“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” The four-year old threw himself at Phillip's long legs when he entered his house at seven o'clock that evening.
With a warm smile, Phillip bent down and picked up his son. “Hello, Davey. How's my boy? Where's your mom?”
Davey held out a drawing he had done with his crayons. It was a bright assortment of lines and circles.
“Well, what's this? You're getting to be quite the artist.” Phillip looked at the paper as he sat himself down comfortable on the sofa.
Davey kept his arms locked around his daddy's neck as he explained, “That's you, daddy! And that's Uncle Tom and Uncle Eddie,” he pointed.
Phillip smiled. So the circles were heads and the lines were legs and arms. He immediately distinguished that his lines were the longest. He was the tallest on the set, measuring out at six feet two inches, whereas “Uncle” Eddie was only six feet one.
“When can I go back on the set?” Davey eagerly asked—again. Ever since Phillip had taken him last season Davey had been asking for another visit. Eddie had given him a “Time Police” badge and Tom had taken him into the time portal. It was all very exciting for a four-year old.
“Maybe next time, son. We're going to be finished in a couple of days. Eddie mentioned a party at his place after we're done. You're invited!”
That prospect wasn't as exciting as a visit to the set, but it was better than nothing. “Okay, I guess. Will Eddie Junior be there?” He sounded wary and not at all happy about the possibility.
“Of course. I thought you like Eddie Junior.”
Davey rolled off Phillip's lap and sat next to him, his expression becoming very serious. “Well, I did. But then he got to be on the show and I didn't.”
Phillip turned his head away and briefly rolled his eyes. They had had this conversation before. “Eddie's son is older than you. And you know there aren't that many parts for young boys on the show. You were in a commercial with your mom, remember?” he pointed out.
“It's not the same,” was the pouty reply.
Phillip gave him a hug. “Just be patient until you grow some. Where's your mom?” he repeated.
“Looking over Japan.”
Phillip reminded himself he should never ask a four-year old anything that required a definite answer. He then noticed the door to Sarah's study was closed.
Going over, he knocked and opened the door a crack. “Sarah? Want to go out for dinner?”
“We're going to the Matsui's for a get-together. Did you forget?”
He swallowed his groan. Wonderful. Another long evening with her potential employers and her scummy agent. This job would take her to Japan for a month. With Davey. Without him. An excellent career move. For her.
Davey came over and wrapped himself around Phillip's leg again. “I'm going to Japan!” he announced. “Is that near your studio, Daddy?”
“Maybe you're going, Davey,” Phillip corrected. He pushed the door open. “It hasn't been decided yet,” he said a little louder so he would be heard.
Sarah looked up from the contract and some sample ads of the product she would be representing. Her long blond hair was artfully arranged on top of her head for the party and dangling diamond earrings caught the light. She heard what Phillip had said just fine..
“Can I go to the party, Mommy?” asked Davey, taking the opportunity to come into her private study where he was usually forbidden.
“No, honey,” as she kissed his upturned, hopeful face. “It's just for grown-ups. Mrs. Clark will be here soon…. You'd better hurry, Phillip. We have to leave in half an hour.”
Eyes narrowed, her husband just stood by the door. She had already decided to take the job. He could tell.
“Oh, Phillip? I forgot to tell you. The Matsui's also invited Bob Carlson. I hear he's divorced again,” she casually commented as her attention was once again focused on her contract.
Bob Carlson. Head of Zenith Pictures. Second largest studio in the world, ran through Phillip's mind as he stood there looking at her.
Realizing he hadn't moved, Sarah glanced around at the severe look on Phillip's face. “It's a wonderful chance for you, Phillip. He's doing a movie-of-the-week and doesn't have the full cast yet. He offered me a role, but I don't want to do television movies just yet,” her beautiful face momentarily betraying how beneath her she felt television work was. “Besides, I'll….” She broke off, thinking it best not to pursue that matter right then.
