Stranded

by Andrew Grey

  He opened the envelope and pulled out the screenplay for Stranded, then threw away the wrapping. Then he sat in one of the chairs, the clacking of computer keys his accompaniment as he began to read.

  He hardly moved for almost two hours as he read the script from cover to cover. By the time he was done, he had an excellent idea about the story.

  “So, what do you think?” Johnny asked. The lid of his computer was closed and Johnny handed him a glass of iced tea. “I figured you could use something to drink.”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Kendall said as he took the glass and drank down half of it. “This is….” Kendall swallowed. “I think this could be very powerful, but I don’t know if I can do it.” He opened the script and found the pages he wanted. “The main character gets stranded in a car. You know I’m claustrophobic, and they want to handcuff me in a car for hours on end.” Kendall could already feel the sweat threatening to break out all over at the thought.

  Johnny read for a few minutes. “Hey, think about it. The car will only be parts of a car, because they have to film it. So while it’ll look like you’re stuck in a car, you won’t really be.” Johnny handed him back the script. “I think you’re trying to psych yourself out so you won’t have to do this.” Johnny sat next to him. “Here in New York, you’re a big fish. Everyone knows who you are, and yes, you can get almost any part you want. But this would be like starting new. You should be excited, not afraid.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” Kendall asked.

  “No. I’m only returning the favor. You encouraged me with my first book, and now it’s time for me to do the same for you. You need to spread your wings.” Johnny lightly patted his leg and then leaned in and kissed him softly. Kendall hoped for something a little warmer, and attempted to pull Johnny closer, but he pulled away. “I have an appointment with one of the librarians at Columbia.” Johnny glanced at his watch. “I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours, and when I get back, we can have dinner together. I promise.”

  “On a Sunday afternoon?” Kendall asked, but Johnny was already up and going. He grabbed a light jacket and hurried out of the apartment. Kendall didn’t know what the hell to do, so he went back to the bedroom and opened the book he’d started earlier. But he couldn’t concentrate.

  A cell phone ringtone sounded, and he snapped the book closed and located Johnny’s phone. He answered it to stop its incessant ringing. “Hello,” Kendall said tentatively.

  “Johnny?” a young male voice asked.

  “No, this is Kendall, can I help you?”

  The line was quiet for a few seconds. “No, that’s okay. I’ll see him later.” The call disconnected, and Kendall stared at the blinking number. He set the phone on the coffee table and was about to go back to his reading, but instead, he picked up the phone again and brought up the call history. While there was no name in contacts, Johnny had been getting calls from the same number every few days for at least the past month or so. Kendall closed the phone and placed it back where he’d found it.

  He needed something to do, so he decided to start dinner. He chopped vegetables and got them ready to cook. He seasoned the beef he’d bought earlier and let that sit to build up some flavor, and peeled potatoes before getting them ready to boil. The entire time, Kendall found himself staring every few seconds at Johnny’s phone, and finally he allowed himself to voice what he was fearing: Is Johnny having an affair? At least that would explain the complete lack of interest. God, he didn’t want to think so, and his heart ached. He still loved Johnny, and he needed him. Johnny was his anchor, his rock—he always had been.

  They had been growing apart; he could see that. But maybe it was just a product of their busy lives and months or years on very different schedules.

  His phone rang, and Kendall hoped it was Johnny. No such luck. “Hey, Sal,” Kendall said when he answered.

  “Did you get the script?”

  “Yeah, and I read it,” Kendall said.

  “Good. I wanted to make sure. They need an answer tomorrow,” Sal told him, and Kendall nodded.

  “I know, and you’ll have it. I need to think things over. I know how you feel, and I’m giving this a lot of thought,” Kendall said as he wandered over to the window, peering out at the relatively quiet street below. “I have to be honest that I’m nervous about doing it.”

