DAISY

"Cliff?" I shouted to the dark apartment, as I took off my shoes.

No one answered.

I entered the living room looking for my boyfriend, but ended up bumping into a dresser that had been placed there due to lack of space in the bedroom.

"Damned small place!" I exclaimed, taking out my frustration in the furniture who was not to blame for my failure as a person.

It's one in the morning. I missed Cliff's gig.

I was hoping I could apologize to him in person when I got home... Maybe I could persuade him with the cookies Mom used to make us and he loved. But the apartment had no sign of life.

We rented the place four years ago when we left Oakland and came to Los Angeles to fight for our dreams together.

"You'll see. Hollywood will be impressed with us" he said as we lay in my parent's backyard and watched the starless California sky.

"What if it doesn't work?" I hugged him searching for that feeling of security that only his arms could give me.

"We will always be there for each other. No matter what."

We're always there for each other, I repeated, running my hand over my face. I felt awful. I should be there. I should've told Stacker to fuck off. Cliff was supposed to see my face in the crowd cheering for him. There's no excuse for what I did.

I plopped down on the couch and looked at the moldy wall.

Actually, this apartment sucked.

It was so small that it was almost claustrophobic. The living room has enough space for the sofa that Cliff's parents gave him and a television that he bought with his first payment as a singer.

There was only one window in the room with a wonderful view of the red brick building on the other side.

Plus, the place smelled like old stuff and cigarettes, even though neither of us smoked. The neighborhood was the worst in Los Angeles. Too far from Hollywood or any other place that mattered.

The house was temporarily until I got a better job and could help with the expenses. The problem was that the "better job" never came, while Cliff started earning more and more and I started to depend on him more and more to survive this jungle.

This frustrated me so much. I hated depending on someone, even if that someone was my boyfriend.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. In the refrigerator, I saw a new post-it that wasn't there this morning.

Thanks for your support.

I went out with Jordan and Ian.

Don't wait for me.

I ripped it away, putting all my hate into that piece of paper.

As I imagined, Cliff was pissed.

I don't know how I will fix things this time. A long time ago, we argued about my job taking my life and preventing me from doing anything else.

If I told him I ran late because Brandi Mann had a hysterical fit over a chocolate bar and Guy Carver took the opportunity to drink all the bottles from the scenario, he would simply say that my job came first than him. Like always.

I decided that I'd wait for him to arrive, even if it cost my precious sleep, so Cliff would see the extent of my regret.

I sat on the couch and turned on the TV on some random channel. Pride and Prejudice was on. It was the new version with Guy Carver as Mr. Darcy. Honestly, this was an insult to Fitzwilliam Darcy, as Guy was much more of a rake like Wickham.

I watched the movie for a couple of minutes and when Elizabeth returned home after Lydia ran off with Wickham, my eyes started to get heavy.

The next morning, there was no sign of Cliff. His phone went straight to voicemail and he didn't even receive the messages I sent him. I tried not to worry. It was common for him not to answer his cell phone when he went out with his friends.

I couldn't wait for him any longer. The sun was brightening and I bet Stacker would take the chance to shoot as many outdoor scenes as possible.

I took a shower, put on the first outfit I saw in my closet and drove to the studio.

"You! I was looking for you" Brandi welcomed me on set.

She was already in her costume — a long pink skirt with a matching bodice. Her black hair was tied up in an elaborate bun and she wore a pair of pearls in her ears that must have cost my salary.

Brandi looked stunning. It was no wonder that she was considered one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood. Also one of the pettiest — I helped with the vote promoted by a gossip site.

"What is it?" I asked immediately, as the set seemed more agitated than usual.

Also I thought I heard Stacker's scream.

Either something went wrong or the Academy revoked his Oscar.

"I need you to make an appointment at the hairdresser for me. There's this party in a few days and all the celebrities are trying to book an appointment at the same salon... It's chaos" she explained, handing me a paper with a random number on it. "Call until you get an appointment at 3:30 pm. Don't let that blonde ass Margot Robbie take my place" she said with intensity. She walked back into Elizabeth's living room and I was left there staring at the paper in my hands.

When I become a very famous director, I'll miss those sweet moments with Brandi Mann.

I arrived at the room and it was practically empty for a day of shooting, except for some cameramen who were walking around the scenario. Stacker was in the center of the room. Brandi had her arms crossed at his side and Guy was sitting on the couch, his feet resting on the wooden table.

They looked like concerned parents about to give their rebellious son a scolding.

"Carver, do you realize how many hours of my hard work you are affecting right now?" Stacker shouted. "This is a disaster. A complete disaster" he started walking in circles around the room, pulling out the strands of hair that were still on his head.

"Honestly, I warned you about problematic actors since the beginning" Brandi said, following Stacker with her gaze.

