"You were thinking of doing
what?" Calvert Walton looked more closely at the wrinkled piece of paper clutched in his right hand, trying one more time to make sense of what his wife was telling him.
"Cal, I promised mom that I would do this and now seems to be as good a time as any." Jackson Bryant nervously fiddled with her wedding band, not liking the direction this conversation was going.
"Need I remind you that the newest Greenwood project is set to shoot this summer? We have an appointment to meet with Luther's agent next week, but it's really just a formality. That part is yours, Jack. All you have to do is show up and that little golden man is going to be sitting on our mantel this time next year."
The Greenwood project was a movie entitled "Bridgetown," a period drama about the romance between a rich shipping baron's daughter and a lowly soldier set against the backdrop of the height of Barbados' prominence as a port in the British Empire. It had all of the proper ingredients to be an Oscar darling-a script by "the Golden Bard" Theodore Sharpe, sprawling tropical sets, forbidden romance, and the magic touch of director Luther Greenwood.
"Don't you mean that the little golden man is going to be sitting on our mantel in duplicate? I spoke to Luther the other day and he mentioned that you have already been offered the part of Corporal Howard Smith." Jack hated it when Cal was trying to be manipulative as he was really too nice to pull his scheming off with any aplomb.
"Honey, this movie can take us from famous celebrities who act to well respected actors who happen to be media favorites. Not only that, but this film explores some important issues that are relevant to America today. You should be jumping at the opportunity!" Cal ran two large hands through floppy, sandy colored hair, his bangs falling into deep blue eyes as he blew out a breath.
"You're right, sweetie." The actor excitedly stood up from his perch on an overstuffed black leather couch and started to cross the room toward his wife who was pacing in front of a stylish white fireplace. Jack held up a long-fingered hand which stopped Cal in his tracks. "I should be ecstatic that Luther wants me for this part and I did love the script."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Don't you ever get the feeling that the person you are isn't the person you were meant to be?"
"Have you been talking to that psychologist too much lately?" Jackson pushed a strand of long, black hair behind her left ear and turned to stare into the gas powered flames dancing in the hearth.
"I need to get away from all this, Cal. Yes, I have been talking to Ernie, but I've been feeling like this for going on a year now." Dr. Ernie Kent was a fixture on the talk show circuit and was best known for turning around the attitude and career of Bryce Cutler, who went on to become a two time Academy Award winner.
"Feeling like what?" Jack felt Cal's strong arms wrap around her waist and she leaned back into his solid body.
"I love acting, but I can't stand all the lying anymore."
"Is it all the cameras and attention? We could hire a better security team to help with the paparazzi." Jack closed the piercing ice blue eyes that had made her famous and ran her hands along her husband's forearms.
"I married you to draw the cameras, Cal, it's not that. I'm thirty-one years old. I want to fall in love, Calvert. Yes, I want to make great movies and win a couple Oscars, but I can't help but feeling that I'm missing out on having a real life." Resting his chin on his wife's soft hair, Cal watched as his breath disturbed the raven locks.
"And you think that going to college is going to help you find a real life?" The hurt in his words was obvious and Jackson turned to bury her face in Calvert's chest.
"I love you, Cal, you know I do. This isn't just about me?don't you want to meet some handsome man and fall in love, have a family, be normal?"
"There is nothing normal about either of us, Jackie." The actress snorted.
"You can say that again. If the public only knew that
People's couple of the decade consists of two of the most hopelessly gay individuals on the planet?"
"Our careers would be over. That's why we pay that slimy PR lady so much money." Sighing, Jackson pulled away and slowly seated herself on the couch her husband had just vacated.
"Hardwick College has accepted me to start in June, Cal. It will give me a chance to relax and reflect. Hey, I might even learn a thing or two."
"I know that you promised your mom that you would eventually go to college, but why did you pick some small school in the middle of bumfuck Indiana? Hell, you could go to Harvard if you wanted to. Besides, couldn't you wait another year or two, at least until after 'Bridgetown'? We really are perfect for this movie." Sitting down next to his wife and taking her hand in his own, Cal hoped that Jackson would make the choice that would be best for both of them.
"Do you actually think that I would get some peace and quiet at Harvard? I'm counting on the idea that the good folks of Pine, Indiana, won't care who I am or, better yet, won't even know that I am a major movie star."
"Brenda isn't going to like this one bit." Brenda O'Leary was their "slimy PR lady" and she would go off on a good Irish temper tantrum when told that one half of her number one client couple would be leaving the spotlight for some small town in the Midwest. "The paparazzi will assume that you are pregnant by someone else or in rehab or something and follow you wherever you go. We made it a point to make ourselves noticed, babe, and I don't think that you can just decide to fall off the face of the earth."
