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Chapter Sixteen: All Fall Down

Posted on Wednesday, 27 June 2007

E. Marlowe Clarke

"You've insulted me enough, thank you. Get out of my house!"

"You have not heard the last of me, Miss Clarke. So long as you work for my client you will be dealing with me. This is not the end."

"Get out, now!"

The man would not leave! I nearly had to shove him out the door before he got the hint. Out on the porch I heard him argue with Steve before a car door slammed and tires scream out into the night. Time to breathe easy.

That time was far, far too short. Steve thundered in, a storm cloud from his unnaturally dark hair to black boots and in the foulest mood I'd seen in anyone. Jake cowered under the kitchen table.

"Hey, sweetie! I'm sorry about Ryan, he just showed up and-"

"Don't play games with me, Marlowe," he snapped, grey eyes stormy and forbidding. "It's over."

"What?"

"What do you think you're doing, playing dumb? You know exactly what's going on. I want you out. Gone. We're through."

"Did something happen on the set?" I was beginning to panic; this was nothing like Steve at all. He had been depressed lately, but I never suspected anything was wrong.

He sighed in utter disgust, glaring at me, before stomping up the stairs.

"Answer me!"

I had to follow him. I couldn't let this go so easily. Here was the guy I had started to build a life with from the start, regardless of whatever we had professed four months ago. Now, though, we'd shared so much that I couldn't conceive of ending the relationship so soon. I couldn't even think about the possibility of it ever ending.

"You know what I mean, Marlowe. I heard everything. How could you? Do you rate me that low?"

That could not be right. If he had heard everything like he said, he would not be acting this way.

"Wha-at? Steve, you couldn't-"

"I couldn't what? I know I couldn't believe what you said!"

"What did I say?" It was never a good idea for me to get defensive like that...

"That's not important! You said it! That offer was ludicrous-"

"Yes, it was."

Wrong thing to say, that.

"I know. What'd you do, talk the offer up a few more million? You'll be able to retire and scribble away for the rest of your stinking life!"

It would have been a perfect time to end this bizarre argument and reveal the few holes in Steve's imperfect memory. By then, however, I was too far gone and royally ticked off.

"And is that such a bad thing, wanting to write for a living? I could tell you right now, acting isn't always a reliable income either. You need writers for fresh material, bucko, so don't devalue us!"

I started grabbing stuff and shoving it into my suitcase. I decided I'd go to Lexi's until he cooled off. This could not be happening.

"I don't really care what you do, Marlowe, and I won't know. You're fired. I don't want to see your even face ever again, dammit!"

"You can't be serious!"

"I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life."

"Fine!" I spat. Really, a little landed on his shirt. "Just know you're not the most intelligent guy out there, Steve-o."

"Really?"

"Any man with half a brain would make sure he heard my side of the story, nimrod! You jumped in here thinking you knew everything and are making the biggest mistake in your life. You. Are. An. Idiot! And borderline untalented!"

That was the last straw, apparently, for him. Bastard raised his fist.

"Just remember, Steven, half my family is lawyers and law enforcement, and the other half is former military. Lay one hand on me in anger and you'll definitely never see me again. You won't see a damned thing ever. Hell, they'll be lucky to find your body."

"You really are a conniving brat, aren't you?" he snarled, but lowered his fist. "I can't believe you!"

"And you damn well won't listen to me! What's happened to you? You're not letting me defend myself or even hear my side of the story! I'm going to let you cool off for a few days. Maybe you should take a break-"

"Don't dare tell me what to do! You have no part in my life any more."

My stomach formally met my knees at that point. He meant it. Everything, from his posture to his voice, he meant every word. I was fired. The whole relationship was over, all because of him. It helped that I knew it wasn't my fault, but not enough. Not enough.

I was in tears when I showed up at Lexi's flat in the city. Stupid me, I walked, duffel over shoulder with most of my worldly possessions inside, and I was exhausted by the time I got there. The damned bag was heavy and my shoulders ached from switching it back and forth, but mostly my face burned. Thankfully in this area everyone was in bed by the time I could be seen wandering through the streets, and I didn't have to worry about gossip.

"Oh, Lord, the apocalypse," Lexi said, eyes rolling, as he ushered me into the living room.

He didn't say much else for the next hour, just handing me Kleenex and refilling a tumbler with vodka until I passed out. Not the best thing, I know, but it worked. The next morning I was lucid enough to tell him all that happened.

"The idiot."

That was all he said. I didn't totally expect him to take my side on this, seeing as I had called Steve little more than a talentless hack, but yeah, most of the blame was on Steve... my now ex. God, but that hurt.

"Please, don't make this worse," I said. "He won't listen."

He sighed and sat down next to me, right on my feet.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know." And I pulled the sheet over my head, trying to ignore him. "I wanna go home."

"You're going to give up that easily?" The sheet was pulled back down. "That is not the Marlowe I know. Do you love him?"

No answer.

"Do you love him?"

I nodded, new tears starting. He was making it worse.

"Then you have to stay until this all works out. You know as well as I that the poor boy isn't himself. He's under a terrible amount of pressure, and you help diffuse some of it. If you leave now it'll all fall onto his shoulders and you know he can't handle it. Moreover, Ryan Treyvant will win!"

"Ryan Treyvant has all ready won, Lexi. Steve fired me. If I show up now we'll fight again, and I can't handle that."

"Do you know that for certain?" Lexi has this way of looking at a person that makes them veritably cower if there is the slightest possibility that he is right.

"No," I whined. "I don't know if we'd fight again, but if we did I would lose it and I don't want that."

