Ian awoke that morning to the sound of his temples pounding. He had never had a hangover before. His mouth was unusually dry as cotton. He popped a couple of aspirin. As he showered and readied himself for the day, he wondered why now. He had never been a heavy drinker and he had certainly “tied one on” before, but he had never felt the after effects like this.
Getting dressed and checking the time, he decided it maybe it was just his due. He was almost thirty. His body was changing. Ian made a mental note to watch any and all alcohol intake. If this is what it was going to do to him from now on, he’d stick with tea.
Speaking of which, he poured him self a glass and the aspirin started to kick in. He felt his almost usual morning energy begin and he decided to do a little cooking for Tippy’s “lunch thingy” at one o’clock. He hadn’t actually cooked in a while and enjoyed the rest of the morning, whipping up this and that, generally making a mess of his kitchen.
At one o’clock he proudly gathered his concoctions and headed to the back yard. Just as he began to step through the opening in the shrubs, Ian heard Tippy’s voice say “Hey!” from the other side. A bread roll came sailing through landing square on his forehead.
“Dammit, Miss Congeniality, I am coming!” He rubbed the crumbs off his face and stepped through to the dark side.
When he adjusted to his new surroundings he was pleased to see the Shores’ backyard set for an informal barbeque. Everyone was dressed, even Colton, who was in the opposite corner flipping burgers on what Ian’s uncle Nate would have called a ‘swanky grill’.
“Baby Doll, you made it!” Tippy hugged him almost causing him to drop his armload.
“It wasn’t difficult. I just followed the flying buns.”
Tippy smacked him playfully on the cheek, “Now not everyone is here yet, but let me introduce you.” She started to pull him off in the direction of a small clique chatting.
“Uh…Tippy, could I put this stuff down first?” He held up his armload. It was below her breast level. She probably couldn’t see it.
“Mercy sakes, Baby Doll, what is all this?” she asked, helping him to put it down.
“Well, I was feeling Paula Deanish this morning so I decided to supply a few touches of the South to this shindig.”
“You cooked?” Her eyes got big.
“Don’t worry; I’m not that bad a cook.”
“Oh, honey, it’s not that. I’m just surprised. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Anyone can whip together some potato salad and a cheesecake.”
“Cheesecake? You made a cheesecake?”
“Well, no.” He peered into one of the bags and started pulling things out. “I made two, one New York style and one chocolate.”
Tippy sat the bag she was holding down on the nearest table and pulled out a cake pan, removing the lid and looking at it like it was a prized pig. “You made a cheesecake.”
“Yes.”
She looked at the cheesecake, then at Ian and back to the pie, “Colt, honey, we’re getting a divorce and I’m marrying Ian.”
Colton looked casually up from burger duty, “Okay Tippy, can we still have sex?”
“Well, of course!”
“Then I’m okay with it.”
Tippy quickly rummaged through the bags, squealing with glee at every little piece she pulled out. “Oh, I love this...”, “Oh my grandma used to make that….”, “Did you use Velveeta…?” Ian didn’t care if any of it tasted good; he just enjoyed seeing the look on Tippy’s face.
“Mmmmm, from now on...” Tippy cooed as licked the baked beans off the finger she had just dunked in the crock pot, “I’m not catering anything, I’m just telling you how many people are coming over.”
“I had fun,” Ian admitted, “besides it helped me get over the hangover.”
Tippy looked at him and grinned, “Did you have a good time, last night? I’ve been dying to know, but Colt refused to let me call or come over.”
A voice from the other side of the table piped in, “I don’t know if he had a good time, but everyone else there had a great time, and this man provided it!”
Tippy’s big brown eyes went huge, “Spill!”
Ian looked at the ground, “Aw, it was fun that’s all, and apparently I had a little too much to drink, either that or the scotch in California is a lot higher proof than back home.”
“Couldn’t tell you were drunk by the way you were singing and dancing. You were hot and on fire.”
“You didn’t!” Tippy grabbed Ian’s arm, “you sang and danced? I didn’t know you could sing and dance!”
“I can’t. That’s why I must have been drunk.”
“Buddy,” the man said as he took a slug from whatever was in his glass, “then you need to get drunk more often.”