  “Of course you are,” Sal said. Kendall settled on the bench and watched the people and cars as they navigated the narrow street. “This is going to be different with all new people, but I know you’re right for this part. I’ve represented many people who’ve gone from Broadway to Hollywood over my career, and rarely have any of them received a vehicle as perfect for them to make the transition as you have.”

  “But, Sal, they’re going to lock me in a car,” Kendall said as he half watched out the window.

  “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Sal!” Kendall yelled.

  “Don’t take that tone with me. I know how you feel about enclosed spaces, but that’s why it’s perfect for you. Use that fear in the movie. Let them see what that does to you and your character. Don’t run from it—embrace it. Trust me,” Sal said, and Kendall sighed softly. “I told you it was perfect.”

  “If you say so,” Kendall said as a cab pulled up in front of the building. “As I said, I’ll be sure to call you Monday morning.” The cab door opened, and Johnny got out. “I need to go. Johnny just got home from the library, and I need to get dinner ready.”

  “You two have a big celebratory night planned?” Sal asked.

  Kendall’s smile at the thought lasted until he saw another man lean out of the cab. He appeared to be speaking to Johnny. The other man disappeared from view back in the cab, and Kendall saw Johnny lean inside the vehicle for a few seconds and then back out once again. Johnny closed the cab door, and Kendall could have sworn he saw a huge smile on Johnny’s face before he disappeared from view.

  “Kendall, are you there?” Sal asked.

  “I’m here,” he said. “Tell the people in Hollywood I’ll do it.” Kendall said. Maybe three or four months on his own to explore a bit and figure out what he really wanted wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

  Chapter 2

  A WEEK later, Kendall said good-bye to Johnny, who, to Kendall’s slight relief, appeared sad at his departure. Kendall had noticed a few mysterious calls Johnny received during the day and he always rushed out right afterward with some excuse about needing to get to the library for an appointment he’d forgotten. Kendall hadn’t said anything, because even though he was becoming more and more convinced about the reason for these calls, he hadn’t wanted to force the issue right before he left. Kendall also knew it was because he kept hoping he was wrong. After all, he’d been away most afternoons for most of their relationship. Maybe this was a regular routine that the research for Johnny’s books involved.

  Johnny had taken him to the airport, and they’d arranged for Johnny to come out for a visit in a month or so. After a hug that, to Kendall’s relief, lasted longer than was necessary, he got in line at LaGuardia, and after waiting, going through security, and then more waiting, he boarded the plane and winged across the country on his way to Los Angeles. The flight itself was long and boring, but Kendall had his copy of the script, which he spent some additional time with, as well as a copy of one of Johnny’s books. “I read that,” the lady in the seat next to him said at one point. “It’s really good.”

  “I’m enjoying it,” Kendall said. “It was a gift from the author.”

  The woman’s eyes lit up and she almost bounced in her seat. Because of their public lives, neither of them had been vocal about their relationship. Their friends knew, but neither of them marched in parades or anything. “Yes. He’s a special friend,” Kendall said, leaving it at that. Johnny had always said that readers were readers and he didn’t want to piss any of them off, so there was nothing about Kendall in the printed bio, just like there was nothing about Johnny in K
endall’s Playbill bio. They had both agreed a long time ago that their private life was just that—private.

  Kendall returned to his book, and was rewarded for keeping his mouth shut when the woman pulled her own book out of her bag—one of those “self-help through prayer” books. Kendall smiled at her and nodded, continuing to read until he finished the book about the same time the flight attendants were readying the plane for landing.

  He’d been told that a car would be sent for him, and once they landed and he took the escalators to the baggage claim, a man in limousine livery stood waiting with his name on a small sign. “That’s me,” Kendall said.

