The Hollywood Effect, page 5
“Of course you can,” Liam said with a disarming grin that he seemed to pull out of nowhere.
“And a photo too?” one of the girls asked hopefully.
“Sure thing,” Liam smiled.
Somehow I ended up as the designated photographer, and took over a dozen photos of the girls and Liam, going through all their phones. Of course, they all needed their own photo. The girls stared avidly up at Liam and I did my best not to laugh at them. After handing them back all their phones, and after they all got a quick hug from Liam (Marnie went back for two) they walked us to my car and waved us off. I glanced over at the paparazzi on the other side of the avenue. Their cameras had been pointed at us the whole time.
I led our trusty followers out of town, past the high school and up to the cemetery.
“Are they really going to follow us into a cemetery? It seems wrong somehow,” I said.
Liam shrugged. “We’ll see.”
Some of them did. We tried to ignore them. It was a pretty spot, the Tarang cemetery, one of the nicest cemeteries that I’d been to. It was on a hill outside of town, and there was a lovely, peaceful view over the dry lake bed that was now home to the golf course, cricket club and pony club. You could see most of the town, and out over the paddocks to Mt Ngoora. It was all very green and pretty at this time of year.
“I hope they’re enjoying the view,” I said.
“Yeah.”
We walked slowly down the slope to where our friend’s grave was waiting for us. I absentmindedly reached for Liam’s hand. He gave it a quick squeeze and smiled down at me.
The graves had grown again. There was a whole new row that had been filled up since Grant had been buried here six years ago. It seemed like too much for such a small town. My mum was one of them. That still seemed surreal at times. Even now, almost two years after she’d died, I still sometimes expected her to call me, or to pick up the phone when I dialled home, or like my latest post on Facebook, or send me some silly email about the benefits of turmeric and how I should put it in all my food.
Fucking aneurysm.
We stopped in front of Grant’s grave. There were already fresh flowers on the headstone. I imagined his parents had already been up here this morning. I saw Grant’s mum rather regularly these days. Her eyes still looked so sad and haunted. I wondered if mine looked like that sometimes, too.
Grant Matthew Fitzgerald
29-03-1990 - 25-04-2009
Our clever, loyal son
Beloved son of Debbie and John
Loving brother of Isabelle and Chloe
Never forgotten.
We carefully laid down one of the bunches of flowers.
“Hard to believe it’s been six years,” Liam said again.
“I know.”
“So much has changed.”
“I know,” I said.
“What do you reckon he’d be doing now? If they hadn’t...”
“I don’t know. He didn’t sound so sure about engineering when we were hanging out those holidays,” I said.
“Yeah... I dunno, either. He’d been flip flopping between engineering and trying to transfer into med. Maybe he’d be a doctor. ”
His life had been cut so short. Grant had only been eighteen. We’d only been at uni for a few short weeks. All that work, all the study to get there... and a month and a bit into it a freak car accident takes it all away. It wasn’t fair.
“I mean, who could have predicted back then that I’d become a teacher at Tarang High and be stalked by paparazzi for one weekend?” I tried to joke.
“Yeah, who knows, maybe Grant’s music career would have taken off,” Liam said with a sad smile. Grant had been a pretty good guitar player, and was pretty wicked on the old recorder. I’d never realised you could make that instrument actually sound good until he’d played a few tunes on it.
I laughed. “He could have led the recorder revival.”
Liam chuckled, and then abruptly sat down in between Grant’s grave and his neighbour, an old man named Thomas MacDonald who’d died when he was 94. That was how it was meant to be. I sank down next to him. I wasn't sure how long we sat there for. I looked around a few times, but the paparazzi were keeping a respectful distance for once. I glanced over in the direction of Mum’s grave, and got up, leaning heavily on Liam’s shoulder. My foot had gone numb. I hobbled over the well tended grass and looked down on Mum’s gravestone. I’d memorised it months ago.
