Page 61 of Just for December
Evie moves off him and he sits up, and from there she starts to rub his back. Apparently he can’tstopthe crying. This is horrific.
‘It’s okay,’ she says, and her voice is kind and light. ‘I think I’m actually quite flattered.’
Duke lets out a snotty laugh. ‘I swear this has never happened before,’ he says. ‘I suppose I’m a bit emotional, and …’ He can’t finish the thought, because the tears are in the way.
‘Sssh,’ Evie soothes. ‘Take your time. I know it’s been a big month for you. I can’t say this has ever happened to me before, but truly, I can empathise as to why.’ He steals a look at her, and she gives him a lopsided grin. ‘It’s because I’m a spectacular shag, isn’t it?’ The wordshagsounds funny in her American accent, making Duke shake his head and do another breathy, mucousy chuckle.
Evie gets up, butt-naked, and he watches her go to the mini bar and pull out bottles of water, a can of Coke, and some crisps from the gift basket the producers have left for him. She’s got pendulous breasts that swing hypnotically, and a round tummy with small hips and a generous bum. Duke has been with people from within the industry for almost as long as he’s been in it. He doesn’t mean it horribly, only as a statement of fact, but hers is the first ‘normal’ body he’s seen in a long time. She has stubble under her arms and hair on her toes and her skin is smooth but imperfect. He can’t say it out loud – he never, ever would – but he likes it. He likes that she’s not plucked and preened and tanned andsmoothed and whatever the heck else Hollywood does to women – people! – to make them more desirable to audiences.
And he’s complicit, obviously, with his two nose jobs and veneers and injectables. He’s been asked before, in interviews, about unrealistic body standards, and he’s given vanilla ‘nothing’ answers about having access to the best chefs and trainers in the world, but that’s only a part of the story. Being with her makes him feel like he doesn’t want to lie anymore. He’s been co-director for two days and already his head is swimming with ideas about what happens next, where he can go from here. What if he sets up that production company with Daphne or starts directing more, or even leaves Hollywood altogether? Maybe he could write – maybe he could write with Evie. Something about real people and how they live.
‘Here,’ Evie says, handing him the water. He takes it with one hand and then stretches out the other to her left nipple, running a finger over it.
‘I think you might be the most gorgeous human being I’ve ever cried to after sex,’ he says, when she cocks an eyebrow.
‘Is that so?’ she whispers, and instead of climbing in beside him she clambers on top, straddling him so that he can issue a kiss to the chest he’s just been admiring.
‘This is like a form of worship,’ he says, running his tongue down from her neck.
‘It’s not bad, being worshipped by you, like this,’ she says, and he pulls back on her hair like he did outside, in the cold, nibbling at her neck and then holding her head so her gaze is steady with his, staring at her.
‘I’m serious,’ he whispers. ‘I feel like myself with you.’
She smiles, and he can’t read it.
‘Have you ever thought about writing a screenplay?’
She shakes her head. ‘Nuh-uh. Why?’
‘No reason,’ he tells her, kissing the exposed skin. She wriggles in pleasure, and he holds his grip even firmer. ‘Do you like that?’
‘Yes,’ she says, and he isn’t crying anymore.
‘Did you think this would happen when you got me out here?’ Evie asks, when they catch their breath. She’s under the crook of his arm, and they’re holding hands. Duke feels happy. Contented. He’s starting to understand something about himself – about who he is and what he wants.
‘Who could have guessed?’ he tells her. ‘No way.’
‘Hmmm,’ she says.
‘You?’ he asks, curious now.
She laughs. ‘No. I did not,’ she replies. ‘Obviously. Mostly I was just furious I had to be here at all.’
‘Ahh, yes,’ he says. ‘How could I forget?’
‘Nice way to end the year, though, I have to say. I don’t think I realised how much I needed to get away. I mean, it’s been peculiar, with the photos and the fake-dating and then whatever this—’ she uses her free hand to gesture at him ‘—is. But being on set has felt invigorating. I’m on deadline for my next book, and I’ve done nothing whilst I’ve been here, not really, but I still feel in a better place with the manuscript than I did when I left. I’m confident I can write quickly and cleanly when I get home now. I think I was hiding from some truths for my characters and somehow I’m tapping into that here. I can’t explain it.’
‘The magical creative process,’ Duke says, putting on a silly voice.
‘Something like that, yeah,’ she replies. ‘And Magda being here – I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough. It was a very sweet and kind thing for you to do.’
‘I’m a sweet and kind man.’ He shrugs.
‘I told your mom that,’ she replies, adding: ‘I hope that’s okay.’
Duke bristles at the mention of his mother, but more from habit than anything else. When she said goodbye, when she came to see him on set yesterday, he felt something very close to forgiveness for her. He was pleased she’d come alone, and there was a vulnerability to her when they spoke that made Duke think that, honestly, she really is trying her best. Her best might turn out not to be good enough, but to know she’s trying felt comforting to him. He’s searched online some more about what to expect and read that the real work starts once a person is sober, almost like getting sober in the first place is the easy part. Staying that way and learning to live with yourself is the kicker, whether the people you hurt along the way forgive you or not. He’s going to try to be patient. Deciding that is as much for him as it is for her. It’s like he’s been holding pain in two clenched fists, and now he can release it there’s room to hold on to something else. Like, for instance, love.
‘Sorry,’ Evie says, clearly noticing his visceral response. ‘Should I not have brought her up?’