"Are you afraid of looking weak in front of him? Or is it people in general?"

The pointed question went straight to the heart.

"Of course I am! It's not my fault, though! He's the one jumping to conclusions! I'm the injured party here!"

"So what are you going to do?" he repeated.

"I'm gonna go home and let him contact me if he ever comes to his senses. I just can't believe this happened."

"You're giving up, you know."

"Yeah, I do. But I can't win this one while he's like this, and I can't stay here indefinitely. It was fun while it lasted. I learned a lot."

Steven Knight

Ryan passed me on his way out.

"Are you happy now, you wanker?" I snarled.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, boy," he replied, looking none too pleased at all, and kept right on walking.

The fight that followed was ugly. I don't remember most of it, but the end... it was so final. And brutal.

"You. Are. An. Idiot! And borderline untalented!"

I knew she was angry, but then, so was I, and that comment shot straight through every insecure part of me. I actually thought about hitting her, going so far as to raise my fist. She got very quiet then.

"Just remember, Steven, half my family is lawyers and law enforcement, and the other half is former military. Lay one hand on me in anger and you'll definitely never see me again. You won't see a damned thing ever. Hell, they'll be lucky to find your body."

What was I doing? This was Marlowe... I couldn't hurt her. Not if I wanted to. The threat she made was valid; I'd met nearly everyone and knew how they dealt with problem people. Still, she was the one to make that damned deal with Treyvant. She betrayed me and sold our relationship to the highest bidder. I couldn't forgive her for that. The one woman I'd met that I could...

"You really are a conniving brat, aren't you?" I said and lowered my hand. "I can't believe you!"

"And you damn well won't listen to me! What's happened to you? You're not letting me defend myself or even hear my side of the story! I'm going to let you cool off for a few days. Maybe you should take a break-"

"Don't dare tell me what to do! You have no part in my life any more."

And right there I knew it was over. She didn't fight back any further, just packed her things and left. In five minutes she was gone. In those five minutes my life as I knew it was over. She was gone. The woman I loved above everything was gone and out of my life. It was her fault, I knew, but knowing that didn't take the sting out of her absence.

The work I did on The Scarlet Pimpernel would eventually earn me an Academy Award. I poured everything I had into that role, Chauvelin. All the longing, the pain, the rage and disappointment. The critics would find Chauvelin the most sympathetic character in the film and tout him as the real hero of the piece, for carrying on with his mission despite the conflicts presented by the title "hero." My fan girls would write the most touching letters about how Marguerite shouldn't have been so cruel to Chauvelin.

I didn't give a stink one way or the other. After Marlowe left I moved into a hotel for the rest of the shoot, Jake coming with me and staying with the front desk staff while I was away. A week or so later, both Evan and Jenna were replaced by much more talented actors, with much more pleasant dispositions. They were much easier to work with, and having the production schedule pushed back wasn't a horrible thing.

Baumhaus sent Gary, the bloke from the interviews, to fill in as my assistant. He got his own room. Got his own cell. Didn't have to share anything of mine. I will give him this, though: he was perfectly unobtrusive. Did everything I asked and didn't complain once.

Marlowe called me several times during the shoot. I never answered the phone and I deleted all the messages she left; I still couldn't think about talking to her. James called a few times but he never mentioned her. Lexi only shook his head when he saw me, and when Maggie had the audacity to call and specifically ask what happened, I hung up on her. Some might find that unforgivable, but they just didn't understand what had happened! Of course Marlowe was going to spin things her way and get her friends and family to take her side. What chance would I stand to get my own story told and believed?

I was late to my last day of filming. The night before I stopped off at a convenience store and left with a bottle of mid-grade single malt whiskey. It was gone by midnight and I slept until noon.

I was drunk for the next two days at least. Once I was done and satisfied, I went to a bar and got smashed, and stayed that way for quite some time. There's no way to tell that if Marlowe had been there it wouldn't have happened, since she was gone and I'd never see her again. That thought alone asked for another bottle.

Some time after God knows when I answered the door, half naked and drunk out of my skull, empty bottles strewn about the place like some college student's dormitory. Lexi was there, the angry kind of ticked, arms crossed and everything.

"All right, you Scottish twit," he said, as impressively commanding as a drag queen can be, "What explanation can you possibly have for this?"

I think I mumbled something like "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lexi stumbled back on his stilettos, then grimaced and the next thing I knew I was in the bathroom, in the tub, and under a stream of water that came straight from the heart of a glacier!

"What the heck are you doing?"

"Saving you from yourself, you pathetic piece of DNA!" he snapped. "I have watched you for the last seven months plus, and ever since you kicked Marlowe out you've been deteriorating into a pile of crap! And this, this is the lowest I can allow you to sink. What kind of friend would I be if I let you kill yourself this way?"

"You're not my friend," I sighed, nausea building from my toes up. "You're her friend."

"If I weren't your friend, I wouldn't even be here, dipstick," came his brilliant retort. "Have you eaten anything in the last three days that didn't come out of a bottle?"

I stared blankly around the room, trying to remember what bleeding day it was.

"I'll take that as a no. You really are a piece of work, Knight. Come on, get dressed. We've got a long way to go before today is over."

"What? Why? Where am I going? And why are you going with me?"

"Your presence is wanted in Michigan. Not only is Marlowe in as bad a state as you, but Grandmother Mitchell is in the hospital and asking for you. And since you've stopped taking...."

He kept talking calmly on while I dragged a shirt over my head and dumbly watched. Gran Mitchell? In hospital? Damn. There was no question about me going.