Page 42 of Anxious Hearts

Cam was setting up the sound equipment on set. None of the other actors were there yet, just Cam and a few of the other crew getting ready for the day’s shooting. He looked up as Finn approached.

‘What are you doing here so early, man? You’re not due until ten.’

Finn thrust his hands into his pockets so Cam wouldn’t see them shaking. He’d showered and dressed before coming to the studio, but his skin was still covered in a damp layer of sweat. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

Cam paused in the middle of unfurling a long electrical cord that was looped between his elbow and hand like a garden hose. He was short and stocky with a regrowing buzz cut, a flat nose and wide-set grey eyes. Black T-shirt, blue denim jeans. He watched Finn closely. ‘You all right, man?’

Finn cast around to make sure nobody else was watching. He could feel the heat of eyes on his back, but the rest of the crew were going about their business without giving him a second look. Finn crouched down to Cam’s height and leaned in close so he could whisper into his ear.

‘I need cocaine.’

Cam slowly and methodically resumed unwinding the electrical cord.

Oh, no. He’d made a terrible mistake. The rumours weren’t true, Cam wasn’t the person on set who supplied the drugs.

And now Finn had outed himself to a guy he barely knew and his career was going to be ruined.

He could see the headlines, the story, the fall from grace.

He visualised his empty bank account, the mortgagee auction of his apartment and his eventual demise into crime and then prison, where he would be beaten mercilessly day after day after day.

He felt the room closing in. His brain was turning to cement and his muscles were both supercharged and unbearably fatigued at the same time. He had to get to his dressing room.

Cam kept unwinding the cord but didn’t take his eyes off Finn.

He kept his voice low and clear. ‘There’s an old white LandCruiser in the car park.

Back left corner. It’s mine. Go out there in twenty minutes and leave an envelope on the front left tyre.

Make sure it’s sealed and has the cash. How much do you want? It’s a hundred per gram.’

Finn’s drug use had escalated so quickly that he was consum-ing five grams a day.

Ashley had stopped providing it for free when his need rapidly spiked and so he’d spent fifteen thousand dollars in the past month.

But when he was high on the coke and then calmed by the benzos, which he was also now paying for, there was no room to worry about money. All he had to do was meet his own need.

‘As much as you’ve got,’ Finn replied.

‘Fuck, man, I’m not El Chapo. I never carry more than ten.’

‘Then give me ten.’

Cam cocked his head. ‘You’ve never wanted this shit before, Finn. Why now?’

‘What, you think I’m a fucking cop?’

Cam shook his head. ‘No, I think you’re a fucking fool.’

Finn took a deep breath. ‘Twenty minutes. A thousand in an envelope on the front left tyre. Then what?’

‘Then you’ll get a delivery to your dressing room. Make sure you’re alone.’

Finn nodded and turned to walk away but Cam grabbed him roughly by the side of his T-shirt and dragged him close. He whispered into his ear as Finn had done to him a moment earlier: ‘And don’t use it in an open room. Bathroom only. Locked door.’

‘I’m not an idiot.’

‘No. But you’re an addict. And addicts do really dumb shit.’

Now Finn took a hold of Cam’s shirt. ‘You don’t know anything about me. I’m not a fucking addict.’

Cam stared into Finn’s eyes. His breath was stale and oppressive – morning breath laced with hour-old coffee.

‘Twenty minutes, pretty boy. And if you screw me on this, you’re fucking dead.’

***

Finn sat on the couch in his dressing room, hunched forwards, elbows on his knees, head resting in his hands, occasionally pulling on his hair or lightly punching his temples.

The volcanic pressure inside him was set to explode and these small acts opened the tiniest release valve, just enough to ward off the impending eruption. But he couldn’t hold out much longer.

It had been ten minutes since he dropped off the cash that he’d withdrawn from an ATM at the studio.

Ten long, harrowing minutes. As he rocked back and forth on the couch with a gentle but unfailing rhythm, Finn transitioned to living-death mode.

His heart still pumped, his lungs still filled with air, his neurons continued to fire, but he had brought down the curtain.

Shut himself off and retreated to a coffin of mental safety; the only way he would survive this catastrophe he had orchestrated for himself.

Through the darkness and the densely packed earth above his imagined tomb, Finn heard a dull thud. Three times. A repeated knock. He stood from the couch like a man rising from a river of wet cement. Sluggish, dreamlike, detached. But relief was close. Cam was here.

Finn opened the door.

‘Hey,’ his visitor said.

Finn forced a smile. He tried to sound normal. ‘Hey, Monica. What’s up?’

‘I just wanted to see if you’re okay. Feel like you’ve been out of sorts a bit lately.’

Finn was too far underground to completely panic, but a sharp beam of concern penetrated his dark tomb. What had she noticed? Could she tell he was taking drugs? Had his acting suffered? Had they all noticed? Was he going to be fired?

Monica stepped into his dressing room.

Finn looked up and down the corridor, but Cam was nowhere to be seen.

Monica sat down where Finn had been only moments earlier.

Finn remained standing. ‘Actually, I was just about to take a shower before heading to makeup.’

‘We’ve got plenty of time,’ Monica said. ‘Come on. Sit down.’

Finn had always liked Monica. She was tall and dark haired with a short bob and commanding eyes.

She was also a wonderful actress, and kind and generous with her co-stars.

She wore a simple tracksuit today and without the makeup that would soon transform her into Rebecca, she was even more attractive than her character.

‘Any word since the audition?’ she asked.

Finn shook his head. ‘Nothing yet.’

‘Well, they can take a while, apparently, these big Hollywood productions. Not that I’d know.’

