“It’s your job to tell me these things! I was having second thoughts for a minute or two and then I saw this shit. If she’s been cheating on me I’m going to make this divorce a living hell for her. And if you know something and you’re not telling me, then you’re going to be in trouble as well, I promise you that.”
I could feel my heart pounding, I had never been threatened or spoken to like that by A before and with B recently having called me a worthless amoeba, my share price as a celebrity assistant was falling rapidly.
“I promise you this is nothing to be worked up about, it’s just gossip. You know how these so called journalists work. Focus on your movie and I’ll see to it that she calls you as soon as she can.” I don’t know why I said this, because I was putting myself in all kinds of possible trouble, but I’d been caught off guard and way outside my comfortable lying zone.
When I got back to the table I found Cesar and Luís talking animatedly and sounding almost like old buddies. “Sorry, business call,” I said and held up my phone.
“This guy is amazing!” Cesar said with a grin as wide as his face, “Just wait until you hear this.” He put the iPad and headphones in front me. I sat down and opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t in the plan to encourage the kid, we were supposed to shoot him down gently. I gave Cesar an angry stare, which he of course didn’t register, then I sighed and put on the headphones. The situation had spun out of control and there was nothing to do but listen to Luís song and then hopefully figure something out.
The video player started and at first the screen was pitch black. Then a spotlight was turned on and a muted bass beat started thumping in the background. A few seconds later another spotlight came on and a muted piano began clinking a looping melody. It was all surprisingly nicely produced, but I guess Jorge’s talk had lowered my expectations a great deal.
After the fifth and last spotlight had been switched on, a man walked out of the darkness and into the light, wearing a red hoodie, a pair of beat-up jeans and a big, red, oversized baseball cap. This was Luís of course. He opened his mouth and let out a soft wailing sound and although I was prepared not to like it (I kind of wanted not to like it) - I did. Only 30 seconds into the song even a layman such as myself could see that the guy had talent.
“...and aiiiaiiiiaiiiiijjjjj...am born a star.” was how, about four minutes later, the song ended. I was speechless. Luís had just blown me away and I had no idea how to react. I had promised his father to dismiss him gently, but how could I do that after what I’d just seen?
I nodded my head in silence, returned Luís’ iPad to him, and looked over at Cesar who seemed eager to hear something.
“Well?” he said and looked at me.
“Fantastic,” I stumbled out.
Then Cesar turned to Luís: “Young man,” he said, “I think I can speak for both of us when I say I'm very impressed by this performance. You sure have a special talent and I think we can help you exploit it.” Cesar's voice was unwavering, determined and believable. For anyone except for yours truly, who depended on what he was going to say.
“We can obviously not promise anything here,” I said in a hurry, “the competition is extremely tough and there’s a lot of young talent like yourself out there. But I agree with my partner that this was a powerful performance.”
Cesar didn’t seem to hear me, “Is this on Youtube? Or do you have a plan to upload it?”
I could see that the kid, who had just finished his sandwich, was actually quite ecstatic and surprised by our praise for his song. He had this smirk on his face which seemed impossible to suppress: “I have thought of doing it, but when my father told me about this opportunity I wanted to show it to you first. You’re kind of the first people to see it. Do you think I should put it out there?”
Cesar was fast and answered like he’d gotten this question many times before, “I would advice you to wait with that, I'm going to check some contacts first, think about our possibilities and we'll get back to you.”
I had no idea what Cesar was talking about and neither did he. Still he kept on talking.
“Would it be possible for you to e-mail or dropbox us this clip?”
“Sure! I’ll do it straight away,” Luís said, enthusiastically. Cesar then gave him the fake e-mail address he had created for this purpose, which would redirect straight into his own Gmail account. I witnessed this in confusion, but was powerless to stop it.
“As I understood it, you're planning on participating in American Idol?” Cesar the fake music company CEO said, looking as serious as ever.
“Yeah, I thought it could get the name out, open up possibilities, stuff like that.”
Cesar lowered his voice, “Again, I think you should take it easy, let’s see what we can work on first. I’m sure we can set up something for you.”
“Sounds good,” Luis said, but I'm sure he would have agreed to pretty much anything at this stage, that's how excited he was.
“Great. We’ll get back to you as soon as we can,” Cesar said and casually asked the waiter for the bill. I looked over at Luís, who had dollar signs in his eyes. I bet he couldn’t wait to tell his friends about this amazingly positive meeting with the powerful music execs.
We all shook hands and said bye to the artist formerly known as Jorge’s son and when the kid was out of hearsay, I gave Cesar a stern look and said: “Now what the fuck was that about? Do you want to pump the guy up to make his fall harder or what? Did you completely forget what the plan was?”
“Au contraire, my dear Watson, I just had a severe epiphany when I listened to his stuff - this guy is really talented! He has definitely got the potential and you're going to help him become a star.”
“What?”
Cesar's eyes were the size of Ping-Pong balls, which made me wonder if he had snorted something prior to the meeting, “Don't you see it? This can be your big break! Your chance to wrestle your sorry self free from your assistant lifestyle and do something different, something fun and possibly huge!”
