People lined both sides of the street, trying to catch a glimpse of their favorite movie star among the many celebrities mingling about. His long, pearl-white stretch limo pulled up to the curb while he sipped on a cool rye and Coke. Christa was beside him on the white leather couch seat, holding his hand, more anxious than he was, calling out the name of each star they passed, many of whom he’d met and worked with. Limousine after limousine arrived, holding the secret of each new arrival behind tinted glass windows. Every limousine was different, delivering celebrity after celebrity to the adoring fans, each trying to guess who the next star would be to emerge from a limousine.
His cabbie stopped outside the entrance and asked if Ethan wanted him to wait. “I could be a while,” Ethan replied. “I’ll catch another later on.”
Ethan’s vision continued. …
Everyone was dressed to the nines, with an incredible assortment of the world’s best designers’ work on display. His choice was a lightweight, olive Georgio Armani design with a navy mock turtleneck. Christa walked at his side, gripping his arm tightly, her statuesque figure dressed in a hot red gown designed by Versace, with a revealing heart-shaped cutout in the front that dropped to her navel. Her brunette hair was pinned up high in the back in a French braid. A diamond necklace with matching bracelet and earrings completed her ensemble. Ethan thought she was more beautiful than the many actresses present. The crowd parted behind the roped-off access to the building. Flash after flash popped in their eyes, with cameras capturing their every move and gesture. Shouts of excitement blended together to create an enormous buzz from the crowd as fame entered the auditorium—legend and newcomer alike.
Up the carpeted cement steps, they approached the hall in all its glamour and elaborate staging, her hand on the inside of his elbow. Stopping a moment to hold Christa with both hands, he turned and looked out over the huge crowd of adoring fans. The train of limousines extended beyond the block, slowly moving forward, delivering the famous for that moment in the limelight that so many dreamed of one day experiencing.
An instant later, they were inside, seated near the front, his nomination giving them preferential seating. The gala affair was simply fantastic, the glitz and glamour all larger than life. Then, the moment many worked their entire lives for—standing on stage to accept the year’s best honor. Sitting rigid as a board, with fingers and toes crossed, he listened to each of the nominations, everything magnified a hundredfold. Cruise, Cage, Travolta, Pacino, and … Ethan Jones, for his role as …
Christa was twisting and squeezing his arm off.
“And the winner is …” last year’s best actress said, fumbling with the envelope. With feigned impatience, she ripped open the gold-edged envelope and announced, “Ethan Jones.”
The glamorous audience was on its feet before he was able to move. Christa, already in tears, was clapping uncontrollably. Rising to his feet, Ethan shook the hands thrust in front of him and kissed the lips rising to his, all offering congratulations as he made his way to the lighted stage. His prepared speech was in his pocket, all but forgotten. “Ladies and gentlemen …” he began.
“Excuse me, sir,” asked a young man, suddenly standing beside Ethan. “Are you okay?”
Ethan hadn’t noticed the gathering crowd he’d attracted. Several people were watching him as he prepared to address the audience. Agitated by the interruption, he realized what was happening and said without missing a beat, “I’m practicing.” At that, he stopped. His spell was broken. He headed back toward the taxi stand where the cab had dropped him earlier.
“Ah, come on,” shouted a rough, unshaven man with his shirt buttoned incorrectly. “We were just getting interested.”
Ethan didn’t respond and kept walking, bothered by the depth of his imagination and how real he was able to make the experience of the awards ceremony. He still felt great but perturbed. He’d be there again. One day it would be real. He would stand on the podium and accept the golden statue.
As he crossed the sidewalk in front of the taxi stop, he wondered what he would say in the real situation. Whom would he thank? Would Cushman and Christa still be part of his world? His father would be so proud and his mother, God rest her soul, would be beaming. It was then he knew. His was the story of an average man with an average life and an unquenchable persistence to pursue a dream to be in the movies. Risk and sacrifice were the price he’d have to pay. The picture was clear as he waved down the next cab.
Since arriving in California, he could not remember being as clear with where he needed to go as he was now. Fear and anxiety remained but were losing their corrosive influence. Being fired was the kick in the ass he needed to get on with why he’d come to Hollywood in the first place. If he truly wanted the silver screen, he had to find a way to distance himself from everything else and focus full-time on getting in the movies. He had to do more—much more—and Steve Cushman was his catalyst to making that happen. His full-time attention would get Cushman engaged.
Back at the apartment, still pumped from his trip to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, he found Christa asleep in the bedroom. Quietly closing the door, he whispered a silent prayer of thanks for more time on the planet. Only a few inches had separated him from this life and the next, and now he wanted to make sure he didn’t waste it.
Not wanting to disturb her but anxious to talk to someone, he dialed Cushman’s number, only to reach his answering machine. He left a message to call back as soon as possible—it was important. His mind was going in a million different directions, mostly attributable to his lack of sleep and the changing events in his day. He stared at the script on the couch but wanted Christa.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the bedroom door opened and Christa peeked her sleepy head out.
“It looks like you’ve been up to some serious sleep,” Ethan said as she came into the living room, tying her hair back. “You won’t believe what happened to me today, even after I tell you.”