‘You’ll get your chance,’ Finn said.

She smiled. ‘Probably Jessica Meadows holding it up. Trying to work out how she’s going to film a movie with you without falling for you at the same time.’

Finn blushed. The compliment could have been flirtatious, but Monica delivered it with such a lack of guile that her meaning was clearer than any words she could have spoken. She was in love with him.

Finn’s belly filled with a warm, comforting sensation that was almost completely unfamiliar. This was normal life. This was people talking and sharing and falling in love. This was everything he’d never had.

There was a knock at the door.

And everything he’d never have.

‘Saved by the bell,’ Monica said.

Finn scurried to the door and opened it a fraction. Cam was standing there, his eyes darting back and forth along the corridor. He pushed himself through the opening, took one look at Monica and turned on his heel, charging away.

Finn took off in pursuit, closing the door behind him.

He caught Cam easily.

‘Are you fucking crazy?’ Cam hissed. ‘I said make sure you’re alone.’

Finn didn’t have time for this. ‘Just give it to me. Hurry.’

Cam kept walking. ‘No way. Too risky out in the open.’

A blinding cocktail of rage and desperation consumed Finn.

He slammed Cam against the wall. Cam’s eyes flew wide in shock.

Finn, much taller and stronger, pinned him with a forearm under his neck and began rifling through his pockets with his free hand.

He found the envelope inside Cam’s jacket, tore it out and let the sound technician go.

‘You’re fucking crazy, man,’ Cam spluttered as he regained his breath. ‘Stay the fuck away from me.’

Finn rushed back to his dressing room. He slipped through the door to see Monica still seated where he’d left her.

How could he get rid of her without raising suspicions?

He didn’t have time to think about it. The cocaine felt like it was glowing white-hot in the pocket of his jeans.

So close to redeeming him. So close to bringing him back.

‘Excuse me for a sec,’ he said.

Monica watched him quizzically but didn’t respond.

Finn locked himself in the bathroom. He took the coke out and poured a single measure onto the bench.

His hands trembled as he tried to make clean lines with his credit card.

A drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto one of the lines.

It mixed with the powder, which would make it difficult to snort, so Finn pressed his finger to the damp mixture and rubbed it on his gums. He didn’t have his regular metal straw, so he had to make do with a rolled-up twenty dollar note, just like the very first time.

He bent over to be level with the drugs and reached back with one arm to flush the toilet, his cover story and enough sound to mask him snorting if Monica had come to the door.

The coke in his nostrils was like sucking up the water of life. It buzzed and fizzed and burned a little. But it also rejuvenated, and strengthened and made him eternal.

Finn straightened up, placed both palms flat on the bench and leaned his weight onto them.

He lifted his hanging head, his hair across his face, a sheen of sweat causing his skin to sparkle.

He breathed in and out deeply as the poison ran through his blood stream like oxygen into a drowning man’s lungs.

Finn smiled. Now he could think clearly. Now he could capitalise on Monica’s feelings and her innate kindness to spin some bullshit story that would allay her concerns.

Now he was alive again.

***

Kelly leaned against Eli’s car in the same car park where she’d begun the deception five weeks, one day and a lifetime ago.

She’d chosen this spot to try to minimise the chance of conflict.

Yes, it was an ambush, but it was neutral territory.

Not his apartment, not hers, where he might be able to dissuade her.

To kiss her and hold her and convince her to take the risk.

Here, on the damp bitumen under dark skies, it would be clinical. Short, swift and effective.

She knew she had to tell him in person, even though she’d rather send him a text. But she also knew he would turn up at her apartment and wouldn’t leave until they’d seen each other. He was persistent like that. So here she was.

When Eli saw Kelly, he broke into a broad smile.

He loped towards her with his baby giraffe gait, his mop of hair bouncing in time with his steps.

As he approached, though, the smile faded.

He looked around as though searching for a police tail.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said. ‘What if you’re recognised? ’

‘As a dark-haired, short-sighted medical student? Highly unlikely, don’t you think?’

‘Fair call. So what are you doing here? How did it go with Michael?’

Eli’s scrubs had a V neck and the portion of his exposed chest was white and unblemished. Kelly wanted to lean into him and kiss that cool, smooth part of his body. Instead, she did what she had come to do.

‘We can’t see each other anymore.’

Eli reacted like he’d been punched in the stomach: his long torso jolted forwards as the breath rushed from his lungs. When he recovered, he said, ‘What? Why not?’

This was going to be the hardest part, to convince him of the lie. ‘My feelings towards you have changed, Eli. It wouldn’t be fair on either of us to keep this relationship going.’

‘Your feelings have changed? Since yesterday?’ Eli was incredulous.

‘I’ve had a lot of time to think. There’s no future for us.’

Eli squinted at her. ‘What did Michael say?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Bullshit. Everything was fine between us and then you saw Michael. Now we’ve suddenly got no future. What did he say?’

‘Nothing,’ Kelly whispered.

Eli stared at her for a long moment as though trying to read her thoughts. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Please, Eli, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.’

Eli’s face contorted and his eyes grew watery. ‘Make this harder?’ he croaked. ‘How could I possibly make this harder?’ He held her hands. ‘I love you, Kelly. And whatever Michael said to you, we can work around it together. Fight it together. Whatever we need to do. But let’s just do it together.’

Kelly disengaged her hands from his and let them drop by her side. She watched Eli crumple in front of her, deflated, defeated, desperate. Steeled herself. She could only lie to him one more time before she broke.

‘I don’t love you, Eli. I’m sorry. It’s over.’