“I remember you comin’ by the shop. Was the day after Pedro was shot,” Jesse said as they sat down at a table. “I remember ’cause I kinda lost it. I never talk with nobody after that. I remember the feelin’. Kinda like a giant ball of fire sittin’ way down in my guts.” He motioned like he was holding a basketball in front of him. “You said somethin’ that set me off. Like a dragon, I spat it right back atchya. I never seen you again after that.”
“Well, stuff’s gone on since then,” Ethan replied not quite knowing where to start and not really wanting to get into it. He took a bite of his sandwich and grabbed a napkin from the chrome dispenser between them as some of his tuna fish squished into his hand. “I came down today to get a Gonzo sub and found the shop shut down. What’s up?” Ethan wanted to ask about Pedro but hesitated, unsure of how to bring up the subject.
“Things dinit get no better after you was in. We buried Pedro a week later. Not the same after Pedro not there, you know. Dinit open up regular no more. Dinit feel like it. Just gave it up. The Gonzales brothers no more.” He pushed his open hands facedown across the tabletop toward Ethan to show the sub shop was finished. His eyes never met Ethan’s.
“I’m real sorry, Jesse. Is it getting any better?”
“I have my up days but no so many.” Jesse changed the subject and focused on Ethan. He didn’t want to talk about Pedro or his future. “So how’s the movies, Mr. Actor? Know any big-shot movie stars? Hanging with anybody I know?” This brought the first hint of a smile to Jesse’s face.
Not knowing what to say, Ethan realized the man had lost more than a brother; he’d lost his whole world. “Well,” Ethan started, realizing he could now add a line to his résumé, “I’ve done a movie and am working on a part in another one.”
Jesse’s eyebrows rose as his smile grew larger. “Really. That’s great. I’m gonna know a real celebrity. Who’s in the movie?”
Ethan didn’t go into the details, although Jesse might well know more about Jacqueline and the other woman than he did. So he made it up. “Your buddy, of course, Mr. Pacino.”
“No way!” Jesse exclaimed, leaning forward, more interested than before. “What’s it called?”
“Afraid I can’t tell you,” Ethan continued. “I’m sworn to secrecy, but it’s coming to a theater near you.”
Jesse leaned back and gripped the chair beside him, stretching his arm. Ethan sipped his coffee and took another bite of his tuna fish sandwich without squeezing any on his hands.
“You know, come to think of it, I remember something else,” Jesse said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “A man stopped by one day after I seen you. Looked pretty uptight—you know, all nervous like. Asked if I know an Ethan Jones. ‘Never heard of him,’ I said. I never say, even if I know. Couldn’t remember your last name but didn’t know any other Ethans before you. Was pretty sure who he was talkin’ about.”
Ethan nodded. His mind was alert to what Jesse had to say about his visitor. He was pretty sure he knew who it was. Christa’s ex had asked questions on their whereabouts.
“How long ago was this?” Ethan asked, trying to remain casual. If the guy was around, why hadn’t the cops tracked him down? It scared him because he didn’t know what Christa’s ex even looked like. Strangely, Christa had no photos. Her ex could walk right up to him, stick a six-inch blade in his stomach, and Ethan would be defenseless.
“Hard to say,” Jesse replied, leaning back in his chair, causing the front legs to rise off the worn wood floor. His face lifted as his dark eyes looked toward the ceiling. “Maybe a couple of days, a week after I last saw you, but I never saw him again.” He then dropped forward and looked directly at Ethan. “Yer in trouble too?” he asked, his tone indicating concern.
“Well, not with the law but with a disenchanted lover,” Ethan replied, trying to laugh it off, but his eyes failed to hide his anxiety. Another customer entered the coffee shop. Ethan’s eyes darted to the man. All of a sudden, he felt like a carnival duck, popping up for paying customers to shoot at.
Jesse smiled back at him. “Another Hollywood playboy,” he laughed. “Well, you in the right town.”