"Brenda can go fuck herself for all I care, and I am sure that the paparazzi will soon tire of taking pictures of me walking back and forth to class and reading books in the park. You could always come with me. That would reduce some of the stranger rumors and getting an education couldn't hurt." Cal let out a deep, rumbling laugh, lightly swatting Jack on her right arm and slowly shaking his head.
"We both know that I was never good with the books. Plus, I
have been offered the part in Luther's film and I am going to take it no matter what you do. I would love to act opposite you, but I'm not going to give up everything we have worked so hard for just because you have an itch to go expand your mind." The man was as angry and frustrated as he ever got, yet his thumb remained gentle as it swiped back and forth along the prominent veins on the top of Jackson's right hand.
"I'm going to college, Cal. Knowing Greenwood, the movie will probably be delayed for four years anyway." Calvert brought Jack's hand up to his lips and placed a light kiss on her knuckles before bringing the appendage to his cheek and holding it there.
"I'm going to miss you. I might not be in love with you but you're still my favorite person in the world, Jack."
"I'll miss you too. You could always visit when you aren't working on earning that little gold man. Maybe Bryce will get the part if the movie actually does begin filming this summer. You two would make a great pair."
"Yes, we would, but not as good a pair as we make. Has it occurred to you that the people in Pine probably haven't even heard of a lesbian? You aren't going to meet anyone there."
"Maybe not, Calvert, but I'll hopefully know a lot more poetry with which to woo the ladies when I get the courage to go looking for one."
"I hope you know what you're doing, sweetheart."
"Me too, Cal, me too."
"And be careful." With that the tall man got up to make a few phone calls and Jackson returned her eyes to the flames, praying to anyone who would listen that she was making the right decision.
***
"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot tell you how much one of King Tut's teeth would be worth. As I have said, if you really are in possession of such an object it is stolen property. Archaeologists are not in the business of ascribing value to priceless artifacts. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a class to teach." Dr. Sylvia Bartok Jones slammed the phone down a little harder than necessary and grabbed her briefcase from the floor near her feet. The professor was halfway down the hallway before she realized that she had forgotten to shut the heavy metal door to her office and hurried back to close it, muttering under her breath all the way.
"King Tut's tooth? I hate Indiana Jones. I hate the media. I hate everyone." Sylvia didn't really hate everyone, but she did hate having to teach a 300 level class at 9 in the morning on a Monday. A 300 level class required a certain amount of brain power that she had a hard time mustering before lunch. Dean Wilkins, the head of the Division of Social Sciences, knew of Dr. Jones' hatred of early morning upper level classes, explaining why she was briskly traveling across campus at 8:59 a.m. on Monday, June 9. "Damn Wilkins' wide, sexist ass. Damn him."
Reaching the front of Harrison Hall, Sylvia paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. She was already 6 minutes late so another few seconds wouldn't matter much. All of the students in Anth361 had previously taken classes with Dr. Jones and were well aware of her occasional inability to arrive at class on time, so the blonde professor didn't feel a particular need to impress anyone. Nonetheless, she despised the idea of being late on the first day of the summer semester and took a deep breath to get her temper under control.
As she gazed at the stately white pillars affixed to the Georgian style building in front of her, the professor allowed her peaceful surroundings to soothe her anger and calm her rapidly pounding heart. George Henry Hardwick was a very wealthy man who made his fortune in the Michigan lumber industry around the turn of the 20th century and got it in his head that he would have a college built in his name. He bought a farm in central Indiana and had his school of higher education designed in the fine tradition of East Coast pomposity complete with carefully manicured greens, plenty of white columns, and thousands of red bricks. Taking full advantage of another of his obsessions, Hardwick named each of the college's buildings after a man whom the lumber tycoon considered to be a great military leader. The anthropology offices were located in Alexander the Great Hall. Needless to say, Mr. Hardwick was a very?interesting?man indeed.
Dr. Jones took in the treed walkways, brick paths, and classic buildings of Hardwick College and reveled in the unique energy that seemed to flow through every university campus. Feeling nicely refreshed and ready to take on the Historic Archaeology of the Caribbean, the blonde woman jogged up the steps of Harrison Hall and made her way up the wide, marble staircase to room 206.
"Hi everyone, sorry I'm late." All 13 students in Sylvia's upper level seminar sat with their hands neatly folded on their tiny desks, ostensibly waiting to be filled with knowledge.
"Nice suit," commented a bespectacled young man sitting in the front row, his tasseled short brown hair and Homer Simpson pants announcing that he had literally rolled out of bed and ran directly to class.
