The Golden Goose of Los Angeles Extended Edition
Page 28
of a classic song. The show is going well, and the couple soon realizes that they started holding hands at some point, engaged in the unfolding stories of triumph, disgust, and personal satisfaction.
Rory nearly forgets that he is scheduled to present at the show until an usher bends toward his seat and gestures for his attention. He takes in a deep breath and immediately his heart is pounding as he realizes that he has gone from spectator to presenter. As he stands up from his seat, he squeezes Kelly’s hand softly before moving across the row of talented people who filmed the documentary about his blood. Rory closes his eyes for a moment while his body keeps moving forward. Every part of him knows that tonight means so many things: the end of his four-year relationship, exposure to the entire world as a dumb luck savior, and one dream after another slipping through his fingers.
Once he has reached the aisle, the young man leads him toward a side door for backstage access to the show. The production crew had called him on the phone earlier in the week to explain how everything would work. He should walk out on stage with a confident smile, moving slowly with one foot in front of the other as if approaching someone for whom he has great admiration. His eyes will remain focused on the podium, and he should avoid looking directly into the camera until he is reading from the teleprompter.
“Here you are, Sir,” the young usher says gracefully extending a hand up to a small flight of stairs behind the stage; his face clean shaven and blue eyes filled with anticipation. “The stage manager will meet you at the top and give you instructions from there. Break a leg, Sir,” he says with a smile and nod, showing off his short crop of curly brown hair before making his way back to the seating area.
Rory steps forward slowly wondering why, or even if, he deserves to be here. He hasn’t created any great work of visual art or labored thousands of hours on fourteen-hour shifts to produce just two hours of history. As he climbs each stair, he realizes the blessing and the curse of his newfound fame. If only his charity work had earned him the right to stand amongst these people; that would be something he could put on display in his vault of pride and lifetime achievements. When he reaches the last step at the top of the stage, he shakes off these feelings, remembering that he is here to help honor the artists who brought his story to life.
His body is immediately filled with renewed strength and a sense of duty as he accepts his role. Rory nods to the stage manager, reaching out to shake his hand, but the tall, thin man simply pats him on the side of the arm and holds up his index finger signaling for him to wait. This pale skinned man is in his late thirties and he is wearing an expensive headset with a thin integrated microphone hanging just in front of his lips. His short, blonde hair is not remarkable compared to the rest of the people Rory has seen this evening, but there is a confidence about him as he takes instructions from the control booth, holding the earpiece closer to his head for clear audio. After a moment, Rory hears applause and then the familiar voice of the show’s host addressing the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the bearded comedian begins from center stage, “now presenting the award for best documentary, The Golden Goose of Los Angeles, philanthropist, and extreme sports daredevil, Mr. Rory Chambers.”
Rory swallows hard as he hears his name announced from the main stage and he looks to the stage manager for instruction, feeling suddenly anxious about making the slightest mistake.
“Walk up to the podium, confident smile; don’t look directly at the cameras until you reach the microphone. Then follow the instructions on the teleprompter.” The man pats him on the back of the arm as if signaling a young calf at a rodeo to run from its pen. “Break a leg.” He utters in a whisper, and then speaks into his headset again, relaying more information to the control booth.
A sudden boom of original music is played by the band just below his feet as Rory walks out onto the glossy black stage. He sees the host; a comedian in his mid-forties with a balding head and short red beard, who bows gracefully when he sees Rory and turns on his heel in his expensive black shoes and tuxedo, walking briskly away from the podium.
As he approaches the podium, Rory feels his left shoe scuff the surface of the smooth black stage and his stomach tightens as he forces himself to continue to smile, holding up his right hand in a silent greeting to audience when he steps up to the microphone. He puts his hands on top of the podium, clasping them together and leaning forward a bit as he sees bright blue words appearing on the sleek glass teleprompter. The words march up in neat lines on the shiny glass surface, telling Rory what to say and do; even when to laugh and pause.
“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen,” Rory reads from the glass with a half smile, breathing heavy from his nose and keeping his composure. “Tonight, we are honor… Tonight, we are here to honor.” he repeats, correcting his mistake as his face goes pale white, and a feeling of doubt washes over him. “Excuse me.” He says briefly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Tonight we are here to honor those filmmakers who take the stories of real life and capture the essence of something noteworthy from those stories. It is the nature of a documentary to display real courage, real strife, and in many cases to show, in only a few hours, an entire legacy or life story. Without further delay, here are the nominees for best documentary.” Rory finishes by gesturing with his right hand toward the screen above his head as instructed by the words on the glass.
Immediately following his introduction, a pre-recorded video begins to play, narrated by a young woman with a confident and professional voice. On the teleprompter, his instructions say: ‘[Wait for presentation of nominees to finish. Maintain a noble gaze off to your right.]’ As Rory listens to the presentation of the nominated films, he glances at some of the legends seated before him in the auditorium. He wonders how each of their paths all brought them to this one place in life at this moment. It also makes him consider how he reached this point in his life and whether he has any choice but to continue this course. For a moment he can feel Kelly’s eyes on him, and on what should have been their most celebrated evening, they would soon have to part ways. He is gripped with emotion and decides to put these thoughts to the back of his mind as the auditorium lights go down.
Rory’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his own documentary being announced and he turns a bit to watch the short video with the rest of the audience, his insides churning with nervous energy.
“Extreme Donor,” the woman’s voice announces as the title of the film is also displayed on the screen, “directed by Hans Van Schaffer and Emily Schaffer.” Rory closes his eyes as the video displays a scene where he is being taken in confidence by a group of travelers and attacked in The Redwood National Forest.
The stage manager steps out quietly as the video is playing and gives Rory a large white envelope with a gold foil seal, then immediately retreats back to the top of the stairs at stage right.
Rory holds the envelope in his right hand, watching as the video transitions to another scene with clips of news footage talking in grand fashion about a possible cure for: cancer, the HIV Virus, and Hepatitis. The video then transitions to more news footage that suggests controversy and playing God. A female news anchor with brunette hair and brown eyes speaks boldly from the screen. “Does Mr. Chambers and the hospital get to decide who lives and who dies? What have we become when the life of an elderly Billionaire is more important to save than the life of a small child? Until a cure is found, this is going to be a bitter war for those who want a second chance. What would any of us do to have a second lease on life? How will Mr. Chambers decide who lives and who dies…?”
Th
e video finishes by showing images of survivors and those cured by the treatments while an emotional song about survival is played, and the final screen shows the words: ‘Will we ever find a cure? The battle continues…’
Rory feels sick inside as he realizes that he has been put in the position of playing God. He swallows hard and closes his eyes feeling nauseous as his palms begin to sweat and saturate the expensive white envelope and golden seal. A deep shame washes over him, and at a time when he’d rather be alone with spiritual counsel, he instead must face the world. On the teleprompter, his instructions read: ‘[When the lights come up, begin announcement.] And the winner is… [Open the envelope and read the film title in a strong voice.]’
“I have to say something,” Rory begins with emotion as the lights return focus to the stage. “For almost a year I have felt like a prisoner in my own skin, and somehow I believed that I was an innocent victim.” He looks to the left and shakes his head before continuing. “That reporter is right; none of us should ever play God. It was never part of life’s design for: one man, one organization, or even one Government to decide who lives and who dies. When people see who is chosen for the winning side, and for the losing side of this battle with terminal illnesses, some of them are elated and others are justifiably