Margaret (Margie) Anne Pike (nee Wilson)
30th March 1960 - 2013
Beloved wife of Bill
Cherished mother of Stephanie and Jennifer
Always in our hearts
I always felt a bit strange coming here. For both Mum, and Grant. I didn’t believe in any gods. I was 99% sure I wouldn’t be meeting them in any afterlife, as much as I wanted to. Here was the place their bones rested. It was a strange thought, when I thought about it too hard. This wasn’t where I felt comfortable talking to Mum. I did that sitting at the kitchen table, over a cup of tea. Or wherever I was, really. But I still liked coming up here every now and then. I patted the grass covering Mum and almost jumped when Liam leaned down and put his hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t heard him come over.
“I miss Margie,” he said, squatting down next to me.
“Me too,” I sniffed.
“She was way more supportive of my acting career than my parents were at first.”
I smiled. Now that I thought about it, I remembered walking in on Mum and Liam huddled over the kitchen table more than once. “Is that what you guys used to talk about?”
Liam just nodded.
“I guess you creative types need to stick together.”
“You should write more,” Liam said after a moment. “Your Mum always said you were good.”
I scoffed.
“Hey, she should know.”
“I think she was a bit biased. I’m her daughter. Everything I did was wonderful.”
“Nah. Well, yeah. But, usually when a New York Times best-selling author says you write well, you should probably listen to her.”
I looked at him speculatively. “You know that you and your brother are the only people that know about Mum’s secret life as a best-selling romance novelist?”
Liam laughed. “Yeah. She always told us not to tell anyone. I don’t know why…”
“I think it was to save Steph and I the inevitable high school embarrassment. She probably would have come clean to the town if she’d lived a bit longer…”
Liam squeezed my shoulder again and stood up.
“Do you want to stay here for a bit longer? I can leave you alone.”
I brushed my hands. “Nah, I’m good. See ya, Mum.” I kissed my hand and leant over and touched her gravestone. There was something to be said about rituals. “Death sucks.”
“Yep, it sure does,” Liam agreed. “Ready to go?” Liam asked. My foot was starting to get numb again. I wiggled my toes in my boot and nodded to Liam. I sighed sadly, patted the grass, and tried not to think too graphically about Mum’s bones beneath us. Liam stood up and stretched, then held a hand out to me. I took it, and he heaved me up.
“Damn it, pins and needles,” I muttered and stamped my foot, trying to get the feeling back as quickly as possible.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as Liam checked his phone. I quickly glanced at mine, but there was nothing.
“Want to come over to Mum and Dad’s for dinner? Mum’s making a roast,” Liam said as we reached the car. He didn’t even glance at the hovering photographers. Some of them seemed to have left, and at least one of them was actually exploring the cemetery, and was ignoring us. I had a quick flash of respect for him. The cemetery was old, and I’d always found the older parts interesting. The new section was full of tears too fresh.
“Sure,” I said. “Can Dad come too?” I asked. “Left to his own devices he would live off baked beans and tinned spaghetti.”
“I’m sure that’d be fine. Not like he has far to go,” Liam said.
“Great, thanks. He needs to get out of the house more. Is it all right if I drop you back at your parent’s and then come over later? I need to get some school work done. Lesson plans and stuff for Monday,” I said. I started the engine and slowly drove out of the cemetery.
“Yeah, of course.”
I dropped Liam at his parents with a wave and drove the few streets over to my house. Most of the following paparazzi stayed out front of the Burns’ place, but a couple of them followed me. I shook my head. I had no idea why they were following me. They’d seen Liam go into his parents’ house. He wasn’t hiding in my back seat or anything. I pulled into my driveway and got out of the car. One of the blonde women I’d seen with Matt Rivers came racing up to me.
“Excuse me, can I ask you a couple of questions?” she said breathlessly, bangles clanking.
“No.” I frowned, and tried to channel my scariest teacher glare. It wasn’t up to snuff, apparently.
“Are you and Liam an item now? How long has it been going on for? Are you the reason Holly and Liam broke up?” She said all of this without even drawing a breath.