With forced civility, Phillip finished her sentence for her. “Besides, you'll be in Japan.”
She gracefully stood and took Davey by the hand. “Come on, honey. You can talk to me while I finish getting ready.” They walked past Phillip as he stood in the doorway. He could smell the subtle fragrance of her perfume.
His eyes searched out the photograph on the wall behind her antique desk that showed her modeling for that perfume. Low cut black velvet dress trimmed in gold braid, slit up the leg. Her intense blue eyes looking over the perfume bottle. His glance fell on her awards that lined her beautiful Laotian Black and White Ebony burlwood built-in bookcase. Her beauty and poise and business sense had gotten her far. Too far? No, he admitted with a sigh, not yet. She was still his wife and mother of his son. And she was trying to be helpful in his career. She just needed to trust his judgment and allow him to make his own decisions. Like she was making her own decisions. And succeeding. At age twenty-eight, her face, if not her name, was known across the country. Soon it would be known around the world.
Next to the polished hardwood staircase leading upstairs was an etched Italian glass mirror. Phillip paused and considered his reflection. Dark wavy hair. Hazel eyes. Firm mouth. Dimpled chin. He had modeled some when he was in college, but he had wanted to be an actor. That had been his aim since his thespian days in high school. He had previously married his high school sweetheart and she left him high and dry when acting jobs were few and far between. She wanted stability, not an actor. Then, eight years ago, after a play, he met Sarah. She had been with a group who came backstage to see the star of the play. He had literally bumped into her by accident and immediately fell in love with the most beautiful face he had ever seen. She was twenty-years old at the time and had already done a few minor modeling jobs for a few different catalogs. Sarah was charmed by the tall, handsome actor who, at age thirty-two, was close to appearing on Broadway. When it was time for him to leave for the West Coast, he took her with him, stopping en route in Las Vegas to get married. Four years later they had a son named after Sarah's father. She still had the most beautiful face he had ever seen.
Just then, the doorbell chimed and brought him back to the present. It was just who was expecting it to be. Mrs. Clark had arrived, so Phillip greeted her and excused himself to go change clothes. He knew his tuxedo would have been laid out on the bed for him by now.
Maggie Rush ran into the police headquarters where Sir Charles was talking to a Lieutenant.
“Sir Charles! We have to get back to the lab. The Professor has gotten away from The Loner. We believe he will use the portal to escape. Andrew is on him way now.”
“Where's Jack?”
Maggie looked worried. “We don't know. We haven't heard from his all day. He might have bee hurt.”
Sir Charles took her arm. “Come. We must hurry. He mustn't use the portal.”
The two rushed out of the room
“Cut,” Ron called. “That was good. Are we set for the lab scene? Is everyone here? Good. Looks like we'll finish early today.
“Phillip,” he continued, “you just knocked out Tom and are to rush to the portal. When you get to the door, stop, look back once, and then return to Tom for your final words. Eddie, you run in just as the door closes and then go to Tom and help him up.
“Camera one and three, go to opposite ends, and two, follow in close,” Ron directed. “Places. Slate…. Ready…. Action!”
The Professor stood from his evil deed and ran to the portal door. He hesitated with his hand outs
tretched and looked back at the figure prone on the floor. He returned to The Loner and gently lifted one of his hands.
“Forgive me, Jack. You were getting too close to the truth. We're a lot alike, you know. Someday, perhaps, we can be friends again. I won't forget the kindness you showed when I was hurt. But, now is not the time.”
He looked up suddenly and ran into the portal. He slammed the door and vanished.
Andrew Fox rushed into the lab and found The Loner on the floor. He saw the portal was closed and knew it was already empty.
He pulled The Loner into a sitting position and began firmly patting his face to bring him to consciousness. “Jack! Jack! Wake up. Are you all right?”
The Loner felt the bump on his head and groaned. “Where's….”
“He's gone, Jack. I was too late.”
Jack looked sadly at the portal door. “I almost got through to him, Andrew. I almost got through.”