Ian blushed and Tippy slapped him on the chest, “Oh my God! I’d have killed to see that!” She pinched Ian’s butt and sort of whispered, “You dog! Did ‘ja get laid, honey?”
“Tip? Someone’s at the front door and you gave Inez the afternoon off.” Colton yelled.
“Ian, don’t move! I want to hear every detail.” And she was off like, well, Mamie Rae Tipton.
The man stuck out his hand, “Jeremy Tyson.” He didn’t have to introduce himself. Ian had recognized him immediately.
“Ian Justyn” he said as he took the hand a shook it.
Jeremy was one of the biggest box office ticket in the film industry. An Aussie wild boy, with the reputation of a foul mouth, but well respected and admired among his peers. He had been a hard partying playboy until he shocked the industry by marrying Susan Andrews, sister half of America’s most successful pop duo, surprising everyone by not only making the marriage last but gaining the reputation of being a devoted family man.
Susan Andrews, America’s sweetheart, was not far from his side. Her stunning alto was the reason the recordings with her brother had rocketed to the top of the charts making them one of the all time best selling artists world wide. Her brother, a reputed temperamental control freak, was considered the creative genius, but it was Susan who had the talent. She, too, was anxious to introduce herself.
“You were wonderful last night.” she gushed like a teenager.
Ian was having a hard time swallowing it all, but thanked her politely and laughed when she asked what label he recorded for. He explained that he wasn’t a performer that he was in development for a network and left it at that.
“Well, if you change you mind, please, I’d love to talk with you about recording for my label.” She chirped.
“Well, next time I get drunk enough to think I could be a music superstar I’ll give you a call.” Ian had forgotten that when her brother had died unexpectedly three years ago of heart failure that Susan now had controlling interest in the mega music empire that her talent had helped forge.
Susan handed him her card, “Why don’t we get together and talk anyway, perhaps we could be of mutual benefit to each other some time.”
Jeremy chided his wife. “Now, Suzie, it’s a day off. You and Ian can take over the world tomorrow. Today is a play date, remember?”
She smiled, so captivating, Ian’s heart jumped. “Okay, darling, I remember.” She slipped her arm around her hubby’s waist. “See, we make a perfect team. I calm him down and he makes me remember what it’s like to be human and enjoy life.” Jeremy squeezed his wife’s shoulders and kissed her on the side of the forehead. Ian thought how gorgeous their children must be.
“I see you’ve met the Tysons,” Tippy returned, “and I’m sure they won’t mind if I steal you away and introduce you around before we eat.” And in Tippy style before anyone had a chance to say anything, Ian was whooshed around like the new Miss America, introduced to all there.
He met the couple who lived across the street; Michele Alexander, Terry Myers and “Call Me Chip” Ellison who lived in the apartment building to his other side. Also in tow, were Jesse, of course, and Tippy’s oldest son Reece, as were Wella, with the man she has met last night, Blake, and three interchangeable starlets whose names he didn’t remember, but recognized them from either television or film.
Also in tow was the second third of what the industry called ‘The Musketeers” franchise, Trampus Scott, whom along with Jeremy Tyson and a missing Lucian Jahn had a string of hit action films. The final guest was a young man that Ian recognized but couldn’t place.
“And this is Seven Wyatt”, Tippy introduced. “He works for you.”
Ian shook his hand, “He does?”
“Sort of, I’m on “Sebastian Manor”, Seven explained, “so I kind of work for you…for now.”
“Moving on when you’re contracts up?” Ian asked.
“Everyone knows that HRT wants to get out of daytime, so when the show’s contract with the network is up in January, we’ll all be looking for new jobs.”
Ian smiled, “Well, I don’t know about that, I for one don’t think that’s a wise move.”
Seven nodded, looking at the ground, showing off the long black eyelashes that made the fans of the show swoon. “It’s a piece of crap and we all know it’s a piece of crap.”
“You’re right. It’s terrible. At one time it was so bad it was fun, but that got old after a while.” Ian agreed. “Daytime isn’t my baby, but many of you are very talented and I’m sure that no matter what happens, work will not be hard to find.”
