by Ami Snow
“Well, hello, Mr. East,” she said in a voice which oozed sultriness. Mack tried to look in at the floor. Now was not the time to be having thoughts about his benefactor’s daughter.
“You can call me Mack,” he told her. “You’re no longer the little girl I used to see running around the yard with your friends.”
“So what did you need to see me about?” Fritz asked him. He was dressed in a suit and tie with an earring prominently displayed. The fitness business had been very good to him.
“A ride,” he told him. “I’ve got a chance to make some money at the autograph show this weekend. I can’t work out a bus schedule down to the hotel. Can you help me out? I can get a way back and they already have me a room booked. I might make a little cash off this one.”
“Great opportunity, Mack,” Fritz said to him. “Just be careful about those college kids and their big movie ideas.”
Mack grimaced. He’d lost money on a film production a young guy had suckered him into investing into which was supposed to jump start his career. The guy turned out not to have the slightest idea how to shoot a movie and was living with his mother.
“But I can’t run you down there,” he said, “big business meeting tonight. But maybe Sally can, she’s home from college. Thank you can help Mack out, honey?”
“I’d love to help him out,” Sally said turning her eyes in his direction. Mack was starting to feel like a hunk of meat on a stick. “Do you need any help in your booth? I’ve got a toga I could wear to match your barbarian leather suit.”
“I haven’t worn that contraption in years,” Mack told her. “And you’d just be bored at this event. A bunch of nerdy man-boys coming up to me for autographs. Just drop me off and I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, Mack,” she pouted, “Why can’t I come and help if I give you a ride? It sounds such fun!”
“Yeah, Mack,” Fritz said. “Just let her come and help. She’s getting some kind of communication degree at that college I’m paying her to attend. It might come in handy for her.”
“If you want, Fritz,” Mack explained. “I was just thinking of her. She’ll get bored and I don’t know where she’ll sleep unless she wants to drive back. The hotel might be all booked.”
‘No problem, Mack,” Fritz countered. “She can sleep in your room. Don’t most of those hotels have two sets of beds? You can take one, she can have the other. Relax, I trust you.”
It’s not me you have to worry about, Mack thought on his way back to the bungalow. He’d seen the way Sally was looking at him and he knew trouble when he could see it. She had grown up around body builders and muscle guys so it wasn’t like she had no clue. Sally was giving Mack the encouraging eyes and he didn’t like it. The last thing he needed was a young girl who just happened to be the daughter of his best friend giving him an open invitation. And why couldn’t Fritz see what was happening? Was the love for his daughter blinding him to her raging hormones? Most parents preferred not to thinking about their children having sex, he understood it, but the fact remained that it did happen.
Mack packed his bag and case of photographs for the brief trip. He was careful to put his banner in a separate bag than the one he planned on using for all his personal belongings. He made sure he had enough cash to make change for the memorabilia he planned to bring along. The memory part always did well at these shows. A guy who remembered a movie or video he’d watched as a kid would see the poster with the star and whip out his wallet. He never had trouble moving the posters or even the DVD’s. Maybe it was a good idea to have Sally along. She could help out and the toga costume might attract some wondering eyes. It might work out after all.
Mack laid his bags on the door step of the bungalow and looked at the full length mirror he kept by the couch. He didn’t resemble the ripped young man of twenty years ago, but he’d managed to stay away from the steroids and keep himself looking good. He looked decent for someone who had just turned forty-five. He took off his polo shirt and looked at his chest. He still could bring out the admiring glances in the women. Mack had a few occasional girlfriends, but not enough funds to keep them interested very long. Once they found out about the ex-wives, the relationship tended to end.
He sat down the fifty pound dumbbell by the luggage and looked at his chest again. All he could see was his sagging profile and he wanted to get his old one back. Age was the great enemy. It could not be beaten. Just for practice, he did some classical Greek poses in the mirror from several angles. He nodded at his reflection and then stepped out of his pants. Wearing only a set of briefs, he did a few more poses in the mirror.
He stopped the poses when he heard a cough at the door.
Shocked to see the grinning form of Sally, Mack quickly put his clothes back on.
“I’ve got the car all ready,” she told him. “Do you want to go now?”
“Yes, of course,” he said getting his shirt back on. “My gear is all packed for the convention.”
She left the door and Mack picked up his bags, locking the door behind him.
Damn that girl! He thought. She could have said something before he’s stripped down. Now he had to ride to the hotel with her and avoid the embarrassment of knowing she’d been watching him. Why couldn’t that girl find something else to do this weekend? All he had needed was a ride and now this little femme fatale was coming along. He just had to fight temptation for the weekend.
“You practice your flex moves every day?” she asked him as the car pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street.
“No,” he told her. “I don’t compete any longer so there’s no point. But I do try to rehearse every now and then. Don’t want to lose what I have.”
“You don’t use it, you lose it,” Sally snickered. “At least that’s what the guys tell me.”
Mack rolled his eyes. Was the entire weekend going to be like this?
“Sally,” he told her, “I’m grateful, hon, for the ride. But remember, your dad is the reason I’m not on the street someplace. So just keep that in mind.”
