77. Nothing New (12/3/21)

The first fall of snow drenched the city in puffy white flakes, and Veronica couldn't help but relate to the overwhelming onslaught of chilly winter weather. She adjusted her sunglasses and checked her phone one last time before entering the underground bar. The screen was blank, no text or call from her agent telling her the offer was all a joke. It was a quarter past ten on a Tuesday night. She couldn't remember the last time she slept.

Inside the bar, the heater was on high and a few local patrons huddled around tables, talking in whispers. Veronica didn't recognize anyone, and no one recognized her, which was perfect. No paparazzi or fans asking for pictures. The press would immediately question why she was spending a Tuesday night alone at a bar.

She took a seat at the bar towards the door and removed her black coat, revealing her black turtleneck and skinny jeans underneath. Around her neck was a silver pendant, a gift her father had given her on her nineteenth birthday, right before she left for California. That was six years ago, and she still hadn't contacted her father and apologized. She pictured him sitting in his chair by the window, watching sports highlights and waiting for the phone to ring. Or maybe he was watching a Western and thinking of her, since he had shown her all the good Westerns and mob movies by the time she was ten.

Veronica impatiently tapped her fingers on the bar top, which was made of glass on top of a wooden structure. Against the wall were shelves and shelves of alcohol, and on the other side of the bar was a stage that was most likely used for karaoke nights and visiting musicians or comedians. But, on a Tuesday night, the bar was quiet. Veronica made sure to sit at the end of the bar closest to the door just in case she would have to make a quick getaway. One never knows when a camera could pop up, but Veronica figured none of the old men in the back would care about selling pictures of her to a needy tabloid.

Tucking her sunglasses into her bag, Veronica ran her fingers through her straight, brown hair and checked her phone again. She was becoming paranoid. Instead of a text or phone call from her agent, she received an email.

"Veronica, I'm sorry about the call earlier," her agent began. No hello, but at least he offered an apology. "I didn't think you would be so upset. I know you don't want to accept the role, but I think it will be a great opportunity. Critics already say there is Oscar buzz, and they want to see more serious roles from you."

There were a few more lines of the email, but Veronica deleted it right away; it was all the same shit her agent had said on the phone. She rolled her eyes. If she had to hear her agent talk about Oscar buzz one more time, she was going to strangle him.

The bartender approached her, and even though Veronica had come here a few times before, he pretended as if he didn't know her; she was thankful for that. "What can I get you?"

"An old-fashioned, please," Veronica said, speaking against the lump in her throat.

A few moments later, the bartender was handing her the drink. She had to stop herself from guzzling it and hiding her pain in the alcohol.

Veronica was lost in thought for a moment, until she heard someone clearing their throat at the other end of the bar. She glanced up and saw a familiar woman nursing a beer. The other woman had wavy blonde hair, pale skin, and light gray eyes that could draw a person in. Veronica wanted to say she was beautiful, but that didn't seem like the right word to describe her. She tossed a few words around in her head and finally landed on "striking." Yes, the blonde was quite striking, and Veronica felt her heart race as she took the other girl's appearance in. She looked either pissed off at the world or like she wanted to rule the world. She wore a faded gray Led Zeppelin shirt with ripped mom jeans.

"Veronica Rogers?" the woman whispered.

Veronica was tempted to look behind her and pretend she was not famous, but she recognized the woman from somewhere. She grabbed her glass and moved down the bar towards the blonde. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Annalise Reiling," the woman said. "I'm a singer."

Veronica nodded. She knew Annalise from last year's Grammy Awards, where she won Best New Artist following the release of her first album, A. It was a mix of singer-songwriter, intimate lyrics sung over slow guitar riffs, and some more upbeat pop and rock-inspired songs.

"I really liked your first album," Veronica said, lying just for simplicity's sake; she had listened to the album once or twice, but it wasn't the type of music she enjoyed. Before Annalise could question her interest in her music, Veronica glanced down at the girl's shirt and asked, "So, did you get the Led out?"

Annalise made a face, and Veronica wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. She felt like she was saying all the wrong things, like she was on a first date with a stranger she desperately wanted to impress. "Did you get the Led out?" What did that even mean? She had just heard her dad say it around the house when he was listening to the band's album. Annalise glanced down at her shirt out of confusion.

"Sorry, that was, uh, the wrong thing to say," Veronica whispered, her face a wildfire.