Andrew nodded. “I know. Next time we meet, Professor, we'll be ready,” he finished, looking intently at the portal door.
“Cut,” Ron declared triumphantly. “Beautiful, people. That is probably a wrap. Hang around an hour while we preview this and then, if it looks good, you can go.”
While the four regulars discussed next week's show, Phillip quietly headed for his dressing room. It was only twelve o'clock and he figured he had two hours to go.
He propped himself up on the oversized sofa and picked up the ivory-colored paper.
Jane struggled valiantly against the drunken cowboy who kept asking her for a kiss. She thought about the knife in the top of her boot. The saloon singer dress she was wearing had effectively hidden the handle of the knife, but she had been warned about hurting anyone. She would have to use some other way to get out of this mess.
She remembered her training with Jack and brought her knee up sharply. The cowboy suddenly quit groping her and emitted a startled grunt. As he fell back, she made a fist and swung it into his stomach with all her might. The cowboy now collapsed onto the floor of the saloon.
Jane backed slowly away from the inert form. She was still scared and shaking violently. A body stood in the way of her escape. Screaming as hands touched her shoulders, it was too much for Jane as the world tilted around her and she fainted.
The Professor looked down at her and felt remorse for what he had put her through. Gently picking her up, he carried her into the deserted office and placed her on the couch. He could hear the stagecoach go by and knew it was time for them to go back. He hadn't expected Jane to be mauled like that.
Gently, he patted her hands and she slowly opened her eyes. Startled, she looked away from his handsome face and tried to find the cowboy. She sat up, not knowing what was going on.
“You're all right now,” he softly said. “You handled yourself just fine. Jack taught you well.”
Jane was shaking again. “He tried to…. I couldn't…. Please hold me,” she whispered, holding out trembling hands.
The Professor didn't protest but held her close until she stopped shaking. He experienced a strange feeling in his heart and looked down at her head leaning against his chest.
“I'm sorry,” he told her. “I'm sorry you all proved me wrong….and I am sorry you were hurt. It's time for you to go.” He placed his fingers briefly against her cheek. “Jack is fortunate,” was the last thing he said to her as he rushed out the back door of the saloon.
Andrew and Jack burst through the swinging doors, guns in hand. “Jane?” Jack called out, frightened by the sight of an unconscious cowboy on the floor.
“Jack!” Jane rushed into his arms.
“It's time to go home,” Andrew said in a softer tone, finally affected by the tender reunion before him. “I'm glad you're all right, Jane. You'll make a good squad member yet!”
The End
Phillip gathered all his personal effects and took one last glance around the dressing room to make sure he had everything. Then he threw his costume over the sofa and headed for the offices.
He found Maxwell, Cindy and Eddie near the door that read ‘Ron Nickles—Director.’ The threesome were discussing Eddie's party the next night.
“You'll be there? You and the family?” he was asked as he joined them.
Phillip nodded. “Yes. Davey is looking forward to it. He wants to tell Eddie Junior about his upcoming trip to Japan.”
Cindy and Maxwell exchanged a private look. This would be big for Sarah. Phillip betrayed no emotion on his face. Sometimes it was helpful to be an actor.
Ron came out of his office just then and confirmed the party time.
“Say, Ron,” Phillip cut in. “Can I use the phone in your office? It will just take a minute.”
“Sure thing. Leave a quarter on the desk. Good job as usual, group. See you at the party. I have to see about some script changes. Some of these writers are so touchy about their work,” and off he rushed without waiting for replies, comments, or good-byes.
Phillip waved a hand as he went into the office and sat in the big leather chair. The window looked over the back lot of Majestic Studio. But Phillip wasn't looking at the familiar sight. He was looking for a phone number on a crumpled letter.
He had no idea where the call was going. It was normal procedure for all mail to be read before forwarding and so he had no outer envelope. Only a name, a photo, and a script.
He held the letter in one hand as the phone rang on the other end. Two rings. Three rings.