“What? I… what? No… no comment.” My teacher glare disappeared into a puddle of bewilderment. How could anyone possibly think Jen Pike could compete with Holly Monroe. I mean, really. What were they smoking?!
She started asking me more rapid fire questions that I could barely follow. I held my hand up and tried to put on my sternest teacher voice, the one I had been trying to perfect over the last few years. “Get off my property.” She looked momentarily stunned, and I took the opportunity and turned my back on her and marched inside.
I slumped against the closed door and took a few deep breaths. This was crazy. I went around the house and made sure all the curtains were shut, which was a pity on such a nice sunny day. This house had a nice little sunroom that I used for my study, with a lovely view over the overgrown backyard. I liked to do my work there, and be able to look up and outside. Now all I was looking at were the scummy blue curtains that looked like they hadn’t been replaced in my lifetime.
I loved my friend but I was beginning to wish he’d hurry up and leave. The paparazzi had never been so aggressive before. Since hitting the big time, Liam had come home a handful of times. The one time he’d brought Holly, a few photographer’s had followed them around a bit, but they’d taken their few happy holiday snaps to sell to the magazines and left the rest of us alone. Had he got even more famous since then? Or was it just because of the break-up?
I made myself a nice hot cup of green tea and set myself up at my desk. I needed to finish my planning for next week’s classes, but I found it hard to concentrate for long. Lesson plans had taken me ages to do when I first started teaching, but I seemed to have finally gotten the hang of them - as long as I knew the content. Getting a new class about something I knew nothing about was always fun. And by fun I meant hard work. I turned off the internet to avoid distractions and concentrated on getting through at least Monday and Tuesday’s classes. I had a double free Tuesday afternoon, so I could theoretically get some more planning for the rest of the week done then. As long as I didn’t get lumped with an extra. I hated when that happened. I wrote myself a quick to-do list and got stuck into it. After the first distracted half an hour I actually managed to get in the zone and smashed out three lesson plans in a row. Good ones too, even if I did say so myself.
I glanced up at the clock on the wall. I still had an hour or so before I’d be expected over at the Burns’ residence. I pulled out my paper journal. I hadn’t updated it for awhile, but I enjoyed writing in it and getting my thoughts out, and even just as a record to look back on years later. I’d been keeping a journal on and off since I was eight years old. The early one’s were a bit cringe-worthy to read, but I was still glad I had them.
Liam’s back in town, with a pack of paparazzi in tow. He surprised me Friday night - turned up on my couch. I’ve missed him. Those damn feelings that I’ve been trying to repress all these years have bubbled to the surface again. Holly and him are done. Maybe. Probably. I hope.
Or do I? I’ve had less than 24 hours of paparazzi attention and I’m already sick of it. They’ll go away with Liam of course… but.. Is it a taste test of what life with Liam would be like? Hounded? Or would they not care so much if he was with a normal girl and not another movie star? Ugh, why am I even thinking that, I have no reason at all to even suspect that he has more than friendly platonic feelings for me. Plus, he’s still in love with that cheating idiot, despite what he says. Am I just trying to convince myself that it’s impossible anyway? I don’t know. I’m a bit confused. I suppose there’s nothing to actually be confused about.
Anyway. Feelings or lack of feelings aside, it’s been nice to see him, although could do without the pack. It’s weird to say the least. Don’t they know he’s just boring old Burnsy?
We had too much to drink last night. Went up to the cemetery this afternoon to pay our respects to Grant and Mum. It would have been Grant’s 24th birthday today. I miss him. I miss them both. I wish Grant were around to help make sense of this craziness and laugh at the insanity of anyone finding Burnsy fascinating. I reckon he’d find that pretty hilarious.
I threw the diary away from me in frustration. I was just confusing myself more. Usually when I wrote, it helped to unravel my twisted thoughts. I was just winding myself up tighter right now. I shook myself. I was being silly. Liam and I were just friends. And friends was what we would always be.
