Washed Up and Laid Bare

3.

‘Be nice, just be nice.’ Frank Swanson pleaded. ‘This isn’t how anyone thought this would turn out so all you can do is make the best of the situation.’

‘A very bad situation’ scowled Robert, playing with his tie. ‘Remind me why I have to wear this monkey suit?’

Frank glared at him, already exasperated. He loved his cousin, but he could test his patience at times. He hadn’t seen Robert, or Bobby as he called him, in two years. Deciding not to meet him at the airport had been a decision made to protect himself. Bobby had always been self destructive and Frank wanted to stay away till he knew this more recent rehabilitation attempt had been at least in some part, successful. As an aspiring screen writer, Frank had decided to take a different path to his Uncle, and cousin. His name could have garnered him the big bucks, the instant recognition, the TV interviews, but he chose to use his mother’s maiden name in all matters of business. After nearly fifteen years of rejection and near homelessness, he had struck gold working on a TV Cop show, called ‘The Blue.’ It paid the bills, and was honest work.

‘Bobby please just trust me here. Things aren’t exactly rosy in the world of Robert Swanson right now. You need a miracle and we only have limited funds. This is a long shot but we need to do something’

Bobby walked towards the dirty loft windows of the rented office space, looking out at dry cleaners and pawn shops. A far cry from the days when he woke up in exotic locations, with views fit for your screensaver. A man walked across the road, pushing a shopping cart loaded with odds and ends. He’d never even seen a homeless person before his bankruptcy. His world was changing fast.

‘We need to invest wisely’ continued Frank, ‘You had to sell the house and luckily we found a quick cash buyer, but that was your Dad’s house Bobby. It’s gonna be changed into some gaudy museum and you’re left sleeping on my couch. Don’t tell me you don’t want more than that?’

Bobby turned to face his cousin, eyes narrowed. ‘What kinda question is that?! Of course I want more! You think this is how it was supposed to be? What do you want from me Frank?’ he exclaimed, angrily.

‘Just sit down and listen. We’re going to interview five people. One of them just might be the key to changing everything around for you.’

‘Yeah, and pigs might fly’ he scoffed.

She was the fifth in line, sitting in a dingy corridor in what looked like some rented office. The late afternoon sun streamed in through dirty, streaked windows and bathed the space in golden light. From the sign on the door it looked like a private detective used to work here, and by the looks of things, it didn’t go so well for him. The glass pane in the door was shattered, a spiral breakage running the length of the door. The floors looked like they hadn’t been cleaned since the early nineties, but it looked like a pretty mosaic once existed beneath her feet. Her fellow potential PR interviewee’s looked like they’d been plucked out of the playboy mansion. With the promise of working under an A Lister, they probably aspired to actually be under that A lister. Each of the women dressed for the beach rather than an interview, and Lana pulled her ruffled black blouse straight, self consciously.

She’d have run a mile if it wasn’t for curiosity. Laid awake the night before she thought about an idea she’d had many a year ago, about writing a book on the behind the scenes life of a movie star. Whoever it was, he couldn’t be more of a slime ball than her previous employer, Conrad Tremont. Conrad’s campaign manager had drafted her in straight from college to assist on re-building the image of the disgraced politician, who later became District Attorney. He had slept with a broad range of questionable women, and been involved with a well known money launderer. It wasn’t easy, but he went from strength to strength and played on his weaknesses, garnering sympathy from many undecided voters.  She had loved the challenges, the long hours and the exhilaration of the polls but the Peyton came along and ruined everything.

Going from PR to dating a  dope smoking, day dreaming, wannabe actor, and following him across the country wasn’t her smartest move. With all her distinctions, all her debate team accolades, her first class degree, and a stint working at Camp Tremont, she wasn’t beyond falling for the bad boy. Over time she soon discovered he was dull, couldn’t hold a conversation, and even his model-like body couldn’t save him from being dumped. Her father begged her to come back home, to help out in the family business but she had too much pride. As much as she loved his little sleepy town Motel, she couldn’t see herself spending the rest of her life making beds for commuters passing through.

Her grandfather had been the solution,  and while she looked for work more befitting of her, the coffee shop was more than adequate a place to have some ‘breathing time.’ She wondered what he would think of her, sitting her awaiting an interview with some mysterious actor, but he was a go getter, he always had been and Hollywood was his world.

The door swung  open shortly after three, and a thirty something, scrawny bespectacled man walked out, and stood in front of them. He looked down at a sheet of paper, then up at them, then down again, frowning. After five minutes, or what seemed like forever, he glanced over the other four women. Two of them were applying what looked like the hundredth layer of lipgloss, one inspected a red talon with scrutiny and the other rearranged her surgically enhanced breasts in her white low cut tank top and flicked her strawlike hair extensions over one shoulder.