“Hello. Leslie here. I can't answer. Please leave your message. Beep.”
“Leslie, this Phillip Beck. I wanted to tell you I received your script and I enjoyed reading it. I was going to write you, but the envelope was thrown away, so I have no address. Sorry for the phone message.
“What I wanted to tell you was that your story was interesting and enjoyable. But since it isn't exactly a script or a novel, you should decide one way or the other.
“I suggest you go novel form and submit it for publication. There is a lot of interest in ‘The Time Police’ and the books do well. You have no chance as a script because there are too many legal problems for an outsider.
“Thank you for thinking of me. I have found the regulars are overwhelmed with mail and never see it. But I was handed your letter and script when I came onto the set.
“I just finished taping another episode called ‘Hexed Rex.’ Tell your friends.
“Thanks again for writing to me and the picture is great. Bye now.”
Phillip hung up the phone and then took out his wallet. He placed a quarter in the middle of Ron's desk and put the bent photo inside the wallet.
Gathering up the letter pages that he had just clipped to the story, he headed for the door.
“Thanks, bunny.”
CHAPTER 2
Three hundred miles away, as a weary boutique clerk climbed the stairs leading to her apartment, she counted out loud as she went. “One thousand twelve. One thousand thirteen. One thousand fourteen. I swear they add more steps every night,” she muttered to herself as her key slipped into the lock.
Since it was mid-December and after six o'clock in the evening, the rooms were dark and cold. Leslie Nelson shrugged off her warm coat, dropping it along with her purse and the mail onto one end of her handy white sofa and turned on the lamp. A half-read newspaper still sat waiting on the small, round kitchen table. The weights on her cuckoo clock were close to touching the floor. Stacks of binder paper filled with her handwriting were systematically piled on a small lap desk and also covering most of the sofa.
Leslie looked around the small living room and shook her head with a sigh. “Oh, good. The maid's been here. She's really doing a bang-up job.”
According to her usual evening ritual, she now went towards the kitchen, pausing long enough to turn on the wall heater and turn off her answering machine. This evening, however, the red light on the answering machine was flashing.
Hitting the replay button, she was faintly surprised at how long i
t took the machine to rewind. If the light flashed at all, there were usually just hang-ups with no message. She sometimes wondered if the machine worked at all….
Taking a pen and scratch pad in hand, she let out a sigh. “Now what's wrong?” she wondered as the machine clicked and the first playback began.
There was a long pause, and then an obviously confused woman said something in a foreign language. As the sound of the phone being slammed down, Leslie rolled her eyes, pen still poised. “C'mon, people, I'm hungry,” she muttered.
Beep. Click. “Leslie, this is Phillip Beck….”
Leslie dutifully wrote down the name Phillip Beck on the scratch pad and continued to listen to the message. Suddenly she froze mid-word as the deep, oddly-familiar voice continued and she recognized the name.
“…I wanted to tell you I received your script….”
Her tiredness flew away and her heart began pounding in her chest. A shrill “EEEK!” more than likely startled the people living in the apartments next to her.
Fumbling with shaking hands, Leslie turned up the volume and a wide, silly grin spread over her face as she stared at the answering machine.
“…suggest you go novel form and….”
“Novel? How!?” she found herself yelling at the machine.
“…and the books do well….”
“Where? Wait!”
“…the picture was great. Bye now.”
Listening to his phone hang up, she just stood there, motionless, as static continued coming from the machine. All of a sudden she sprang into motion. “Oh, I don't believe it! He called! Phillip Beck read it! I have to call Janice! I have to call Anne! I have to call Renee! EEEK!”
Quickly dialing, her best friend Janice answered and was confused at the half elated, half hysterical Leslie on the other end. “Jan, guess who called! You'll never guess. Listen!” she demanded to her now-amused friend.
The message replayed and now Leslie heard a shrill “Oh my god!” come through the phone.
The Fan Letter Page 3