Ethan laughed. He’d never thought of it quite like that, but Jesse was on the mark. He took a last bite of his sandwich. “It’s real good to see you again, Jesse, but I must be moving on,” he said, hearing the words to the old Supertramp song come out of his mouth. “I’ve an appointment across town this afternoon.”
Their chairs scraped the floor as they stood up. Ethan took his half-finished coffee and left the rest of his sandwich.
Outside, they shook hands.
“Make sure you come out to see my movies,” Ethan said, holding Jesse’s hand for an instant longer. “I’m sure things will work out for you.”
“No probs, man,” Jesse replied. “I’ll be lookin’ for your movie with big Al.” As they stepped away from each other, Jesse added, “Say hello to Jessica for me too.”
Ethan didn’t know a Jessica but figured he was referring to Jessica Lange. “I will, my friend,” Ethan said, nodding his head as they turned and went their separate ways.
Chapter 36
Ethan’s Timeline
August 1991
After leaving Jesse, Ethan continued down Bank Street en route to Ben Lui’s office. He found it quite amazing—even disturbing—that he’d run into Jesse, considering that Jesse’s business was closed down and Ethan had been away for so long. Jesse obviously was devastated over losing Pedro. Ethan hoped Jesse would get back on his feet. What raised the hairs on the back of his warm neck, however, was the idea that if he could run into Jesse on this street, he could very well run into Christa’s ex too. Was he being watched now, his attacker lying in wait for the right moment? He kept seeing a blood-streaked knife blade in front of his stomach, a fatal wound inflicted before he could defend himself. Each male passerby was a potential foe. Where were their hands? Were they watching him? Paranoia will destroy you, he told himself. Was he really paranoid?
As he stopped for a red light at an intersection, he wavered on whether to return to the apartment. It still was early, and he wanted to get out of his current locale. There was no real reason for him to be here. The feeling of being watched was bothersome and a distraction from what he should be thinking about—acting and work. A lunatic who wanted him dead was unnecessary baggage. He decided to head directly to Ben’s office. His hand rose to wave down a taxi as he crossed the street.
Things were about to change for Ethan Jones.
Chapter 37
Ethan’s Timeline
August 1991
The building sparkled, encased as it was in glass and mirrors. Ethan felt good, even excited, just walking into the cathedral-like lobby. He loved modern architecture and became disoriented looking up into the overhead structure of the seventy-foot sparkling-silver ceiling. Glistening chrome pillars stood fortresslike around the periphery, as if the building was chiseled into the side of an ice mountain. Even the coolness of the air inside—so unlike the afternoon’s heat—added to the illusion. Giant pieces of sculpture—art forms of pseudo-dinosaurs—hung from the ceiling, creating the foreboding that precedes one of nature’s violent tempests. The power of size and form was inspiring while at the same time intimidating, much as life could be.
Big-business money had built the edifice. It was at once beautiful and dominating. The building breathed new life into Ethan. He couldn’t help feeling he was there by purpose.
It was just past four o’clock, according to the giant rectangular-shaped clock hanging on the wall behind the multi-door front entrance. The clock, like most of the décor in this cathedral-size concourse, was colossal and extravagant. A huge Roman numeral marked each of the twelve numbers and followed the outside frame into each corner of the rectangle. It was designed for its location, but Ethan could picture it mounted to the side of a snow-covered mountai
n. The leviathan-sized heads of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln carved into Mount Rushmore came to mind. Ethan smiled.
He still had almost two hours to kill before he was to meet with Ben Lui. The extra time was much preferred to running late, as he looked for Ben Lui’s office number in the directory hanging beside the elevator. “Ben Lui Inc.” was near the top of the alphabetic listing. Ethan could feel the buildup of anxiety as he read down the various companies listed on the directory. Could he ever fit into all this? It was easy to be intimidated, but he couldn’t afford the luxury. There was no way he could walk around in here for another two hours. He’d be completely overwhelmed. He had to be fresh and excited and not overwrought by the enormity of it going to his head.
You better get rid of this sensitivity shit, he told himself. You’ve one chance here. Enough fucking lollygagging. Get yourself together.