Christa sat on the couch, rubbing her eyes. She looked like she’d slept for most of the day. “Like the last couple of days haven’t been evidence enough,” she replied. “Come on; try me.”
“Okay, first the good news,” Ethan began, watching for her reaction. “I’ll wait until Robbie gets here for the bad news, as it impacts him.”
“Okay, whatever,” Christa replied, leaning her head against the back of the sofa.
“I’ve an audition tomorrow afternoon,” Ethan exploded. “I brought part of the script back to practice tonight.”
“Ethan!” Christa almost screamed, sitting straight and pumping her fist. “Woo-hoo!”
At nearly the same moment, Robbie came through the door. “Hey, kids,” Robbie greeted them, removing his jacket and tossing it on a chair. “I see you found your way back to the ranch.”
“Ethan got an audition!” Christa shouted, her arms now around Ethan’s neck.
It felt good having her there. “That’s the good news,” Ethan said, watching both of their reactions. “And the bad news is … I lost my job at Build this morning.”
Christa stretched her head back away from him, giving him a look. “Oh, Ethan,” she sighed, “that’s not so good. What happened? You work so hard. Didn’t that …” She paused momentarily and then stepped it up a notch, realizing what he had said. “What the fuck’s their problem? God! Did you tell them you were shot? And what you’ve been through? Fucking assholes.”
“Christa, it’s okay,” he said. He knew she was blaming herself, but that wasn’t his intention. He just wanted her to see how things had worked out. “It’ll be fine. I’m here to act in the movies. It’s time to get serious.”
Robbie didn’t say a word as he went to his room. Ethan was showing Christa the script when Robbie returned in shorts and a T-shirt with the message “Go Ahead. Make My Day” and a picture of the enlarged business end of a .44 Magnum.
“So what
do you think?” Ethan asked.
Robbie smiled. “I think it’s bullshit. I’ve never heard anything but good stuff about you. I’ll be calling them first thing in the morning.”
“Don’t bother,” Ethan replied, deciding as he spoke. “I’m not going back, even if they’d take me. I came here to get in the movies, and that’s where I need to work.” He pointed to the black three-ringed binder he’d been showing Christa. “I needed a fucking kick in the ass, and today I got it.” Ethan’s facial expression tightened in seriousness. “How do you feel about having another roommate?” He looked at Christa and added, “Or two?”
There was no hesitation in Robbie’s response. “Sure, that we can make happen. Fuck, I invited you down here.” Robbie shrugged his shoulders.
“Great,” Ethan replied, relieved that Robbie was okay with the arrangement. Looking at Christa, he said, “We’ll see how things work out, if that’s okay with you.”
Christa smiled her agreement but didn’t say anything.
Before Robbie had answered, Ethan thought he saw something shift in Robbie’s facial expression. It was subtle. His brow wrinkled or his lips pursed, like he’d tasted something that didn’t quite agree with him. Robbie’s quick answer, however, made any concern Ethan had evaporate.
The apartment buzzer rang, and Robbie smiled. He stepped forward and pressed the button that opened the door to the apartment building. Turning, he then answered Ethan’s suspicion from the night before. “I’ve a little something to tell you as well,” Robbie said, looking directly at Ethan. “That’s David. This may come as something of a shock, but he’s my … my good friend.” And then, seemingly unable to find another way to explain it, Robbie said, “I’m gay.”
Despite his anticipation of Robbie’s news, Ethan had not thought about how he might respond to it. The right words seemed to evade him. “Great, Robbie,” he said, without a clue on what to add.
After a few awkward moments, it was Christa who broke the silence. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” she suggested. “I was going to order take-out tonight. Robbie, why don’t you and David join us?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind,” Robbie agreed. “You two can get to know David”—he looked at Christa—“and I can get to know you.”
“I’m in,” Ethan agreed.
Christa’s smile lit up the room. Ethan sat down beside her on the sofa. Robbie unlocked the door, where moments later, David appeared.
“Come on in, David,” Robbie said, moving to greet David with a hug. “I’d like you to meet a couple of my friends—one new, one old.”
They all exchanged hellos while Robbie pulled four Heinekens out of the refrigerator.
“All right,” Ethan said as Robbie returned with the beer, “I need an hour’s sleep. You can pick the food. It’s on me tonight, as it might be a while before I can treat again.”
Without another word, he gulped down half his beer, which he couldn’t really taste for some reason, and headed to bed. “If I’m not up in an hour, wake me.”
“Okay,” Christa said, raising her green bottle toward him. “I will.”
As soon as Ethan lay down, his mind started buzzing with what his next day might bring. It was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to screw up. He had nothing to fall back on now. He still found it incredible that he’d been fired. You didn’t come here for a job, Ethan, came Mila’s voice, pushing him back into the ring. Don’t go there anymore.
He rolled on his side and thought of Randy Baseman and his superheroes. How was he making out? And his stuff at Build—maybe he’d just leave it there. If they kept it, it might someday be worth something. He could see it now—This was Ethan Jones’s stapler. He smiled. Then Jacqueline’s image came to mind. He pictured the audition in a small room with a watercooler.
