by Rowe, Brian
For the first time since this fake movie found life, Vivien could feel something special starting to brew.
“Let me just use the restroom,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Vivien waited for him to return for nearly fifteen minutes. This gave her time to check her e-mails and phone messages. She imagined Gavin was at his audition by now. She hoped he was doing well.
Christopher returned and grabbed his coat. “OK. Ready.”
She turned around and stood up from her desk. “Is everything all right?”
“Perfect.”
“Great. There’s this cute sushi restaurant down the street. Do you like sushi?”
He didn’t answer right away. He swallowed a burp and smiled. “I love sushi.”
---
Christopher acted like a true gentlemen, opening and closing her car door for her, and then opening the door for her at the restaurant. As time passed, he was looking cuter than ever. She felt proud walking inside the restaurant with this distinguished stud muffin on her arm.
“Two, please,” he said.
As they walked over to their table, Vivien’s phone started ringing. She grabbed it from her purse and saw an 818 area code. But she didn’t recognize the actual phone number.
I’ll let it go to voice-mail.
They took their seats and started perusing the menus.
“I love the ambience here,” he said.
“Yeah, I try to make it here at least once a month. A lot of the sushi restaurants in L.A. are overpriced and overrated. But this one’s great.”
Her phone started ringing again. “Damn it, I’m sorry. I don’t know who keeps calling me.” It was the same number again.
“You can answer it if you want.”
“It’s probably just a stupid actor or something,” she said, stopping herself. “I mean, not to say I don’t like actors.”
The call went to voice-mail for a second time, but then the same phone number lit up her screen again.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Vivien stood up from the table. “Order me a vodka cranberry.”
“Sure thing,” he said.
Vivien stepped out of the restaurant and answered the phone on its fifth ring.
“Hello?”
“Mom?” It was Gavin. He was crying. “Mom? Are you there?”
“Gavin? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
Vivien sat down on the outside bench and looked out at the busy street in front of her. She knew what this call was about. “I’m sorry, honey. Did the audition not go well?”
“Mom, I didn’t make the audition.”
Vivien stood back up, bewildered. She glanced around the area to make sure Gavin wasn’t standing behind a bush playing a practical joke on her. “What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t make the audition.”
“Oh really?” Vivien started pacing, shaking her head in frustration. “Is Brandon there? I want you to put him on the phone for me.”
“Mom! Stop!”
“This is bad, Gavin! This was a great opportunity for—”
“MOM!”
She stopped. He knew in the tone of his voice that there was a part of the story missing.
“Mom,” he said, “there’s been an accident.”
---
Vivien cried the whole way to the hospital. She didn’t know the extent of what happened, but she knew that while her son was unharmed, Brandon had been hit by a car.
“I’m so sorry, Christopher. I’m sorry you had to be dragged into this.”
“Are you kidding? I’m happy to help.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“How long has this guy been working for you?” he asked.
“Two years.” She paused and put her hands over her eyes. “Oh, God, this is all my fault. If I had just taken Gavin, this never would’ve happened.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Christopher said. “Think good thoughts. We haven’t seen him yet. He might be all right.”
They pulled up to the Encino hospital a minute later. She ditched Christopher momentarily and ran toward the emergency ward. The plump receptionist was on the phone.
“Excuse me!” Vivien shouted.
“One minute, ma’am.”
“I don’t have a minute!”
The woman sighed and put her call on hold. “What is it?”
“Brandon Reed, please. We’re looking for Brandon Reed.”
“Are you family?”
“YES!”
The woman looked ready to get rid of her. “He’s in room 622, sixth floor.”
The elevator ride only took fifteen seconds, but it felt like fifteen minutes. Vivien and Christopher ran down three hallways until they found their destination. Gavin was standing outside the room, his face red with tears. He hugged his mother.
“Oh my God, my baby. I’m so happy you’re OK.” She kissed him all over until his entire face was covered with lipstick. “I’m so sorry about Buster.”
“It’s OK, Mom. I’ll be OK. It was quick. He didn’t feel any pain.” Gavin pointed at Christopher. “Umm, who’s that?”
Vivien turned to her right, having almost forgotten about her British hunk. “Oh, yes, this is Christopher. He’s a friend of mine.” She turned to the hospital room, not wanting to look in. “Is Brandon in there?”
“Yeah.”
She left Gavin with Christopher and made her way into the hospital room. Brandon’s parents were standing next to him. Vivien had only met them once at a dinner over a year ago. She couldn’t remember their names.
“Mr. and Mrs. Reed, I came as soon as I could.”
“Hello,” the mother said. The father didn’t acknowledge her.
“I don’t know the details,” Vivien said. “I have no idea how this happened.”
Brandon’s dad made his way around the bed and got in Vivien’s face. “You pay my son scraps. You work him day and night. And now I find out you have him take your own son to his auditions?”
“I’m sorry,” Vivien said. “I don’t have him do it that often. It’s only when I have no other choice—”
“What were you so busy doing?” Brandon’s dad was tall and intimidating.