With that he turned from the directory and headed back to the front entrance. On exiting, he was greeted by the late afternoon’s smothering heat. He didn’t know where to go and turned left outside the ten-foot glass doors.
The sidewalks on both sides of the street were busy with people—lots of people. There were many more than he had noticed on his way in, coming and going in every direction, in a rush to get home or simply to an evening of freedom. Ethan found it exhausting just walking in the flow.
With so many around, he sensed he was going against the flow, only to be pushed when he stopped momentarily. He kept moving, not looking for anything in particular. There were people of every sort and an abundance of beautiful women—a cornucopia of faces, arms, legs, and other more distinguishing body parts. It was exhausting just being there. His head was spinning, reeling from excessive stimuli. It was a paradox—a mass of people all viewed as the same, yet each person was unique and individual. By chance, he glimpsed an overhead sign for books. Like wading through a strong river current, he made his way to the storefront advertising Books at Large. Above the window were the same three words in four-foot letters.
The front of the store was packed with people grabbing the best-selling books by the hottest authors, almost as fast as the shelves were stocked. Ethan recognized some of the authors but none of the titles. He paused, however, when the cover of one novel in particular caught his eye. On the jacket was a painting of a diner, revealing the action inside. The book was called Browning Station, and the jacket notes described a character struggling to hold on to reality in his everyday life. For no particular reason, Ethan stuck it under his arm and proceeded to the back of the store.
En route, he noticed a small barista off to the right and ordered a long espresso. It had been a while since he’d had one, but it would serve to sharpen his alertness in his meeting with Mr. Lui.
The film and movie section was where he was headed. Shelf upon shelf seemed to contain every book imaginable on Hollywood and anything affiliated with Tinseltown. The actors, the directors, and the movies filled the many books and captured his full attention. He couldn’t get enough of the photos and anecdotes, reaffirming his reasons for coming to California in the first place. There were indeed many paths to take him where he wanted to go.
He browsed through some of the biographies. Most of the celebrities featured had a strong desire to act or entertain people. Some came by way of live theater; some through music; others through television and commercials; and still some had gone directly into the movies. There was no single road to stardom but a common thread did emerge—they all had stuck to their guns. Despite doubt, criticism, and many other discouraging events and hardships, they never gave up. Without knowing when or even if they’d get their break or reach their goals, they simply were unwilling to stop. It was part of who they were.
Ethan picked up a large coffee-table book titled Homes and Cars of the Stars. He flipped through a few pages that contained fabulous photographs of celebrities alongside the fruits of their success. The homes were incredible estates, custom-designed and built to the individual desires of the star. Ethan fell in love with several that captured the essence of space and simplicity in modern architecture. The automobiles were no less remarkable. Ethan loved the exotics. Two photographs, in particular, were magnificent: one was a bright-red Ferrari parked outside a multicar fieldstone garage, with the front wheels turned sideways in a position of stealth and majesty; the other was a Lamborghini Diablo, also turned sideways, in striking yellow, like an exotic parrot from deep in the Amazon rainforest. In a sudden impulse, Ethan closed the book and took it and the copy of Browning Station to the cashier.
On seeing sixty-eight dollars light up on the cashier’s screen, he hesitated—nearly seventy dollars was a lot of money, considering his current financial situation. But he saw the time on the cashier’s watch. Twenty minutes was all he had to get back to Ben Lui’s office. Without time to think about it, he handed over the cash and left.
The pedestrian traffic outside had declined. He cursed his impulse to buy the expensive books with his limited resources. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be back begging Sven for another fuck job, and that wasn’t going to happen.
On entering the giant concourse again, now almost deserted, he headed for the chrome elevators. With his focus on meeting Ben Lui and somewhat unaware of his surroundings, he didn’t notice the security guard approaching from his right.
“Excuse me, sir,” announced the young man, who was built like a Chippendale’s dancer and wearing a professional fuck-off-and-die smile. “Can I help you?”
