Annette was calling from the kitchen and Steven left the room. Maddy collapsed onto a couch and the plastic tarp crinkled beneath her. No matter which way she moved, it went on with its wretched sound.
Maddy had a two-week break before her next film, The Cocktail Hour, was to begin, so she was spending a lot of time doing yoga and reading. One morning she decided to jog to the Wilshire library. She was browsing in the literature stacks, which had a good selection of hardcovers from the ’70s and ’80s, when she heard a voice behind her. “Have you read Anita Brookner?”
It was Julia Hanson, dressed down in a gauzy top and dark jeans that showed off her fit figure. “No,” Maddy said carefully, backing up a few inches.
Julia pulled out a slim paperback called Hotel du Lac. “You’ll like this one.”
“What’s it about?”
“A romance writer who tries being alone.” She pulled a few other Brookners off the shelf and handed them to Maddy.
Maddy didn’t know what to say besides “Thank you.” This Julia Hanson seemed completely different from the one she had met at the ball. Normal and nice.
“I’ve seen a few of your movies,” Julia said. “You’re very natural. That independent one about the two girls, that was a strong script. It’s hard to find roles like that for women.”
“I cowrote it,” Maddy said. “I mean, I wrote the story.”
“That explains it,” Julia said. “You have to generate your own material if you want it to be any good. If I had done it, I wouldn’t have been unemployed all that time. Now that I’m working, I’m grateful every day.”
Maddy nodded at her. Not knowing what to say, afraid to go and afraid to stay.
“I watched that Harry appearance you did when the man came forward. You pulled off something nearly impossible. You were likable and genuine.”
“I did what needed to be done.”
“Steven must be grateful to have his wife go out there and defend him in a way he couldn’t defend himself. People think he put you up to it, but I could see that it came from you. He never would have asked you to do that.”
“It was my idea,” Maddy said in a whisper. Then she pulled Julia deeper down the aisle, farther from the other people. “Julia,” she said, “why did the marriage end?”
Julia smiled. A young woman came through, looking for a book, and took a momentary glance at them before landing farther up the aisle. Maddy knew Steven would be furious to know she was talking to Julia in a public place about him, but she felt she had run into her for a reason.
“It was all the fighting and the drinking,” Julia said. “I didn’t want to admit it was over, I wanted it to work. I loved him. He was my life. But in the end, he gave me no choice.”
“So you ended it?”
“Of course I did. Did he say he did?”
“Not exactly.”
“I’d never met anyone who got angry like Steven did. Before that, before it got ugly, there were many good nights. His humor and his love of life, his sensuality, the way he turned dinner and a movie into an adventure. The fact that he had his problems, problems that wouldn’t go away . . . it doesn’t erase the good moments. There’s no one like him, when he’s at his best.”
Maddy wanted to ask Julia what had happened with Alex Pattison, whether Steven had cheated. Had she found them in bed together? Had he told her he was gay back then? Was that why they’d split up? What if Julia said he had come out to her? What then? Would Maddy go back to Steven and accept whatever explanation he gave, that Julia was crazy or still pining after him? Why ask a question if you didn’t want to know the answer?
“I should go,” Maddy said quickly, and darted out. She wanted to get out of sight before Julia could catch up, though she wasn’t sure she was following. She was in such a rush that she cast the novels on a table on her way out.
December and January were filled with awards shows in both New York and L.A. Maddy felt honored by all the nominations she received for Husbandry: the National Society of Film Critics, the New York Film Critics Circle, the IFC, and the Golden Globes. Billy and Walter also netted a few, though Walter refused to travel to the States for the ceremonies.
Given Steven’s poor reviews and lack of any nominations for his own work, he was surprisingly supportive of Maddy’s accolades. He accompanied her to all the ceremonies and called himself her “arm candy.” It was as though their terrible fighting after his trip to Cabo was a thing of the past. Every time she felt an instinct to question him about a late dinner or a long phone call, she forced herself not to. A discussion of fidelity could soon become an interrogation. The problem wasn’t his behavior but her reaction to it. If he happened to be out late at night or away in D.C. on political business, she would just take pills to go to sleep, so she didn’t have to lie awake and worry.
When the Oscar nominations were announced, she woke up at the crack of dawn to watch them on the TV in the screening room. Her heart fell when she didn’t hear her name. When reporters called, she was gracious, talking up the other actresses, even though she was hurt to have had all that buildup without the most important nomination of all. Bridget said, “It was too sexual. The Academy is made up of ninety-year-olds. The women were offended, and the men had erection-induced heart attacks in front of their DVD players and died before they could vote.”
Lael Gordinier had been nominated for Freda Jansons, which Maddy tried not to think about. Maddy and Steven were asked to be presenters for a costume award. For Steven, it was advance publicity for The Hall Fixation’s release. Though the ceremony was long and less exciting than she had imagined it would be, and their intro was clunky, she liked presenting with Steven. When she stepped onto the stage and saw all the people, she hoped the next time she stood here it would be to receive an Oscar, not give one.
The Hall Fixation came out on March 15. All the entertainment journalists were on the red carpet, and most of A- and B-list Hollywood. Everyone wanted to see the movie. Maddy and Steven walked the red carpet together. The entertainment journalists didn’t treat her like arm candy. They asked about her projects and their plans for a family. She had become adept at dodging such questions with lines like “It’ll happen when it happens.” She was conscious that she was making no move to get pregnant. Steven had not mentioned it since the day he hid her pills, and she was coasting on his silence.
As Maddy stood just beside him, Steven discussed his Brazilian jiujitsu training, his pranking of Corinna Mestre, and his love of the Tommy Hall books. “I did not have the easiest childhood,” he said, “and the books were an escape for me. That’s what we were trying to do in the movie, just bring Jerome Roundhouse’s vision to life.”
Maddy had never seen the movie from beginning to end and enjoyed it about as much as she’d expected to. The action sequences elicited applause, and the scenes between Tommy and his boss, Richard Breyer, had real pathos (Billy Peck’s father, Martin Peck, a 1960s screen star, had been cast as Breyer in a career-reviving turn).
The worst part of the film was the undercurrent of misogyny. Corinna had excessive frontal nudity and no funny lines. In one scene, her nipples were showing through her shirt. Her character’s name was Cherry Rodriguez, with a long-running joke about whether it was actually Chevy or Cherry because she spoke with such a thick Spanish accent. Maddy hated that the sex was shot in fake blue light. In one of the scenes, Corinna’s character came only after Tommy fucked her really hard.