by Rowe, Brian
“Hi honey.”
“What happened to your arm?”
His mom’s hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked like death.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “I had a little accident at work today.” She sat down next to him and wrapped her working arm around Gavin’s left.
“How’d you know I was here?” he asked.
“When you weren’t at school, I naturally assumed. You come here a lot, don’t you?”
He looked down and clasped his hands together. “I miss this house, Mom. I don’t know why we can’t go back to the way things used to be.”
She squeezed his arm, and then kissed him on the back of his neck.
“Are you OK?” Gavin asked.
She nodded and held him close. “I just don’t want to let you go.” She looked down at the paper resting atop the grass. “What’s that?”
“Oh, yeah, check this out,” Gavin said, proud as ever, like he had just gotten the perfect score on his SAT. “Mrs. Brooks gave me an A on my short story.”
“Congratulations, honey! That’s great! You worked hard on that story.”
“Yeah. She thinks I should submit it to some magazines. I don’t know. I think that might be pushing it.”
“Why not?” Vivien asked. “What’s there to lose?”
Gavin turned and looked at his mom. He didn’t miss his dad any longer. He knew she was the only person he needed.
“Gavin?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to do anything you want, OK? Acting, writing, anything. I feel like I’ve been pressuring you lately about the whole acting thing, and I just want you to know I’m here to support you with whatever you want to do, all right?”
She finally said it.
Gavin smiled and put both of his hands around his mother’s for warmth. “Thanks, Mom.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Gavin took a few deep breaths, and then looked forward to see his mom’s hand trembling. “Mom?” He looked at his mother again. She had tears streaming down her face. “Mom? What is it?”
Vivien wiped her tears away, bringing Gavin closer and kissing him on his forehead. “I just wanted you to know how much I love you, how you’re my everything, how I don’t know what I’d do… you know… if I lost you…”
“I know.”
They locked eyes for a moment. Another tear fell down Vivien’s right cheek. “And I won’t let anything ever happen to you. You understand me?”
“I know, Mom.”
She continued to cry as she leaned to her right and started hugging him.
Gavin hugged her back. He smiled and looked up to see a hundred stars sprawled across the evening sky.
Perfect, he thought.Absolutely perfect.
-44-
On Wednesday morning, Brandon’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
But it wasn’t Vivien who kept calling him. He hadn’t talked to her since Monday, when she revealed to him early in the day that she was putting an end to The Men by blaming a bailing director and financing problems.
He was in his apartment in Universal City, resting in bed, his head smashed against two large pillows.
What do you want from me, Mom?
He looked over at his phone to see that his doting mother wanted yet another update on his wellbeing, even though she had called just three hours ago.
“I’m fine, Mom,” he said to himself. “Just let me rot in peace.”
He took the next minute to reach for the TV remote. He had to roll over twice in order to grab it. When he got comfortable, he took five deep breaths, each one more dramatic than the last, as if he had just completed the world’s most exhausting triathlon.
Brandon hit the power button on the remote to turn on the TV, but nothing happened. He hit it a few more times, and then started whacking it against the side of the bed. He opened the back to see that a battery was missing.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
He threw the remote against his framed poster of Blue Velvet and rolled over to his left side. He ached all over but tried to ignore the pain.
Brandon had been released from the hospital at the end of the weekend, but he was instructed to at least a week of bed rest.
I should get hit by a car more often, he thought.
Brandon looked at this rare opportunity as a much-deserved break from his job. He had been working for Vivien day and night for two years, and it was time to take a vacation, even if that vacation was sedentary boredom on his double mattress at home.
Derek had come by to see him every day. Brandon was still mad about the whole kissing thing, but Derek convinced him that the infidelity hadn’t meant a thing and that he really, truly loved him. Brandon knew most of that was crap, but he forgave him, anyway. He needed to. He couldn’t imagine life without him.
Brandon sat up and tried to stretch. He was able to move his arms forward but not upward. His back started hurting again, and he took another Vicodin.
He still felt raw about running over that dog. He hoped that one day Vivien’s kid would forgive him. She knew that Vivien was never emotionally close to the mutt and that she probably wouldn’t fire him over it.
But Gavin was another story.
Don’t hate me forever. I need you to be in my life when you turn eighteen.
Brandon made his way over to the mirror. He frowned and turned to his side, revealing a belly that hadn’t been this flabby since the fourth grade, a time when he would spend his evenings dunking Oreos into chocolate milk.
His phone started ringing back in the bedroom.
“Jesus!” he shouted. “Mom! Give it a rest!”
He almost tripped on the power chord behind the TV on his way over to the phone, an accident that might have landed him in the hospital again, with the promise of even more time off from work. He recovered, disappointingly, and grabbed the phone off his nightstand.
“Mom, what are you—”
“Is this Brandon Reed?” It was a male voice.
“Uhh, yeah. Who’s calling?”
“Hi, Brandon. So happy I got a hold of you. Do you have a minute?”