Somewhere in the back of my mind I appreciated my friend trying to know what was best for me and my so called career, but at this stage it was becoming too much to handle. “How could I be an agent for this kid? It would be detrimental to both of us. Besides, I’m feeling really bad going against his father’s wish.”
Cesar finished his pint and started rubbing his scalp again. I didn’t care if it was just a nervous twitch or a hint of nostalgia, it was pretty annoying. But it turned out Cesar was even more annoyed with me and my outlook on things, “Just listen to you! You're such a wimp! Take some risks for once, will you? You told me about this guy Barry, big shot in music - how lucky you are to have a contact like that! And what a fucking coincidence! Give him a call, set up a meeting, show him what you’ve got. Being an agent to a young music prodigy sounds a helluva lot sexier and lucrative than being an assistant to some crazy actress.”
At first I wanted to retaliate, but after letting it sink in for a couple of seconds, I realized that in a way he was right, maybe this was a great opportunity for me. In my rather sketchy situation with B, a divorce, a mysterious lover and lord knows what else, it actually made sense to give it a shot.
I looked at Cesar who was watching my reaction desperately and I said: “Maybe you’re right.”
And after that we ordered another round of beers and with each sip the plan was starting to sound better. A major change in my life edged closer and I was getting more and more excited about it. Little did I know what kind of change it would become.
***
Jorge didn't sound very convinced about what I just had told him. No, his anger levels were not far from the time when the main oven broke down in the middle of preparing for a big show-off dinner at the Johnson mansion, “You told him he actually has talent? Why did you do that, Darryl?”
“Because I honestly believe so. I’ve even booked a meeting with Barry Waldruff to show him his video. That’s how g
ood I think it is.” This wasn’t hundred percent true, at the time I was still waiting on a confirmation from Barry’s secretary.
“But how do you know he’s good? You don’t have any experience in the music industry. I’m really disappointed you didn’t come to me first.”
“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” I said in a nervous and awful imitation of Darth Vader, “I know this might sound crazy to you, but I think it’s definitely worth a shot and if it doesn’t work out, then Luís at least got the opportunity. And if that happens, I will let him down as gently as I can and to be honest with you, I see no harm in him doing American Idol. He’s good enough to win it and not bad enough to make a fool out of himself.”
Jorge was quiet for a while, probably wondering what to think about his friend running wild with his son’s farfetched dreams, then he said, “You’re a good friend and I of course trust your judgment, but this is my son we’re talking about and I don’t want him to get hurt or waste his time on something that will never work. Do you really think he's that good?”
“I do, Jorge, I really do.”
“Well, let’s just pray you’re right. And if you make my son’s dream come true when I doubted him, I will be forever grateful to you. But please keep me in the loop.”
“Of course.”
We ended the phone call and I was happy I’d managed to convince him, although I still needed to convince myself. Things were moving too fast and I felt that, though they could end up absolutely fine, I didn’t have control and could equally well find myself in the other end of the line rather soon.
***
Before I met with Barry, I wanted to tell B about my plans. After all, she was the only reason I got an appointment with him in the first place. He simply hadn’t gotten over his crush for her yet. For him she was the woman who had eluded him, something which few women had done before thanks to nothing but his money and power. Because no matter how fat, disgusting and remarkably unattractive he was, there were always a few young girls in skimpy clothing close to him. But B had always thought he was a pig, so no matter how hard he tried, he would never snatch as much as a kiss from her.
I didn’t care if Barry was a pig or not, he was the only natural way I could get my new career rolling. I needed to work fast, because I didn’t know how things stood with B, we hadn’t talked properly since she yelled at me for stalking her and I had no clue how she felt about things. I knew I needed to tell her what was going on and she had via text message agreed to have a drink with me at the famous King Cole bar terrace.
I wanted to dress extra nicely for the occasion and had bought a new beige blazer and a black shirt, admittedly from Gap and with my own money (I didn’t feel like extending my expense card privilege anymore), but it was still an effort. I arrived early, sat down at the table I had reserved and ordered a glass of Pinot Noir. I was very nervous.
I had never gone to King Cole before, which I felt sad about as soon as I sat down and looked around. The ambiance was spectacular: classy, elegant, warm, and with lots of personality soaked up through the history of the place. I could easily have spent half-an-hour just studying the beautifully painted and massive mural hanging over the elongated and carved oak bar.
B had of course been here before, or at least that was what it seemed like with her rushing in, looking flustered and annoyed and almost falling into her chair. As usual she gathered the attention from the other patrons, but probably not for the “right” reasons.
It felt strange seeing her. Not that it was long ago, but a whole lot had happened since we came to New York and I’d gone from being over-my-head in love with her, to contemplating leaving her side. B, on one hand, was married when she arrived in New York, and had had to suddenly readjust to thinking she was single again. Not that she was only a victim of that equation, she hadn’t exactly been a relationship role-model herself. And when it came to our relationship, our friendship, nothing seemed certain anymore. I had stalked her, she had shouted mean things at me, she was moving and had originally wanted me to move with her. What she wanted to do at any point in time, only she could know.