“We were finishing up a casting session. I couldn’t leave.”
“He’s worked for you for two years. You couldn’t have trusted him with the last hour or two of a casting session?”
Vivien tried to change the subject any way she could. “How is he?”
Brandon’s mother piped up in the back. “He looks bad, but the doctors say he’s going to be OK.”
Vivien started crying. She couldn’t help it. “Oh God, oh thank God.” She put her hand over her mouth and continued to sob. She looked back at Brandon’s father, who was still staring at her. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about this. I won’t let your son out of my sight again, OK? I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” was all the father said as he walked back to his wife and kneeled down before his son. Brandon had tubes running through him, and his head was in a brace. Vivien couldn’t stand to look at him and walked out of the room.
“How is he?” Christopher asked.
“He doesn’t look good. But he’s gonna be OK.”
“Well that’s great news,” Christopher said.
“I saw the whole thing happen in slow-motion,” Gavin said. “He tumbled over the whole car.”
“Was he still awake after?”
“No. He was unconscious. I thought he was dead.”
Vivien started pacing in the busy sixth floor hallway. “Where’s the guy who hit him?”
“It was a girl,” Gavin said. “The police took her away. I’m not sure exactly.”
Vivien looked to her left to see a familiar face walking toward her. Derek was wearing a sweater and jeans, and his eyes were bloodshot red. He looked like he had been crying for hours.
“Ms. Slate?” he asked.
“Yes.
Hi Derek.”
“Is Brandon in there?”
“Mmm hmm.”
Derek started sobbing. “Is he OK? I mean, he’s going to be OK, right?”
“It looks bad, but he’s going to be fine.”
A little gleam of hope shined across his eyes, despite the sobs. “I made a really big mistake,” he said. “I love him, you know? I love him so much.”
“It’s OK,” Vivien said. “Go see him.”
He stepped into the hospital room and closed the door.
Vivien peered in to see Brandon’s parents embrace the Asian boy. He kissed Brandon’s mother on the cheek, and he shook the father’s hand. Derek kneeled down at Brandon’s side and buried his head against his chest.
“Is there anything I can help with?” Christopher asked.
“No, I’m fine.” Vivien turned to Gavin. “Do you need anything to eat? I bet you haven’t eaten since lunch, right?”
“I’m OK,” Gavin said.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“What about you?” Christopher said to Vivien. “Are you hungry?”
“Not at all. But you feel free to get something if you want.”
“No. I want to stay here with you.”
Christopher took hold of Vivien’s right hand.
She held it tight, and then looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked.
Everything.
---
On Monday morning Vivien called the office from her cell phone. Alyson picked it up immediately.
“Good morning, Vivien.”
“Good morning, Alyson. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you. You have some messages. Most of them regard the sessions from last week. Do you want me to e-mail you the messages or just tell you over the phone?”
“No, none of that.” She let out a big sigh.
“Vivien? Is everything all right?”
“Alyson, this is what I want you to do. I want you to call all the agents in L.A. and tell them The Men has been canceled. Tell everyone that the director dropped out and the financing didn’t come through.”
“Oh, OK. Is that true?”
“Every word,” she lied.
“Are you sure?”
Vivien took a moment. This movie was about to go away forever. She looked into the adjacent room to see Gavin still sleeping. He had been out for over nine hours.
“I’m sure,” Vivien said. “Make the calls right away. I’ll be in later.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and Vivien? One more question.”
“Yes?”
“Is Brandon coming in today? He hasn’t shown up yet.”
“Please start making the calls,” Vivien said, and she walked into the kitchen to start making Gavin some breakfast.
-41-
Nathan spent more than an hour hanging his three framed posters on the wall beside his bed. They had been hibernating in storage for the better part of six months, and Nathan’s newfound positive energy had finally provided him the motivation he needed to put some color in his room.
Besides, I’ll be on location soon, he thought. I won’t have time for decorating.
The posters were images of Nathan’s three favorite actors.
The first movie poster on the left was probably the most iconic of the three—Scarface, starring Al Pacino.
The second one featured Marlon Brando from The Wild One wearing a cap and leather jacket, sitting on a Harley Davidson.
The third poster looked crooked.
Nathan brought the poster down to his bed and grabbed his heavy silver hammer. He pulled the nail out of the wall and hammered it in a different spot, keeping just enough space for the nail to hang the poster. It took another minute to get it centered.
He put the hammer on his desk and crossed his arms, a bright smile illuminating his face. He stared at the poster. Nathan took a deep breath and tried not to cry.
James Dean stared back at him. And if James hadn’t been Nathan’s acting idol since the age of five, Nathan might not have started choking up in this moment. But he couldn’t help it.
OK, so it took a while. But I’m here. I’ve finally made it.
The poster seemed more ominous than inspiring. James Dean was featured on the left side of the poster, his eyes staring at the observer, a frightened look on his face. Much of the empty space on the right side was marred with blackness. But Nathan loved it nonetheless.
