Chapter 27.5: Pillow Fight (Patreon)

Chapter 27.5: Pillow Fight

Bas’ Koreatown Apartment, LA. June 2007.

Emma Watson was in the shower with me. Jealous?

“Left one’s hot, and turn the right for cold. You need to pull this tab if you’d prefer the hand nozzle over the sun spray.” As the shower - much like your tears of disappointment - flowed out, I held my hand under the downpour for a few seconds until it hit my ideal temperature. “Takes a second.”

“I’m very much aware of how a shower works, Bas.” Not quite the knob fiddling you were imagining, eh?

“For some reason, every new bath I encounter,” I shut off the valves and shook the water off my hands. “Is a Rubik’s cube unto itself. Not all showers are created equal.”

“Well, I can’t fault you for preempting the inevitable conversation we’re going to have, likely through a shut door, about the specific plumbing mechanics of your home.” She handed me a nearby hand towel as we made our way out of the loo and into the attached guest room.

“You can always invite me inside if you find it easier.” Good thing I’d been back on the Taekwondo mats. I needed the reflexes to block Emma’s kick. “Now, now. I’m merely conducting my hostly duties.”

“Bas! I’ve not set foot in your house for more than a minute, and you’re already making me regret my decision not to get a hotel instead.” She gasped and then yelled at me. She really does that quite often, now that I think about it. “Why I agreed to stay here, I’ve no idea.”

“Because I invited you over, Emma.” 

When Anita had informed me that Emma had successfully passed the audition for her film, and that she’d start shooting in LA throughout the summer, I’d been quick on the draw and extended my home as her temporary abode. I’d be damned if I was going to let any of my friends, especially the women, stay in the lubed anus of California that was Burbank. 

That twenty minutes of distance, between my flat and the studio she’d be shooting in, made a world of difference. 

“More’s the pity I accepted, then.” She said that like she hadn’t jumped when I’d offered. Anita was fully on-board, too. Far better, and safer, that she stay with someone she knows - especially as it was her first time working here. 

“Alright, that’s enough flirting for toda-”

“Prat!”

“Now, follow me into the kitchen. I’ve stuck all the emergency contacts you need to know on the fridge.”

Time flies when you’re having fun teasing your friends. I’m almost certain that’s how the saying goes.

What followed her getting settled into the apartment was a few days of some incognito exploration around my favourite hubs around town. My tried-and-true disguise of a mask plus sunglasses, and the occasional cap, successfully kept us off the pap’s radar as far as I could tell. 

You’d be surprised at how easy it could be to remain unnoticed in LA. Saturated as it was with fame mongers and desperate celebrities pining for constant attention. As long as you weren’t being super obvious, you could get away with a lot. Also helped that we weren’t going around soliciting drugs or prostitutes, so the nosy buggers didn’t catch us on their lunch breaks. 

Our adventure ended at the best Cali-Mex food truck I liked to frequent, a hop step and jump away from my discreet abode. 

Which was why I was in my bathroom brushing the stench of onions off my teeth. 

“Bas? Are you decent?” Emma politely asked as she entered my room.

Pointless to waste that courtesy on someone like me, though. “You know I’m not, and I never will be.” Why even expect a straight response?

“You really do have a way with words, Bas. It’s just unfortunate you choose to drive everyone round the fucking bend with them.” The potty was next to me and also in her mouth, apparently.

Fortuitously, my toothpaste flavoured spit-take actually had an appropriate place to go and splattered right on to the sink. 

I sipped a handful of water, sloshed it around, and rinsed my mouth out.

My retorts needed to be minty fresh. “Ooh! Someone’s a sassy gir-! Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Every man on Earth had that one specific shirt they cherished above all others. Usually cotton, chaffed into cloudy softness from years of wearing and rigorous washing. Sometimes with faded graphics and holes around the collar. It was the de facto item of apparel that guaranteed the best night’s rest. 

This was the one shirt that men would want no one else wearing. Not even a pretty girl sitting on their bed.

“Oh, this?” Don’t tug on it! You’ll stretch it the wrong way. “I’m wearing my face mask and didn’t want to get my nighty dirty. Cadbury gave it to me.” Then stain my treasure, why don’t you? Having my heart ripped out like that was so jarring, I didn’t bother noticing the green goop smeared across her face. 

Suck it up, Bas. Be a gracious host. “... So, what’s on your mind?” Cheek resting on palm, I laid down at the foot of the bed opposite her. Few things say relaxed, like a reclining Buddha.

Emma decided to get comfortable, too. She shifted till her back rested on my bed’s headboard, swaddled one of my pillows in her arms, and brought her knees up to her chest. No, I didn’t look. “I’m just a little apprehensive about tomorrow.”

“First day jitters, huh?” 