“Oh please, how anyone even know if we had talent? Have you tried to say those words?” Ian knew how bad the scripts were. They had made him cringe every time he forced himself to watch.
“As I see it,” he responded truthfully, “any one who can say that garbage in those ridiculous plotlines and make it sound like normal conversation has talent. Prime example, how long has your character been tied up in that basement naked?”
Seven laughed, “I get your point. I don’t understand why I’m naked, other than the fact that because of the budget cuts they started with my wardrobe.”
“See…” Ian pointed at him, “Talent…and hard abs don’t hurt.”
The rest of the afternoon was a conglomerate of conversations and food. Although the guest list amounted to a broad spectrum of the people next door and the industry powerful, it was a great combination. Friendships were made and the day was filled with laughter and food.
Ian found himself sitting on a chaise conversing with Trampus Scott and Jeremy Tyson. The day had been of surprisingly little shoptalk, and delightfully about normal things that guys would talk about. Jeremy wanted to know how many “birds” Ian had bagged after he left the club last night and Trampus kept trying to light cigarettes that Tippy would grab out of his mouth and throw in the trash can.
“Dammit, Tippy, where can a guy go to get a smoke around here?”
Tippy batted her eyes at him, “Next door? Is that okay, Baby Doll?”
“Sure Tippy, me casa, su smoking lounge!”
“That’s my boy.”
“Com’mon, Trampus, I could use one myself,” Ian hoisted himself up off the chaise, and checked to make sure his phone was still in his pocket. “Follow me boys and fellow nicotine addicts.”
As Ian walked through the trees he could hear Tippy bellow, “And if you got another cheesecake, bring it back with ya!”
In a matter of seconds, Ian, Trampus, Jeremy and Seven where all in Ian’s yard desperately pulling out their brand of cancer stick.
“Man that tastes good. There’s nothing like a smoke after a job well done.” Trampus sighed as he released a thick cloud from his lungs.
Ian tripped up the balcony to get a second ashtray. “Make yourselves at home guys,” Ian said since they already had.
Jeremy said looking at Ian, “I can’t believe you don’t sing for a living, mate. You could be huge!”
“Not interested.”
“Why not? You’d get all the birds you wanted, and probably some blokes, too, if that’s what you were in the mood for.” He chirped.
Seven noticed that Jeremy wasn’t smoking and offered him one of his, “You wanna a smoke?”
He waved his hand, “Naw, thanks though, mate. I promised Suzie that I wouldn’t.”
“You are so whipped.” Trampus teased.
“Yes. I am.” He agreed without hesitation, “but it has its benefits.” He added with a throaty laugh. “I can barely walk this morning.” He pulled open the elastic band on his shorts and looked down at his crotch, “Poor monster’s all sore and chaffed.”
“Man, put that pitiful thing away…” Trampus rolled his eyes, “any excuse to pull your pants down, you just want everyone to have pity on you, for Chris’ sakes”
He yanked his pants back up with a snap of the elastic and sat down, “You’re just jealous.” Jeremy looked at the other two. “Someone went home alone last night…a little dry spell.”
“Rosey Palm and I had a whopping good time, thank you.” Trampus rebutted.
“I thought you had more hair on your knuckles than usual.” Jeremy snapped back. “Now what were we talking about? Oh, yeah…Ian why aren’t you in front of the camera instead of behind it.”
Trampus took a puff. “Good question and don’t give me the no talent crap. I was there, too.”
“Tried it, and I’m just more comfortable where I am.” Ian lit up his Marlboro. “Plain and simple.”
Jeremy nodded his head. “Alright, mate. I can accept that.”
“To be honest, I don’t see how you guys can do it, packaging yourself like so much meat and selling it. No offense, I’m one of the buyers, remember.” Ian puffed.
“None taken.” Trampus piped in. “Your gut tells you you’re more suited to choose the hamburger. Our gut tells us how to grind it up, wrap it up and what shelf to put it on.”
Seven interjected, “It’s a tough town. I’ve found you’ve got to take advantage of every situation you’re in, make the most of it good or bad.”
“Got my degree in that one.” Ian said quietly.
“Good for you.” Trampus said. “Make the most of the heat, that will always get you through the winter.”
Tyson snorted. “Thanks, Aesop.”