Ethan turned around so quickly that he nearly dropped his book purchase on the polished granite floor. “No thanks,” Ethan replied, quickly and tight-lipped, shifting his books from one arm to the other.
“The elevators are locked out after five thirty, sir,” the man stated sternly. He was twirling a key fob in his right hand. “Sorry, but I can’t allow you to go up without authorization.”
“I have an appointment with Ben Lui at six o’clock,” Ethan told him.
“Well, I guess Mr. Lui won’t mind if I call him to confirm your admittance.”
“No, I don’t suppose he will.”
Ethan followed the security guard around the corner to a small office tucked into one of the monolithic walls of the entrance. If this guy fucks me around, I’ll head to the stairway. The clock on the wall showed six o’clock.
“No one’s answering, sir,” stated the security guard, crossing his arms and revealing gym-sculpted muscles as his short sleeves tightened around his biceps.
Ethan was unimpressed. His face became hot. Looking at the guard’s heavy, laced-up boots, Ethan was pretty sure he could outrun the guy.
“There’s nobody there, chief,” the guard announced, replacing the receiver. “Maybe some other time.”
I don’t think so, Ethan thought, trying to remain calm. “Please try again,” Ethan said in his best low and professional voice. There is no chance in hell this doofus is going to keep me from meeting with Ben Lui.
“Maybe come back tomorrow,” the guard suggested.
“Could I leave a note?”
“Do you see a secretary?”
Ethan was ready to go through the roof. There was no way he was going to talk his way past this asshole. He was at the point of tirade when Mr. Security’s pager went off. At the same instant, a person exited the elevator. Ethan took off and was around the corner before the security guard looked up.
“Hold that elevator,” Ethan hissed as a small, plump man stepped out. The man, who appeared panic-stricken, did as he was told, holding it open long enough for Ethan to reach it. “Thanks,” Ethan said, sliding into the elevator and slamming his shoulder into the wall to stop himself. He punched the floor number repeatedly to get the doors to close. They finally moved just as the guard came into sight. There was nothing Ethan could do but watch; he was caught. But as fate would have it, as the guard passed the corner, his hard-soled boots slipped on t
he polished marble, and he hit the floor hard. The guard’s curses and frantic shouting faded as the elevator door closed. Ethan closed his eyes and leaned back against the gray lacquered panels inside as the elevator rose. He was breathing hard, and his face was lathered in sweat. He’d made it by the skin of his teeth. Taking a several deep breaths to regain his composure, he wiped his hand across his wet forehead. Using the chrome midsections between the gray panels as a mirror, he ran his hand back through his hair and straightened his shirt. He placed the bag containing his recent purchase on the carpeted floor and tucked in his shirt. As he rechecked himself in the chrome, the elevator came to a stop at the designated floor.
The doors opened to a deserted hallway, with an arrow and sign opposite the doors indicating the direction to Ben Lui Inc. The white walls of the hallway were bare and clean, with a recent application of paint. Gray carpet lined the floor.
Ben Lui’s office was at the end of the hall. Ethan knocked twice on the heavy oak door to no avail; there was no one there. It never occurred to him that Ben Lui might actually stand him up. His forehead fell against the door. It just couldn’t be.
The bell on the elevator rang down the hall. Ethan froze. Had his buddy downstairs followed him? Fuck. He’d not thought this out very well. There was no one around, and that jerk wouldn’t think twice about taking liberties with his fists. Ethan knew he didn’t stand a chance against the muscle-bound ape. There had to be a way out. The knob on Ben Lui’s door hardly budged. Quickly, he tried another door across the hall. Locked. There has to be a stairwell somewhere, he thought. Every building has a fire exit stairway. The elevator door opened. Ethan pressed himself as close into a door well as he could. He held his breath.
The person who exited the elevator was not the security guard but a small, chubby man wearing John Lennon rose-colored glasses and a white fedora. He leisurely strode across the new carpet in beige leather shoes. He was carrying two coffees in a disposable paper tray. Ethan’s entire body relaxed as the man approached the door he’d been knocking on.
The Actor Page 23