Impossibly Tongue-Tied (7 page)

As the girl finally shimmied off to find her posse, Nathan stammered, “Gee, sorry, Mr. Godwin…I didn't
know
…I didn't mean anything by—”

Sam held out his hand to shake. “No hard feelings. A pretty boy like you must get that all the time, huh?”

“Yeah, I do get hit on a lot. Girls
and
guys. Don't mind the ladies”—he winked at two who were worshipping him from across the pool—“but it still bugs me when a guy does it. And
every other guy in the town seems to be light in his loafers, know what I mean? But I keep it polite, 'cause you never know how big a player he may be.”

Translation:
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa. Just tell me where to pucker up, and
I'm there…
figuratively if not literally
…

He shot Sam a contrite smile, all pearly white. “So, you mentioned you'd, uh, seen me somewhere?”

“Yes. In fact, I have your reel sitting on my desk now. It's quite impressive.”

In shock and awe that anyone of Sam's caliber would actually say that to him, Nathan puffed up involuntarily.

Great ego reflexes, Sam thought. Good, 'cause he'll need them.

“In fact”—he pulled out another business card and handed it to the kid—“I'd like to represent you. That is, if you don't already have representation.”

“No! I mean—”

The kid didn't know
what
he meant, only what his brain was trying to tell him: that one of Hollywood's most revered agents was asking him, Nathan Harte, if he wanted to be part of his star-filled roster!

“—not at this time…Jeez, if I did, why would I be standing
here?
” He pointed to his station behind the bar.

“Nathan, you'd be surprised how many actors have agents and are
still
standing there.” He smiled knowingly. “But I'm going to make sure you'll do better than that. Just come by tomorrow…say, five-thirty? And we'll talk.”

As he walked away, he could hear Nathan closing up his station. In the kid's mind, he was already out from behind that bar.

And in front of the cameras.

 

By the time Sam got home, Chastity had worked herself up into a very un-Zen-like lather.

Over Sam forgetting her teff.

And for
conveniently
forgetting to mention Hugo's party to her.

And for his obvious attraction to “some little clerk from Tommaso's.”

He didn't know how she figured all that out, but certainly it opened the door for him to lay it on the line:

That he had felt that they were growing apart for a very long time now. That he cared deeply for her, and always appreciated how she gave 1000 percent of herself to every endeavor,
especially to him
. But in truth, he asked, was that fair to
her?
No, of course not, he answered for her, before she'd had a chance to open her mouth. Not if
he
couldn't give her 1000 percent of himself, too.

And that's just it:
He couldn't.
And she didn't deserve any less…

This exact spiel had always worked magic with previous girlfriends—and, ironically, with a few deadbeat clients too. He held his breath for her reaction.

He didn't have to wait long. Tearfully, she looked him in the eye, threw the bag of teff at him, and slammed the door behind her.

Before Sam could find a broom, Towser had lapped up all the tiny purple pellets that had spilled all over the kitchen floor.

Great! Just great
, thought Sam. As if his day hadn't been bad enough, the teff ensured that the evening would end—
literally
—on a crappy note.

And he
still
had to read that O person the riot act.

He picked up the dog's leash and herded Towser out the door, just in the nick of time.

 

Nathan burst through the front door as if he were on fire. But before Nina could open her mouth to tell him the exciting news about having given Sam his reel, Nathan informed her that he'd just met with Sam Godwin of ICA
not even an hour ago.

“See, hon? Mailing out all those DVDs finally paid off. He wants to represent me!”

Nathan picked her up and swung her around, dipped her into a kiss. “Wow, I can't believe he actually recognized me, you know, behind the bar and all…although
that
was sort of embarrassing.”

It would have been more embarrassing if Sam had seen Nathan in his Disneyland costume, thought Nina, but she didn't say that. Instead she wrapped herself in his arms and laughed. “Don't be. All of this was meant to happen. Oh, Nathan, I'm
so
proud of you.”