The voice was low and husky. He looked at his Caller ID and, oddly enough, recognized the number.
“Uhh, sure. How can I help you?”
Brandon heard the man clear his throat on the other end. “Mr. Reed, this is Tyler Stiletto.”
“Tyler Stiletto? From Paragon?”
“That’s correct.”
Brandon was bewildered. He sat down on the bed, with difficulty. “How’d you get this number?”
“I wanted to talk to you about something very important,” Tyler said. “Is there any way you can make your way over to our office?”
His office? For what?
Brandon knew he shouldn’t. He’d be lucky to convince anyone that he was in an acceptable condition to drive, let alone hop scotch around a major talent agency.
“Of course,” Brandon said without delay. “When?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Please come quickly. I have something very exciting to discuss with you.”
---
Paragon was a relatively new agency, started in 2006 by just a couple of agents from United Talent Agency, but it had grown substantially in the last few years. While the agency represented a handful of writers and directors, most of Paragon’s client base was actors, leaving Brandon confused as to what he was doing there.
From the outside, the building looked like any other. It had a big, fancy see-through door and some nifty black architecture.
He made his way inside, trying his best not to look like he was in horrific pain, and turned toward the main receptionist. “Excuse me?”
The young blonde woman sported a big fake grin. “Yes? How can I help you?”
“I have a meeting with Tyler Stiletto. He told me to get here as quickly as possible.”
“Oh, are you Brandon?”
He looked at her confus
ed and a little scared. “Uhh, yeah.”
“You’re young.” She took a step back and grabbed a large yellow clipboard. “Please. Follow me.”
Brandon followed her past thirty offices, a media room, and a couple of vending machines. She stopped at the big office at the end of the hallway.
“Wait here,” she said, disappearing into the room.
For one of the first times in his life, Brandon was truly nervous. His heart started beating rapidly, and his nose, of all things, started running.
What am I doing here?
The receptionist stepped outside and forced a smile. “They’re ready to see you now.” She walked down the hallway and disappeared behind a series of cubicles.
Brandon turned back toward the closed door.
They?
He opened the door and looked inside to see three men in a giant office. The younger one was sitting in a leather chair in front of a desk and computer screen. The other two men were older and sitting on a sofa. Brandon knew without a word of dialogue spoken that the guy at the desk was definitely Tyler.
“Brandon Reed,” he said. “Just the guy I’ve been looking for. Welcome.”
Tyler stood up and shook Brandon’s hand. Brandon nodded to him, a bit too forcefully, and took a step forward.
“Please,” Tyler said, “have a seat.”
Brandon took the only seat left in the room.
“Brandon,” Tyler said, “please say hello to Mr. Carpenter and Mr. Ayres.”
“Hello,” Brandon said, briefly smiling at the two old geezers.
He kept his eyes on the man of the hour and thought this agent was at least seven years too old for him. Still, though, for a guy in his thirties, this Stiletto guy was gorgeous.
“So you’re probably wondering why I asked you here today,” Tyler said.
Brandon started nodding like an epileptic. “Yes. Yes, I was.”
Tyler put his palms face down on his giant desk. “Mr. Reed, I got word a couple of days ago that a project I was covering here at Paragon, one which we all loved, was suddenly and without warning terminated. The questionable reason we got was financing issues. I’m, of course, talking about your script The Men, which some guy named David Smith was going to direct.”
Brandon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This agent in great power was lovingly discussing the script he had punched out in four days.
“Yes, right,” Brandon said. “Financing issues.”
“Anyway, I did some digging, and I found out that not only do you not have any representation, your script is without a home.”
“Yes,” Brandon said, intrigued. “That’s correct.”
“Now I typically deal with actors and have so far only signed one other writer. But, well, let’s just say a slot recently opened up in my clientele. Brandon, I’d like to represent you.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. This moment was a dream years in the making. Ever since he graduated from USC five years ago, he had been looking for a literary agent to represent one of his screenplays. He spent over two years writing a gay-themed science fiction script that won three major screenwriting competitions, but still, after all of his hard work, no Hollywood agent had wanted to work with him.
Brandon didn’t feel his back pain any longer. He sat up and smiled. “I’m in shock. I don’t know what to say.”
“I got access to some of your work online,” Tyler continued. “That romantic comedy you wrote that updates the old Moliere story? Brilliant stuff. And we watched some of your short films. I think you’ve got a tremendous gift, Brandon, and I wanted to scoop you up before someone else beat me to it. That is, if you want me.”
I want you, Tyler Stiletto. I want you so bad.
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Brandon wanted to cry, but he maintained his composure as best he could.
“But that’s not all,” Tyler said, motioning his right hand to the sofa in the corner. “These fine gentlemen over here have some things to say as well.”
Brandon brought his eyes to the other two. One was fat; the other was fatter. Otherwise, they looked like twins.
Mr. Carpenter talked first. “Brandon, I’m sure you’re sick to death of the compliments, but your script is great, and it’s exactly the kind of genre and story Mr. Ayres and I have been looking for. We run Tailgate Pictures and have a first-look deal with Sony.”