He stepped into his tiny bathroom and washed his hands. He splashed some water in his eyes.
When he opened them he stared long and hard at his scar. He massaged it briefly with his right index finger before letting out an overdue grin.
You’ve finally come through, little buddy. You finally got me a movie.
Nathan started making his way toward the kitchen when he heard the faint vibrations of his cell phone coming from his bedroom.
He ran back in and grabbed it. “Hello?”
He didn’t hear a voice right away, so he almost hung up.
“Uhh, hey,” a low voice said on the other line. “It’s me.”
“Tyler? Are you all right?”
He heard his agent laugh at the other end. The man sounded drunk. “I’m fine, Nathan.”
“So what’s up? Any news?”
“Yes, I do have some news, actually.”
Nathan sat down in his chair. He hoped this call was about the callback.
Or maybe she just decided to hand me the role here and now.
“Nathan, I just got word that The Men has been canceled.”
He didn’t hear him right. He couldn’t have. Nathan felt an itch on his right leg and took a few seconds to scratch it.
“Very funny, Tyler,” Nathan said. “No, seriously, what’s up?”
“I’m trying to get a hold of Vivien to confirm what’s going on,” Tyler said, “but it’s not looking good. I’ve talked to some other agents and they’re hearing the same thing. The financing collapsed, I guess, and Vivien stepped down from the project.”
Nathan’s heart started pounding. He stood up and started pacing the bedroom. “Tyler… what are you saying…”
“I’m saying the movie’s not getting made. I’m really sorry, Nathan. But these things happen. I mean… with the economy the way it is today…”
“But… but…” Nathan tried his best to form a coherent sentence. “I did what you wanted me to do. I flirted with her. I went to dinner with her.”
“I know.”
His voice became louder and louder. “And despite my feelings about it, despite all my pleading with you, about how I wanted all of this to be about my performance and the art and nothing else… I fucked that wretched old woman! I fucked her! For you!”
“Nathan…”
He was crying again. “You’re telling me I did all that for nothing? She promised me the lead in the movie! She practically handed it to me! That role was perfect! It was going to change my life!”
“Nathan, it’s over.”
“It can’t be…”
“Nathan. The movie’s done. And we’re done. Consider yourself no longer a client of Paragon.”
“Tyler!” Nathan started banging his head against the wall, tears streaming down his face. “Tyler! No! You can’t!”
“Good luck.”
“TYLER! WAIT!”
Nathan stood in the middle of the room, his phone pressed against his skull.
“Tyler?” All he heard was silence. “TYLER?”
He brought the phone down to his side. He could feel vomit inching up his esophagus. He stared forward at his posters.
And he screamed.
Nathan threw his phone at the James Dean poster and jumped up on his bed. He started pounding James’ face into the wall. Then he tossed the poster at the window above his pillows, breaking the heavy frame into a dozen pieces. He grabbed the other two posters and tossed them at the door, both
of their frames shattering as well.
“NOOOOOO! NO! NO! NO!”
His head started spinning, and Nathan barely made it to the toilet before he started puking his guts up. He punched the toilet seat twice before ripping it off and breaking it in half against the sink.
Nathan got back on his feet and tried not to fall as he found his balance. The room was spinning. He thought he might faint. He thought he might die.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror. The scar was throbbing. It was redder than he’d ever seen it before.
Nathan let out one more scream, one that lasted for an eternity.
He grabbed the hammer from his desk and marched back to the bathroom. He held it in his right hand with a death grip and swung it with all his might, shattering the mirror into a million pieces.
“I’M GONNA KILL THAT BITCH!” he screamed. “I’M GONNA KILL HER!”
-42-
The agents were pissed.
The calls were coming in by the minute all Monday afternoon, and not even the superstar intern Alyson could keep up with them. Vivien eventually told her to just stop answering the phone for the rest of the day, but Alyson didn’t listen to her. Around 6:30, she gave Vivien a stack of over seventy messages, all of them filled out with names, numbers, and question marks.
This will go away. They will go away.
On Tuesday morning, they went away.
Vivien found herself in a surprisingly chipper mood in her walk from her car to the office. Her son, after a weekend of mourning his beloved Buster, had finally started showing signs of life on the morning drive to school. She had just received a call from the hospital to tell her that Brandon was taking a faster than expected turn for the better. And after a week straight of morose, cloudy days, the sun was finally showing itself in what promised to be a beautiful day in the San Fernando Valley.
Alyson was hard at work as usual when Vivien walked into her office.
“Good morning, Vivien.”
“Hi Alyson. Any messages?”
“Just two. Tyler Stilletto called. He wanted to talk to you about why the project fell through. And Christopher Bells just called for you a few minutes ago. He said it was important.”
Vivien tried to hide her smile. “Get me Christopher on the phone, please.”
“Right away.”
Vivien set up her laptop as she put her bag under the desk. The phone started ringing immediately.
