“Lou?” Ethan replied, surprised. He thought he might be listening to a good electronic copy of Lou’s voice.
“The one and only,” Lou quipped. “As far as I know.”
“Lou, Ethan Jones.”
“Ethan!” Lou nearly shouted over the receiver. “It’s about time. I thought I’d lost you.”
Ethan stood dumbfounded in front of the blue pay phone, shaking his head. “What do you mean?” Ethan queried, confused by Lou’s exclamation.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for four fucking days!” Lou’s voice was loud with frustration, but Ethan was pretty sure he heard a tinge of relief as well. “I’ll tell you what. Get your ass down here if you’re even thinking about the movies!”
Ethan stood in shock. “I haven’t heard a word from you,” he replied, incredulous that this could in any way be his fault. “I only called today because I hadn’t heard from you.”
“Really?” Lou sounded stunned. “You better get your damn answering machine fixed then. I must have left a dozen messages in the last week.”
“Fuck,” Ethan hissed, wondering what could be wrong with their machine. How many other calls had he missed? Christa and Robbie hadn’t passed anything on to him. “So … when?” Ethan asked Lou.
“I think I said tomorrow at eleven in my last message,” Lou said. Ethan could hear commotion at the other end as Lou seemed to be searching for something. “Damn these computers. I can’t find shit … here it is. Yes, tomorrow at eleven.”
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
Lou gave him the address, and Ethan did everything he could to lock it into his memory.
“I’ll be there, Lou.”
“Great. Knock ’em dead tonight. Ciao.”
Chapter 43
Ethan’s Timeline
September 1991
“I’ve been waiting a long time for tomorrow to happen,” Ethan said to Christa in a low voice. It was past 3 a.m., and he didn’t want to wake Robbie. “I can’t believe it.”
Christa rolled over on her side in the bed and kissed him. Her long fingernails brushed across his chest. A light sheet covered both of them. Her tired brown eyes stared back at him as she pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. His palm brushed against her nipples. The room was warm, but her skin was cool, almost fragile, and so soft to his touch. He traced her full lips with the tip of his index finger.
“I’m so happy for you, Ethan,” she whispered, unable to keep her weary eyes open. “I just know it’s gonna go well.”
Ethan wondered whether he’d be able to sleep at all. Tonight’s performance had been nothing short of spectacular. The audience had erupted at the end, giving him a rousing standing ovation. He’d been on, hitting all but one of his lines perfectly. The entire performance simply flowed out of him. As one cast member said after the show, “Eth, man, you were in the zone!” Several people from the audience approached him after the performance for autographs. Usually, it took him a couple of hours to come down after a show, but tonight was different—his mind was in no hurry to let him relax.
“I sure hope so,” he whispered next to Christa’s ear. The essence of Givenchy perfume was around her neck. The fragrance never failed to excite him. As he pressed his lips against her ear, he noticed she was wearing the gold dolphin earrings he’d given her earlier in the evening. He’d found them in the jeweler’s display window across the street from the Limelight. After his phone conversation with Lou confirming Columbia was interested, the first thing he’d wanted to do was get something special for her, to share his good fortune. The fourteen-carat gold dolphins represented freedom—a wild freedom—and a celebration. More expensive than he could afford, he bought them anyway, with his eye on the bigger things to come.
“I know it will,” she sighed, indicating she was nearly asleep. “I love you.” Shifting herself, her skin cool against his own, she kissed him. “Good night, Ethan Jones, and thank you for coming into my life.” She rolled onto her other side and went to sleep.
Ethan wasn’t ready for sleep. There were too many things buzzing around in his head. After his telephone conversation with Lou, he’d wondered about the many messages he’d never heard. He found his memory was gapping; he was so involved with his work that he couldn’t quite recall the order of how things had changed. He and Christa had moved into Robbie’s place after her ex’s attack. It was Robbie’s place but it felt like Robbie was the visitor. They were there more than Robbie was. Robbie, like Ethan, had come into tough times and lost his job. Ethan didn’t know the details but Robbie was having a tough time getting his shit together. It seemed odd that Robbie would have difficulty finding another job, especially when he’d found Ethan his first job. Now Ethan was getting confused recalling how it all fit together. It was as if by taking on each new character, he became the character to such an extent that it mixed up his own life. He took on that character’s life and made the character’s fictional background real, as if he himself had lived the character’s life.