She didn't have the heart to tell him that the contact had initially been made by her.

What difference would that have made, anyway? Sam Godwin had seen Nathan's reel out of the goodness of his heart, not because of anything
she
had said or done.

Gosh, it was nice to finally meet someone in this town who didn't have an ulterior motive!

Sam's conversation with O did not go exactly the way he had hoped, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why not.

He'd had the foresight to tape it, and he was glad he had, for a couple of reasons. First off, it might come in handy legally. Second, he had to admit that, like Hugo, he found himself intrigued with O's sultry voice, even more so each time he played it to himself:

 

SAM: (
In a very businesslike, take-no-prisoners tone
) Hello. I'm talking to O, I presume?

O: (
With a soft, tinkling laugh
) I can be anyone you want, lover…You don't mind if I call you lover, do you? I don't think you mentioned
your
name.

SAM: (
Pauses to consider the consequence of the nickname “lover.” Because he remembers that he's taping the conversation, he thinks better of this.
) My name is—is Sam. I'm
calling about a friend of mine. You know him as…Wilbur.

O: Ahhhhh…
Love
Wilbur. He knows just what to say to a woman to…well, get her all
hot
…and bothered…I'll just bet you do, too, Sam.

SAM: Uh, what? What's that?

O: (
Softly, achingly
) I said I can imagine you know how to make a woman…
come
.

SAM: (
After a long pause
) To tell you the truth, O, I don't want to talk about me. I'd prefer to talk about you and Wilbur.

O: Right, gotcha. You want me to tell you what we talk about…You want to know what words make him hard…and long…and hot as he imagines me there, beside him…aching for him—

SAM: (
Somewhat desperately
) No! I mean—what I'm trying to say is that I don't want you to take his calls.
Ever.

O: (
Sighing
) Sam, darling, you really don't have to be jealous. From what Wilbur tells me, there's enough of him to go around for the both of us—

SAM: You think that I—that I…? Listen,
babe
, you've got it
all wrong!
Hugo—I mean
Wilbur
and I aren't
lovers
. We're
buds!
And that's
all
. Just two guys who
love
the ladies.

O: I get it, Sam. So, what you're telling me is that you want
me
all to yourself. Right?

SAM: Uh…
me?
Why would I…No, sorry, hon, I like my women in the flesh.

O:
Ohhhh
…Fleshy women, huh?

SAM: Heck, no, I'm not talking about
looks
. If you must know, I prefer women that actually have something to say. Looks—particularly in this town—are a dime a dozen.

O: (
Laughing heartily
) Or as John Donne put it, “Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.”

SAM: That's…truly moving. I would never have suspected that—well, you know—

O: What, that I'd have heard of John Donne?

SAM: Well, not that you'd
heard
of him, per se, but that you'd be quoting him…you know,
here
…But—but that's beside the point! Look, O, obviously I haven't made myself clear. I'm really not calling to talk about me…Or you, for that matter, but Wilbur. Specifically, I need you to…to leave Wilbur alone.

O: Sam, you're right. There is certainly something being lost in translation here. Like why you should even care about my relationship with Wilbur in the first place.

SAM: (
Now it is his turn to laugh…derisively
) Jeez, I wouldn't think you could call what the two of you share a “relationship” exactly. He's just playing out some sick fantasy. Heck, you two could meet face to face, and that might kill it then and there, right? In fact, here's a quote for
you
, O: “Love is the delightful interval between meeting a beautiful girl and discovering that she looks like a haddock.” John Barrymore. And
that
dude knew a thing or two about beautiful women.

O: (
In a sultry murmur
) Touché, Sam, touché. Now, are you sure you're not talking about yourself there?

SAM: What do you mean?

