Fantastic by Steve Smith

Gary slammed the remote control on the table and stared at the screen. The late news droned on, talking about nothing interesting. The highlights of the film premiere followed after, so he waited.

He watched the pretty woman pointing at the map, swinging her hair, batting her eyelids, her face caked in makeup. The blood red lips carved a plastic smile into her illuminated face. Men watched the weather just to see her, and that made her no better than a two-bit whore.

He kicked his trainers at the door and they dropped to the ground with a flump. He swallowed the dregs of his beer and tore the can in half, throwing the pieces to the ground. He pulled the ring off a new can and flicked it at the television.

The show started and he watched the snivelling bastards walking into the theatre, he watched clips of the trashy film, interviews with the performers and then she appeared.

‘It’s a fantastic opportunity for me,’ it said. ‘I felt an affinity with my character,’ it continued. ‘The people around me were fantastic.’

‘Bitch!’ shouted Gary. He threw his half-filled can at the screen and it fell to the floor, spilling beer onto the carpet.

The programme continued into the after-show party. Smiley faces talked crap and spoke about how everything was so, so wonderful. Then she was there again. Jennifer. A big smile, the likes Gary had not seen for some while. The actor to her right, looking like every other hollow and empty celebrity, put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. She giggled as she attempted to evade him, spilling a little wine on her wrist. Gary did not move, the screen flickering in the otherwise dark and quiet lounge.

As the credits rolled across clips from the film, Gary reached over to the remote and pressed the standby button. He sat and watched the green digits on the video. He decided to wait for his partner to return. He allowed fury to pump his heart and felt the power surging through his limbs. She asked him to go with her, but she never meant it. She said she really wanted him to go, but he knew she was just saying that; just playing games with him. She had to say it, he knew that. The last time he went with her, she ignored him, made a fool of him; other people laughed at him. It was sport. He was just part of the entertainment. He told her. He said he wouldn’t be the object of their entertainment. Oh no. He was proud of being a builder and he wouldn’t let people make fun of him.

He thought of Jennifer. Jennifer the actress. Jennifer the glamorous film-star with model good looks. Jennifer on photo shoots in Barbados. Jennifer in the calendar on the work’s tea room wall. Jennifer with all the chances given to her on a plate, just because of what she looked like. Jennifer who didn’t understand how real people lived and worked. Jennifer from his class at school.

She needed to be taught a lesson. She did not have power over all men.

The front door closed and someone came towards the lounge door. It opened and someone peered in. It withdrew and a sweet feminine voice called to him. Gary squeezed his fists, down by his sides. It came back in and switched on the light.

‘Turn it off!’

‘Why?’ it said. ‘Why are you sitting in the dark with the tele off?’

‘Turn it off!’

It obeyed.

‘Now will you answer me?’ it said.

Gary stayed silent. He listened to her breathing. 

***

It wasn’t the same without him. She couldn’t understand why he refused to come. The place was full of pretentious people she didn’t like; she was sure most people felt the same and that most people in the industry had very few friends inside work. It was a lonely business, but it was work. It was what she had always wanted to do; but for that, she would have to sip champagne and look happy when she wasn’t. It was good acting practice, if nothing else.

She cringed when the brilliant light came along the rows of faces and stopped in front of her. The television presenter, Justin, started to speak, but she could not hear what he was saying because she was looking through the light, down the camera and into her lounge at her husband’s snarling face. She could feel his stinging words lashing at her when she had left home.

‘The people around me were fantastic,’ she said. ‘I felt an affinity with my character. It’s a fantastic opportunity for me’ She hadn’t heard the question, but it was always the same. He could have asked about the weather for all she knew, but people fawned around her and the scene returned to script. She switched off and away from the action.

***

‘Gary?’ The darkness swallowed her words and all was still.

The figure leapt from the chair. Jennifer’s breath stuck in her throat as he rounded on her and grabbed her by the hair. The strong hands pulled her towards the ground. Searing pain came from her scalp as her face hit the carpet. He pushed her head down and her senses panicked as she thought her skull might explode. He sat on her back and thumped her head off the floor and shouted:

‘You bitch!’

Over and over.

She was too shocked to speak. The only sound she made was an involuntary groan every time her head hit the floor. He slowed and eventually stopped. He breathed heavily and sucked spittle back into his mouth.

‘Bitch!’ he shouted. He smacked her face hard. ‘How dare you!’

He stopped moving. Jennifer moved her head slowly, but his left hand was still clamped on her neck. She could feel the wetness of the carpet against her cheek and smell the stale beer that had spilled from the can. She gave up and stopped.

‘Am I not man enough for you, eh? Not man enough?’

‘Gary … get off.’

