Ego

24 July

By the time we got back to the loft we were barely speaking. Well not we, more I. After we'd left the restaurant I started having weird thoughts. I didn't have a long time for a think as the drive was all of three miles, or just about, and five minutes, if that. It didn't leave a lot of time for anything really. Except for minor niceties the verbal standoff continued inside.

"I suppose I'll go get out of this and comfortable."

"Go ahead."

I kicked off the heels and headed to the kitchen while he went to change. I opened that bottle of Beaujolais, poured myself a drink and pulled up a piece of sofa. I didn't bother asking if he wanted one, but I left the bottle and a glass on the counter if he wanted some when he finished. I waited and the moment he came out I went to the bedroom to get out of the dress I was more than certain I wouldn't be taking home with me. And if I did what the hell was I going to do with a two thousand dollar frock? Give it to Goodwill? Right now it didn't matter to me if I did or not. What I wanted to do was have, perhaps, one more glass of wine; that or enough to put me to sleep right away. I wanted the night to be over and sleep was a guarantee to get me to the next day. I sat at the vanity taking off the earrings and removing the make-up when he came in and set his hands on my shoulders, leaned down and kissed my neck, but I pushed them off.

"I'm busy right now."

"Perhaps in a bit then?"

"In a bit I'll be having another glass of wine and getting into that bed."

"Shall I join you?"

"In which? The wine or the bed?"

"Both if you like."

"That would be up to you now wouldn't it? If I'm worth it."

My tone wasn't exactly what he expected, I suppose. But I didn't know what he expected. I didn't know what to expect from him. I threw on my robe, went and poured another glass and joined him in the living room. We stayed silent and as I sat watching him I couldn't help notice the silence wasn't bothering him. What he was thinking was a guess for the ages. What I was thinking was what was I doing here? I started having the notion roll around that I didn't know my incidental inamorato nearly as well as I had assumed, or had myself convinced. Perhaps, then, I was only being allowed to see or know what he wanted me to. It was a plausible scenario and it wouldn't be outside the scope of what he had, more than once, intimated in interviews. A public persona totally irrelevant to the real person behind it. Had he created an alternate private one for me? Had it now been somewhat revealed through his actions and reactions since we'd left Versailles? Whatever it was I was witnessing from him I was less than captivated by it.

"You appear to have a lot going on in that..."

"Don't you dare."

"What?"

"If you say my pretty little head again I'll spit."

"When did I?"

"So play memory loss with me, fine. I'm going to bed."

I left him sitting there to wonder or think. I didn't care. I wasn't mad. I was at a loss. Though it was the first time in seven years I said no to him and seriously meant it. On the other hand, he hadn't reacted like it made much difference.

When I got up he already had been for some time, apparently. There was no good morning and no tea ready. He was already dressed and on the phone. I'd walked right past him into the kitchen still stretching, yawning and trying to get my eyes focused. This would allow me to advise my brain that yes, I was still alive and still had to function. I was a mess until everything came together no matter when I got up, what my schedule had become at any given point in time. So I wasn't observant. I wasn't on all cylinders. My receptors were not ready to take everything in that my senses were feeding them. I filled the kettle and set it on the stove, took two mugs out of the cupboard and fumbled around the counter for the sugar bowl. Then I leaned on the counter next to the stove and watched the water until it came steaming out of the spout. He was still on the phone. I couldn't see him, as he was at the far end of the living room and his back was to me, but I could hear he was still talking. I turned the control off and placed a tea ball in one mug.

"You want a cup? I'm buying."

"Sorry, what?"

"Tea, want some?"

"If it's not a bother."

"K."
I set tea in his and poured the too hot water into each, added our sugar, set the kettle back down and yawned again. As it steeped I ran my hands through my hair, out to the side and stretched my arms, then my back again. I shook my head as I picked up the cups and walked into the living room to find him with his left side propped up against the end of the balcony window facing out, the phone call obviously over.

"It's tea."

He shook his head and turned around. My mouth dropped open as the two mugs fell out of my hands in unison and hit the tiled floor, splattering the heated liquid and ceramic pieces in every direction.

"You shaved the damn thing off?"

He appeared confused and knowing at the same time.

"Why did you do that?"

"I've the Premiere this evening. I couldn't very well go like that."

"Like what? With a beard? Men have beards Colin. People know this."

"I don't."

"You have before. You've done it before with..."

"I have.... There are expectations of me."