“I know, Mack,” she said. “I think it was the final straw with him and momma. She couldn’t understand why he was letting you stay in the guest house.”
‘I still don’t know why,” Mack told her. “And, believe me, I’m grateful.”
“Do you want to know something?” she asked him.
“What?” he responded.
“I used to go down the house when I was little and watch you work out,” she told him. “I was just a kid, but the thought of you being down there by yourself excited me. I would hide in the trees, too scared you would see me and tell dad.”
“It’s a good thing your dad never found out,” he told her. ‘I can only imagine what he would have done to you.”
“He used to scare all the boys away when I came home for a visit,” she told him, brushing her blond hair back. “They would stroll up to the house to see me and this huge monster of a man would answer the door.”
“I can imagine what effect it had on them,” he laughed.
They talked some more on the way down to the convention. Sally was excited to see what kind of crowds it would draw; she had never been to anything like it. She’d spent most of her time after her parents divorced with her mother who wouldn’t let her go anywhere near body builders, claiming they were all perverts or gay. She knew about movie celebrity conventions, but not much. The one they were headed to was the largest one on the east coast and the parking was separate for the celebrities from anyone else. Even the entrance line, he told her was different. There was one line for the people who wanted to meet the big celebrities and another for people everyone else.
“Are you a major celebrity?” Sally asked him. He could tell in her mind he was.
“No,” Mack laughed. “I’ll be stuck in a gallery somewhere next to the stars of a video you never heard of.”
They pulled into a parking space designated for the guests and went into the hotel to meet the organizers. Mack pu
lled out his bags and trudged up the steps into the hotel, Sally behind him with her small bag, trying not to stare at all the people gathered around outside smoking while wearing all sorts of outlandish costumes. She nearly tripped over the tail of someone dressed like a giant mouse.
Mack quickly located the organizers and was give his celebrity package. He was told the location of his room, table, hours and list of regulations. He was also handed a list of stalkers and other people to avoid or inform security if they made an appearance.
“You have that much trouble here with stalkers?” Sally asked him as they headed down to the hotel room. They were both starting to get some attention and she thought someone had just yelled out: “Look! That’s Black Hercules!”
“Not a whole lot,” Mack told her. “They try to run the convention pretty tight, but you get some people who can’t distinguish fantasy from reality.”
They quickly found the hotel room and opened the door. As Mack had expected, there were two sets of beds in the room. Mack went to the far bed and dropped his bags on it. Sally turned on the TV and sat down while Mack sorted through what he would need. He placed a stack of promotional pictures from one of his many direct-to-video movies he’d made in the eighties. They were joined in the portfolio with his banner and a big poster from a barbarian movie he’d been in which actually played movie theaters in 1988.
Mack glanced at Sally as he put his materials in the big portfolio he used to carry them. She was still watching TV, waiting to go to the show with him. This was Friday night and the crowd would be big, but not too big. The hordes would make an appearance tomorrow. There would be the annoying jerks trying to hustle armbands from the people who were leaving since this was proof of admission. There would be the models trying to work their career and the independent producer booths. But he was going to be placed next to some minor celebrities and it all might work out. Perhaps he would see Lana again. She was the pretty Latina girl from San Diego whom he’d starred with in Return of the Barbarian Queen back in 1986. It was the swan song for the Italian genre movie producers. After that movie everything started going directly to video and the pay rates dropped like a biscuit from the grill.
Sally reminded him of all the women who used to chase after the bodybuilders in the old days. This was before the growth of steroids and all the muscle culture which it spawned. Mack never wanted to use the stuff, no matter how it further it might push you to the winners circle. He’d seen men permanently injured by their desire to reach the gold. It wasn’t worth it.
She helped him carry his materials out to the table and get set up. The doors were scheduled to open in another five minutes when they finally arranged the table, poster and banner. Mack had some trouble with the banner, but brought along some special stickers to hang it upon. Sally was still taken with all the people coming in and setting up for the show. It was obviously she was new to the convention circuit. She wore her backless top and pants with the open toe heels with style. Fritz’s daughter could look very good, he reminded himself. Fritz’s daughter.
On one side of them was an artist. At least he was trying to sell his personal art prints. He was in attendance based off one line he’d delivered in a zombie movie over fifty years ago. His one line, “They’re scared of us, Ann”, had become the most recognizable one in the movie. His career had gone to the artistic direction after this one film and he had brought along the art prints with him.
On the other side a lady was speaking in Italian on the phone. Her daughter sat next to her and tried not to look bored as she starred at her smart phone. Her mother was in her fifties and had starred in a number of erotic horror movies made in Italy by her husband. But they were divorced and she needed the attention given her by the convention to keep her name out there to the fans. Mack wondered how her daughter, a dark- haired lady in her twenties, felt about selling her mom’s naked photographs.
“So what do we do now?” Sally asked Mack. “Just wait?”
“Exactly,” he told her. “The fans will be coming in soon and we greet them. Some will want to take pictures, some autographs, some just to talk. I’ve attacked a price list to the back of the poster on the table, just look at it if you have any questions.”
