As she boarded, the airhostess vaguely waved her to her seat: 47B. She really should have flown business class at least. She squeezed down the narrow aisle past harassed mothers, whiny kids and self-important businessmen. She would have gladly paid the extra eighteen hundred bucks if she’d known today would have ended so horribly.
She wrestled her shoulder bag into the overhead locker and tried to get into her seat. The man on the aisle just sat there, looked at her but made no move to let her in.
“Could you let me in please?” she finally asked when the airhostess cleared her throat rather obviously, for the third time.
The man grunted and moved his legs two inches to the side but other than that made no attempt to move.
“You’re that actress, aren’t you?” he asked as she tried in vain to squeeze past him. He picked the unfortunate moment when her ass was right in front of his face to start the conversation. “The one who’s always breaking up with her boyfriends.”
Helga sighed and backed up, dragging his knee with her.
“That’s me,” she said, trying to plaster a smile on her face.
She couldn’t push past him and he wouldn’t move out of her way. She used the advantage of her height and, standing on her tiptoes, stepped over his legs, finally managing to arrive in her seat. She sank as deeply into it as possible. She could feel a bar through the seat, running across her lower back. She let out a huge sigh and wiggled. This was going to be a long flight.
The captain’s voice came over the speaker garbled and unclear but more than likely telling them about the weather and flying conditions. The flight attendants started their safety briefing and although Helga made this trip practically every week, she made a point of paying attention to the demonstration. With the way her day was going, she wouldn’t be surprised if they came in on a crash landing.
The lady on her right flipped through a copy of one of the gossip magazines featuring a lovely photograph of her with red puffy eyes and running mascara. The man on her left spent the first ten minutes leaning over her to peer out the window, and breathing heavily onto her breasts. She shifted as far away from him as the close confines of cattle class would allow. Would this day never end?
All she wanted to do was to crawl into her bed and sleep for a month. This had been another week from hell. She briefly entertained the idea of asking the airhostess if she could upgrade but the one who greeted her at the door was still shooting daggers her way whenever their eyes met.
She was exhausted and vulnerable and the last thing she wanted to do was discuss her personal life with strangers. Unfortunately that was exactly what her traveling companions seemed to want to do for the remaining 5 hours and 23 minutes of the flight. Oh why hadn’t she purchased a first-class ticket?
Once the lady overflowing the seat next to her looked up from her magazine and saw who she was sitting next to, Helga couldn’t get her to stop talking.
“You can’t let him walk all over you, honey. You have to stand up for yourself.”
Helga squirmed away from the lady’s concerned patting of her knee and shifted closer to the heavy breather who was now clutching both his armrests in a death grip as their plane took off.
“You know, honey, my sister used to be just like you, going through men like they were outfits. And I said to her, I said, “Honey, you gots to stand up for yourself. Where’s your self-respect? Well, you know what she did, honey?”
“No, I’m sure I don’t.” Helga dearly wished she’d taken some sleeping tablets before she boarded. She’d just have to get some out of her bag. Oh shit, no. Her bag was in the overhead locker and there was no way she’d be able to get past Heavy Breather to get it. She slumped back into her seat and waited for the words of wisdom to come from Honey’s mouth.
“Well, she got herself a decent job and found herself a rich lawyer man, uh huh, that’s what she did. They’ve been married now for six years and not once has she had her heart broken again. You stick with me, honey, and I’ll steer you right.”
“Thank you for your advice,” Helga said and closed her eyes behind her sunglasses. “If you don’t mind, I’m awfully tired. I think I might just get a few hours’ sleep while I can. It was sure nice to meet you though.”
As much as getting ‘advice’ from strangers grated on her nerves, Helga made a point of always being gracious to everyone she met. Firstly, she’d like to be treated with respect herself and somewhere in the back of her mind, locked far away, was the hope that someday she would be. And secondly, she knew only too well what one nasty review or comment could do. If she let her frustration out on this woman and that woman talked to her friends and they to their friends, well, it didn’t take a genius to see what kind of damage could be done. And let’s face it, the way her career had gone this last year, she needed all the supporters she could get.
Helga could hear her phone ringing before she even got to her door. She scrambled with the keys, wondering if she’d get in the door in time to answer it. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding.
The lock clicked, she pushed the door open with her shoulder, dropped her groceries on the floor, grabbed the phone mid-ring and kicked the door shut with her foot.
“Hello,” she panted as she watched an apple roll across the floor out of her grocery bag. Who knew that answering a phone would be such a workout?
There was a short pause and for a moment Helga wondered if she was too late and they’d hung up. She held her breath, her heart in her throat and waited.
“May I speak to Helga Hansen please,” a gravelly voice echoed down the crackling line. It sounded like the man was in a barrel.
It wasn’t him. She couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or not.
“Speaking,” she said into the phone, pushing Myles from her thoughts.
“Ah, Helga, I’m glad I got a hold of you. This is Brian Hargrave.”
“Mr.…” Oh my God! “…Hargrave. Oh, um, it’s a pleasure, sir. How may I help you?” Excitement bubbled up from her toes, making her light-headed. She leaned against the wall to stop herself from falling over from the mixture of elation, excitement and nerves zinging through every nerve-ending in her body.
Brain Hargrave was the top move producer in Hollywood. Not even Spielberg could touch him. Helga had met Mr. Hargrave several times but he had never, ever, called her before. She took a deep breath and tried to – silently – clear the lump of nervousness from her throat.
“I have on my desk, in front of me, a manuscript. I have a copy of the same manuscript on the way to your apartment as we speak; it should be there soon. I want you to play the lead. Have a read and call me tomorrow. Let me know if you’re interested.”
The wall could no longer hold her up. This was her dream. She pinched herself hard. She couldn’t believe it was becoming her reality.
“It’s not your usual role, I’ll give you that.” The gruffness of his voice rattled in her ear. “But I know what I want. I choose you. You, Helga, will be perfect.”
It was a lot to take in. Helga’s mind raced in circles around her head as she stared unseeing at the white wall across from where she sat on the floor.
“Mr. Hargrave – ” she started.
“ – Call me Brian,” he interjected.
“Oh, okay, Brian. Shouldn’t you be talking this over with my agent? Rosie Haul deals with this sort of thing for me.” She gripped the phone to her ear and suppressed a moan. “Not that I’m disappointed to hear from you personally, I just thought it odd…”