Are You Going to Kiss Me Now? (11 page)

It was going on an hour, and Eve and I were still sitting on a white patch of sand that separated the flats from the jungle. She was afraid to go inside, and nothing I said was persuading her otherwise. She just sat there like a troubled anime character with her big head and blinking eyes.

I started texting Jordan out of boredom. Occasionally, Eve shaded her eyes with her hands and glanced up at the sky in anticipation of the next Boeing 747. She looked lost from the inside out.

I had to remind myself who she was because frankly she was pretty unimpressive. There was something profoundly blank about her. She reminded me of a kid’s book my dad used to read to us about a chameleon that was depressed because he would never have a color of his own. She was just like that chameleon, casting about at the end of a stick, instinctively looking for something or someone colorful to get hold of and climb on to. She was gray. She was sad. She was nobody without an audience.

“I think we might have to go farther in,” I suggested, after I finished texting.

“Why did Jonah send Cisco off with Milan?” Eve asked, absently scratching at a colossal mosquito bite on her neck. She was covered in bites.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about this whole time?”

“It’s not fair. I just don’t see why I couldn’t have gone with Cisco.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. He doesn’t like her. Nobody does.”

Eve’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Eve asked me.

“Who?”

“Milan!”

“I guess, if you like that sort of look.”

“What sort of look?”

“You know, tan, tall, blond, and muscular.”

“As opposed to what?” she deflated, “Pale, short, and flabby?”

“I’m just saying. I think you have a more unique quality.”

“You do?” she asked, suddenly taking great interest in what I had to say.

I could tell she wanted me to elaborate on how good looking I thought she was, and, loathe as I was to kiss Eve Larkin’s ass, I needed an ally around here, and Eve was obviously going to have to do. I was also beginning to realize that the way to this girl’s heart was through her ego.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re beautiful. Milan is just pretty. You’re interesting, she’s pedestrian.” It was beginning to scare me how easily the lies were flying out of my mouth.

She smiled up at me, flattered. I was fairly certain her “team” blew this sort of smoke up her ass on a regular basis, but from them it probably didn’t count. A compliment, to matter, had to come from a stranger.

“You’re really pretty too,” she said lamely. “I could never carry off that hair and those freckles.”

Thanks a lot, I thought, pressing my hair down. This is what Jordan and I like to call poison candy. It seems good at first, and then it gets stuck in your throat and you choke on it. I would have liked to tell her that I didn’t need that kind of affirmation, but let’s face it, a) I did, and b) it was the only language this girl spoke.

“I’m not, but thanks,” I said, smiling. “So, what do you say we venture in a ways?”

“One more question. Please don’t tell anyone I asked you this, OK?”

“OK.”

“I know it sounds really superficial, but how bad do I look?” She straightened up again and looked up at me with those far-set eyes embedded in that pasty white moon face framed with a mat of lank, black hair. Her pale lips were pursed in anticipation, and I could see the slight shadow of a moustache. There were two giant mosquito bites on her left cheek and her neck. Her head was moving around a little in what I can only describe as a sort of Parkinsonian jerk. It was obvious the question was close to her heart. Eve is the sort of girl who’d sacrifice two more days without food for one reassuring glance in a mirror. I mean, there was no denying that Eve was attractive, but unlike Milan, her beauty was more an observation than an announcement.

That said, she definitely made the most of what she had with the tools of civilization. And a blow dryer, hot wax, loads of makeup, and eight hours of sleep seemed to be essential to her beauty regimen. At the moment, she was more Cousin It on crack than Oscar-winning actress.

“You look good. Natural,” I lied again.

“Really? Because I feel like crap.”

I would have liked to kick Eve in the ass. Here we were looking for food, and she was fishing for compliments and obsessing on her appearance. I mean, was she for real? Did she not get how bad she’d look dead? That said, I knew if I wanted her to focus and be motivated, I needed to give her the food she needed. So I did. I took a good long look at her and paused thoughtfully for a minute before speaking. I did this for effect.

“I sort of like the way you look better this way. It’s less ‘done,’ you know? It’s kind of a totally fresh look for you.” Lie, lie, lie.

