Page 65 of Twice
“All right?” she repeated.
Her face changed. Her eyes lifted. Her smile lit me up. I’d do anything for that smile. Even something I didn’t mean.
Which is what I had just done.
?
Now, at this point, Boss, you’re likely saying “I don’t remember a film with Nicolette Pink where she played a runner’s mother and fell in love with a journalist.” There’s a reason for that, which I will detail. But I need to explain something bigger first. Something that changed my life with Gianna forever.
The movie was being shot in Mexico, and I spent a lot of time on the set, at Nicolette’s request. Because Jaimie was in training, and Marisol was running her restaurant, I was the only one available to verify certain details, especially with the actor playing me. Nicolette encouraged that. She was highly focused and professional during the shoot. But at night, when she invited me to view the edits of the day’s filming, she often let her guard down. We spoke candidly. She was honest and quick-witted.
One late session, she shared stories about her life as an actress, the lewd advances she had to tolerate from producers and directors when she was coming up, and their constant emphasis on her looks, weight, and skin.
“I wouldn’t think you’d have to worry about that,” I said.
“You’d be surprised,” she replied. “This”—she waved a hand at herself—“takes a lot of work. And you’re never not ‘on’ in this business.”
“Why did you go into it?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I had a lousy childhood. I came to California on my own when I was still a teenager. I was running away from who I was, the stuff I’d gone through. Acting, getting to pretend you’re someone else, seemed like a good way of dealing with all that, I guess. Like you’re getting a second chance, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, trying to ignore the irony.
She smiled and leaned back. Her tapered white shirt clung to her thin waist.
“There was a movie once namedAlfie,” she said. “Did you ever see it?”
“No. But my mother nicknamed me for it. Well. For that song.”
“No way.”
“Yeah.”
“Alfie was a ladies’ man, you know.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“What’s it all about, Alfie?” she warbled, singing the first line from that song, the way everybody does. Then she reached for the hair behind my left ear. “Ooh... you’ve got a real cowlick sticking out here.”
“Sorry,” I said. I felt a jolt though my body when she touched me.
“Why are you sorry?” She pressed it down gently. “It’s not a flaw.”
“Right. Yeah. Sorry. I mean. You know.”
She turned back to the screen, then slumped, as if it were homework.
“My eyes are blurry,” she said. “Do you want to get a drink?”
Nassau
“Jesus,” LaPorta mumbled.
“What are you reading?” Sampson said.
“The suspect’s notebook. It’s all garbage, I think.”
“Why do you say that?”