“Well it’s true.” Trampus crushed out his smoke. “I’ve been lucky. So have you.” He looked at his buddy. “We’ve used our highs to take care of the low times that are bound to come.” He picked the crushed butt up off the lawn and placed it in the ashtray Ian offered.
“By that he means we sock away as much of the profane amounts of cash they pay us away.” Tyson added.
“By low times, he means when no one will pay good money to see either of our wrinkled, sagging derrières anymore.” Trampus lit up a second and took a long drag.
“Or to pay for the plastic surgery to keep the buns perky a little while longer.” Seven teased.
“Personally, I’m hoping at age gracefully.” Jeremy mused. “Sooner or later, someone will take me seriously as an actor.”
“You are the highest paid film star in the world.” Ian reminded him. “You don’t consider that being taken seriously enough?”
“You put your finger on it right there, Ian.” Jeremy pointed at him. “I’m a film star, not an actor. You have a really big bug you want shot on the screen with a really big gun? I’m at the top of the list. You want to make a serious drama with depth and passion? My name is never brought up.”
“Like it’s that much better for me?” Trampus cracked.
“You just got your third Oscar nomination.” Tyson reminded him. “I think that effectively takes me out of your league.”
“I got lucky with the first film.” Scott defended. “A supporting actor nod for an indie during a lean year. The second was for the period piece. Shoot a musket, drop trou, die in your lover’s arms and bring in the bucks, they have to nominate you. It’s a rule.”
“What your excuse this year?” Ian asked with a smile on his face.
“Luck again, right place, right time.” Trampus lit another. “Saxon’s a friend, her co-star decided to have a very public meltdown a few days before production. She called, I answered.”
“But it was a romantic comedy, mate.” Jeremy retorted.
“Do you think it’s any easier to gain industry cred in a comedy?”
“Okay, dude.” Seven stepped in. “You’ve got a point there, but so does Jeremy. With that one stroke of ‘luck’ as you called it, you do have everyone looking at you in a different way.”
“A different way?” Trampus raised an eyebrow. “You know what I’ve been offered his week? A film reboot of “Red Dwarf” and a sci-fi flick set at a nudist colony on Mars!”
“Well at least that last one’s a different kind of action flick.” Jeremy laughed. “I guess we will both always be typecast as the dumb pretty boy.”
“You are a dumb pretty boy.” Trampus said. “I want that Oscar!”
“Do your next film for Harvey Weinstein, he’ll buy you one as a thank you gift.” Jeremy smirked.
Trampus looked over to Ian. “You’re awfully quiet.”
Colors were whirling in Ian’s head. “Do the “Red Dwarf” reboot. Don’t sign unless they give the other lead to Jeremy. If it falls through, let me know. I’d loved to do an American version for the network.”
“Really bad script.” Trampus said.
“Have you seen my show?” Seven tossed in.
“Seven, this script makes yours look like Shakespeare. I think they’re just offering it to me so I’ll turn it down. Then Adam Sandler and Eddie Murphy will fight over it.”
“They’d do that?” Ian was shocked.
“Happens all the time.” Jeremy confirmed. “Offer a piece of crap to someone at the top of the A list. They turn it down, but it gives the project cred and suddenly not quite so big names start screaming at their agents to get it for them.”
“Okay, that’s something I never thought of.” Ian made a mental note. “I’m so new at this. I’ll never survive.”
“Now there’s a successful attitude.” Jeremy warned.
“Hey, I’ll fight to stay here. I’m good at that.” Ian said. “There are just so many games. I’ve been naïve enough to think that even the awful stuff got made because at one time somebody thought it was wonderful.”
“Most stuff gets made because somebody at one time thought it would make money, lots and lots of money.” Trampus informed him.
“Face it, mate, your in show business, screw the art and show me the business.” Seven acknowledged.
“Well, that’s not why I’m here, and if it’s all about money,” Ian announced, “I don’t see what your problem is.” .
Jeremy and Trampus looked at each other. “Explain that one.” One of them said.
“Well, you’ve been complaining about not being taken seriously as actors, never being offered the scripts you want.”
“And?” said the other.