His next thought took him to another place …
There were white coats again, standing at the end of his bed.
Beth was sitting in a chair by his bedside. Her eyes were closed.
A white sheet covered his legs, and only the outline of his legs was visible.
Chapter 24
Ethan’s Timeline
April 1991
After what seemed like only moments later, Ethan awoke. Christa was massaging his back.
“Ethan, do you still want to get up?” she whispered. He rolled over and stared into her tanned face. “You’ve been sleeping for almost two hours.”
“Shit!” he spat out between parched lips. He stretched, but his body was more than willing to remain at rest. He rubbed dried saliva off his chin.
“Robbie and David went on ahead to let you sleep,” she whispered, close to his face. “We can catch dinner later. You need the sleep.”
Looking into Christa’s big brown eyes didn’t take long to revive him. He was pleased she was there. “No,” he said, lifting up off the bed, “I need to get up.”
His hand touched her face. He wanted to run his fingers through her long, dark hair. She touched his cheek with her fingertips where the bullet had grazed him. They kissed. Her lips were supple—moist, like a dream. Raising the sheet, she slipped in beside him.
God, he wanted her, to become part of her.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. Her lips parted as he kissed her again.
At that moment, she meant everything to him.
An hour later, Ethan awoke to a dim room, with Christa asleep beside him. The smoothness of her leg on the back his own was heaven. He felt incredible but hungry.
Rolling sideways, he wrapped his arm around her and cupped her breast gently in his hand. She stirred and settled back against him, like one spoon against another. Together, they were motionless, enjoying each other’s closeness.
Christa turned her head and rolled on her back to look at Ethan. Her beauty was mesmerizing. She looked happy. “Hungry?” she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.
“Absolutely starving,” he replied, moving his arm from behind her head. “What about you?”
“I could eat something, for sure,” Christa replied, rubbing his arm. “What were you thinking?”
“Pizza?”
“No, let’s have Chinese with chopsticks. It’ll be fun.”
Ethan stretched as Christa got up and slipped on her white nightshirt. For Ethan, watching her move was like simplicity, beauty, and genius wrapped together; he could not take his eyes off her.
“I’m going to clean up a bit,” she said. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Ethan didn’t really care; he just wanted to be with her.
Now, however, as he lay still, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts returned to his visit to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and the enormity of being on the screen. Everything he did needed to influence his drive toward the movies. It would take all of his dedication and still more. Rolling on his side, he pulled open the drawer of the chipped and scratched night table. Scrounging around inside, he found an old transparent Bic pen and a pad of yellow Post-its. He wrote down three letters—A, C, and T—and stuck the paper on the wall. Then he crumpled the paper in his fist and rewrote the three letters on the wall, staking claim to the room and—more important—his future.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he grabbed his day-old underwear and pulled them on. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the letters on the wall. It would serve him both in inspiration and heartache in the days and months to come. He couldn’t recall being as happy or as discontent at the same time as he was at that moment. The mixture of feelings was discomfiting. He pulled on his wrinkled khaki shorts and stood up as Christa opened the bedroom door.
“Ethan,” Christa said, a forced smile on her face, “I’m so afraid and so happy. What are we doing?” He smiled at her. “I’m so afraid of my feelings right now. I don’t want to say anything.” She sat back down on the bed.
“Well, don’t then,” he
replied. “It’s okay.”
“But I want to. I need to.”
“I kind of feel the same way,” he said, rubbing her back. “Let’s go find something to eat.”
Robbie and David were gone, so they were on their own. An hour later, Ethan and Christa were cracking open their fortune cookies, having finished the last of the boxed lo mein and chop suey with a bottle of cheap California merlot.
“What’s your fortune?” Ethan asked.
“You first,” Christa replied.
“‘Things are not always as they appear,’” he read, raising an eyebrow.
“Really,” Christa responded. “Not bad.” Then she read, “‘A flower is about to bloom.’”
Ethan smiled and decided to retrace a topic they’d previously touched on. “So you left Calgary to get away from your parents,” he said. “Why California?”
Christa set down her wineglass. “I was eighteen and knew everything. Ma’s sister lived here and was closer to my age than Ma’s. We got on fine. She was doing well for herself, so my holiday turned into staying.” She put a piece of the sweet Chinese cookie in her mouth and ate it. “I left Calgary with few expectations and came to California with no intentions. Cindy, my aunt, found me a job as a receptionist at the advertising company where she worked. That was three years ago. I made enough to buy a car.”
Ethan, still curious, was surprised. “You’ve never worked as a model?”
“I worked two sessions as a model. I’m thin, thank God, but I was told at my second session not to waste my time unless I had my boobs done. I didn’t have the stomach for it. This is the body God gave me. Who am I to change it? I’ve been asked twice to pose naked, but that’s not my thing. Playboy is the only one I would even consider, and they’ve never asked. The company’s done some work with them. They seem to be very professional.” She laughed and added, “Besides, it would still cost them a ton of dough.” She leaned forward with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “So I’ve showed you mine. It’s your turn.” Her face was bright and glowing.
The Actor Page 14