"Why thank you, Mark." As was the practice of all happily wacky archaeology professors, Dr. Jones had donned a pair of pinstripe black pants with a matching blazer worn over a faded white shirt that proclaimed, "I eat dirt for a living." This manner of dress separated her from the stodgy, old-fashioned, schoolmarm outfits of the majority of her few female colleagues at Hardwick. She was very lucky, however, that the current Chair of the Anthropology Department was a woman who hadn't given up her hippie skirts from the '60's and probably wouldn't have objected if Sylvia wanted to teach her classes in the buff. Dr. Thomas, the aforementioned Chair, and Dr. Jones were both on the faculty at Hardwick as a result of a diversity commission that had found the number of women professors at the small college to be woefully inadequate. To Dean Wilkins' dismay, the President of the college had realized a need to update the institution's policies in order to make the school more appealing to the more open-minded young students who were attracted to Hardwick because of its commitment to teaching excellence. Since there was nothing that Sylvia Jones loved more than teaching students about archaeology, she had readily agreed to become a professor at Hardwick straight after receiving her PhD from Indiana University.
"My, my, all y'all look very innocent this mornin'." Opening up her briefcase and retrieving a stack of syllabi from the weathered, brown leather bag, she caught a glimpse of something glossy being passed between two young women occupying seats in the second row. "Miss Baldwin and Miss Miller, I hope that your short break was enjoyable." The professor took out a compact disc and walked over to the media station that was nestled under one of the large windows in the room.
"It was good, Dr. Jones," Casey Miller responded, quickly stuffing the magazine they had all been giggling at into her stylish pink shoulder purse.
"Excellent. Did you read that article I gave you about the processing of sugar cane?" A screen at the front of the room came to life and the students were presented with a photograph of an old white plantation house surrounded by palm trees and tropical flowers.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Wonderful. Wonderful." Dr. Jones made her way back to her students and casually walked over to Casey. The blonde held out her hand and the young woman reluctantly dug into her large purse, carefully placing the magazine into her instructor's outstretched palm. When Dr. Jones let out a loud snort and started laughing so hard that she bent over at the waist, the 13 students let out a collective held breath and started giggling again at their professor's antics.
In her hysterics, Sylvia dropped the copy of
Celebrity World onto the polished tile floor. The rag was open to an article with a headline that claimed, "Movie Star Jackson Bryant Turns down Blockbuster to Have Ross Perot's Love Child." To the right side of the page was an obviously doctored photograph of the six foot tall actress in an intimate clutch with the diminutive and elderly politician. Once she got herself under some semblance of control, the archaeologist raised her right eyebrow at her students and calmly plucked the periodical from its resting place.
"Aren't all y'all a little too sophisticated to be readin' this rubbish?" Casey Miller stopped giggling and visibly swallowed, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to put together an appropriate response.
"You were laughing at it too, Professor Jones," Joe Flake chimed in, tears running down his ruddy face as a result of his enthusiastic guffawing.
"I wasn't talkin' about me," Sylvia replied with a wink as she stuffed the magazine in her briefcase. "Ah have certainly never claimed to be sophisticated." Purposefully letting her southern accent show through a tad bit more than usual, Dr. Jones finally turned to her PowerPoint. "I have, however, taken it as my sworn duty to educate you folks this semester and that is exactly what I'm gonna to do. So who can tell me what he or she knows about unglazed red earthenware?"
Mark raised his hand to answer his professor's question and so began the first summer class of Anth361, the Historical Archaeology of the Caribbean, at Hardwick College.
***
"When is your first class, dear?" Jackson was on her knees on the plush navy carpet in her new bedroom arranging DVDs, books, and CDs on the lower shelves of a walnut bookcase. After going on a cussing tirade that would make a sailor blush, Brenda had acquiesced to her client's wish of attending college with the firm stipulation that the publicist would first go on a scouting mission to find Ms. Bryant a suitable place of residence. Dorms and apartments were immediately deemed out of the running due to a lack of privacy and an abundance of curious people who could not only pester Jackson but make up any number of juicy stories about her to sell to the press. While Jackson was convinced that privacy would not be an issue in small town America, Brenda knew better and thus devised a contingency plan for every strange rumor that she could imagine might be generated from an A-List celebrity's sudden disappearance from the Hollywood social scene. 20 years of experience with handling celebrities provided the publicist with a very long list of potential stories that she would need to counteract.