"You're all good," Annalise replied with an easy smile, and somehow that smile made Veronica feel a lot better.

"So, uh, how's your second album going?" She figured it was a safer discussion topic.

"It came out two weeks ago," Annalise said, chuckling before taking a sip of her drink. "Literally no one is listening to it."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"It's true," Annalise said, her voice full of spite. "My record company fucked me over and released the album on the same day Drake's new album came out. Who's gonna listen to some twentysomething complain about trauma when the world's top rapper has a new album?"

Veronica nodded; she had heard horror stories about the industry ruining women's careers, whether it was through media complaints, horrible paparazzi photos, or poor career moves. She hadn't started to believe them until today.

"I totally understand," Veronica said. "I got a call from my agent today, and I was not happy about it."

"Are they gonna make a sequel to Leave Me Alone? Because I saw some people speculating, and it didn't make any sense to me..."

"No," Veronica said, cutting the girl off. The singer was referring to Veronica's movie from last year, where she played Vince Vaughn's younger sister who runs away after almost overdosing. The role landed her an Oscar nomination, but she lost to Viola Davis; Veronica had a feeling her agent wished she had won instead.

"I really loved that film," Annalise said with pure admiration in her eyes. "The way you captured the struggles of addiction was so realistic, and almost beautiful, in a way. But I had a hard time believing Vince Vaughn was your dad, I mean you guys don't really look similar..."

"My dad?" Veronica asked. "I was supposed to be his sister."

"Sister?" Annalise seemed shocked, even though it was mentioned multiple times in the film. "Isn't he, like, old?"

"Fifty-one!" Veronica couldn't help but laugh; she remembered how Vince had reminded her multiple times on set, and even he had questioned the casting decision. Veronica also knew that the alcohol coursing through her veins was affecting her in a way, but she wasn't about to stop drinking.

"Is that all he is?" Annalise took another swig of her drink, winced, and then asked the bartender for a second. "Wait a sec, how old are you?"

Veronica wanted to reply with some snappy comeback, but she just blushed and replied, "Twenty-five."

"Oh. You seem older." She paused and realized her mistake. "That's not a bad thing or anything, you just seem mature, that's all. But still, weird." She accepted a different drink from the bartender. "Anyway, what's your news?"

Veronica let out a sigh. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she wasn't sure why she felt the need to tell this total stranger all her secrets. But Annalise wasn't a stranger; Veronica had seen her on the television, accepting her award for Best New Artist with tears in her eyes. Besides, she felt like she and Annalise had met before.

"My agent told me there's a role for me. I'd...I'd be a single mom." She felt like she was saying a slur.

Annalise didn't even need an explanation; she understood the subtext immediately. "The fuck?"

"Right?" Veronica couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or cry. "I mean, I'm twenty-five years old, and they already wanna give me the mother roles? My agent thinks it'll help me get an Oscar, but I already played a drug addict. What more do they want from me?"

"Sorry if the comment about your age bothered you," Annalise apologized. "But you could technically play a single mom. They make teens do that all the time on the CW."

"That's another thing!" Veronica felt all of her rage bubbling up and spilling out onto the bar floor. "I could still play a teenager. Look at the kids on Riverdale and Gossip Girl! They're my age playing kids in high school, but I'm supposed to be a mom." She finished her old-fashioned. "I should have done television."

"Please," Annalise replied, "your face belongs on the big screen. You have this old-Hollywood beauty that people need to see."

Veronica couldn't help but blush. "So...what about you and this album?"

Annalise rolled her eyes. "Critics hate it, fans hate it. They think I've gotten too mainstream. Then, I go on Instagram or Tiktok and see all these kids either covering my songs or writing their own.

"And the worst thing is," she continued, "is that everyone in the comments is like 'oh my god, you're the next Annalise Reiling' or 'where's the album?' I feel like I'm gonna get replaced with a younger, prettier version of myself."

"That's awful." Veronica stared at her glass. Then she confessed, "I don't even go on social media."

Annalise leaned across the bar, her gray eyes full of secrets. "They love you on there, Veronica. Twitter went crazy when the trailer for Leave Me Alone dropped, and they were making fan edits and stuff when the movie came out."