“Next time you find something you want to do, and the suits say no, why not just have the guts you claim to follow take a look at your bank statement and do it anyway? Form your own production company. Screw ‘em all.” Ian said.
Jeremy looked at Trampus, then back to Ian. “Do you know how expensive it is to produce a film?”
“Got a ball park.” Ian said emptying the ashtrays in the trash and wiping them out. “You want to do something else besides big budget action flicks, find a small budget drama the actor in you in crying out to do. Put your business where your mouth is.”
“But…” Trampus started to interject.
“Hold on.” Ian said. “I don’t know how I’m staying here, but I know how I got here. All my life I’ve been told I wasn’t good enough. A had to fight to survive when half the time even I believed them. I was born with nothing and it seemed like every day of my life was a battle just to keep it, a handful of squat.”
“You’re here now.” Seven said.
“And I got here because I got tired of less than nothing and when an opportunity came up I went after it. I knew there was no way in hell I was going to get a job as a network executive, and when somebody, God bless ‘em, had a brain synapse and gave me a call, I didn’t pussy foot around. I knew the only thing I had going for me was me.”
“You played the game and won.” Jeremy said.
“No, I played my game and trumped theirs. I told them exactly what I thought, not what they wanted to hear.” Ian found he was almost screaming. “Sorry, got myself stirred up.”
Trampus smiled. “I certainly see why they hired you. Damn, you know how to swing for the stands.”
“Now, I just have to figure out how to keep swinging.” Ian said.
“As I see it,” Jeremy looked at Ian “What got you here, is what’s gonna keep you here, mate.”
“Well, that’s all I got.” Ian said almost to himself.
“For now.” Jeremy smiled.
“I was trying to make a point, but my ego got in the way.” Ian said to himself. “Right. The next logical step, you too Seven, is to form your own production company. Stop whining about mot being taken seriously and take yourself seriously.”
“You got to continue to making the studios money if you want to keep working.” Trampus said flatly.
“Fine.” Ian stood his ground. “Keep making the big action flicks for the studios if you want, but use the success you’ve earned to do the kind of things you want. Make being bankable a hobby and make being an actor your career.”
Jeremy started hopping up and down. “Put me in coach! Put me in!”
Ian laughed at himself. “Sorry, got carried away.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It makes sense to me, but then again this time last year I was trying to figure out how to make corn production and hog calling interesting.”
“I love hog calling.” Trampus smiled.
“It how he gets laid.” Jeremy added.
In a few moments they were back with the group, but the shenanigans continued until the sun went down, and people started to disperse. Tippy thanked all for coming, Ian told everyone how genuinely pleased he was to meet them and everyone told Tippy what a great time they had.
Ian triple checked to make sure that he had his cell phone and crossed back home. He let himself in the house going straight to the closet and getting his guitar. He stripped down to his underwear, sat on the chair of the balcony and started strumming, but bits and pieces of the past kept coming in waves through his mind.
Ian’s hands were strumming, but his mind was folding moments over and over in his head. He was staring into space, playing his guitar, no idea how much time had passed and certainly no idea that he was being watched.
“Mom said that I should bring this stuff back over to you and thank you again for bringing it.” Reese was holding two bags, one in each hand. “She put everything in the dishwasher and to tell you again how delicious everything was.”
“Thank you, Reese. Just put ‘em down there and I’ll get them later.”
“I can take them inside for you, if you want.”
Ian stopped playing. “Okay, the doors unlocked.”
Reese let himself inside and Ian went back to staring into to nowhere and strumming the Gibson. In a moment, Ian heard a throat clear again. He looked again.
“Would it disturb you if I…” Reese nodded at the pool.
“No, go right ahead.”
“Thanks”, the young man said quietly and began to pull his shirt over his head pushing his sneakers off at the same time.
Ian continued to strum as Reese undressed. He was definitely the son on Colton Shores, the dark hair, still in the close-cropped military cut, and the broad, broad shoulders, quietly rugged and masculine.
Reese had served in the battlefields during the Iraqi conflict, which Tippy said he refused to discuss. He had always been quiet, she said and feared that his time in the military had forced him even more inward.
He refused to go out much and interaction with even his family was minimal. What Ian noticed was a 26 year old man, who had probably been through the most terrifying experiences anyone could imagine, much less a pampered Hollywood baby, and now just needed some quiet time to process it all.