Brenda ultimately concluded that Jackson should take a room that was for rent in a house owned by Maudie Bailey. Mrs. Bailey was a widowed septuagenarian who rented out the guest room in her 1903 Victorian in order to supplement her monthly social security checks and the small allowance provided to her by her late husband's pension plan. Although a little put off by Brenda O'Leary's aggressive interrogation tactics, Maudie had always thought that Jackson Bryant seemed like a nice young woman and was only too happy to take the actress into her home. The elderly woman had no need for fame and little extra energy to expend making up stories. She had signed a confidentiality contract and had absolutely no intention of ruining whatever bit of peace and quiet Jack would be able to achieve in her small town.
"1:30 in Caesar Hall. What was that man thinking when he named the buildings anyway?" Having completed her arranging, the actress got up and stretched out the kinks in her legs. The actress' landlord was standing in the doorway to Jackson's room holding a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. While Mrs. Bailey looked rather austere with her thick, silver hair pulled back into a tight bun and her tall, thin body encased in a matronly khaki skirt with a matching shirt which was covered by an open black cardigan, the older woman had an easy smile and a friendly twinkle in her light brown eyes. Maudie had rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan due to the heat of the oven and Jackson was surprised by the muscles still showing in her new friend's forearms and the elegance with which she held herself despite the woman's numerous liver spots and slightly slumped back.
"He was thinking that he was rich and could name his buildings whatever he wanted. Have yourself some cookies and then come down to lunch at noon on the dot." Jackson was about to refuse Maudie's gift, arming herself with the excuse that she didn't want to ruin her meal by having dessert first, when one stern gaze from the woman standing in the doorway caused the celebrity to take the plate of goodies without complaint.
"I'll be there, Mrs. Bailey." Jack couldn't remember the last time she had eaten a cookie and she certainly couldn't recall the last time someone had made her a home cooked meal without being a paid chef. Meals had not been included in the deal when Jack had signed the rental agreement. She carefully picked up a tasty morsel and held in up in front of her face, inspecting the gooey, melting chocolate with one blue eye ball before gingerly placing the cookie in her mouth. A small groan escaped her lips and she promptly shoved the rest of the treat into her mouth, chewing happily even though her tongue was getting burned. Setting the plate on her nightstand, Jackson went about hanging twenty pairs of jeans in the tiny walk-in closet which stood in the corner of the room by the large window that dominated the wall across from the door. Although the space was small it was light and airy, making the Los Angeles transplant feel right at home. Mrs. Bailey had mentioned that Jack was free to paint the white walls whatever color she fancied, but the actress had already decided that she liked how fresh the room felt and did not want to change the ambiance in the slightest.
***
"Damn!" Jackson didn't want to answer the incessant ringing of her cell phone, but she put down the lacy underwear she was stuffing into the top drawer of her dresser and angrily pressed the talk button on the irritating device. "What?!"
"Wow. I'm glad things are going so well, babe." The dark haired woman sighed and turned her back to rest against the bare wall next to her chest of drawers.
"I'm sorry, Cal, I was just enjoying some peace and quiet and didn't feel like getting interrupted by that no good agent of mine or anyone else really. You're the one exception of course."
"I better be. I am your husband you know." Jackson already missed the banter she so easily shared with her best friend and was having her first misgivings about her decision to leave Hollywood behind even if her absence was only to be on a temporary basis. She allowed herself to crack a lopsided smile even as she brought her left hand up to her forehead and rubbed at a headache that was beginning to form behind her eyes.
"Yes, you are, and I miss you already. Are you calling to beg me to come back to you or is this business? I have been ordered to be downstairs at exactly noon so I only have a few minutes to talk."
"Actually I was calling to give you some news. You were right about Greenwood. His assistant just called and informed me that 'Bridgetown' won't start shooting until at least this fall. Apparently Luther's concerned with the film's historical accuracy and wants Theodore to do some rewrites." The actress briefly paused her forehead rubbing and then renewed the action at a more vigorous pace.
"Of course I was right about Greenwood. So I suppose that you have it in your handsome little head that I might be available to do the shoot in the fall."
"I know that you have your heart set on college but I thought?well?I thought?" Jack loved Calvert Walton more than she could say but sometimes she wished that he wasn't so dense.
"You thought that I would take one semester of classes and be so bored that I would swim to Barbados for the shoot if I had to. No, no, wait. You thought that I would get so tired of all the shit the tabloids are going to write about me that I would run back to Hollywood?" Just as Jackson was starting to get on a roll she heard Mrs. Bailey shouting at her from downstairs.
"Jack, I'm sorry. I miss you too and I worry about you passing up such a great opportunity." The actress swiped her hand through her hair, grimacing when she came across a knot, and started walking towards the door as her landlord give her a thirty second warning.