She ruminated over this for a good forty-five seconds before running her fingers through her hair and roughing it up for effect. Then she smiled and looked at me for approval…like I was taking her goddamn picture or something. I nodded stupidly, marveling at how completely lame she was.

“You’re sweet, Francesca. I’m glad you’re here.” Despite myself, my heart skipped a tiny beat. Were Eve Larkin and I becoming friends?

“So,” I said, “what do you say we venture in a bit?”

“I’d really rather not,” she said Britishly. “They’ll figure something out for us to eat.” She settled back onto her rock.

“Who will? Milan and Cisco or Chaz and Joe? C’mon, don’t count on it. The only shot we have is Jonah, and he needs help.”

“This whole thing is just crazy. I keep thinking it’s a dream. A bad one. I feel like I could pass out, I’m so thirsty. And my feet are killing me. I never should have come back. I could fucking kill Yvette.”

“Come back?”

“To the States,” she squirmed, fingering a huge, red blister on the top of her perfectly pedicured toe. “We would have worked through it. I overreacted.” She looked wistful as she examined her foot.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

Eve’s eyes filled up with water. “My boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” She was far away.

“We had a fight a few months ago,” she continued. “I overreacted probably. Yvette’s been trying to get me back in L.A. for years, so she really jumped on it. But she’s always hated him. Four years of having to justify him to my manager. How twisted is that?”

“Pretty twisted.” I said. “Who is he?” I asked, curious why I didn’t know she’d even had a boyfriend, let alone a boyfriend of four years. You’d think I would have read about it
somewhere
.

I must have sounded too eager, as she suddenly looked up from her foot and eyed me suspiciously.

“Anyway,” she continued, slipping back into celeb mode by evading my question, “Yvette thought this little African goodwill tour would be good for my image. Idiot. Ouch!” she cried, popping the water blister. “Nice bloody image.”

“Well, think how great the PR will be now—once they find us.”

“
If
they find us, you mean,” she said, grimacing as she squeezed the water out of the blister.

“They’ll find us eventually.”

“But will we be alive?” Eve asked, voice rising.

“Not if we don’t figure out the food and water problem. And once we do that, think of this experience as a good opportunity to get to know Cisco better. That’ll drive your ex crazy. Plus, if we are stuck a couple more days, we’ll get to see what happens to Milan’s figure without her metabolism pills. Whatever those are. That’s something to look forward to in and of itself.”

“And once all of her fake hair falls out,” Eve said, really cracking herself up over the prospect of a bald Milan.

An abrupt snort aborted her laughter as she suddenly turned to me with a sense of urgency.

“I don’t like him, like him,” she announced, referring to Cisco and sounding like a defensive seventh grader.

“I know, I’m just saying.”

Eve paused.

“OK,” she said, looking into the jungle, “but you go in first. I’ll follow you.”

The woods were very thick and green. The trees made such a dense canopy that the sun barely peeked through. It was hard to make out what was two feet in front or behind. I whacked the leaves with my stick the way they do in the movies, but they just whacked me right back. Eve was so busy protecting her precious face that I found I was spending more time making sure the trees were parted for her than I did looking for anything edible. Suddenly I heard a chattering sound above.

“I think I hear monkeys!”

“Omigawd,” Eve said.

“What?”

“I hate monkeys!”

“Why? Who hates monkeys?”

“Monkeys eat people.”

“They do not.”

“They do!” Eve assured me.

“No, they don’t.” I said, suddenly questioning myself. “But they do eat fruits, so that’s a good sign. There must be food around.”

“Didn’t you hear about that monkey that bit off that woman’s finger and her husband’s penis?”

“No, I can’t say that I did, Eve. No.”

“It was all over the news.”

“What news?” I obviously wasn’t above reading the
National Enquirer
, but the monkey story certainly hadn’t made the cover of the
New York Times
.

“Monkeys are dangerous animals. Don’t be fooled by the cute exterior,” Eve said like she was imparting some sage wisdom.

“Look,” I explained, “I’m sure those monkeys were just mad about something like being trapped in a cage or being forced to wear velvet vests and dance to accordion music.”