  “Very good,” the chauffeur said. “I’ll help you with your luggage and take you to your hotel.” Kendall nodded and headed over to the luggage carousel. He got his luggage, and the driver put the bags on a cart and led the way outside. Another man, smartly dressed, stood beside a stretch limousine. The door was opened for him, and Kendall climbed in back. The seats were plush and comfortable after the hard-as-a-board plane seats. There was a stocked bar and soft lighting, and music if he wanted it. He heard his luggage being placed in the trunk and the lid closing. After a few moments, the vehicle began to move, and Kendall settled back and closed his eyes. The flight had been long and he’d heard all about Los Angeles traffic, so he settled in for a while. He knew he should rest, but instead spent the time staring out the windows as palm trees and greenish-brown hills dotted with homes passed outside as they inched down the freeway.

  Eventually, they exited the freeway and made a series of turns that left Kendall feeling completely turned around until they pulled under a hotel portico. The door was opened by one of the drivers, and Kendall got out, instantly wishing he had sunglasses. “We’ll bring in your luggage,” the smartly dressed man said.

  “Thank you,” Kendall replied and headed into the hotel. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. The hotel was nice, but this was Hollywood, and he’d been expecting a grand entrance hall, chandeliers, maybe even starlets walking through the lobby in glittering gowns, not a nice but ordinary hotel with normal people walking around everywhere. “Kendall Monroe,” he said to the desk clerk.

  “Of course, we’ve been expecting you,” she said with a smile and nodded to one of the bellmen, who took Kendall’s luggage from the drivers. “I’ll just need a credit card for incidentals,” she explained, and Kendall handed his over.

  “We’ll be waiting for you, sir,” the driver said very softly. “The producers and director are expecting you at the studio in”—he checked his watch—“two hours.”

  “Thank you….” Kendall extended his hand.

  “Juan,” he said, shaking Kendall’s hand. “I’m one of the director’s assistants,” Juan explained. “Well, actually, I’m the assistant to Mr. Davidson’s assistant.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Juan,” Kendall said.

  “You too, Mr. Monroe.”

  “Kendall, please,” he corrected and turned to the desk clerk, who had things for him to sign. He did where she indicated, listening as she explained everything. Kendall took his keys and card, and the bellhop and Juan followed him to the elevator.

  “What room are you in, sir?” the bellhop asked, and Kendall told him the number. They stepped off at their floor, and the bellhop led them to the room, then took Kendall’s key and opened the door for him. He carried in the luggage and set it on the stands, explained where everything was, and opened the curtains. Kendall was immediately enthralled with the view—the city all laid out in front of him, stretching as far as he could see.

  By the time he turned around, the bellman was gone and just Juan stood near the door. “Let me get my things unpacked and we can head over. I’d sort of like to look around if I could before I have to go to the meeting.” Kendall motioned Juan toward one of the chairs and began to unpack. The task didn’t take long, and Kendall noticed that Juan watched him closely. “Is something wrong?” Kendall asked as he closed the drawer.

  “No,” Juan said. “It’s just that we still have time.” Juan stood up and moved closer. “You’re a very handsome man,” he added, his accent now coming through. “I was told to do anything I could to help make you comfortable.” Juan stepped even closer, entering Kendall’s personal space. He placed his hand on Kendall’s chest. “Like I said, you’re very handsome.”

  “Juan,” Kendall said, placing his hand on Juan’s and then slowly removing it.

  “You aren’t gay?” Juan asked, stepping back.

  “It isn’t that,” Kendall said. “I have someone in my life.” He wasn’t sure what he and Johnny were to each other at the moment. While he might have an inkling that Johnny was cheating, although he didn’t have proof, he wouldn’t cheat. Even if Juan’s deep brown eyes and the hint of young, virile muscle beneath his light, flowing white shirt were damned tempting. “You’re a handsome man too, Juan, and I’m very flattered, but this isn’t the way I want to start things out here.” God, this was not at all what he’d been expecting.

  Juan shifted his gaze to the floor. “I’ll wait outside until you’re ready.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Kendall said, getting the last of his things together. “We can leave now.” He tried to act as though nothing had happened. After all, there were worse things than being propositioned by a young man with deep eyes and a body that moved with a dancer’s grace. They reached the elevator and rode down in silence.