Guy wasn't bothered by anything. Or at least he seemed like he wasn't bothered. His face was neutral. He looked at his feet on the table as if this was nothing more than a normal Saturday.

I had no idea what happened, but I could imagine from my experience on Hearts on Fire that it must have something to do with Guy Carver's reputation.

While still at Uni, people were already talking about the great talent of Guy Carver in period films and series. At the same time, they were also talking about the problems he got into during his career.

Most of the gossip was about his affairs with married celebrities and depraved parties he threw at his house. However, there was some big thing that made him stay away from the scenes for two years until Stacker offered the role of Dirch.

I don't remember what. It's likely that his manager paid a lot of money to take down whatever it was.

"If your team had reversed the situation right away, we wouldn't be discussing this" Guy said, shrugging "Brandi called out Quentin Tarantino on Twitter and there was no scandal".

"He called me an 'apathetic little girl'" she defended herself.

"Just fire whoever let this out and release some teaser to divert attention"

"These are divergent situations. For Christ's sake, Carver, you assaulted a paparazzi!"

Stacker stopped in the middle of the room and stared at the painting on the wall.

"I regret being alive every day" he said, resting his forehead against the wall. Stacker took two deep breaths and turned to Jenn, who was watching everything with eyes wide open. "Who was taking care of the email exchange with the press?"

Fragmented scenes from the day before flashed through my head. I was in that role, supposedly.

I took a step forward.

"I believe you gave me the task yesterday, but I didn't have time..."

"Oh, didn't you notice everyone was talking about Guy last night?" Jenn questioned.

"It was early morning..."

"Well, Denise, you're fired" Stacker announced without further arguments. "Filmmakers never sleep. I can confirm that... Should I mention this in the next lecture at the LA Film School?" Stacker asked himself, already calmer.

"But... I... Sir...?" I stammered.

I felt pathetic stuttering in incomplete words in front of two Hollywood stars and the greatest director of the generation. My brain couldn't process the words Stacker had just said to me.

Fired? I had never been fired! Not even when I worked at a children's party as Cinderella and was caught by the birthday girl drinking whiskey at the back door.

Stacker raised his hand to me before I could start protesting like a little kid about how unfair all of this was.

Because it was. I had dedicated my life to this production... No, I gave my soul to be here.

"Jenn, take care of the paperwork. I need to drink" he said, leaving the set without even considering my presence there.

"You're still going to schedule my appointment, right?" Brandi asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

I glared at her and Guy, who was pretty much responsible for my sudden dismissal. He looked at me with those incredibly blue eyes. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but I turned my back on them and stomped out of the set.

If I was truly out of production, I no longer had to put up with spoiled Hollywood actors.

"Argh!" I shouted in the parking lot.

My brain was replaying everything that happened in the last five minutes.

Two years. Two years of my life were spent on a TV show that kicked me without thinking twice about it. Shit. That was my big opportunity! I didn't even get the chance to make Stacker learn my name.

I stopped in front of the black Dodge Dakota that I had bought from an ex-convict in the building for a suspicious price.

I tried to call Cliff, but he still wasn't answering. I needed him more than ever and he wouldn't answer his damn phone! I know he was angry with me about the gig, but this silent treatment was going too far.

"Denise!" A voice called from behind me.

It was Guy.

"That's not my name." I said harshly.

"And what is it, then...?" he asked, but stopped when he realized I was leaving. "Hey, hey... wait a minute, please? Just listen to me for a second." His English accent was thicker than usual.

"I don't want to hear you, Carver!" I shouted, turning around quickly and almost bumping into his broad shoulders. "You made me lose the only good thing that happened in my entire life because of your stupidity!" I said, not caring about the people passing by looking at us strangely.

My blood was boiling in my veins and I wanted to smash Guy's handsome face with the spare tire of my truck. In fact, forget the spare tire, I could smash his face with my own hand.

"The best thing? Really? Is being Brandi's personal slave the best thing that happened to you?" He placed his hands on his hips.

"It's hard for you to understand, because you're a freaking man who can do anything and still get out as if nothing happened!"

Guy was surprised by these words and I felt pleased about it.

"That show right there? That was my golden opportunity, okay? Stacker would recognize my talent at some point and give me a chance to actually direct something..."

He started to laugh, interrupting my speech.

"What?" I asked, holding myself back so I wouldn't get arrested for murdering a Hollywood star in the middle of the parking lot.

If he came here to say "sorry", he wasn't doing a good job.

"Do you really believe Stacker would give a chance..." he pointed to my body "for a young woman like you?"

"That was extremely sexist."

"Stacker is sexist! He would never give you a chance like that" he explained, gesturing with his hands. "He posted on Twitter that feminist are only like that because no one wants to have sex with them"

"Oh my God" I grimaced.