“I can’t deal with monkeys!” she yelled up into the trees. We heard a scurrying sound and some rustling of leaves.

“Oh, bloody hell!”

“C’mon, Eve.”

“My feet really, really hurt,” she complained, staring up at the trees anxiously.

“So do mine, Eve,” I said, pulling a pebble out of my shoeless heel.

“I have to stop and process,” she whined, ignoring me and plopping herself against a big tree. “I’m not like you. I don’t have the constitution for this. I hate monkeys. I hate the outdoors. I loathe the beach. I hate the mountains. I don’t even like convertibles. I hate picnics.”

“Then wait here while I look around,” I said. She was exhausting.

“Alone?” she asked, grabbing my hand.

“You’re not alone. The monkeys will keep you company.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Look, Eve,” I said, shaking my hand loose, “I get that being uncomfortable isn’t your thing, and I get that you’ve been famous for so long that you don’t know how to breathe without a staff of six and a chilled Pellegrino, but you have to help me out. You’re the only one here who seems mildly normal,” that was me lying again, “and I need you to make an effort. I know eating isn’t your thing, but starving to death seems like an extreme diet…even for you.”

She paused in order to consider.

I kept talking, as she wasn’t interrupting me.

“Seriously, if we don’t get food, then we don’t eat, get it? What if you pretend this is research for a movie or something?”

“That’s stupid.” She paused. “What kind of movie?”

For an actress, she certainly didn’t have a lot of imagination. I was really beginning to feel like a preschool teacher. I was trying to come up with a compelling improv proposition when she interrupted me.

“I can cry on cue,” she announced proudly.

“Wow.”

“Want to see?”

“Um...”

Suddenly she was bawling, rolled up in her weird little animal ball and convulsing with sobs. I settled in for what looked like another useless hour or so. And that’s when it happened.

“Ouch!” Eve whined, covering her head. A huge, coconut-looking fruit had fallen from the tree above and landed right on her big head.

“Look!” I shouted. “It’s food! You did it!” I looked up and saw about four animals that didn’t actually look like monkeys, but close enough. They had big, bat-like ears, and their faces looked almost bear-like. They sounded like they were laughing.

“Oh my God, look at the baby monkey-things,” I said, pointing up to the tree. Three little gray and white monkeys were staring down at us playfully swishing their long, striped tails. Lemurs? Bush babies? I had no idea. “God, they are awesome!” I cried. “They’re incredible.”

“Run!” Eve shouted, taking off before I had a chance to stop her. If the girl really thought monkeys were akin to lions, she certainly didn’t seem that concerned with my welfare. Though why I should have found this surprising, I have no idea.

I considered how I was going to scale the tree for more coconuts when another one fell down. I think the monkeys were making a gift. I felt very Jane Goodall.

“Thanks!” I shouted up into the tree.

I stood there for another few minutes waiting for either another coconut or the first civilized conversation I’d had in two days, but nothing happened. I was able to climb pretty high up onto one of the trees and knock about four more coconuts down. They were huge and heavy. I could only carry a couple so I hid the rest under some branches and leaves. We could come back for them later. I picked up two coconuts and headed off to find Eve.

When I finally exited the woods I saw her waiting for me and smiling. She was wearing her pants and a bra. The contrast between her tired face and her doll-like torso was almost freakish. Her skin was white as snow, and her body, unlike Milan’s, looked like it belonged to a twelve-year-old girl. Her breasts were smaller than mine. So much for the implants rumor.

“Where’s your shirt?” I asked, unconsciously holding the coconuts to my chest like two big, fake boobs.

“Sorry I took off,” she said sheepishly.

“That’s all right. Look what I got.”

“Look what
I
got,” she countered enthusiastically. She offered me her T-shirt out of which she’d fashioned a sort of makeshift basket filled with what looked like cranberries. She looked deeply satisfied with herself.

“Ohhh!” I cried and we both started jumping up and down and hugging each other like two fools. The berries were flying around everywhere.

“I wonder if they’re any good. Let’s get back to the beach and find out.”

“They are,” Eve said, smiling. That’s when I noticed that her lips were stained red.