CHAPTER 20
Bruce drops me and Jane off in front of terminal 8 at JFK for our 5pm flight to LAX. I hate airports. If anything got infinitely worse for me after I became an actor, it’s air travel. Unless I fly private, it’s always a giant nightmare. At least it’s winter, so I can get away with an unshaven face, a scarf around my mouth, and my hat pulled low.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Bruce says as he gets back in the car. We didn’t bother changing his flight; the studio will send a car to pick us up at LAX.
‘Yeah, see ya man,” I call out as I duck my head and enter the busy airport.
“Okay,” Jane sighs as she hoists her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s do this.”
I smile at Jane. This sucks almost as much for her as it does for me. She gets mobbed just like I do, but unlike me, people don’t hesitate to physically push and shove her out of their way. It pisses me off so much that I’ve almost taken a swing at a few people who went too far with their man-handling of my assistant.
We get in the express line at the United Airlines check-in counter. I have to go through all the same shit as everyone else at the airport, my only saving grace is that I always get to use the fast lanes. If I had to stand in the security lines with hundreds of other people, I’d probably never fly.
“I.D.’s please,” the middle-aged ticketing agent says to us as we step up to the counter.
Please don’t make this a big deal lady. After arguing with Sydney last night and the bathtub incident, I can’t take any added stress today.
We hand over our licenses and I hold my breath. She must scan Jane’s boarding pass first because it takes her a minute to get that look on her face.
“Oh,” she gasps as her eyes go wide. She glances up at us and her eyes study me for a moment. Probably trying to figure out how the scruffy guy with the hideous hat is actually the attractive man in the photo on my license.
I give her a small smile, nothing big enough to encourage a dramatic reaction from her, but enough to keep her happy. She smiles back and hands us our paperwork and I.D.’s. “Enjoy your flight,” she chirps breathlessly.
“Well thank God for small miracles,” Jane mutters as we head toward security.
I smirk from under my scarf, knowing full well that the problem at the airport isn’t the ticketing desk, it’s getting through security. I can’t keep my hat, scarf, or any other item on to hide under, so I’m always recognized by someone.
We step over to the first class security line to wait for our turn. I stall until the last possible second to take off the scarf as I hand the TSA agent my I.D. and boarding pass. Doing my best to seem happy, I smile when the agent does a double take and her bulging eyes meet mine. I must have luck on my side today, because she thanks us without any extra conversation.
“Wow, this is going way too smoothly,” Jane says as she removes her shoes and throws them into a bin.
“I know. I guess one of the agents will have to steal something of mine to even it out.”
My comment about stealing is both humorous and pathetic, because it’s true. At least half the time I fly, something of mine goes missing at security. There’s always a sticky-fingered agent that wants an Andrew Forrester souvenir, knowing that I won’t notice until much later that it’s missing. Last time it was my sunglasses, the time before it was my watch. Once, someone even took a fucking pack of gum. A pack of gum!
After six years together, Jane and I have devised a plan of attack. She goes through the body scanner first, and then watches my stuff as it slides through the x-ray machine, not giving the agent an opportunity to snatch something. Still, every once in a while a tricky thief makes off with one of my belongings. It’s irritating to say the least.
I reluctantly drop the scarf into a tub with my lucky hat. If that hat ever went missing, I’d throw such a fucking fit they’d wish they never heard of Andrew Forrester. Luckily, it’s so gross looking, that no one has tried to lift it, yet.
“Excuse me.” I cringe at the soft voice behind me.
“Yes.” I respond without turning around.
“I love your movies,” the woman says kindly.
I can’t be rude to someone who’s being so respectful, even if I’m annoyed. It’s not her fault that she caught me in a bad mood.
“Thank you.” I turn to give her one of Andrew Forrester’s best fake smiles.
“You’re welcome,” the young woman says, smiling back.
And that’s it. If only every fan could be like her; polite, to the point and not pushy or demanding. We manage to get through security without any more problems and head to our gate.
Unfortunately, our good luck doesn’t last. Before we can get to the private club lounge, someone spots me, and this woman isn’t nearly as quiet or polite as the one at security.
“Oh my Gawd!” she screeches in her brazen New York accent as she runs over to me.
I hold up my hands to ward her off before she can put her outstretched fingers on my arm. You can look lady, but don’t fucking touch.
“Hi, sorry we’re in a hurry to make a flight,” Jane says dismissively to the woman without breaking her stride.
“I just gotta say hi,” she rasps in her obvious smoker’s voice. “I love your work.”
She’s not going to go away, hurrying to keep up with us, and her loudness is beginning to draw a crowd. I hear my name being murmured throughout the terminal. Spreading from us quickly like a virus out into the masses as people realize that I’m here.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say as we try to rush past the growing horde of Andrew Forrester fans and gawkers.
“Can I get a picture with you?” the annoying New York smoker asks.
“Sorry, like she said, we’re late,” I tell her, my hurried steps not slowing down.
“Come on! Just one picture! My niece will never believe this!”
Fucking A, this woman is irritating!
I see the camera phones out and pointed at me. She’s the one hassling me and I get to be the asshole caught on video. Well tough shit. It’s too bad for her that I don’t give a fuck what they say about me in the tabloids.
Good thing I have Jane. We have a routine for when fans get too pushy. Jane plays bad cop and I play the cop who doesn’t give a shit.
“Listen lady, we told you several times. We. Are. Late. For. Our. Flight. So, if you’ll excuse us, you will not be getting a picture, an autograph, or anything else today. Have a nice day.” Jane says all of this with a polite smile on her face and the woman’s determined expression is replaced by one of anger.
Of course she’s an angry one and not an embarrassed one. I have yet to meet a New Yorker that gets embarrassed over anything. Well, except for Sydney, but she seems to be the exception to everything. Fuck if I know, she might not even be from New York.
The throng of bystanders follows us all the way to the club lounge where they thankfully, aren’t allowed.
“Well, she sure was an aggressive one,” Jane says in disgust as the heavy club door closes behind us.
“Yeah, once again it’s a wonderful fuckin’ day at the airport.”
“Drew! Stop swearing so much!”
Shit, I always forget that she hates it when I curse, which I do in almost every sentence I speak.
“Sorry!”
Only Jane could get away with scolding me like that. And Sydney. I mean fuck, Sydney went toe to toe with me yesterday over Adam fucking Reynolds! I’ve never let a woman get the best of me like that, except maybe my mom.
“Let’s go sit,” Jane says, patting my arm.
“Great.” I’ve never been so unhappy to be going to work as I am right now.