I packed up for the day and jumped in the shower.
I tried to ignore the pack of waiting photographers as I stalked up the Burns’ driveway, an hour later. Why did I think it was a good idea to walk? Stupid.
I resisted turning around and glaring as I knocked on the front door. After a few moments and a swish of the curtain, the door opened for me. Liam’s older brother Charlie stood there, grinning at me.
“Come in, come in,” he said and stood aside so that I could squeeze in. He shut the door firmly behind me.
“Bit crazy, eh?”
“Yeah, that’s certainly one word for it!” I shook my head. “Anyway! How are you?” I leaned in and gave him a quick hug.
“Pretty good, thanks, Jen. How are you? Ma said you’re teaching up at the school now. How’s that going?”
“Yeah, I am. It’s just temporary, I’m just filling in for Jill Gerhard’s maternity leave. Did you have her?”
“Nah, after my time, I think. Are you enjoying it?” I followed him as he led me up the hallway and into the brightly lit kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s been pretty good, although it’s only been a week so far. But, so far so good! Can’t really complain.” I inhaled deeply. Whatever Frank had in the oven smelt divine.
“Jen’s here,” Charlie announced.
Liam, his parents, and Charlie’s wife Nina, were sitting around the lounge room, picking at a plate of delicious looking cheeses and dips. Linda got up and gave me a big hug.
“Good to see you, Jen.”
“You too. Thanks for having me, it smells great in here,” I said and looked around. “Where’s Dad?”
Linda frowned. “He said he wasn’t feeling well,” she said uncertainly.
I sighed.
“He needs to get out of that house. Excuse me, do you mind if I go and brow-beat him?”
“Of course not, Frank was just talking about doing that himself,” she said with an understanding smile. Frank nodded behind her shoulder.
I smiled grimly at them both.
“I’ll come with you,” Liam said and put his beer down.
“Thanks.” I started heading back up the hallway to the front door, but Liam grabbed my arm.
“Let’s just jump the fence.”
“Good idea,” I snorted. I was glad that I’d worn my jeans instead of the skirt I was contemplating. Liam led the way out the backdoor and into the backyard. We strode quickly across the lawn to the timber fence. It was taller than I was, but Liam could easily see over it. We went to the oak tree. It was a gargantuan of a tree, and you could access it from both sides of the fence. A lot of sneaking had been done, and not just by me and Liam. There was one summer when my sister Steph and Charlie had had quite the summer fling. We’d had to shout warnings when we were coming up the to the treehouse. Once is more than enough times to see your sister and your best friends brother who is almost like an older brother to you himself half clothed and making out and probably more.
I jumped down into my side of the garden, and heard Liam thump to the ground behind me. I glanced at Liam as he looked around the overgrown garden.
“Let it go a bit, hasn’t he,” Liam said with a frown.
“Yeah... I hope he gets back into it soon. The councillor reckons it will help if he has something to focus and concentrate on, but so far everything I’ve tried doesn’t interest him much. Not even the garden...”
“He used to be out here all the time,” Liam said slowly.
“Yeah, I know.” We walked past the chook shed (I noticed that Dad had finally fed them the scraps, thankfully) and up to the back door. I knocked and then slid the glass door open.
“Dad? It’s me,” I called out.
No answer. I looked at Liam.
“Dad?” I called louder.
“In here, love.” The voice came from the lounge room. Liam followed close behind me as I made my way up the dark passageway. The contrast to Liam’s parents house was stark. Their house was warm, bright and smelt divine. This place was dark, cold and smelt slightly off.
He’d drawn the curtains again and was sitting in his old chair watching the TV. A pile of dishes was starting to build up next to him. At least he was eating, I told myself.
“Dad, Liam’s here,” I said.
“Hello, Mr Pike.” Liam crossed the dim room and held his hand out for Dad to shake. Dad blinked at it for a few seconds before he seemed to come to himself and stood up, shaking Liam’s hand and then pulling him into a quick hug.