"Such as?"

"You wouldn't understand it."

"Try me!!"

"You're making much too much of all this."

"And you're being a total ass. Whether you have a beard or a moustache or none is your business, your choice."

"Sometimes it's not. You're not understanding, you see? I have an image to uphold, a reputation to live up to."

"Bullshit. You're reputation and image are what you make them. What you want them to be."

"Agreed, however...."

I didn't let him finish. This was even more confusing. I mean, I understand he has the right to shave or keep the beard. I supposed I felt I was owed a warning. I loved him in a beard. It made his devastating looks lethal and he knew how I felt. Then again, who the hell was I? It was his body and his choice after all. No matter, I went into the bedroom and paced. He'd started going self-important on me yesterday afternoon and it got worse as the day wore into night. He was using his status against people who could give a flying fart if he was God or king. As I'd said before, I wasn't mad, but he was being condescending even towards me and he knew better. Knew I could see through all the bullshit from him and from others, yet he was still dishing it towards me. He was shutting me out and nothing I was saying or doing was changing the attitude. I don't know, maybe he'd gotten too much sun yesterday. Honed in on his conspicuous bald spot and fried some brain cells.

"Diane? Might I come in?"

"You don't have to ask Colin, it's your bedroom too."

He came in, walked over and parked himself against the vanity, standing, but leaning back on his hands. He almost came across as apologetic.

"It's nearly nine-thirty."

"Yes."

"I've made arrangements for a taxi to be here at eleven. I had a long think on this. Wavered one way, then the other. It took me some time to reach this decision, so please don't come off thinking I hadn't spent time on the final result."

"Okay, I got it so far."

"I'm of the opinion that in the long run, for this evening, it might be best we not arrive together. The taxi will take you over to Hilly's hotel. You'll need to sort out whatever it is you need for the Premiere and take with you."

I jumped off the bed. Okay so now I was mad, no livid, no, no words fit. I couldn't even speak.

"You might want to call her and make arrangements to do so. I hope this gives you enough time to get everything sorted."

He stood up and walked towards the door.

"You have a lot to do I imagine. I'll clean up the minor disaster out there."

I followed him and let the door almost close behind him, then kicked it shut with my foot.

I didn't call. I was somewhere between Ben Sliger and exploding as the taxi dumped me off at L'Hotel Mercedes and I had little patience with the concierge. I cussed in French, which left him less than enamored of me, but I got the room number out of him. Good thing too, cause I was ready to put a strangle hold on the poor man. Reality was taking an unexpected twist and I felt like this was some really messed up dream I was going through. I knocked, Jack answered. I went in, dropped all my crap on the floor just inside the door and fell into a chair.

"Hilly...forget making lunch. Get in here!!!"

"Jesus, Jack! What? Why are you..."
There was no need to finish that question. My answer was sitting slumped in a chair, with bag and baggage in tow. I sat down in the chair adjacent to her.
"Jack why don't you put Diane's things in the second bedroom?"
"Yea, sure, babe. I'll finish up lunch too. Di, want anything?"
Diane just shook her head no and continued to stare into her lap. I believe she didn't trust herself to speak right now. Jack made himself scarce. I sat back and waited. I took a deep breath. She looked confused and hurt. Maybe a tiny bit pissed too, but that was secondary to bewildered.
"Di, what happened?"
"I...I...don't know, just. And I'm here."
"It's okay, sweetie. After his display last night I don't blame you for walking out. Don't worry, you can stay here with us."
"But I didn't. Did I? No...no that's not it."
"Di, you're not making any sense. Slow down and start from the beginning."
I looked around the suite for something to kick start me, but all I could think was...nice digs. I peeked at Hilly, sought out Jack and readjusted myself in the chair.
Jack returned with a plate of sandwiches on a tray, a cup of coffee for me and hot tea for Diane. For himself he had a beer, not that I blamed him. Right now I could use something with a bit more "substance" to it than coffee. He set the tray on the table and gave us both a look that said, "Eat!" He grabbed a sandwich and his beer and parked himself at the writing desk. I stole a glance in Jack's direction. He was studying Diane and I could see the wheels in his head turning. He put down his sandwich and leaned over slightly in his chair. And as you all may have guessed was scratching the back of his head.
"Di, if you were coming over, why didn't you call? We could have gotten you or at least met you in the lobby."
"I didn't know I was. Well, I did about ninety minutes ago. I didn't have time, had to pack."
"I see. He asked you to leave didn't he?"
I shot Jack a deadly look.
"Jack, stop talking nonsense. Colin didn't ask Di to leave. Di, did he?"
I shot a look back that told Jack he was right. It registered, but I thought, if I could get it out, the reason should be put out there. Even if it was not totally settled in my head.
"Not exactly, but yes... I suppose you'd say that."
I looked at Jack who wasn't satisfied
"He said...Oh I don't care if I get this right. What it comes to is he doesn't think we should arrive together. That I should come here and go with you."

