“Okay, let me grab my books, and I’ll be right back.” Lauren hopped out of the car the second it pulled to a stop in front of her apartment.
I kept the car running and watched as she disappeared into her apartment building. Lauren called her roommate ahead of time and asked her to gather everything so she wouldn’t have to spend any time getting it together herself. I hoped that would save us a few minutes. I couldn’t afford to be late, because I had barely taken any time to look at the script or prepare to learn my lines. I normally did that on the weekend, but I had obviously been occupied with something much better than that—it was the first time any woman had pulled me away from my normal schedule, but I didn’t mind. Lauren was a welcome distraction and she showed me that there was a future that wasn’t defined by the end of my career.
“Madeleine did what I asked.” Lauren opened the passenger door and hopped in my car. “See, that didn’t take long.”
“Traffic might not agree with that assessment.” I sighed and hit the accelerator.
I was able to get Lauren to school on time, but I was definitely going to be later than I wanted to be—the rest of the crew would probably be ready to start, and I still needed to figure out my lines. It was worth it though—because I had the taste of Lauren’s lips on mine after I dropped her off, and I would get to see her after I was done filming my scenes. After that, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything except spending time with her. The complexities of my life weren’t as complex as I thought. They were just distractions that kept me from dealing with what really mattered—a distraction that I didn’t regret because if I had realized how I had let them rule my life before I met Lauren, I wouldn’t have that sweet taste on my lips that I treasured so much. Normally, I would have been getting in character long before I turned into the parking lot of the studio, but my mind was somewhere else—I was already living out the future—ready for my last day of filming to be over so I could hold Lauren in my arms again.
Alright, let’s get this shit over with.
“Why the long face?” I saw Jasmine standing outside of the studio with a cigarette in her hand. “Someone going to die today or something?”
“Don’t joke about that.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why didn’t you call me? I tried to call you twice yesterday and you didn’t pick up your fucking phone. I almost stopped by…”
“Probably a good thing you didn’t…” I looked down at the ground, but I couldn’t keep the smile from forming on my lips.
“Oh god, Walker—really? What Hollywood slut have you fallen in love with this week? How did you even have time? You were a mess when I left you on Friday!” She only paused her questions to take a long drag from her cigarette.
“It’s not like that.” I shook my head back and forth. “I met someone—I like her.”
“Great, what movie did you get her a part in?” Jasmine chuckled and a stream of smoke rolled across her lips.
“She’s not after that—she’s different.” I exhaled sharply.
“Oh, so she’s a woman your age with five kids and shit ton of baggage?” Jasmine tilted her head slightly.
“No…” I sighed. “She’s young, but that doesn’t matter.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.” Jasmine took another quick drag. “I thought you were smarter than that. These young girls always break your heart—even if you marry them.”
“Jasmine, you just don’t understand.” I shook my head back and forth. “It’s hard to explain.”
Hollywood has made you far too cynical to believe in love—that was one thing that made us such good friends—except my eyes have been opened to something new now.
“You’re forty-five years old Walker. She’s either looking for a handout or a Daddy fantasy. If you believe anything other than that, we’re going to be drinking her away soon enough.” Jasmine dropped her cigarette and stepped on it. “Let’s go inside. You might have made me angry enough not to cry when you die today.”
I understood Jasmine’s inability to take what I said at face value. We had spent far too many nights drinking away our sorrows while our hearts hardened when what we thought was love fell apart around us. After my last divorce, we made a drunken vow to spend our golden years competing to see who could bed the most girls. Something inside of me changed after my last marriage fell apart though. I let my bed get cold. If I hadn’t been so overwhelmed by the end of my career, I probably wouldn’t have even made a pass at Lauren when I met her at LA Dark. Rock bottom actually worked out well for me. I found someone that I truly believed could be my path to salvation—and I was okay with the scene I had to film. It would be emotional, but I could deal with it.
“Where are the scripts?” I walked up to Sally Lang, the actress that played Bianca on Dangerous Thorns, once I was inside the studio. “I brought the one Jacob gave me Friday, but he usually has a few adjustments when we start filming…”
“I don’t know.” Sally shrugged. “The writers are still locked in their room hashing things out—you know how that goes.”
“Yeah.” I nodded in agreement.
“Hey, I didn’t get a chance to tell you last week—but that scene we filmed was hot as fuck.” Sally bit down on her bottom lip and smiled. “I wouldn’t mind an X-rated version if you want to get together after we’re finished today—I promise that I’ll make you forget all about Jamison Thorn’s death.”
“Sally…” I exhaled sharply.
“Maybe I could wrap my lips around something—and you could use yours to tell the director of Spark 7 that I’d make an excellent addition to the cast?” Sally pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’ve heard that you do that for girls who take good care of you, and this might be last chance since they’re killing you off.”
“I’m sorry, Sally.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m dating someone right now.”
Can I really call it dating? We’ve had two actual dates—I guess that’s dating by normal standards.