The man caught her eye, and he beckoned for her to stand. She gestured to herself, as if to say ‘Who, me?’ and he nodded, then looked back at the other women.

‘Go home.’ He urged them. ‘Position has been filled.’

‘Excuse me?’ one of the women asked, her voice a little too high and Mickey Mouse like to be real.

‘I said the position has been filled. Goodbye ladies.’

As he stepped into the open door, he looked back. Lana looked confused looking back at the women who were standing and getting ready to leave. Was she supposed to leave with them, or was he indicating that she had the job? Without even interviewing her?

‘Miss….’ The man gesticulated with his hands, trying to guess her name.

‘My name’s Lana, call me Lana.’ She offered.

‘Lana’ he smiled, showing off dimples and boyish smile. ‘Let’s talk business.’

He nearly fell out of his chair as Frank led their first interviewee towards the heavy oak desk. Two chairs were placed behind it, one for him and one for Frank, and a solitary chair sat a few paces from the desk, for the prospective candidate. He would have laughed if he hadn’t promised Frank he’d actually take this seriously. He wondered why a woman would dress so conservatively for an interview, especially in the star filled stratosphere that was showbusiness. He immediately struck her off his list, attached to his clipboard. Wearing a black baggy blouse and black pressed suit trousers she looked more like a school teacher. Or a nun on her off day.

‘Robert, meet Lana, Lana, this is Robert.’

As the introductions were made, and she shook the hand of her potential boss, she discreetly scrutinised his face. She didn’t recognise him, which meant he was indeed washed up. His hair, tied in a short ponytail only added to his unappealing look, and his lack of eye contact suggested too many years of never having to face actual people. Frank gestured to the chair in front of the desk, and she sat down, folding her legs under her.

Frank joined Robert.

‘Thank you for coming down today, we’d just like to get to know you a little and find out when you can start.’

Robert blinked at Frank, wondering whether he’d gone a little crazy. Whether the pressure of living with him for a week was really that bad.

‘When she can start?’ asked Robert incredulously, looking at her, his eyes showing he did not approve. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

‘This young lady, this fine candidate has a degree in Media relations. I just glanced over her resume and it seems that she worked miracles with one Conrad Tremont. Disgraced down and out politician to distinguished DA. Am I right, Lana?’

She swallowed and looked up defiantly, remembering her worth. She was top of her class, grades exceeding her contemporaries and she wasn’t going to let some jump up has been bully her.

‘Yes. Mr Tremont certainly has had a revival of sorts.’

‘This is what we need!’ Frank insisted, facing away from her and addressing Robert. ‘We need a revival. Let me handle this.’

Robert folded his arms across his body and she smirked. He was like a child who’d thrown his toys out of the pram because he couldn’t get his way. If the pay was better than the coffee shop she would be stupid to throw away the opportunity. Arsehole or not, this could be a really exciting experience. She could get back in the game, this might be a stepping stone to working for someone she actually admired. Someone with panache and distinction. Not a greasy, self assured brat.

Frank went over her credentials, asking more about the campaigns she assisted on and then presented with her with a personal organiser. Electronic, and certainly no filo fax, she watched amazed as he showed her the presently empty diary for her employer, and how to fill it. All the while, the sulking actor looked on, sizing her up.

‘Last thing we need to discuss is pay.’ Frank stated, his lips in straight line. ‘The first week will be a trial. You’re going to be his personal assistant, come public relations, come babysitter, and you’ll report back to me every day.’

Robert sighed so loudly that both she and Frank looked up. He rolled his eyes and busied himself with his phone.

The much despised phone, but nevertheless a distraction from this pointless meeting. Just a few short years ago he would have been in a trailer, banging some hot up and coming actress before rolling out in front of the camera ready to charm the pants off his fans. Right now he was in a badly ventilated office which hadn’t seen a cleaner in a decade.

‘That all sounds fine with me’ Lana replied.

Robert narrowed his eyes at her, she was going to put a spanner in the works, He could feel it.

‘Well, we can offer $4,000 a month. This will go up, based on your successes.’

She looked at Frank wide eyed. Whereas it wasn’t mega bucks, it was still three thousand dollars more than she presently made. If she hadn’t decided thus far, she would definitely take the job now. She could utilise her studies, set aside a little money and then the world would be her oyster. Putting up with her juvenile boss would be a small price to pay. She hadn’t had time to think about resigning from the Coffee Bean, nor had she discussed this with her Grandpa or Father, but it was time to act like an adult and made a decision. No more following men around wherever they went, no more living on a shoestring.

‘Where do I sign?’ she grinned.