  “Do you want me to ride up front again?” Juan asked, and Kendall rolled his eyes.

  “No,” he said, getting into the back of the limousine. Juan followed him, and the driver closed the door. “So what’s supposed to happen once we get to the studio?”

  “Well, you’re supposed to meet with the producers and director. If there’s time, I can show you around the lot a bit. Part of the film will be shot on a soundstage, but from what I’ve heard, the car scenes will be shot out in the desert west of here. There was some talk of you spending some time with Mr. Davidson, scouting out locations, but I don’t know if anything has been decided yet.”

  “Okay,” Kendall said and turned to look at the scenery passing outside the window. “How am I supposed to know when I’m supposed to be where? I’ve only done theater, and that stuff is very easy. They tell us what time to show up, and we do. It’s always the same theater, day in and day out.”

  “God, that must be boring,” Juan said with a hint of a smile. “The production team will keep you informed, and of course the director will, as well.” Juan shifted slightly in his seat. “You’ll do just fine. The thing is, don’t let them rattle you.”

  “About what?” Kendall asked and Juan shifted a bit closer.

  “See, there seems to be a… difference of opinion about you. So various people might try to rattle you to see what you’re made of.”

  “Sort of like playing tricks on the new guy?” Kendall asked. He remembered the jokes the cast sometimes played on first-timers. They weren’t malicious, just a bit of teasing. He’d expected that sort of thing.

  “Yeah, probably,” Juan said seriously, and Kendall got the feeling that whatever was going on was a lot bigger and would probably go a lot deeper than harmless pranks. “Like I said, don’t let them rattle you.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Kendall said. He’d spent the past fifteen years around serious theater people with their squabbles, egos, and petty requirements. He figured he could handle whatever these people threw at him. But from the doubtful expression on Juan’s face, the assistant’s assistant didn’t think so. “Don’t worry. I spent years dealing with temperamental directors and costars on Broadway.”

  “If you say so,” Juan said and then reached to the seat next to him. He opened an app on his smartphone. “Like I said, you’re meeting with the producers and the director. Later, you have an appointment with wardrobe so they can take all your measurements. After that, we’ll stop by makeup so they can get a look at your face and skin tone. After that, it’s cinematography,
where we’ll get you in front of a camera so they can see the lighting, filters, and other effects that work best for you.”

  “Is there some sort of screen test on the schedule? I sort of figured they’d want to see me in front of a camera before they actually hired me.”

  Juan looked at him askance. “They did. As I understand it, you did a television special a year ago to promote one of your shows. From what I saw, the camera loves you.”

  “Okay,” Kendall said, trying to remember that appearance. It hadn’t been more than five minutes, and all he’d done was talk to one of the hosts and perform one of the songs from the show. It seemed to him they were basing a lot of decisions on a very few minutes, but then again, these people knew what they were doing. At least he sure as hell hoped they did. The car pulled to a stop, and Kendall peered out. They appeared to have stopped at a gate.

  “We’re entering the studio,” Juan said, and after a minute they pulled forward and along what appeared to be a road, but most of the traffic seemed to be golf carts. They traveled slowly, probably stuck behind one of the carts. Eventually they stopped. The door opened, and Kendall stepped out of the large vehicle, followed by Juan. A few people stopped to look, but they quickly moved on. “They’re checking to see if you’re someone.”

  “What?” Kendall asked.

  “They’re checking to see if they recognize you. Many of the people around are studio personnel or extras, and they sometimes stop to see if they recognize someone famous.”

  Kendall obviously didn’t warrant their attention for very long, because everyone moved on. Juan walked around the car and spoke to the driver. Then he walked back to where Kendall was waiting and craned his head to look at everything around him. There was surprisingly little to look at—mostly what he surmised were soundstages, large buildings that all looked the same, painted the same shade of off-white. “I expected it to be more… interesting,” Kendall said, and Juan laughed.