Oh my God. What the fuck was that all about? Colin didn't want to go with Diane to their movie? I was dumbstruck and had Colin been in front of me at this very moment I would have knocked some sense into that idiotic head of his. I took Diane's hand in mine.
"I can't believe he said that Di. What is going on with him?"

Jack sat back in his chair and took a sip of his beer.
"If you are interested in my opinion, Di, I have a theory."
"Not particularly Jack. All I know is. Look I'm not mad, not really. He's not done anything to get me mad is what I'm saying. I'm just at a loss to get a handle on what the hell's up. My brain almost hurts from trying to sort it out. Hilly, he shaved his beard off!! And Jack, I know that doesn't seem like a big old deal, but it is."
"Well I'm going to tell you anyway. And believe or not I do get the beard thing. I believe you have been the victim of Colin's "celebrity" persona. Think about it. The whole show at dinner last night, the superior attitude and this latest bombshell that's been tossed your way, it fits."
"Celebrity persona? What do you mean like Star mode or something?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I mean. You've never been around Colin before a premiere, right? Usually it was the day of, but you two have never been together before the big event. You have no idea what he's like in that regard."
"Why would it matter, why should it?"
"Di, he's in work mode. Look, I am not excusing his behavior in any way, shape or form. But I know I can be a bit difficult to live with when I have an important meeting with a new client or a critical presentation to give."
I had to laugh at that last statement by Jack and stifled a giggle by taking a sip of my coffee.
"Jack's right on that front Di. I have complained about it often to you."
"He's working? You mean we were like his test audience? Or. We were there for his warm-up? Jeezus Christ! Doesn't excuse the beard. Doesn't account for me having to fend now. Not reasonably anyway."
Jack got up from his seat and came over to Diane. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. His voice softened.
"I think it's more that he is preparing for his role. The person he needs to play for dealing with the premiere. You and Hilly have told me how you admire how he immerses himself in his character. Granted this particular character is less than charming to the people who care about him."
Jack went back to the desk and picked up his sandwich and beer. He came over and placed a kiss on both our heads.
"I'm going to find something of interest to watch on TV. Di, you stay here with us as long as you need to. We can get the rest of your things tomorrow if that's what you want. Okay?"
I got up out of the wooden chair and flopped into a softer, deeper one on the living room, sat back and stared out at the skyline. Jack was making total sense. I went back over the last twenty hours and saw it all fall into place. Star mode...damn! Although I now sort of got it, there were just parts of it that were plausibly inexcusable and therefore I couldn't let them go.
"Ok...so. What time were you leaving and oh..Ken Branagh is staying here too, if I'm not mistaken. Have you seen him? Any idea what room?"
I stared at Diane. I was not liking what I knew she was thinking.
"Are you sure about this? Diane you know how Colin feels about Ken. Well you and Ken. Given his current state of mind, I don't know if you want to go down that road."
"What road? Oh wait, I have his cell number."
I eyed her with that - you know I'm doing this regardless - face.
I grabbed a half of sandwich off the tray and gave her a look of my own - you are being childish.
I ran up the stairs where Jack had hauled my stuff, rummaged through my attaché and found my phone. As I turned Hilly was on the next to top step staring me down.
"Di, you are going to make a bad situation intolerable if you do this."
"No. This is my movie. My book. I put too much into this. Gave up too much. Colin is being an ass in his 'star mode' and I won't go stag here. He's not the star, Guy is. I won't be relegated to second class status."
Well that struck a chord. Di was right - she had every right to be an equal to Colin, not shoved into the shadows. And maybe that is something Colin needed to be aware of. Diane could fend for herself, she didn't need him to give her status, she had it in her own right. This was also her time in the spotlight, her place in the sun.
"If you can't reach him on his cell, Ken's in room 216."
I opened my cell, found Ken's speed dial number, tapped it in and hit call.
"Ken? Hi. Diane here.....say listen............."