Maddy was intrigued by Ellie’s dread. And she thought it was good that Ellie got to stay alive. Too often in movies, strong or adulterous women ended up dead.
She wished Dan were here with her. It was the kind of screenplay that made you want to talk about it: what it meant to be a woman, to be in a relationship but feel lonely. It was about someone who woke up one morning and realized the life she’d built for herself was a prison.
She had to get this role. The reason she had gone to grad school, the reason she greeted Eurotrash at a hostess station for $21 an hour, was so someday she might play a role like this: strong, complex, layered, and undeniably the center of the film.
From the café, she tried Dan. Voice mail. She walked down Kurfürstendamm, past the glittery designer shops with their blank-looking mannequins. At the hotel, she went straight to the VIP restaurant, ordered venison and pinot blanc, and read the script again, liking it even more the second time.
Back in her room, she called the front desk. She asked for Steven by name, and the clerk said he wasn’t staying there. She remembered Steven had told her on the plane that his pseudonym was Gerber Stan, an inversion of his Briefs name. She called back. “Gerber Stan’s room, please.”
“Just one moment, miss.”
His voice was husky when he said hello. “I read it,” she said.
“And?”
“I love it.”
“I knew you would.” She started to say something, but she was so excited, it came out sounding like a Swedish vowel. She tried again. This one was more like a French vowel. “Do you want to come up for a minute to talk about it?” he asked.
His suite was twice the size of hers. The windows met at an angle, and she realized that they were in the penthouse, in the wedge-shaped apex of the building.
He poured two glasses of red wine, and they sat on a white couch. “So you liked it,” he said.
“I liked it and it terrified me. I wish it could have had a happier ending, but Juhasz doesn’t do them.”
“No. He’s interested in the way we create our own hell. Louis thinks he’s getting Ellie back by cutting Paul out of their life, but instead he has the baby to live with forever, the ghost of his brother.”
“Exactly,” Maddy said. “In constructing a jail for her, he winds up constructing one for himself.”
“Are you okay with all the sex scenes?”
“I don’t know if I would say I’m okay with them, but I mean, the way they would be shot, the nudity, that could all be negotiated, right?”
“Yes, and Bridget will be there as producer. So you would have a wonderful advocate in her.” He swirled his tan fingers around the rim of the wineglass.
“How is it possible you haven’t cast Ellie yet?” she asked.
“Different reasons. The younger, edgier actresses had trouble with Walter’s language. We read some girls who were great with the material but didn’t have the right look. He wants Ellie to look real. He wants someone without plastic surgery.”
The wine must have been going to Maddy’s head because she said, “Are you trying to say I’m right for it because my breasts are small?”
“I didn’t say anything about that. You’re the one bringing your breasts into the conversation.”
She blushed, unsure whether he was a gay man doing an impersonation of a straight man or the most heterosexual man on the planet. “So does it bother you that Louis is a cuckold? You’re not afraid to play that?”
“You know, when I first read it, Walter and I discussed my playing Paul. The two men were written as closer in age. But I thought it would be more interesting if she had married someone older and the brothers were ten years apart. And then we found Billy Peck and it was perfect. It’s a great triangle in cinema. Young woman, young man, older man. Walter loved my idea. He thought it would make the affair more motivated. I’m getting older and I want to use that in my work. And I don’t want to do the same things I’ve always done.”
“You’re definitely not.”
“Yeah, these new films are different, aren’t they? What did you think of The Widower? You never told me.”
“You never asked.” It excited her that he wanted her opinion. He probably surrounded himself with people who said what he wanted to hear. “I liked it. Especially that walk you did after you kissed that woman. You seemed totally defeated but trying not to seem defeated.”
“I put a lot into that. Todd and I worked on it together.”
“You’re very physical as an actor. I like that about you.” He grinned, and she felt like she had passed some kind of test. She hadn’t been vague and she hadn’t been dishonest.
“So do you think you’re up for playing Ellie?” he asked. “It’s dark stuff.”
“I really think I am. It—the whole thing—just feels right. But I’m going to have to convince Walter Juhasz.”
“I’m sure he’ll be as charmed by you as I am,” Steven said, flashing his black eyes.
The word “charmed” was like a pat on the head. “Charmed?”
“Yes, you’re charming. And brave. And beautiful, of course. But I think what I like most about you is your ambition.” He was blinking at her slowly. The room felt very close. He was staring at her the way he had on the patio in Utah. His gaze was confident and cool and this time unmistakably sexual. She looked back at him, wanting to kiss him but not wanting to be unfaithful to Dan. She trembled, more frightened of herself than of him.
“What’s going on?” she finally asked.
“What do you think is going on?” he asked, his smile impermeable. He was making her feel she was delusional to think he was interested. Her discomfort mixed with her disappointment that he had made no move to touch her, and then she felt guilty for being disappointed. What was she thinking? She had a boyfriend. A live-in boyfriend.
“I have to go,” she said, her cheeks burning. She strode purposefully toward the suite door, but it turned out to be the bathroom. She opened it to see a gleaming marble tub, and embarrassed, she spun around, not knowing where to go.
“It’s to the right,” he said. He didn’t get up. She pulled open the door and turned her head to see if he was following her. But the hallway was empty and quiet.
Maddy’s hands were shaking as she slid her card in her door. What she’d felt in that room had been electric and irrefutable.
Or maybe she was just being self-centered. Maybe when he said What do you think is going on?, he was letting her know he was gay and had no interest. She barely knew the man.
She lay awake awhile before drifting off into a deep sleep. She had an old recurring dream in which she was in the backseat of a car, behind an empty driver’s seat, trying to reach the steering wheel. It was hard to control from a distance, and the car went faster and faster, some unseen force gunning the gas. This time there was someone in the front seat. Steven Weller. As she struggled to reach her hands around the wheel, he turned to her with that fake-innocuous grin, and there was a terrible screech, and she woke up.
The next morning Zack called to see if Maddy felt like visiting Marlene Dietrich’s grave. She said yes, curious about him, about Bridget, their relationship. And after what had happened in Steven’s penthouse, she felt Zack might be able to shed light on him. Zack must have known Steven most of his life, which meant he’d seen things other people hadn’t.