“Oh.” Sally’s expression changed immediately, and I saw a hint of anger in her eyes. “You’re too old for me anyway.”
Unless you want something, right?
I walked into my dressing room and sat down. Sally’s request didn’t surprise me—although most girls were nice enough not to make it sound like actual prostitution until they had already swallowed my load. The sad reality was—there was a time when I probably wouldn’t have even hesitated. I would have let her blow me in my dressing room and driven her back to my place once we were done filming. I could have gotten her what she wanted too. If the director of Spark 7 didn’t take my call, Manuel would have made it happen for me. Hollywood needed to change. Men like me needed to become a dying breed instead of the easiest route to success that girls like Sally thought was necessary. Maybe Jacob was right—Jamison Thorn was a shameful example of the past that needed to die off so that kind of behavior wasn’t normalized in our culture through daytime television. I would have never forced myself on a woman, but I didn’t turn them down—and maybe that was just as bad.
“Jacob called a meeting.” Jasmine poked her head into my dressing room. “Now.”
“Thanks.” I sighed and leaned forward so I could stand.
“Apparently they rewrote a big part of the script over the weekend.” She motioned for me to hurry.
“That doesn’t change anything for me. I don’t have that many lines to fire off before I take a bullet.” I followed her towards the production area where we normally gathered for our morning meeting.
“Maybe they’re actually going to make it a little more justified. I don’t like the direction they’re taking with Dean’s character. It’s too dark for the kid everyone fell in love with…” She sighed and a light groan escaped her lips.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” I nodded in agreement.
“Which is why you should be writing this shit—you understand the characters.” She gave me a quick nudge.
“Nah, this is all over for me.”
I shook my head back and forth.
“At least you get to die like the scumbag you are—well, the scumbag that Jamison Thorn is.” A slight grin formed on the edge of her lips. “Probably the best storyline Jacob has ever written for you.”
“That’s—actually true.” I nodded, but something else was troubling me, so I decided to just ask the question. “Hey Jasmine—do you think I’m a bad guy? I mean, obviously Jamison Thorn is the villain on the show, but am I like that too?”
“Holy shit, Walker. That’s a conversation to have after a few drinks.” She turned her head towards me with and the slight grin turned into a look of confusion. “Your character is dying—not you.”
“I know…” I sighed. “I’m just thinking about a lot right now—reflecting on it all I guess.”
“We’ve all become these characters. It’s why we’re so good at playing them.” She squeezed my hand when we got to the production area. “Okay, fuck it—I’m definitely going to cry today. I love you, Walker. I’m going to miss the fuck out of you.”
“I love you too, Jasmine.” I sighed. “But like you said—Jamison Thorn is the one dying today, not me.”
Jasmine and I definitely had a special bond, but our love was purely platonic. We might as well have been twins separated at birth and forged in the same fire. That fire had a name—Dangerous Thorns. She was as naive as me when she stepped on the set that first day. It didn’t take us long to learn that there was never going to be an ounce of chemistry between us. The first time I had to do a scene with her that involved anything other than an argument, it was like oil and vinegar. It’s no surprise that the writers decided that our characters needed to be quickly divorced. She was always my opponent on the screen, but my only true friend when the credits rolled. I wondered if they would have her character cry at my funeral. Soap operas loved weird moments like that, where the villain got some kind of fleeting moment that didn’t make sense when you looked at all the awful things they did.
At least this will all be over soon. I feel strangely at peace with everything now.
“Alright, gather round people.” Jacob motioned to the group. “Some of you have seen the script that we wrote for your characters and pieced everything together—the rest of you probably heard it from someone else if it didn’t involve your character…”
Yeah, I’ve noticed how everyone is looking at me. I don’t think it’s a secret to anyone at this point.
“Walker, would you come up here, please?” Jacob looked into the crowd until his eyes focused on me.
“Okay.” I sighed and pulled my hand away from Jasmine.
“Walker Delaney has been a core part of our cast here at Dangerous Thorns for twenty years. When I got the opportunity to join the show as a writer, my dream was to one day get to write stories for Jamison Thorn.” Jacob put his arm around me in a very awkward embrace once I walked up to him. “Last week, I wrote one of the hardest storylines of my life—one that ended with Jamison Thorn finally getting his comeuppance for all the awful shit he’s done.”
“I have done some awful shit.” I tried to chuckle, but the peace I had felt about the decision was starting to fade as I listened to him speak.
“To all of us…” Dean pointed at several of my on-screen children and grandchildren. “Especially me.”
“Well, I’m always someone who can admit his mistakes, and while our internal team thought killing Jamison Thorn was best for the show—our audience disagrees.” Jacob exhaled sharply.
“Wait, what?” I looked towards him in confusion.
I thought this was set in stone.