I should have suspected this when Stacker asked me to clean up the kitchen on set, because I'd known better than the male intern working alongside me.

"If you want to be a director one day and I can see you want it. This isn't the place to start" said Guy, convinced of himself. "All Stacker does is steal ideas and scream, not to mention he doesn't even know your real name!"

That sounded like something Cliff would say, which stressed me out even more because he reminded me that my boyfriend hadn't been returning any of my calls since yesterday.

"Is that what you think or are you just saying that to make yourself feel better about what you did?" I crossed my arms.

"I'm just trying to help."

"Honestly, you don't have the morals you think you have to take the position of advisor. You've serious problems at the moment."

"Every great actor has problems," he explained, shrugging his shoulders. "See Robert Downey Jr. Now, he is the iron man".

"How many Marvel movies have you starred in exactly?"

"For your information, I almost played Spider-Man instead of Andrew Garfield, but they thought I was too pretty for the role" he pointed his hand to himself.

I didn't have time for this. I needed to find Cliff, apologize and take him back home, so I could cry all night in his lap, thinking about what I would do with my life now.

"Carver" A tall man in a suit got out of an Evoque a few meters from where we were.

He had dark skin and brown eyes. I had seen him talking to Guy in the studio corridors, but he was not part of the production. I think he was his manager.

"Thatcher" Guy greeted him. "You're late. Stacker already did his job of giving me a hard time" he shrugged.

"We'll get there, but that's not what I came here to talk about" Thatcher smiled, but it didn't look like a happy smile. His cheeks were red and there were wrinkles on his forehead. "I got a call from USCIS... How long has it been since you updated your visa?" he squinted his eyes.

"Do I have to do this? I mean, I've been running the film industry in this country for years" Guy said obviously.

I should take the opportunity to leave, but I couldn't take my eyes off whatever was happening between the two of them.

"Guy, this is serious! It's been two years since you renewed your visa, do you know what that means?" He looked expectantly at Carver, waiting for his own conclusion.

But Guy just stared back at him and shrugged.

"You are going to be illegal in the USA!" He revealed, raising his voice "Which also means that you will be deported to the UK".

I looked at Guy, who seemed to be processing all this information. I bet half his brain cells died years ago with all the drinking and parties he went to.

"That's worse than hitting a street photographer, Guy! You've crossed all the lines!" Thatcher started shouting. A thin line of sweat ran down his right cheek. "You might as well lose your paper with Stacker".

Guy finally seemed to understand the situation. He ran a hand through his curly hair and looked back at the handsome man with glasses.

"Don't worry. I have a solution."

He didn't look like he had a solution, to be honest.

"What kind of solution, Carver? I talked to a lawyer and we don't have many options. Either you choose to return to England on your own or you prove to the American government that you are getting married, which of course you're not".

I noticed that Guy squinted his eyes in the same way a child would before involved in some kind of confusion. What the hell was going on?

"I'm getting married" Guy revealed, mechanically.

"I saw you with two girls last week at your house."

"It's an open marriage. A new concept. You wouldn't understand. You are too old for modernity." Guy said.

"I'm only five years older than you" he said, clearly offended by that comment. "And who the hell would accept to marry you?"

Guy turned his face and I followed his gaze to the empty parking lot behind me.

Then I realized — he was staring at me.

"She's my wife" Guy tried to pull my arm, but I avoided it, so he just placed his hand behind my back without actually touching me. "Right?" Carver looked at me and I noticed a certain desperation in his eyes.

"Is that true?" His manager asked me.

I opened my mouth to scream "No!" but nothing came out. I was so nervous about everything that was happening that I simply kept babbling intelligible things, until Thatcher raised a hand to stop me from going any further.

"It doesn't matter" Thatcher intervened. "Even if that was true, you would need to go through five different procedures to prove the marriage and you could be prosecuted by the American state if you failed..." The phone that Thatcher had been holding in his hand rang. He adjusted his glasses to see the name on the screen. "One minute, kid. I need to talk to clients who are giving me money, not sessions at the shrink..." Thatcher said and then answered the phone. "Hi, Pattinson, how are the promotions for Batman?".

I watched Guy's manager walk away, then turned to leave before Thatcher came back and gave me an earful too. He didn't know me, but he seemed to do it naturally.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. In case you forgot, you got me fired about ten minutes ago" I got into the car and slammed the door.

"Maybe we can solve this whole situation in a convenient way for both of us" he said, through the car window. "See, you can help me with this little problem of mine and I'll help you with yours. It will be an exchange of favors".

"I don't owe you anything, Carver. You on the other hand owe me a job!" I shouted and slammed the brake.

"Denise!" Guy shouted to the skies, but that was not my name.