O: Well, maybe it's you who's attracted only to a woman's looks, because it's certainly not Wilbur. I'm proof of that, right? I mean, Wilbur—just like you, 'cause you're such a
player
and all—is surrounded by beautiful women all day
long…And yet, each night, he calls
me
…whom he's never seen, never even plans on meeting…just for the witty repartee, or
whatever
. Go figure. You know, Sam, if you were to ask me, I'd say that Wilbur's thoughts on that subject run akin to Baudeliere's: “There are as many kinds of beauty as there are habitual ways of seeking happiness.” Don't you agree?

SAM: (
After a moment of thoughtful silence
) Touché to you, O…So where does that leave us? How do I keep you from taking his calls?

O: Last I looked, Sam, it's still a free country. As long as Wilbur hasn't lost my number, he can call it at any time, and there's nothing you can do about it.

SAM: I'll make a deal with you: I'll pay you
not
to take his call. How's that?

O: (
Laughing incredulously
) Oh yeah?…And how will you do
that
?

SAM: Anyway you'd like it. If you want, I'll pay you in cash. In fact, go ahead and double your rate. I'll even put you on a retainer, whatever.

O: (
After a moment
) I think you've got it all wrong.

SAM: Whattaya mean? I said you can name your price! Hey, this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer that will be withdrawn at the end of this call, so, if I were you, I'd jump at it.

O: No, lover,
you're not hearing me:
I want to know what's
really
at stake here. Because any deal we make has got to be worth something to
both
of us.

SAM: Jeez, woman, don't be greedy, or this doesn't work for
either
of us. And by the way, I got your number from Hu—from Wilbur, so trust me when I say he's in on this and
wants to break off this…this little addiction as badly as I need—
want
him to.

O: Level with me, Sam: Why do you
really
care?

SAM: (
Pauses. Then, in a voice that lets her know that all cards are truly on the table
) Because he's my oldest and dearest friend. Because the life he's built for himself is about to go up in smoke. Because if he screws it up, he doesn't just screw it up for himself, but for a whole lot of people who count on him for their livelihood.

O: (
After another very long pause, so long that Sam thinks they've been disconnected
) Okay, Sam. Under one condition.

SAM: Name it.

O: You tell me his real name.

SAM: That's it? No retainer, no cash, no nothing?

O: That's it.

SAM: How do I know you won't blackmail him if I tell you?

O: I don't want a last name, just his first name. But
no lies
. That's how this works. And this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer that will be withdrawn at the end of this call, so, if I were you, I'd jump at it.

SAM: (
Laughing. Besides, what are the odds that she'd ever figure out who he really is?
) Okay, you sold me. It's…
Hugo.

O: Well, that's…unusual. Almost as unusual as Wilbur.

SAM: So, we have a deal?

O: I always keep my word. But that won't necessarily solve your problem.

SAM: Uh…why? What do you mean?

O: So he doesn't call me. What makes you think he won't call someone else? There are a lot of us out there, you know.

SAM: Huh…Good point…I dunno, ya got me.

O: Can I make a suggestion?
Let him call
. I can put the charges on any card you want. Even yours. And because he's your client, too, you can always bill it back to him. You know, “photocopy” or “transcription charges,” whatever will pass the Mr. Tax Man sniff test. Of course, you'll have to make it clear to him that my number is the
only
one he can call. Not that he'll mind, because I always make it worth his while…

SAM: (
Now wishing he hadn't recorded their conversation
) Hmm. Yeah. Okay, that might work.

O: You know, Sam, I can make it worth your while, too…

SAM: Sweetheart, you already have.

O: (
All husky musky nuance
) That's what I want to hear, lover, 'cause I aim to please. Oh, and by the way, we're talking about Hugo Schmitt, right? The director?

SAM: (
After a cold drop of sweat rolls down his spine
) I never…I never said that.

O: That's okay, Sam, you didn't have to. I've heard his voice on enough TV interviews to recognize it, now that I can put a name to the voice…God, he is a
genius!
What a master at pacing! I swear to you, I saw
Beyond Heavenly
at least four times.

SAM: Yeah, unfortunately, you and only six others. Thank God for overseas box office.