Brandon’s jaw dropped. “Wow.”
Mr. Ayres took the microphone. “Brandon, we want to buy your script.”
The producer looked to his partner Mr. Carpenter, as if to raise the anticipation of his next sentence. Tyler put his feet up on his desk and crossed his arms like a proud papa.
Brandon didn’t think the news could get any better.
It did.
“And we want you to direct it.”
Brandon fell out of his chair, and when his back hit the glass table behind him, he let out a scream so loud a mailroom intern called the police.
-Six Months Later-
I’m enormous.
Vivien tried to get comfortable but struggled. She decided to lean back in her chair as much as possible.
She turned to her right to see Brandon going over his notes, speed reading through each page like he was cramming for an exam.
“Are you ready?” Vivien asked.
“Not yet,” he said. “Just give me like two more minutes.”
“One minute.”
“Fine.”
Vivien glanced down at today’s session sheet for The Men. It was only six pages long, but the high profile talent her associate had lined up was nothing short of spectacular.
She started grinning as she looked around her new office. Vivien had moved to a new casting studio in West Hollywood in early December, and she found the transition nearly seamless. Mary, her director friend, had helped her secure a deal, and she was paying the same amount of rent for nearly twenty percent more space, with the entire second floor of the building dedicated to her business. Her office in Chatsworth, and everything that came with it, would forever be a nightmare swept under the dirty kitchen rug.
Brandon set his pen down and cleared his throat. “OK, I think I’m ready.”
“All right. Let’s do this.” Vivien tried to stand up but couldn’t. She looked at Brandon, embarrassed. “Can you help me?
He smiled. “Of course.”
He helped pull her up by her arms as she balanced her weight against the table to the right of her.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she said.
She made her way to the audition room door. It was halfway open, and she was able to look into the waiting room to see five actors nervously awaiting their moments in the spotlight.
Vivien walked into the waiting room and nodded at the young men. She recognized all but one, a guy with long braids who looked more like a rock star than an actor. She thought all of them were attractive, but her feelings went no further than that. Ever since the incident in her Chatsworth office, she had refrained from trying to date or bed actors. Even looking at them the wrong way gave her chills.
“Hey you,” she said to her son.
“Hey Mom.” Gavin’s voice was deeper, and one lone pimple sat above his left eyebrow like a mole with attitude.
“Has everyone signed in?”
“Of course,” he said with a knowing grin.
Gavin had been assisting her lately with the busy casting sessions. She didn’t have an intern at the moment. She didn’t want one.
Vivien put her hands together and smiled at the eager faces. “All right, let’s bring back the first one who signed in.”
A young man she recognized the most among the crowd picked up his bag and bottled water and stood up.
“Come with me,” she said.
He followed her toward the audition room. They passed one office along the way, and it wasn’t Vivien’s.
She turned to her left and grabbed the young man’s bag. “Here, let me give this to my associate.”
�
��Oh, thank you,” he said, handing it to her. “Be careful. It’s heavy.”
“Hey, I’m stronger than you might think.”
She handed it to her associate. He was munching on some granola. He chewed sloppily as he took the actor’s bag.
“Thanks, Tom,” she said.
Vivien took a step forward and tossed Tom a check. “Second payment just came in. Third will be here next week.”
“Awesome! Thanks, boss!” He turned back to his granola, stuffing his hand into the box as if he were searching for a hidden toy.
Tom had been working for Vivien since January. Not a lot had changed about the former intern, except that he had become a much quicker thinker, and vomited only when approached about working weekends.
“You’re welcome,” Vivien said and opened the door to the audition room.
She looked to her left to see that the HD camera was set up on the tripod. Derek stood behind it with surprising confidence, like he knew what buttons to push and what the blinking red light actually meant. Vivien glanced below the camera to see Derek touching hands with Brandon. When she stepped into the room, their hands detached.
Brandon stood up from his chair. “Hello,” he said to the first actor of the day.
Vivien put her arm out toward Brandon. “Everyone, this is Garrett Skyler. Garrett, this is our director, Brandon Reed.” She pointed to her left and continued. “And this is Derek on camera. And Lila here is going to be reading with you.”
Derek didn’t even look at Garrett, but Lila, dressed in a sexy skirt and appearing more radiant than ever, waved to him as if she had already lined up her next husband. Her divorce from Walter had been finalized just two weeks ago.
“Good morning,” Lila said with a naughty grin. Garrett didn’t respond.
The actor and director shook hands as Vivien took her seat. She exhaled deeply and wondered how many more times she would have to get up throughout the day.
It’s good for you, she thought. You need the exercise, you fat pig.
Brandon crossed his arms and smiled at Garrett, who looked ready to get started. “All right, Mr. Skyler. You’re reading for the role of Jesse, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“Perfect,” Brandon said. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll just go into it, and you tell me what you want to change. Do you want me sitting or standing?”