"Listen, let's just get through this summer and then see what happens. I can't make any promises one way or the other. Honestly, I don't know what this school thing is going to be like either, but I am going to find out. Go ahead and talk to Bryce so that she knows the score and I'll call ya later in the week to update you on the proceedings here."
"Ok, babe. You take care of yourself and show off that brain of yours. I love you."
"Love ya, too, Cal." Jack stowed her cell in the front right pocket of her comfortable yet designer jeans and raced down the stairs to reach the dining room at exactly twelve noon.
"You are a lucky girl, Jackson Bryant. I was beginning to think that I was going to have to climb those stairs and fetch you. While I may be an old woman, I am not above adding a little extra saliva to your salad dressing in retaliation." Wide blue eyes stared at Maudie, the rest of Jack's body similarly frozen at the entrance to the dining area.
"Uh?I was?talking?"
"Come along, Jackson. You haven't got all afternoon." Mrs. Bailey sat down at the head of the antique oak table and tucked into her large chef salad. The dark-haired woman shook her head as she did as Maudie asked and sat down in a solidly built oak chair to the right of her landlord.
"Why do I get the feeling that I had no idea what I was getting into when I rented your room?" Jack poured a light dusting of Italian dressing on her scrumptious-looking salad and released a moan at the first bite.
"I'm glad you are enjoying your lunch because those bits of chicken in there are slow-roasted, and I'm sure that I can't be any more of a handful than all those Hollywood types you hang around with." Looking up at Maudie and flashing a quick grin, Jack caught a glimpse of the backyard through the thin yellow drapes which covered a wide window behind the older woman's head. A brick path led from a small covered deck to a beautiful flower garden at the back of lawn. Although the area was tiny compared to the three acre property Jackson enjoyed in California, Mrs. Bailey obviously took very good care of the small plot and it seemed much more peaceful than the grandly landscaped gardens Cal had commissioned at their own home.
"Believe me, I am enjoying the chicken very much. I do have to tell you that I doubt there is anyone in Hollywood who is quite like you." Maudie quirked an eyebrow at her tenant and sent the younger woman a look that could curl paint. Jackson gulped.
"That better be a compliment, young lady, or you will find yourself out on your fine bottom."
"Of course it was a compliment, Mrs. Bailey. I would never?I mean?I appreciate what you?" The older woman shot her new friend a mischievous smile and calmly placed a mushroom in her mouth. Maudie took her time chewing, taking pleasure in the panicked look on Ms. Bryant's classically-featured countenance.
"Relax, Jackson. You are never going to survive living with me if you can't take a little teasing. You were an only child I bet. What a shame?"
"No, actually I?"
"So are you looking forward to starting school this afternoon?" Jackson was having a difficult time following her landlord's train of thought so the actress was eternally grateful when she heard a question to which she could easily respond.
"Yes. I'm actually planning on stopping by Dr. Jones' office hours to introduce myself. Besides, I'm not sure how the kids are going to react to having a celebrity in their class, and I want to make sure that the professor is prepared to deal with any fallout." Releasing a final murmur of pleasure as she scraped the last few shredded carrots from the bottom of her salad bowl, Jack wiped her mouth with the tan cloth napkin Mrs. Bailey had provided and prepared to excuse herself from the table.
"You'd better be off, dear, it's about a five minute walk to Alexander the Great Hall and Dr. Jones' office hours are quite popular."
"You know her?" the dark-haired woman asked as she rose and started to carry the bowl to the kitchen.
"Leave the bowl, Jackson, I'll take care of it. And I know Dr. Jones from reputation and from my granddaughter's stories about her. Any archaeology professor named Dr. Jones is bound to be a local celebrity, dear." Jack placed the bowl back on the table and chuckled a bit as she picked a dressing-covered tomato from her light blue sleeveless shirt.
"Thanks and I wonder if her middle name is Indiana. That would just be too good."
"You're welcome and she's from Oklahoma if I remember correctly. She has some horrible middle name that causes the students to call her Okie behind her back." Finishing off her own lunch, Maudie stood and began putting the table back into some semblance of order.
"I look forward to meeting her. My horrible calculus class is right after Anthro 101 so I should be home later this afternoon." Jackson started up the stairs to collect her backpack and change into a clean shirt.
"Dinner will be at 6 sharp," Mrs. Bailey called up to her tenant as she carried the lunch dishes to the kitchen.
"I'll be there. Thanks again for everything, Mrs. Bailey." They stopped for a moment and simply smiled at each other, both realizing that the next few months were going to be very interesting.
"Good luck and it's truly my pleasure, Jackson." Going their separate ways, Jack took a deep breath and fervently hoped that the other residents of Pine would be as warm and generous as Maudie Bailey.
To Be Continued...