He found it odd that Robbie hadn’t mentioned any messages recently, as other than Ethan, he was the only one picking them up. A broken answering machine might explain why Robbie was having difficulty in his own efforts to land a new job. Note to self, Ethan thought. Check it out tomorrow before leaving for the show. Propping his head up on the pillow, he stared at Christa’s back. The worn cotton sheet she’d pulled up had fallen away from her slender shoulder, leaving most of her back exposed. Gently touching her soft, smooth skin, his fingertips drew phantom abstracts across her back. Good fortune’s eyes were shining upon them now. Magical was the only word he could think of to describe the feeling.
Christa stirred. His hand dropped to the bed, his head into the softness of his pillow. He reached down beside the bed and retrieved his book. In the dim light of a forty-watt bulb in his nightstand lamp, he could just make out the glossy photographs. The poor light served to expand the pictures in his imagination. The book was a window out of their small apartment, with its cracked ceilings, faded paint, worn parquet, chipped veneer, and bruised walls, to a world of possibility. It took him from cramped lodging to spacious mansions; from asphalt parks and cement high-rises to unrestricted grass and wooded wilderness. He could step into the pictures and touch that other side. He turned to a page featuring Kim Basinger, attired in hot-red latex at the wheel of Ferrari’s 512 Berlinetta Boxer. Kim pouted her bright ruby-red lips and wore matching red-framed sunglasses. The car would be his one day, Ethan decided, with Christa dressed in the red latex beside him.
As he turned the pages, he saw himself standing in the bedrooms and studies, the gardens and driveways, beside the Lotuses, Bentleys and more Ferraris, until the shadows crept over him and closed his eyes. As the first light of morning rose above the horizon, the book fell to his chest and sleep finally claimed him.
A few hours later, he awoke with a start, instantly aware that it was the day. He had no clue as to what had awakened him, but the digital clock beside Christa’s side of the bed let him know it was 9:45.
“Shit!” he cursed, springing from the bed, only to tangle his legs in the bed sheets. He should have been up an hour earlier. He had no time to mess around; he’d need every second to make his eleven o’clock appointment with Royson.
Christa had left for work. He vaguely remembered waking to kiss her good-bye and then fell back to sleep, although he did recall her warning not to do so. Whatever the case, he now had to hope everything fell into place. There was no way he could afford to be late. He pulled open the bedroom door and all but walked into Robbie in his underwear.
Completely naked, Ethan jumped back in shock. He grabbed Christa’s housecoat hanging from the hook on the back of their bedroom door. The discomfort—maybe even fear—he’d felt earlier was unmistakable.
“Good mornin’,” Robbie greeted him, his glance similar to one Ethan might give an attractive female. “Sorry to wake you. I didn�
�t think you were home.” He looked at his watch. “Don’t you have an appointment this morning?”
Hearing the words was like having a bucket of ice dropped down his back. How did Robbie know? Ethan hadn’t mentioned it to him. He tied the belt on Christa’s robe, not wanting to talk. He didn’t dare look at Robbie’s underwear, fearing what he might see. “Ah … yes … yes,” he stammered, looking like he’d been caught in the act with another woman. Ethan, how did he know? Ethan! The words screamed inside him. But Ethan ignored it. He didn’t have time for crazy questions and doubts. You’ve known Robbie for a long time, he told himself. Straighten up and get with it! What are you thinking? “You better believe it,” he finally said, regaining his composure. The expression on his face changed as he battled with his emotions. “You have another all-nighter?”
“So to speak,” answered Robbie, smiling as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The dark circles under his red-lined eyes told a different story. Robbie’s flippant response irritated Ethan. He knew about partying, and Robbie recently was doing his share. Ethan was reaching the end of his patience.
