely similar to what happened— finding him in bed and in, you know, that state, so, I, uh... yeah." Jillian rubbed her forehead with her hands and sighed.

"Okay, and this young boy was your son's best friend."

"Well, yes, but would you please stop calling him a young boy, he was in his mid-twenties at the time."

"All right. All right."

Jillian narrowed her eyes with concern then upon realizing she was looking directly at the superstar again, quickly looked away.

"So, he didn’t press charges or anything when—"

"What?"

"What do you do, lure them in with a sexual favor here or there and then once you have their confidence they have a hard time telling anyone, right... not even a parent."

Jillian blinked several times. "I'm sorry, I'm not following. This story is a comedy about a, uh..." She lifted her hands in the air nervously. "...somewhat older woman falling in love with a slightly younger man. I mean, there were no illegal acts portrayed or—"

"So you think..." Amanda scoffed. "...it's just fine to spy on a young man while he's masturbating in the shower?"

"Um, well, it, uh... it's complicated."

"Uh-huh. Oh, I see." Smiling, Amanda nodded her head. "So it's more of a black comedy then."

"No." Jillian frowned. "It's a sex comedy, but a lighthearted one with a lot of heart."

"Oh..." She returned a confused look.

Jillian shook her head and sighed staring down to the carpet.

"This is very helpful." Amanda headed to the front of the trailer and held the door opened waiting for Jillian. "Let me give this some more thought and I'll get back to you if I have any more questions."

Jillian narrowed her eyes. "You sure you have what you need?"

"Yes."

"Um, okay." Rising up from her chair, Jillian glanced at the actress then quickly averted her gaze as she made her way out the door.

"You sure Anastasia wasn't molested? Not even date raped or drunk at a party and passed around like a bag of chips or..."

Jillian looked back, stunned. "No, nothing like that."

"Okay…" Amanda rolled her eyes then screamed. "Carl! CARL!" She raised her hands up in frustration. "Where the hell is he?"

Jillian shrugged before heading down the stairs and rushing away with her eyes bugging out of her head.

Later that day, Jillian was heading to her car when she heard her name being called. Looking around, she spotted Paul inside the production trailer sitting in front of a computer and waving her over.

"Yes." She stepped up into the trailer.

"Carl, Amanda's manager stopped by and said you guys had a chance to meet. Have a seat."

"Uh-huh." She wore an uncomfortable expression as she sat down on the sofa.

"How'd it go?"

"I didn't want to say anything, but, um, I'm not sure she really understands the part she's playing." Jillian cringed. "She was asking me all these strange questions about Anastasia and whether or not she's a pedophile or just mentally ill or, I mean, she does know that this is a sex comedy, right?"

"Maybe she was just trying to be funny?" Paul smiled.

"I didn't get that impression... I don't know."

"Or maybe that's just her method, you know, to get into character. I've never worked with her before, but I've heard that once she gets into character she stays that way for the entire shoot."

"Okay..." She replied unsure. "Anything else?"

"Just one other thing." He grimaced. "Carl said that you were making Amanda a little uncomfortable."

"Really, what did I do?"

"He said you didn’t look at her when you talked to her."

"But…" She shot him an incredulous look. "… but, you told me not to."

"Oh, sorry." He shook his head. "Didn't I tell you we had that part wrong about looking her in the eye?"

"No, you didn't." Her jaw dropped open.

"Yeah, um, that was some other actress. Sorry."

"Oh, okay."

"She wasn't mad or anything, so—"

"Oh, good," she replied desperately trying to mask her sarcasm.

"Next time just talk to her normally… m'kay," he said as if he were speaking to a kindergartener.

"Absolutely." Smiling widely, she rose to her feet, gave him a thumbs-up, turned away from him making a crazy face and took off out the door.

Heading to the street toward her car, she heard a female voice calling out, "Jillian. Hey, Jillian."

"What now." She whispered to herself before turning to discover Natalie quickly heading right at her. Jillian sighed and whispered, "Jesus Christ."