“Hi Darryl,” she said in a forced voice as she sat down. For a second I felt sorry for her, for no particular reason.
“You look dazzling,” I said, trying to sound both upbeat and relaxed, carefully masking my dangling strings of nerves.
“Thanks. Glad you like it. I had my doubts about this green, but I think it works,” she said, suddenly not looking so upset.
A waiter passed by and B asked for a glass of pink Moet. Obviously.
I suddenly felt frozen, with no idea of what I was going to say. I had a clear battle plan when I came, but when it was crunch time I started doubting myself. Thankfully, B began the proceedings.
“Before you say anything...I saw the papers. A has called me twenty times and you were stalking me the other night. I know what’s going on. You all seem to be thinking I’m sleeping around.”
No beating around the bush here. With B you never needed an ice-breaker, more like a helmet.
“Is it strange? You looked very much in love in those pictures. And I think it was a very unnecessary thing to do, you knew there was a huge risk those pictures were going to be circling the Internet today. You’re in the early stages of a divorce and ought to tread more carefully.” I tried to sound like I only meant her best and that I came in peace, but it was hard to mask the hurt in my voice. I just couldn’t shut my feelings off either, they were still there, I was just trying to run away from them.
“Right now, I honestly couldn’t give a shit what people think. I’m not saying it’s true, but so what if I’m seeing Matteo? I’m sure A is not being the best boy around the movie set. I hear stuff too, you know.”
“He told me he was considering getting back together before he saw the pictures.”
“He said that? What glorious bullshit. A bird whispered in my ear he’s already shagging a younger actress. So if he wants to make a hassle about our divorce, let me tell you that two can play that game!” B sipped her champagne with determination, she appeared stressed and unhappy and I couldn’t help but think back to Rome and simpler, more beautiful times.
Days ago.
“So what are you going to do?” Now that I’d completely lost my footing, all I had were more questions.
“Nothing changes. We’re going to get a divorce and I’m going to move here.” B’s tone was short and frosty. It was not one of our nicest times together. I decided to go straight for the elephant in the room.
“First you screamed at me and then you woke up in my bed? What was that about?”
“I realize that was weird and I’m sorry. I was lonely and drunk and felt bad for shouting at you. I guess you only had my best in mind.”
“I always have your best in mind.”
“Did you have my best in mind when you called up Barry Waldruff to book a meeting without telling me?”
B’s voice hit me like the recoil from a gun. If she had known this all along she really was a talented actress. I guess I had some explaining to do.
I took a deep breath and prepared to meet her cold stare, “Well, I met with Jorge’s son Luís the other day and it turns out he’s a major RnB talent. I’m not kidding - he’s really good! So as a favor to Jorge I’ve booked a meeting with Barry to see if I can get him signed.” The cat was out of the bag, but B’s frosty glare was still there.
“Like his agent?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Something like that. It’s a long-shot, but I’m doing it as a favor to Jorge. We’ll see what happens.” My idea was starting to sound more and more farfetched for every second B gave me that look. What had Cesar pushed me into? Not that this was all his fault, I had gotten carried away too.
“Sorry Darryl, but this plan of yours sounds absolutely ridiculous to me. You have zero experience in music and suddenly think you might help a kid score a record deal?”
The wine had developed a sour taste along with
the conversation, “I just said it would be stupid to miss out on this opportunity.”
“What happens if you manage to get him signed, then?” As she waved the waiter over for more champagne, I felt disappointment wash over me. Disappointment at myself for getting so excited about such a crazy idea, but also sadness for her going out of her way to belittle my chances of doing something new and different. Maybe this wasn’t really friendship after all, maybe it was just a job, I thought. Maybe I was stupid?
B took a brisk sip from her champagne, she was anxious and edgy now, ready to snap. I wished I could have turned the clock 20 minutes backwards. Or 20 days backwards.
“I don’t know what happens. I guess I’ll help him out with his career a bit, I think I can do both.” I knew this sounded ridiculous, but I wasn’t in control of the situation, which meant I wasn’t in control of my mouth either.
“I honestly thought you were smarter than this,” she said in a sharp voice, “You can’t be my assistant and the agent for some kid, that doesn’t work and we both know it. I think this sounds like you want to leave me. You wouldn’t have thought of this crazy idea if you weren’t.”
B was now feeling lonely and insecure, which often turned her into a nasty person. She was right in her reasoning though, if I was perfectly happy where I was, I probably wouldn’t have done this in the first place. But then I didn’t know if I was unhappy because of her unreturned feelings or if I was just tired of my job. Or both.
“B, I have no idea what's going to happen. Like I said, there's a high possibility that nothing comes out of it. I just wanted to tell you what’s going on, nothing more. It’s not a big deal.”
She suddenly had this vacant look in her eyes, like all the positive energy she had collected in Rome had been drained from her. “I can't deal with this right now, I can't even look at you.”
Then she took her chunky Gucci bag and rushed out of King Cole, leaving me alone with her empty glass and a mouthful of guilt.
Hollywood Ass. Page 14