“Mhm.” She snuggled deeper into the pillow. “it’s just…my first time being on set by myself since Sorcerer’s Stone. I’ve gotten so used to having you and Rupert by my side. It just feels so odd and daunting, really. Weren’t you ever scared during any of your other films? How’d you do it?”

“If I’m honest, the only thought that goes through my head is about clams, usually.” Despite the flippant answer, I wasn’t being totally dishonest. 

And neither did the euphemism allude to just economics. Double entendres and I love a good ménage à trois.

“Be serious for a moment, Bas.” 

“I am! What’s there to be worried about? The world’s your oyster.”

“Enough about bivalve mollusks already! I’ve sought you out for some genuine advice. Or are you telling me that the sole reason you got into acting was so shallow?”

“Of course. I became rich and famous so I could buy whatever and fuck whoever. Isn’t that why everyone does it?” I knew this answer was too accurate and bitter for most people’s subconscious to swallow. 

The second pillow on my bed flew across the mattress and smacked me square in the face. 

“The hour is getting rather late, children.” Cadbury’s parental controls must have pinged as she announced herself into my suddenly cramped master suite. 

She shot me a look that said behave. “Moon’s barely shining, Cadbury. We’ll be alright.” You know me better, don’t worry. “How about a nightcap? Hot cocoa sound good to you, Emma? I promise I’ll be more receptive to your worries.”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble, Mrs Fine.” Huh… can’t believe I’d forgotten Cadbury’s real name.

“I’ll have a fresh pot right out.” I didn’t miss her leaving the door open as she walked away.

We sat quietly for a bit. True to her word, two steaming mugs and a teapot on a tray were placed in the center of my bed. 

Coincidentally, between us. 

My fingers curled around the handle. I blew twice to cool the drink and took a gulp. I needed the brown Belgian gold to dull the steel on my tongue. 

I glanced at Emma, who had her own warm cup cradled in her hands as she pierced me with a glare. “Can I expect an earnest response?”

Fine, I’ll be a big boy, in spite of how against my nature it felt. “You asked how I cope with new job anxiety, yeah? Wish I could tell you, but I’ve honestly never thought about it.”

“Really?” Up goes the skeptical eyebrow. “You’ve never worried?”

“Not quite what I said. I meant that I just push it back and get on with it, you know? Being afraid of how I’m going to perform tends to bleed into my performance. So I just crumple up that annoying, niggling voice of anxiety in the back of my mind and toss it out one ear.”

“But what if I’m horrible? What will everybody think of me?” The only crumpling Emma was doing right now was her forehead. 

“Why tear your hair out over the inevitable?” I just shrugged. “Some days you’re going to be a star, and some days you’re going to be shit. That’s just reality. And I won’t give you that cliche answer of ‘oh don’t pay attention to the others, everyone’s focused on their own tasks, no one has the time to judge you.’ I can tell you from personal experience everybody is scrutinizing you from fifty different angles.”

“You’re not making me feel any better…”

“Good, because I’m not trying to. My point is: leave all that nonsense out of your head. There’s no need to put so much pressure on yourself. Just do your best. I promise it’ll be enough.” 

“I get that, but I’m so afraid of embarrassing myself. I don’t think I’d be able to face anyone if I didn’t live up to their expectations.” Had her face not been buried in the pillow, I’d wager her voice would have still come out just as small.

“Then we’ll cheer at your scene during the screening for Cloverfield instead of being horrified by your abrupt death, Marlena.” She’d shown me the script and I’d seen the success of its cinéma vérité style before. Anita had picked a solid movie for Emma’s non-Potter debut. One of, if not the eminent disaster movie of the decade.

“So even if I make a fool of myself, you won’t shun me?”

“Not possible to get rid of me that easily, I’m afraid. You’re stuck with me like a bad case of barnacles.” Better than crabs, in my opinion.

She set down her cup on the bedside table and flopped sideways, parallel with me. I saw clearly as that crease in between her brows eased and her lips stretched into a small smile. “Again with your nautical nonsense. But at least I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore.” 

“And as far as not having a familiar face goes, my flight to Hawaii isn’t till the second week of July, anyway. We’ve still got the premiere for Phoenix to go to before my face disappears. I’ll visit you on set whenever you want. You’ll get sick of me long before then.”

“I’m vaccinated against that particular disease.” Someone’s been spending too much time with me if she’s dropping lines like that so casually. She slowly closed her eyes and exhaled a relieved sigh. “I wish I could just stay like this for tonight.”

Not happening. “If anyone got even a whiff of any hanky-panky, I’d be the one getting bent over for spanky. Get back to your room.” 

I hopped off and pulled her to her feet. “Fine. I’ll not cast aspersions on your delicate reputation.” Forget dragging her feet - she’d stopped right at the threshold of my room. Suddenly she tiptoed, planted a quick kiss on my cheek, and scurried away with a hurried goodnight.

It was cute. I might’ve appreciated it more had her face mask not made her look like Shrek.