“Is it really helping you to find work?” popped out of his mouth somewhat unexpectedly. He didn’t mean to speak his thoughts out loud. This was not the time to deal with their issues.
“And what do you mean by that?” Robbie asked, his demeanor shifting abruptly to a snarl.
Ethan knew where this was going. “Nothing, man. Sorry. I’m late and gotta run.” Walking past Robbie was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stay. Five minutes was all the time he had, and he had to shower.
“Ethan,” Robbie said calmly, stopping Ethan as his bare foot touched the cool tile of the bathroom floor. Ethan turned to face his longtime friend. If he’d thought about it, he might have continued on and answered after closing the bathroom door behind him.
Their eyes made contact, and Robbie took a step toward him. Ethan’s heart pounded, anticipating what he hoped would never happen.
“Rob—”
“Eth,” Robbie interrupted him, “good luck.”
For another second their eyes stayed locked, communicating much more than words could ever manage. Ethan saw a depth of sadness in a face that was becoming increasingly difficult to recognize. It chilled him more than any temperature drop in the air.
Robbie broke eye contact first and walked toward the refrigerator. Ethan stared after him for a moment, unable to speak. What had just occurred stopped his blood cold and pulled the air from his lungs. Despite his discomfort, he stepped into the shower.
As the water flowed over him, he tried to think of something other than Robbie and shifted to his appointment with Lou Royson. But Robbie’s countenance remained in his mind, adding an edge to his nervous excitement. By 10:15 he was out the door and hailing a taxi. Thirty-five minutes later, he was at the gatehouse of Columbia Pictures, with security checking his appointment with Lou.
“Free and clear, Mr. Jones,” the woman guard announced as she looked back and forth between the cabbie and Ethan. “Mr. Royson will meet you in the lobby of building number six.” She then leaned back and pointed at the front of the cab. “Turn left at the stop sign up ahead. Then turn at the first right. Building number six.”
“Thanks,” Ethan shouted from the back seat, thinking of his last confrontation with a security guard at Ben Lui’s office. “Have a great day.”
“You too, Mr. Jones,” she replied, grinning. Ethan noticed the woman taking a long look at him as the taxi drove under the raised gate.
Well, here’s to you, bud, he thought as they approached the building.
When he stepped out, he looked up at the four-foot number six that fronted the building. Dropping his head level with the cab driver’s window, his face revealed his excitement as he grinned wide and said, “I’d say things are about to change for Ethan Jones.”
The three hours that followed were like a wondrous dream and seemed to last just about as long. Lou met him at the glass doors of the main lobby. He introduced Ethan to their auburn-haired receptionist, who gave him a cute smile and a hand-flip wave while answering an incoming call on her headset. Lou escorted him down a long hall that was lined with movie memorabilia, explaining all the while what would take place over the next few hours. Ethan caught little of the explanation, distracted as he was by the historical movie stills hung on the pastel purple walls and the stars pictured in them.
In his office, Lou asked Ethan to fill out a sheet with his personal history, and he talked non-stop while Ethan tried to answer the questions. The sheet still was incomplete when Lou led him down another hall to a voice studio. The rest of Ethan’s time was spent in a whirlwind of activity. He read three times, twice on camera, in three different buildings; met numerous people whose names became a blur; and witnessed several studios filming productions.
Returning to Lou’s office, he was surprised that three hours had elapsed so quickly. A plate of sandwiches sat atop Lou’s desk. Lou grabbed one and relaxed in his brown leather chair, crossing his brown Gravati loafers on top of the mahogany coffee table.
“Help yourself, Ethan,” he offered, pointing to the plate. “There’s lots.”
“Thanks,” Ethan said. He didn’t feel hungry, but his stomach barked at the delicious aroma. He picked roast beef and tomato on fresh pumpernickel bread.
“You’ll be back before the week’s out,” Lou said matter-of-factly, as if he was scheduling Thursday night bowling.
“Yeah?” Ethan replied, his mouth all but dropping open. He covered his open mouth with his hand.
“Yes,” Lou said, moving his feet to the floor and leaning forward. “We’ve a part—a small part, but a part nevertheless. It’s a perfect fit for you. There are a few others I have to convince, but I can make that happen. It’s just details.”