Sally pulled up a chair and sat down next to Mack, beaming away at him. Mack was still feeling a little bit uncomfortable about having this young woman next to him who happened to be the daughter of a good friend. She was a sweet girl, but he knew where this could end up. His second wife had been a ring girl at a professional wrestling show when he’d met her. She came to see him at a bodybuilding event and stayed after the show. He spent the next two weeks bench pressing her when he should have been working on his career. By the time the glamor was all gone, his agent had quit calling and the acting jobs were gone. They had divorced six months after a whirlwind marriage, but not before Mack Jr. was on the way.
The first wave of fans walked into room, saw his signage and moved on. Mack expected it, they wanted to see all of the names before coming back to buy the autographs and memorabilia. Most of them were saving their money up for the really big names. He didn’t expect to do a whole lot here, but the trip would earn him some money and get his name out in the open.
After a half hour they started coming by his table and the room began to fill. The fans were from all walks of life but the psycho-billies seemed to dominate. A few years ago it had been the Goth kids before they turned to steampunk. Mack couldn’t keep up with all the trends these days. It was enough to remember who the current Mr. Universe was or who was the Mr. Galaxy title holder. There were so many events to keep track of and he worked a forty hour week, fifty if you counted the bus rides. He watched the men and women who looked like extras from an Elvis Presley movie wonder through the room, all of them with flash tattoos.
A few of them came by and asked for an autograph, which he happily signed. Some picked up the old fitness magazines with him on the cover and leafed through them. He tried to be courteous to them all. A few older guys confused him with the older muscle movie stars of the sixties. He told them they were big inspirations too, especially Paul Wynter who was one of the first black action stars to sport the muscles on screen.
“I’ve watched all your movies!” said a voice next to him and Mack turned to see a man in his thirties who seemed excited to be meeting him. He didn’t recognize the guy, but Mack noted his profile and realized he was a lifter as well. “You inspired me to start working out,” the man said while pumping Mack’s hand.
“Glad to hear that,” Mack told him. “I’ve got some copies of my old films on DVD if you want to buy any you don’t have.”
“I already have the box set Classicon put out last year,” the man told him. Mack winced, that was a discount package and he received no royalties from it.
“Did you get the Blu-ray edition of The Barbarian at the Gates?” Mack asked him, “I helped do the commentary for that one.”
“Loved it!” the man told him. “Quick question: did you dub your own lines in that movie? I know back in those days they recorded without sound in Italy and everyone spoke their own language.”
“No,” Mack told him. “I offered to do it but they hired some place down in Miami to do it.” And the voice actor sounded nothing like me, he thought.
The man moved on and the crowd picked up. Sally helped by making change and he was able to move some of the photographs he’d brought along. When thing lagged a little bit, Mack would pull out his fifty pound dumb bell and do a few reps; it got some attention.
The big name fans were obvious. You could see theme walking through the crowd with a few syncopates, expounding on the significance of this or that scene. Mack really didn’t have much time for them. The Internet had made everyone an expert these days and he was getting tired of the video experts who hadn’t been born when the first video stores opened. It was almost as amusing as the young guys in their twenties who were self-appointed Drive-In movie experts. Most had never been inside one. Ma
ck had and didn’t care for the experience. The bugs had nearly eaten him and his date alive.
Sally was getting plenty of attention. Mack wasn’t surprised. She had a gregarious personality and it was paying off. He watched her joke with the young guys who waked through the room and saw her give the eyes of interest to the occasional older man when the crowd slowed down. It kept a steady stream of traffic to his table and he even managed to sell a few posters. He just might do okay at this convention. Maybe it was a good idea to bring her along.
“Is that your dad?” he heard one man joke to her while pointing at Mack. He was about to turn around and give the guy his old bouncer look when Sally scooted her chair over to his side of the table. She put one hand on his massive arm and told the guy: “No, this is my boyfriend. Don’t make him mad.” To emphasize the point she planted a kiss on Mack’s cheek. The man laughed out loud and went on to the next booth.
Most of the crowd was white, but Mack had expected it. Most of the fans nostalgic for the past were. The past represented something comfortable to them. It didn’t represent the crap he had to endured.
Around nine in the evening the crowds began to die down. The room officially closed at ten so Mack expected they would start to settle down at that time. Sally helped him clear off the table and gather the pictures and stills. He put a cloth over the books and other memorabilia on the table and left the banner on the wall. The convention staff had assured him they would lock the room and post a guard when everyone had left. The down side to it all was knowing you couldn’t get in there unless it was an emergency.
They took the money and some of the extra pictures back to the hotel room and put them away. Mack looked at the clock: it was almost ten. He was starting to get hungry and needed to take some medication. He drank some orange juice and asked Sally if she wanted to try the restaurant. She thought it might be a good idea and went down to it with him.
The hostess seated them across from each other in a booth by a picture window and Mack ordered a glass of beer. Sally ordered some wine after being asked to show her ID. Mack joked as to how he hadn’t been asked to show an ID in years. He couldn’t remember when the last time anyone had asked him. A few of the fans and other minor celebrities walked by and waved at him. The Italian lady, still talking on her cell phone, came by and continued talking until she reached her table. Mack tried to remember what movie he had seen her in.