‘I said: am I not man enough for you?’

‘Get off me!’

‘Answer the question!’

‘Get off me!’

‘Answer the fucking question!’

She coughed and felt her heart pumping as the surroundings came into her field of consciousness. It was like being materialised into a nightmare. She couldn’t move.

‘What do you mean?’ she said.

‘Am I not man enough for you?’ he said.

‘I don’t understand the question.’

‘I see,’ he said, calmly. ‘Why do you go whoring yourself on television? Are you trying to embarrass me? Are you ashamed of me?’ he shouted.

‘What do you mean?’ she said, the adrenaline allowing some anger into her voice.

He put his right hand around her throat to join the left and started to squeeze.

‘Gary!’

‘Does this focus you?’ He squeezed his hands together on each word. ‘Do you understand the question now?’

‘I was not whoring myself and I am not ashamed! I wanted you to come!’

He released his hands, lifted himself onto his knees and turned her over in one quick movement. He sat on her stomach and she groaned as the air was pushed out of her lungs. They were now up against the coffee table. He caught her hands and pinned them above her head. She could see him sneering, a few inches from her face.

‘You never wanted me. Not tonight. Not ever. I’ve never been good enough for you. You are a fucking tart.’ He spat the last word and sprayed her face.

‘Let me go.’

‘I’m just a builder. A normal bloke. You are an actress. From a different world. How can you love me?’

‘Let me up!’

He let go of one hand and swung his open hand against her face. Her head snapped to the side and she screamed. He covered her mouth. ‘Shut up! Shut up you fucking bitch … or so help me, I’ll …’

Her scream was muffled and she wriggled under his bulky weight. He pulled his fist back and thumped it against her jaw. She cried out but his hand covered her mouth again.

‘I told you! I told you to be quiet! Now shut up! Shut up!’

She held still. For a while he watched her before slowly taking his hand away. He sat up and took his other hand away. She left her hand above her head. He could see the side of her head and part of her face in the dim light. She faced the wall, the force of his punch turning her head awkwardly to the side. He turned over her ruby earrings with his large fingers, remembering that he had bought them in the High Street as a celebration when she got her first big part.

‘How can you love me?’ he said.

She could feel that her jaw felt very strange. The pain was extreme, but dull. It clicked as she moved her mouth to speak:

‘How can you do this to me?’ she said.

‘Just answer me.’

‘How can I love a man who does this?’ Each movement of her jaw shot pain through her head.

‘So … I was right.’

‘No!’ she shouted, wincing and moaning with pain. ‘I wanted you to come. I want to share our lives.’

‘How can you share your life with someone like me?’ he said quietly. ‘That’s bollocks!’ he screamed. ‘Fucking bollocks!’

He ripped open the front of her dress. Her breasts moved slightly to each side. He could see the shape of the nipples through the darkness. He thought of the actor and his slender hands touching them, of his mouth and his false laugh as he licked them.

‘Is that what you want?’ she said quietly.

‘I could,’ he said. ‘If I wanted to.’ He pulled her face to look at him, making her yelp with pain. ‘But I don’t want to.’ He could see her blinking at him, the whites of her eyes. He smelled the wine and it enraged him more. He spat on her face. ‘Who fucked you tonight? Did they all fuck you? Did you fuck the director to get in the film? That’s how it works … I know.’

‘Bastard,’ she whispered. She thought of only hour ago. Everyone having fun, of her making excuses and leaving, whispered promises of new roles. She thought of her love for Gary; and wondered if he could never make the simple walk from normal life to something people perceive as almost supernatural and unobtainable. It’s not. It’s just a job, it’s damned hard work – and for every face at a film premiere, there are hundreds of hours of early mornings and long days.

‘If I can’t have you,’ he said, ‘nobody will.’

He reached to the side and picked up the beer can that had been torn in half. She could see its serrated edge as it came towards her face. She made no noise or movement as it cut into her face. It burned as it tore her flesh apart. Her breath came in quick, sharp intervals. He was taking her back across the line, dragging her back into his world. She smelled the metallic can and the beer it had held and waited for him to finish.

He stood up and threw the metal to the floor. He pulled at her, but she would not stand. He put his hand on her throat and screamed at her, but she could not hear the words through the rushing sounds in her ears. He dragged her, screaming all the while, up the stairs and into their bedroom. She glanced at all her pretty things as he reached down and pulled her into his strong arms. He threw her onto the bed and ripped the tattered dress from around her like a magic trick. He pulled the covers over and got in beside her, turning away.

She lay and looked at the silhouettes of everything she owned. The perfume and makeup accessories reminded her of the New York skyline. She thought of Broadway and plastic people. She reminded herself where she was and that it was a world away.