Ethan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but it was music to his ears that he’d waited a lifetime to hear. Concerns about anything had vanished. The unbelievable was becoming believable. “Awesome!” Ethan exclaimed, not knowing what else to say. “I’m totally—”
“Listen,” Lou interrupted, “things are going to happen. Cushton. That’s your agent, right?”
“Yes, he is, but it’s Steve Cushman,” Ethan answered.
“Right, Cushman. Well, we have to talk to Steve and you …”
The rest of what Lou said went right past Ethan, but not because he didn’t understand it; it just didn’t register. The merry-go-round was turning fast. He was getting his chance to step on, despite the dizzying activity. His dream was exploding.
“So please, Ethan, make sure Steve gets in touch with me,” Lou was saying as Ethan’s head returned to the conversation.
“No problem, Lou,” he replied, snapping to attention.
“All right then.” Lou stood up behind his desk. “I’ll be in touch. I know you’ve heard that a thousand times, but I will, so watch your answering machine.”
The whole answering machine fiasco returned to Ethan’s head. Robbie’s disturbing image from the morning came back. “I still don’t understand what happened,” Ethan replied. He didn’t want to admit where most of his answers were leading. He still couldn’t believe it.
“If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, call me, first thing, two days from now.”
With their arrangements set, Lou invited Ethan to take the sandwiches with him. He wasn’t hungry, but Ethan accepted anyway; someone would eat them. Lou escorted him back to the front foyer, where the receptionist called him a taxi. On his way back to the apartment, he began to take in the last few hours and what likely would happen next. Lou was sketchy in describing the initial role he was earmarked for, not that it was of any grave concern. Ethan would accept being the mascot for the LA Kings at the Forum if they planned to put it on the big screen. As the cab neared his apartment, he was glad he took the sandwiches. His hunger was catching up with his excit
ement.
At the apartment, no one seemed to be around … and then he noticed their bedroom door was closed. Christa must have come back and gone to bed, no doubt exhausted after being up half the night with him. Approaching the door, he could hear the clinking of hangers in the closet. He opened the door to find Christa, standing at the closet, unclasping her white lace bra. Her white satin nightshirt lay on the bed.
An audible sigh passed her lips.
“You look like you could use a little assistance, darlin’,” he stated, feigning a western Clint Eastwood accent.
“Y’all wanna give a little lady some assistance,” she replied in her best Texan form.
“Sure do, ma’am.”
Christa’s hands dropped to her sides, leaving the partially fastened bra strap in place midway up her back. Ethan gently rubbed her smooth shoulders and then slid his fingers down to unhook the clasp of her bra.
“Ooh, now that feels a sight better,” Christa said, smiling as she turned around. “Whaddya think?”
“It’s not real ladylike,” Ethan answered, his eyes dropping to her bare breasts, “but I do believe it fits me right good, ma’am.”
“Oh, come on, Ethan,” Christa cried, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to pry it out of you?”
“Well, what do you have in mind?” Ethan replied. He held a serious expression on his face as she leaned back to look at him.
“Ethan!” she exclaimed in a louder voice. “What happened? What did they say?”
“Can’t tell you. Scout’s honor,” he retorted.
She poked her fingers into his ribs, rattling his composure. “You better tell,” she said, pushing him on the bed, “or you’re gonna pay dearly, my friend.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me, are you?” he taunted. She was sitting on his chest as he stared up into the fullness of her chest. Her knees were on his arms, so he couldn’t touch her. “Okay, okay, uncle. I give,” he cried as her fingertips continued to drill into his ribs. He couldn’t stand being tickled hard. “Christa! Stop already.” He was laughing and crying simultaneously, afraid of wetting his pants. “Come on—stop it!” Rolling sideways, he rolled her off his chest and onto her back beside him. He leaned over, kissed her, and fell to his back. “Well,” he said as she propped herself up on her elbow, “it’s a pretty big deal. I’m getting a chance to do something I can hardly believe—no, I can believe it—that I’ve wanted for so long.”
The Actor Page 26