When he was down to a pair of khaki color baggy boxers, Reese jumped in the pool and began to quietly swim back and forth. Ian went back to his strumming and thinking, but watching the man doing lap after lap, with the obsession of a long distance swimmer. As he reached the sides of the pool he would tag and flip over, coming back to the surface of the water and stroking to the other side.
Reese must have gone on non-stop for twenty minutes, Ian’s mind studying the whole time, but his eyes looking past the movement and finally beading in on a place that his mind went to, somewhere out of his own body, trapped in the terrors of the past. When Ian shook his head and snapped back to where he was, Reese had stopped swimming and was resting his chin on his folded arms, lower body still in the deep end of the pool, looking at Ian.
Reese didn’t smile. He just said flatly. “I like the way you play. It’s nice.”
Ian shook his head thank you. “Good night isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Reece agreed, “one of my favorite times of year.”
“I love the fall.” Ian thought out loud, “I’m not sure you have one of those here, do you?”
“Sort of, it mainly gets chillier at night and we get more rain.”
“I’m not sure I’m gonna like the lack of real seasons.”
“You get used to it. You get used to a lot of things around here.”
There was quiet for a moment and Ian strummed his guitar a little more. Reese laid his head down on his arms and looked at Ian sideways.
“I notice a lot.” Reese said quietly, never raising his head from its position on his arm. ”People think I’m quiet and stupid, but I’m not. I just like to observe.”
“I noticed that about you.”
“I know Mom and Dad are worried about me, but I’ll be alright. I just don’t know how to tell them.”
“They’re not stupid either Reese, they’ll catch on.”
He nodded his head. “You wanna talk about it?” There were more words coming from Reese than there had been the whole afternoon.
Ian stopped strumming and looked up. “Talk about what?”
“Whatever it is going on in your head, the thing that makes you so sad.”
Ian smiled. “I’m not sad.”
Reese blinked his eyes and was quiet a moment. “Yes, you are.”
Ian sensed his need to talk, so he put down his guitar and slowly made his way down to the pool. “Mind if I get in?” He asked.
“Your pool.”
Ian smiled as he slipped over the side beside Reece, “I keep forgetting.” He pushed himself down to the bottom and then floated back to the top, coming up wet and cool right beside Reece. Ian leaned his back against the pool wall beside Reese.
Reese hadn’t changed his position, his head was still lying sideways on his arms. They were quiet for another moment. Reese sighed. “You ever done it, with a guy?”
“Reese, I wonder if you should be having that conversation with your parents. It may be difficult, but they seem very open about sex and I’m sure they would…”
“Open?” Reese laughed and turned around facing the same direction as Ian. “The first time I snuck a girl in my room to have sex, my mother burst in the door and said, “Oh I’m sorry, I though I heard mice.” Then without as much as the bat of an eye she said, “Reese, honey, arch your back a little more, you’ll get deeper penetration and stimulate her clitoris more. She’ll love that.”
Ian laughed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh.”
For the first time he saw Reese smile, “Its okay. It’s pretty funny, now, and she was right. Despite everything, my mother is almost always right.”
“I’m learning that.”
“So have you?”
“What?”
“Made it with a guy before?”
“No, and not interested. I have nothing against it, but it just doesn’t interest me.”
“That’s cool.” Reese said flatly. “I love sex with woman, but I’ve had sex with guys.” He sighed. “This is California. If a dude hasn’t had sex with another dude at least once he’s probably not been potty trained yet.”
Ian piped in, “It seems everyone I meet is beautiful, horny and not very discriminating about what sex they get off with as long as they get off.”
“That pretty much sums it up.”
“How do relationships survive here?” Ian pondered.
“Most of them don’t. Some do, but most don’t. A lot have a pact like my parents, but it doesn’t always work.”
“A pact?” They swim to the shallow end and sat on the bottom.
“You don’t know about that?”
“Not really.”
“It’s a pretty standard agreement. They only play around if the other spouse plays with them or watches; no one on one with the opposite sex unless the other one is there. Same sex play is permitted at any time provided condoms are used, and the spouse is honest about it.”