"Really?" Veronica couldn't imagine a teenage audience loving a movie about a drug user running away from home; she wasn't even sure if young kids even knew who Vince Vaughn was. Then again, she had gotten her start in teen comedies, playing bit parts with funny one-liners. Fans must have followed her from project to project.

"I'm serious," Annalise replied. "I think everyone has a crush on you. And I'm sure if you took this new movie, they would love you even more."

A part of Veronica wanted to ask if Annalise had a crush on her, but she decided to swallow the question. Besides, she wasn't sure if she wanted people to love her. Why had she started acting in the first place? She remembered watching nothing but mob movies and Westerns with her dad and wondering why the women were hardly ever featured. Her and dad liked talking movies, but Veronica had kept her dream of becoming an actress a secret; she wasn't sure why. Her father hadn't placed any expectations on her to go to college or major in something particular. Nevertheless, a few weeks after her nineteenth birthday, she left Washington state and her father for Hollywood with just a note on the kitchen counter telling him where she had gone. He had tried to call, but she never answered.

Veronica wanted to play strong female characters and make up for the lack of representation in those mob movies and Westerns. Her role in Leave Me Alone was like that, and she could relate to running away from home. On the day she and Vince filmed the reunion scene at the end of the film, where their characters find each other in New York City years after her character left, Veronica wanted to call her dad. She even dialed the number. But as soon as she heard his voice on the other end of the line, she hung up and cried herself to sleep.

"Do they love you?" Veronica whispered.

"They did." Annalise was finishing her drink. "They loved me and my first album. Now I'm not so sure."

They were the last words Veronica remembered hearing that night. Afterwards, she figured she must have consumed more and more alcohol, because when she woke up Wednesday morning, her head was pounding and her limbs felt hollow and stiff.

She winced as the morning light seeped through the windows. Her queen-size bed was empty save for her, but it looked like someone else had been there.

She pushed her brown hair out of her face before noticing something on her hand. Blinking a few times in a row, she managed to make out the words "Call agent and turn down role. Then, call me." A little smiley face followed a list of digits.

Veronica did what she was told, picking up her phone and calling her agent. "Hey, Alan." She almost never referred to him by name. "Um, I got your email...and your calls. I don't think I can take the single mom role."

"You haven't even read the script!" He said. "Oscar buzz, Ronnie, I'm telling ya."

Veronica hated when he called her "Ronnie"; the nickname was reserved for her father. "I don't wanna play a mom. I've got plenty of time left to play other types of characters." She yawned. "And I'm sure I'll get my Oscar eventually."

"Yeah, good luck with that," he said. "Whatever, I'm sure it'll go to someone else. I'll keep looking for ya."

"One more question," Veronica said, remembering her conversation from last night. "Was Vince supposed to be my dad or brother?"

"Huh?"

"In Leave Me Alone. He was my brother, right? Or was he my dad?"

"He was your brother," Alan replied with a surprising amount of sincerity in his voice. "I know, I know. They were gonna get some younger guy to play him, but I guess they wanted to see Vince in a serious role..."

Veronica hung up on him. She didn't care why Vince Vaughn was cast, and she wished he would have just been her dad in the film.

Instead, she typed in the phone number on her hand and a familiar, feminine voice answered. She didn't sound as hungover.

"Veronica," Annalise said, "we need to talk about last night. Can I meet you somewhere?"

"Uh, sure, yeah," was all Veronica said in response before hanging up. She stared at her list of contacts as a sinking feeling filled her body and she realized what had occurred. Someone else had been in her bed last night, and she could not remember a thing.

Before climbing out of bed, Veronica threw caution to the wind and clicked on her father's contact. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Ronnie, baby?" Her dad asked, worry dripping from his voice. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Veronica whispered with tears in her eyes. "I shouldn't have left. I should have told you..."

"We can talk about that later. Why are you on the news?"

Veronica sat up in bed, even though her head was pounding. "What?"

"They're talking about you. They said you were seen leaving some bar with this singer."

Veronica's stomach dropped. "I'm gonna handle it, Dad."

"Please do." The other line was quiet until her dad said, "Ronnie, you were really good in that movie last year. I don't care what anyone else says, you should have won the Oscar."

Now tears were falling down her face like raindrops. "Thanks, Dad. I'll, uh, talk to you later, okay?"

She hung up, tossed on her boots and a warm jacket, and left her apartment in search of Annalise. She was going to handle this, just like she promised.

The story continues in the story for "The Very First Night."