Page 36 of Off Script
I can commiserate with Willa’s feelings. Loneliness is something I’m all too familiar with, especially in the months and years afterKelsey and I broke up. I got used to it, so I don’t think I even realized how lonely I was until I started talking to Carlisle.
I feel strangely conflicted that Willa’s feeling so down about her private life while I’m finally feeling hopeful about my own. Since Willa is one of my good friends, I want to tell her about Carlisle, but I can’t tell her now. I don’t want it to seem like I’m rubbing it in that I may have met someone special. I opt to hold my tongue. It’s more sensible not to tell her until after I meet Carlisle anyway.
Depending on how our date goes, there may not be anything to tell.
12
Ben
After escorting Willa to her hotel room, I stride down the dimly lit hotel hallway towards my own room. I'm accompanied by one of the hotel’s security guys. The plush hotel carpeting muffles the sound of our footsteps, which makes the sudden ringing of my phone seem even louder and more disruptive. Transferring my rolling suitcase from my right hand into my left, I dip into my jeans pocket for my phone.
“Hey Dad. Hold on a sec, will you?”
Jamming the phone between my ear and shoulder, I slide the key card into the hotel room door and turn towards the security guard, dismissing him for the night with a murmured goodbye and a polite wave. Since our driver is picking Willa and me up at the butt crack of dawn tomorrow, I don’t plan on leaving my room tonight.
“Hi, Ben,” my dad’s gravelly voice, much like my own, greets me. “We haven’t heard back from you yet about the holidays, so I wanted to check in. You get your mother’s voicemails? She’s left you several.”
“Yeah, Dad, I did.” I drop my luggage inside my suite, letting the door slam shut behind me. “I’m sorry I forgot to respond. My life is crazy right now. I have two movies opening in December, and another one in the can.”
“In the shitter?”
“No, Dad.” I can’t help but chuckle. You can take the man out of Texas, but you can’t Texas out of the man. “In the can means that the filming and editing of the movie are complete and it’s ready for release next year.”
“Why didn’t you just say that then?”
“Okay, Boomer,” I kid, stealing a joke from Carlisle. “Anyway, with my current schedule, I doubt there’s any way that I can come home for Christmas. I don’t have my schedule in front of me, but I have a ton of publicity going on in December.”
“What about Thanksgiving, Ben? It’s next week.”
Sighing, I rub my hand through my short hair. My dad isn’t going to let me off the hook easily, not after I missed spending the holidays with them for the past two years. “I’m not sure about Thanksgiving. If I can make it, I’ll only be able to slip away for a day or two.”
“Try, son. It means a lot to your mother to have you home at the holidays. Especially since–”
“I know, Dad,” I cut him off before he can continue. There is so much left unsaid between us, but I don’t have the energy or desire to get into it now. I can’t fault my parents for the untenable situation they’re in, and it sucks that they’re caught in the middle. “Will Cole be there?”
“He will be. Your mother misses you so much, Ben. She loves you too. It would mean a lot to her to have both her sons under one roof for Thanksgiving.”
Now that my dad’s guilt trip has been properly laid, he gets off the phone after eliciting a promise from me that I would try to make it to Austin for Thanksgiving. I toss my mobile onto the bed and open the minibar. I think I’m entitled to a finger of whiskey after that conversation. Maybe even two. Or three.
After an hour of styling, including hair, make-up, and wardrobe, Willa and I are seated next to each other in comfortable teal velvet club chairs on the set ofGood Morning, USA. During the commercial break, staffers float around us, attaching our mikes, applying a final dusting of powder, and adjusting the lighting and camera angles until it’s time for our segment to shoot.
Willa and I exchange glances and begin whispering, psyching each other up for the interview, even though we both feel like shit from lack of sleep and overindulging in yesterday’s bottle of champagne. And whiskey, in my case.
God, I forgot about the wine we drank at dinner too.
I catch theGood Morning, USAco-host, Samantha McGriffin, watching Willa and me over the flashcards she’s thumbing through. Sending her a brief smile, I concentrate on slowing my breathing and heart rate to help clear my mind. It’s time to sweep the cobwebs from my brain and turn on my public persona. I might feel a wee bit hungover and off my game, but I sure as shit can’t act like it.
Leaning towards me, Willa places a swift kiss on my cheek and murmurs, “Thanks again for listening to me yesterday, Benji.”
“Anytime, Pipsqueak.” Smiling, I reach over and give Willa’s hand a squeeze, which she returns. Instead of letting go, she threads her fingers with mine and holds onto my hand like it’s her lifeline. When I glance down at our conjoined hands, I notice her knuckles are turning white. It's obvious that Willa is still grappling with her emotions fromyesterday.
“Thirty seconds to air!” An associate producer yells as morning show employees make snappy last-minute adjustments before returning to their places out of camera range.
“You good?” I ask Willa, arching an eyebrow in her direction, concerned. “Ready for this?”
She slowly expels a deep breath. “Born ready,” she replies confidently, sending me a saucy wink and dropping my hand to fluff her hair.
Compartmentalize.