“The script leaked over the weekend. I don’t know which one of you did it, but I guess it was for the best this time. When I brought the test audience together on Sunday morning to go over our plans for the week, all I got was vitriol—and the comments online echo the same sentiment.” Jacob smiled, but I could tell it was forced. “So, we’ve made some emergency rewrites. Dean, you will be pulling the trigger on Jamison Thorn today, but that won’t be the end of him—he’ll bounce back from death, just like he bounces back from everything else.”
“Seriously?” I blinked a couple of times as I tried to process the news.
“Congratulations, Walker. You get to live.” He removed his arm from my shoulder. “Alright everyone, come get a copy of the new script and learn your parts quick—we start filming in twenty minutes. Jasmine, you’re up first with Sally to talk about why Dean is the best choice for Bianca.”
People started congratulating me. Their words were just noise in my ears. My head was spinning. The lights felt looked like kaleidoscopes in a tunnel when they started to prepare the set. I had come to terms with Jamison Thorn’s death. There was life after him—my life. I was ready to live it—and that was yanked away in an instant. I took several steps forward until my hands found a wall. I had never experienced a panic attack before, but it felt like that’s what it could be. My chest was tight, and my throat was tighter. I felt my way over to the table and grabbed a bottle of water from the bucket of ice. I took a gulp and splashed some of my face. That brought me back to reality. I collected myself and walked straight to Jasmine’s dressing room. If anyone would understand—she would.
“Oh sorry.” I put my hand up in front of my face when I realized she was changing into her dress for the scene.
“You’ve seen my tits more than any other man.” She turned towards me and laughed. “Except those little weirdos on the Internet.”
“Can you believe this shit?” I still kept my hand up, despite knowing that what she said was true.
“You should be happy.” She scoffed. “You were about to lose your mind when I stopped by on Friday. I was seriously thinking about quitting as soon as I finished filming today.”
“I know.” I sat down with a hard thud. “That was—a dark moment. I thought about it. I processed it. Fuck, I came to terms with it…”
“With a little help, right?” Jasmine grabbed her pack of cigarettes and lit one up, despite the fact that she wasn’t supposed to smoke in her dressing room anymore.
“Lauren was definitely part of it…” I nodded in agreement.
“Fuck, Walker. You’ve got it bad.” She sat down across from me and took a drag from her cigarette. “Why can’t I meet some girl that makes me rethink my life in one fucking weekend?”
“It’s more than that. This shit has been bothering me since my last marriage fell apart. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. Lauren might be my last shot at getting it right. I’ve never felt this way—about anyone, especially someone that I just met.” I shook my head back and forth.
“Well, now you’re just making me jealous.” She took a long drag from her cigarette. “You better make sure this Lauren chick knows that I always have top billing in your life—even if I don’t suck your dick.”
“You think I’m going to let you anywhere near her?” I raised an eyebrow. “I still haven’t forgiven you for stealing Stephanie Denver away from me.”
“I did you a favor—that bitch’s tongue was like sandpaper.” Jasmine shuddered and stabbed out her cigarette.
Jasmine left her dressing room to start her scene with Sally. Abigail and Bianca—two women Jamison Thorn had fucked locked in a battle of wills. It was a little disgusting if you analyzed it. Abigail was Jamison’s ex-wife and Dean’s mother. Bianca was torn between father and son with the mother trying to guide her towards the son. I had been a part of that world for so long that I never stopped to think about just how fucked up the message we delivered was. I stepped out of Jasmine’s dressing room and watched the takes. Once the women were done and the production crew was ready to move to the next set, I flagged Jacob down.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking about this and it feels wrong.” I tilted my head slightly as he approached. “You already wrote the script to kill Jamison Thorn. Why don’t we just go with that?”
“What the fuck, Walker? I thought you were going to kill me when I told you wha
t our plan was after we finished filming last week.” His face twisted into a confused stare. “I ran it by the suits at the station this morning. They’re good with you renegotiating a lower salary and staying on the show since we were getting backlash from the fans—just like you said we would.”
“I know.” I exhaled sharply. “But, I’ve had some time to think about it. It might not be the best option for the fans, but I’ve been Jamison Thorn a long time. I’m ready to move on.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Jacob shook his head back and forth.
Jacob stormed off without saying anything else, and I wasn’t really sure where we stood—or if he had considered what I said. I got my answer two hours later when Vincent Edwards, one of the suits he mentioned from the television station, showed up at my dressing room door while I was going over my lines. He tried to get me to reconsider, and when that didn’t work, he let me know in no uncertain terms that I was still under contract for another year. He couldn’t force me to renegotiate a new contract, but the station could certainly sue me for breaching the one that was already in place.
After he left, I made a quick call to my lawyer and he confirmed everything Vincent said. The television station owned the contract, and if they wanted to kill off my character so I could sit on the couch for a year, that was within their rights—they could also force me to keep coming to work. The contract might as well have been signed in blood and breaching it would be costly. If the ratings continued to go down, they could blame it on me and try to collect millions of dollars in damages—especially if the lower ratings resulted in them losing a key sponsor.
Distinguished Daddy: Once Upon A Daddy Page 10