Ian was a little dumbfounded but not shocked. “That doesn’t seem very romantic. More like, oh I don’t know, rules to some kind of card game, not a relationship.”
“It works for some.”
“I guess it does.”
“It wasn’t going to be that way with me and Kelly. We were going to be monogamous and only make love with each other.”
“Who’s Kelly?”
Reese looked down in the water, like he’d let a secret he hadn’t meant to slip. “Someone I was in love with.”
“Have your parents met her?”
“No.”
“You should bring her to meet them.”
“Can’t”.
“Still overseas?”
“Dead.” Reese looked seep into the water.
Calloused hands dug into the scar tissue in Ian’s head with dirty fingernails and splattered bloody pulp everywhere. Almost as quickly the quake rocked him, the mess was pressed back together clean, slipped pristinely in the box and tucked away aware it couldn’t be seen or thought about again.
“Reese...I…” he stammered as he began to focus again on the outside.
When Ian was aware again, Reese was quietly crying. He knew that there was nothing he could say. He reached out and put an arm around him and squeezed him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Really, it’s okay. I won’t say anything.”
Reese pulled himself into Ian’s shoulder and filled the pool with pent up tears. Ian didn’t know why, out of the blue, Reese had chosen him, maybe he was just in the right place at the wrong time, but he knew how Reese felt, he understood. How many times a day had Ian felt that he was alive and dead and totally unconnected.
He let Reese shake and cry. Sometimes the boy/man whaled, sometimes he just sniffled until the next uncontrollable wave of pain and anger over took him. It was an hour before Reese stopped, dried his eyes and himself and walked back over to his house.
It left Ian drained, but feeling as though he had made or at least was trying to make the connections that had always escaped him. The incident also bubbled something else up—fear, the fear that there were things he could never escape. Things he feared that his simple being touched off and made bad things happen to good people.
Ian dressed and put away the dishes that Tippy had cleaned and Reese had left on the kitchen counter. After everything was where he wanted it to be, he hopped in his car and drove to the convenience store at the end of the street to buy a carton of cigarettes. Damn but they were expensive. He thought he should give it up.
He had barely entered the house, just enough time to flip on the lights, when his doorbell rang. Ian looked out the peephole before he opened the door. He was surprised to say the least.
As he opened his front door he expressed that surprise, “I didn’t think I’d be seeing the two of you so soon.”
On his door stood Jeremy Tyson and Susan Andrews, holding hands and looking sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind that we stopped by without asking” she apologized.
“The kids are with her folks, and we didn’t want to go back to an empty house yet. We stopped for ice cream and saw your car pass by.” He explained. “Is it okay that we decided to follow you and take a chance?”
“Sure”, he opened the door wide and invited them in. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Susan looked around, “Oh my, Miss Elizabeth left just about everything.”
“You’ve been here before?”
Jeremy said, “Many times. The Elysian’s were two of our favorite people. They are the ones that actually introduced us.”
Susan squeezed her husband’s firm shoulder. “They were such romantics.” Susan’s eyes shown bright and she walked to the painting on the wall in the stair wall. “I don’t believe it. She left this behind.”
Jeremy and Ian joined her and admired. “I love it, couldn’t bear to take it down or move much of anything at all. It just seems right the way it was.”
Jeremy touched the painting. “Did you know that Herman painted this?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“He was quite the artist. He worked in studio make up all his life, but painting was his real passion.”
“I didn’t know that either.”
Susan turned to Ian, “She was a contract player for a while, that’s how they met. She wouldn’t discuss it much, but whenever she was out of the room, Herman loved to talk about the old days.”
Jeremy put his arms around his wife’s shoulders, “And as soon as Miss Elizabeth walked back in the room, he would shut up changing the subject like a child caught telling a story”.
“They were such a great couple, made for each other. I often wondered why they never had children.” She said.
“I think they regretted it, especially as they got older. Elizabeth always got this sad look in her eyes when the subject came up.” Jeremy added as he led his wife to the couch Ian had silently offered them a seat on while they talked.
“I’m surprised she didn’t take that painting. She loved it.” Jeremy mused. “Although she never would have told Herman that. She was afraid it would go to his head. She’d get so mad when Herman would call it ‘The Untitled Masterpiece’. She’d fuss and he’d say back every time, well you know it is.”
