CHAPTER FOURTEEN

OZ

 

I’ve been here for a week now. A week in this surreal landscape of cameras and crew members and a cast who play-act their daily lives for a fucking paycheck.  Ren avoids me and so far I’ve allowed her to.  I’ve kind of been skirting around the whole damn lot of them since I arrived, eating alone and refusing to set foot in the big house.

Yesterday I helped Spencer out, fixing some of the sunscreens that had been knocked loose by a dust storm the other night.   Spence seems to regard my presence as nothing out of the ordinary.  At least he doesn’t walk around with his head up his hostile ass, like Monty does.  But Spence hasn’t asked me what I’m doing here and I haven’t volunteered to tell him.  I offered him a hand with some work, which he stoically accepted, and that was that.

Gary Vogel himself has yet to put in an appearance, although he’s got that insufferable disciple, Cate Camp, following me around.  She lurks around corners and coughs up nervous suggestions about what I should say and what I should do and where I might want to think about saying and doing it.  I don’t tell her openly to fuck off.  I figure silence is enough.

I watch Ren when she doesn’t realize I’m around.  She never really relaxes.  She wanders warily around Atlantis looking for something to do and escapes to the nearby town several hours a day to uselessly roam around there.

Something’s been lost to her these last five years.  There used to be an innocent kind of confidence in the way she carried herself.  The kind that said even in the midst of her crazy family she at least knew exactly who she was.  I’m still furious with her.  I still want her like hell, maybe now more than ever.

Last night I found myself wondering what she would do if I stood outside her window and whistled, just like I used to.

The temps are still pretty cool early in the morning so I take a hike toward the Harquehala’s to watch the sunrise.  One of the bumbling Camera Creeps tries to follow me but I don’t have much trouble leaving him behind.  About halfway up a vague trail I search for a flat rock bench that I know is there, close to a cave opening that I also know is there.  A few turkey vultures circle overhead for a while and then move on.  As the sun climbs to reach its rightful place in the sky I decide I’m done tiptoeing around this Born Savages bullshit.

The heat is starting to turn fierce. I jog down the rugged trail and nearly topple the huffing and puffing Camera Creep, the skinny one who’s smoking behind the brothel every time he gets a break.  I smile to myself as he curses and does an about face, trying to keep up with me.  Let him try all he wants.  I’m not waiting around for an audience.

The front door of the big house is unlocked so I stroll casually inside.  That pretentious little snot, Brigitte, is sitting in the front room on an ugly chair adorned with grisly animal tusks.  She looks up from her tablet where she’s probably scouring the internet for news of herself.

“Oz!” she exclaims with round-eyed surprise.

“Where’s your sister?” I answer shortly.

She gives me an empty-headed look and points down the hall.  “She’s in there.”

I barrel through a swinging set of doors that I vaguely remember lead to the kitchen.  Ava is in there, setting a bowl of applesauce on the table in front of her kid.  The hand that holds the bowl freezes midair and she stares at me.

“Imma bat!”  squeals the kid.

Ava sets the bowl down and rests her hand on the boy’s blonde head.  “Yes, honey, I know.”

Brigitte has collided with my back, making an ‘oof’ noise.  I swivel around to glare at her.

“I meant your other sister.”

“Oh, you mean Loren?” Brigitte says in a stupidly loud voice like she’s got a bucket full of sisters and is easily confused.  The years have not made her any less annoying.

“Ren’s in the barn,” Ava interrupts, watching me curiously as her little boy jumps from one ceramic floor tile to the next.  “At least that’s where she said she was going.”

I mutter a terse ‘Thanks” under my breath and head straight through the side door.  I hope Ren’s bratty sister doesn’t follow me.  I’ll have to forget how to be polite for a few minutes.

Ava’s apparently doing the work for me though.   I hear her say, “Don’t,” in a warning voice and as Brigitte starts sputtering I let the door close at my back.

Once I’m outside I nearly collide with Monty.  He smells like an ashtray and has his shirt off so all the female world can admire his chest.

“Where’s the fucking fire?” he growls and I brace for trouble.  But he just shakes his head and sidesteps me.

Suddenly Cate Camp’s blonde head peeks around the side of the house.  She looks from side to side like she’s a secret agent and then her raspy voice hisses some orders into her mouthpiece.

The barn is new and smells of paint.  Ren is standing in the middle of it, holding a giant hose.  It takes approximately two microseconds for her face to change from surprise to alarm when she sees it’s me.   I’m done biding my time with her though.

“I think it’s time we talked,” I say with supreme coolness.

She blinks.   She looks at her feet and swallows hard.  “Okay.  What do you want to talk about?”

You.  Me.  Heartbreak.  Your fucked-up family.  This ridiculous show.  Five years of silence.  Take your pick, sweetheart.    

But none of that comes out of my mouth.  Instead I laugh at her.  “I don’t know Ren, why don’t we talk about major league baseball standings?”

She turns her head the other way, says nothing.

There’s a giant push broom leaning against a nearby wall.  I grab it and start carelessly moving it across the floor.  I sweep a large circle around her feet.  “Or we could talk about gluten free dietary alternatives.  That’s absolutely relevant.  What the hell do you think I want to talk about?”

She still says nothing so I keep talking.

“I know.  We could discuss that old Savage-endorsed adage that tabloid publicity is the best publicity.”  I get right next to her and her breathing quickens.  I reach out and tug ever so lightly on the sleeve of her shirt.  “Of course once upon a time when you had the chance to test that out you crawled back into your den like a gutless rat.”

“I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”

“Good.  I do hate to be blamed for things.”

“Oscar…” she says, her voice trailing off, her eyes full of pain.

“I’m not looking for an explanation, Loren.  After all this time I don’t really fucking care.”

Her eyes flash.  “Well, good for you.  But you seem to be going to a lot of trouble for someone who doesn’t care.”

“And for someone who used to hold all this celebrity crap in contempt, you’re sure going to a lot of trouble to whore yourself out.”

She whirls around, swatting me away, her eyes flashing.  “That’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fair, baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah you did.”

Ren knocks the broom right out of my hands.  It clatters to the floor. “Why the hell are you here, Oscar?  Why now?”

I kick the broom away.  “That’s a real bullshit question to ask me.”

She scowls, then adopts an ominous tone.  “I can try a different one.  How much cash did Gary promise you?”

Laughter erupts out of my mouth.  I’m mocking her and she knows it.  “Honey, just because you’re for sale doesn’t mean the rest of the world is too.”

Her mouth falls open and her face reddens.  I’ve hit a nerve.  Good.  I’d like to get on every single one of her goddamn nerves with a cattle prod and juice some sense into her.

“You have no idea,” she spits caustically and throws the rubber hose clumsily toward my feet like she’s all of a sudden going to be tough.  But then she backs away as her eyes skate nervously from side to side like she’s searching for something.