O: Yeah, I hear that in France they think he's a deity!

SAM: Right.
Viva la France.

O:
Mais oui…

SAM: So, um, how much do I owe you for this call?

O: We're at seventy even. Tell me, Sam, was it as good for you as it was for me?

 

Within the next twenty-four hours, Sam had accomplished the following:

First, he got Hugo to take Lucinda on a ten-day vacation to Las Ventanas al Paraíso, a secluded resort in Cabo San Lucas. Waiting there for them was a roaring fire, an open bottle of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame, a lovers' massage, a box of assorted sex toys (remnants from the not-so-dearly but definitely departed Chastity), a family-size tube of an orgasm cream sold only in Europe, and a ten-day supply of Viagra.

Sam's directive to Hugo was simple: “Don't come up for air.”

Upon hearing this, Hugo got that strangled look on his face, as if he'd just been given a life sentence. Too bad. If Archie's accountants got hold of Hugo, he'd find out the hard way that Cabo was nothing like Pelican Bay State Prison.

Next, Sam met with Archie at the mogul's usual banquette in his favorite hangout, Dan Tana's, to get him onboard with the Hugo/Kat/Nathan project, which he sold to Archie as “
Sideways
meets
Before Sunset
…with the dark humor and the youthful
joi de vie
of
Garden State
.”

At first Archie didn't get it. “
After the Sunset?
Wasn't that some lousy Pierce Brosnan crap?”

“No, no,” answered Sam. “It was that French girl and Uma's ex talking each other to death, for six hours or something.”

Now Archie remembered it. “That kid looked anorexic, or something. Hugo's not planning on hiring him, is he?”

“No. As a matter of fact, we've got some great new talent in mind. His name is Nathan Harte. We're putting him opposite Katerina McPherson.”

“Works for me. She's got a great set of knockers. Not like that French girl.”

“So, you're in?”

Archie paused, then shrugged. “Hugo's never been good business. But he's family.”

Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief.
So Lucinda hasn't filled Archie in about the credit card charge. Praise the lord.

“And who knows?” Archie continued, despite a mouthful of medium-rare prime rib. “Maybe this one will actually make money…Speaking of which, do you think you can talk her into doing a nude scene?”

“Nope, not even for a fifteen-million-dollar paycheck. She's a real
artiste
, that one.”

“Thought not. Hey, no harm in asking.”

Of course Sam picked up the tab.

And at five-thirty on the dot, Nathan showed up at ICA.

With Nina.

Watching them together—her obvious love and pride in her husband, coupled with his transparent sense of ownership in her—made Sam's heart break just a little. She gave a deep laugh as Nathan, with a cocky flourish, signed his ICA contract. Looking up at Sam, she said as reverently as if she were in church, “
Thank you.
”

He smiled broadly and nodded, wondering if she'd feel that way in a month, when production on the project had started.

And Kat had begun her seduction of Nathan.

Nope,
it dawned on Sam as Nathan shook his hand vigorously,
that's when she'll realize that she actually hates my guts.

And for the first time in his life, he hated himself; particularly when Nina, before following Nathan out the door, impulsively kissed Sam on the cheek.

He did not look forward to going home alone that night.

 

In Hollywood, there is no such thing as an overnight success. Heck, the last five years of Nathan and Nina's lives were proof of that.

However, once a Hollywood hopeful (such as Nathan) got even an
inkling
that he was finally on his way to being made, naturally he presumed that success would make its move
fast.

Very fast.

Say, as fast as an industry player in the Skybar's rooftop pool lounge during last call on a Saturday night.

In their own ways, both Nina and Sam tried to warn Nathan that this might not be the case. Sam had a couple of auditions in mind, and of course things would come up periodically, but in the meantime Nathan should peruse the casting notices religiously for roles that he felt were right for him…so that he could go up against two hundred other guys who all felt exactly the same way.

The name of the game was to get out there and audition, audition, audition—for movies, TV, commercials, whatever.