“Actually, that seems the perfect name for it.” Ian said staring at the painting from his comfy chair.
Susan slipped her bag off her shoulder, opened it and reached inside. “It’s still playtime for us. Would you mind if Jeremy joins you in a smoke?” She pulled a cigarette and lighter out of her purse.
Ian was a little shocked. “Sure. No problem, if you don’t mind.”
“Actually I enjoy it now and again.” And she looked at her husband who had a twinkle in his eye. “And he does love it so; I can’t deny it to him all the time.”
“I let her control it.” He took the cigarette in his hand, put it to his lips and bent down to the flame she flicked. “That’s my Suzie, my control.”
Ian went to the table to find his new carton and opened his own pack. When he returned he found Susan had slipped to the floor and Jeremy to the end of the couch so he could share the large glass ashtray with Ian. Ian returned to his seat in the easy chair. Susan got up on her knees and flicked the little flame, to graciously light his cigarette.
They smoked for a moment in silence. Susan absentmindedly stroked her husband’s thigh. They were still dressed as they were this afternoon, he in Bermuda shorts and a sleeveless tank top, she in a tennis skirt and a matching cotton pullover. Susan looked at the hair on her husband’s thigh dance as she brushed it with her fingers.
“Ian, we so loved your performance last night.”
“Thank you.”
Jeremy looked at his wife and smiled. “I already told him all about it.” He kissed her and smiled.
She turned and looked at Ian. “We don’t get away too often. Sometimes the children need grandparent time and we try to take full advantage of it.”
“I understand.” Ian said as he put his cigarette out.
“You do?” she asked.
“Of course, it must be tough to get private time when you have small children. You have to make the most of it.”
“We try.” She said.
Jeremy kissed his wife again and then looked at Ian, his eyes doing a little dance. “We thought that maybe, hoped that you might want to help us make the most of our last hour of playtime tonight.”
Susan leaned back between her husband’s legs and rested her head on his crotch, and looked at Ian. “Would you mind terribly playing with us…?”
Ian knew he had to be getting the wrong idea. He had fantasized many times about Susan Andrews. He had dreamed of feeling her long blonde hair falling over his naked body as they made love. He never would have believed that he’d get the chance. Surely he was misunderstanding.
“I…”
“Its okay” she said getting back to her knees.
“Don’t be nervous, Ian.” Jeremy said quietly. “We’re just going to play. No one’s getting hurt. Just relax.” He stared at Ian with a calm cool sexiness.
“Okay” was all Ian could think to say.
“Don’t be nervous” Susan kissed her husband and he followed her lips to the floor with her.
Ian watched in silence for a moment. Okay so maybe he hadn’t misunderstood, the sight and sound of a husband and wife beginning to make love, both thrilling him and terrifying him.
Jeremy pulled his shirt over his head. Ian could see the taut abs and the mischievous sparkle in his eye that had made him the People Magazine’s sexiest man alive. He kissed his wife deeply, holding the small of her back, Susan staring into Ian’s eyes. Susan reached down and pulled off Jeremy’s sandals, as he reached over and squeezed Ian’s thigh.
“Let’s just all enjoy ourselves.” Jeremy sighed, before returning to his wife’s lips.
Jeremy, almost unnoticeably, took hold of the bottom of Susan’s shirt. She lifted her arms over her head, letting him slowly peel it off her torso, her waist length hair whisping back down over her back. She turned and looked over a naked shoulder and smiled at Ian, then bit her lower lip.
“My husband is so sexy, don’t you think?”
Ian was speechless, hands on the arms on the chair, feet flat on the floor, afraid to move. “So are you.”
“You can come play with us whenever you like.” Jeremy said as he took his wife in his arms and pulled her close, her arms wrapping themselves tightly around him. Jeremy hands slipped down her back, cupping her firmly, lifting her off the carpet enough to lay her gently on her back and fall into her.
Susan reached a hand to Ian. “Come and join us, Ian.” There was no way he could misunderstand what was going on now, especially with that look in her eyes. “Please come down here with us.”
And he did. God help him. Ian did.
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