The Make-Up Artist: Part 2

Chapter Eight: The Invitation

You glance at the time, 8 pm. 4 am in England, why is he calling so late? And more importantly, why are you in bed so early? Those thoughts are fleeting as you slide the bar across to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Do you have FX? If so, turn on your tv." You really never know what to expect when you talk to Taron, and now is no different.

"Ok...hold on, let me find my remote", you say as you dig around the sheets for the small black device. Finally locating it lodged between your pillow and headboard, you pull it out and press the power button.

"Do you have it yet?" Taron asks impatiently.

"Patience please, I just found the remote, now I have to figure out which channel FX is", you explain as you press the guide button. You hear him sigh heavily on the other end of the line. He never did have much patience. "Ok, got it", you say as you finally press the corresponding channel number. The screen switches to a shot of Taron in a tight neoprene ski suit talking to a jeans and flannel clad Hugh Jackman, and you immediately smile. "Oh, it's that Hugh Jackman movie", you say, grinning widely at your own joke. Of course you recognize that it's the movie he made about the famous ski jumper, Eddie the Eagle, but he doesn't have to know that.

"Ha, ha. You're hilarious", Taron retorts and you giggle.

"I try. What are you doing up so late anyway?" You ask, surprised that you even have the same channel as him.

"Late? It's 9:00." Now you're really confused.

"Oh...where are you exactly?" You ask, assuming that he is still in England but you're not sure why. It's not like you have a detailed itinerary of his schedule. You actually know nothing of his whereabouts and that bothers you a little for some reason. You miss knowing exactly where he was supposed to be at all times, and you try and tell yourself that's not at all creepy.

"I'm in Chicago. I'm just here for a couple of days for a few radio interviews. But I'm in my hotel room now", he explains, and you imagine him sprawled out on his bed flipping through the tv channels like any other normal human being. Admittedly, the image gives you a slight thrill.

"Oh, ok", you say, wondering how long a flight from Chicago to L.A. would be. You immediately push that thought out of your mind and focus on the tv screen, which of course doesn't help since it's Taron's face staring back at you. You put the phone on speaker and lay it down on the pillow next to you so you can relax back onto your own pillow and watch. It really is a sweet little movie, and seeing it brings you back to the last time you watched it when you were staying with Taron after the accident with your hand. That seems like such a long time ago, almost like another lifetime, and you can't help but long for those simpler days, even if they didn't seem simple at the time. Taron's voice coming out of the little speaker to your left brings you out of your visit down memory lane.

"Bloody hell, I forgot how much weight I put on for this film", he says, sounding embarrassed.

"Taron please, you're perfect", you say without thinking, then slap your hand over your forehead. You really need to get a Taron filter.

"Thank you for saying that but we both know that's not true", he says seriously.

"I guess neither of us are" you answer back.

"Touché." The next few minutes pass in silence as you both watch the movie and it occurs to you how easy it is to fall back into pleasant conservation with him. Almost as if none of the recurring drama between you has ever happened or even mattered. You watch the screen as Taron falls time after time off the long ski jump, and you cringe every time he hits the ground.