by Pike, Leslie
Maybe the most meaningful life for each of us is the one that gives rise to the most love. That’s what proves the choice. But you need to shape and to recognize where that place exists. That’s where I stand now. I’m looking for the true and the incomparable.
My cell phone interrupts my thoughts.
“Hello?”
“Paul. It’s Bliss. But don’t say my name. Are you alone?”
“Yes. I’m in my room.”
“Good. Listen, I’d like to talk with you privately. Would you be able to meet me in half an hour?”
“Sure, what’s this about?”
“I think you can guess. Our friend, Finn. But I don’t want him to know we’re meeting. Steven knows, and agrees with me, that you and I need to talk.”
“Good. Where shall we meet?”
“How about the coffee shop, next to the Egyptian Theater? Do you know it?”
“Yes. I’ll see you there in a half hour.”
“Thanks, Paul. Bye.”
We disconnect. I’m glad she reached out. Now I’ll have someone to back me up. I get my things together and leave without bothering Finn. He’s probably passed out in his room anyway.
* * *
Park City Perk is situated right in the middle of Main Street. It’s always crowded, but when I arrive, Bliss has already commandeered us a table. I’m sure her good looks prompted a male customer to give up his seat. I say that because she’s got pole position in the room, and every other table looks like they’ve set up shop. There are laptops and iPads, and newspapers and books spread across every surface. But Bliss sits waiting, with a cup of coffee and a clear tabletop. I make a gesture to let her know I’m going to get a coffee before I join her. She waves and nods. I wait my turn for my latte, then snake through the crowd to join her.
“Hi.”
“Hi, Paul. Thanks for agreeing to meet.”
“Of course.”
I take my seat.
“So let’s talk about what’s happening with Finn,” Bliss says.
“What’s your take?”
“Well he’s not fooling anyone. He’s still drinking, and it’s getting worse.”
“I wasn’t sure who knew.”
“I was married to him, and I’ve seen how he acts when he’s trying to hide what he’s doing. And I know the progression of his actions.”
“It’s really frustrating. I wish he didn’t have to fight that same battle again. And I didn’t even know until recently that he went through it the first time. I’ve seen enough in the prison population to understand something about the struggle.”
“Here’s the thing. I’m afraid for him, not just because of his health, but he’s also risking the biggest break of his professional life. This film’s nearly done, but what’s going to happen if word gets out that he’s an unreliable fuck up?”
“You’re right,” I say.
“His good looks and charm aren’t going to go far with producers. They can’t take a chance on an actor not showing up. I know my husband won’t. There’s a thousand other good looking hungry actors out there, lining right up behind him. And they won’t throw away the opportunity.”
“I agree.”
“It breaks my heart to think what this would do to his father if he found out. And if he starts with the drugs again, well, it would be over. I don’t see any signs of that, do you?” she says.
“No. I think it’s strictly liquor at this point. But that’s a slippery slope. What can we do? We’ve got to figure something out. He’s interested in Esme and that may be a way in. Maybe he’ll listen to her. What do you think?”
I see her consider the question.
“I don’t know. It’s a possibility. It depends if she thinks it’s a problem. She’s very young. Most likely she has no experience with alcoholism. And let’s be real, she’s got to have the confidence to come up against Finn. He’s older than she is, and he’s a movie star. It’s pretty unlikely she could influence him.”
She’s right. I’m sure he holds all the power in that relationship. How many twenty-something year olds have the self-assurance and authority to sway a thirty-eight year old man who almost never hears the word no.
“We’ve got to try it anyway. If she refuses to speak with him, then we’ll go to plan B, whatever that is. In the meantime, I’ll talk with him and you do as well. It’ll be our three-pronged attack,” I say.
“Ok. It’s the best we’ve got at the moment. I’ll speak to her and explain our concerns. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t agree with us and tells Finn what we’re doing. Then we’re screwed. Are you willing to take that chance?”
“Yes. Either way, he’s going to be mad at us. Really mad. But we just can’t ignore the fact that our friend is in trouble,” I say.
She reaches across the table, to shake my hand.
“Let’s help him. He’s worth it.”
Chapter Fifteen
Esme
What was I thinking? I’m a mess. I’m so nervous, and I’m second-guessing everything about my new song. The lyrics, the melody and even the pace sounds wrong. What if the audience boos? I’d better be prepared for that possibility, because my music sucks. That may have been the one thing Kevin was right about. We’re almost at Tempo’s, and I’ve barely said a word to Kizzy since we left the hotel. It’s cold outside, but you wouldn’t know it by me. I’m sweating.
“Did you tell Finn you were performing tonight?” Kizzy says.
“God no.”
“Why not? He would have supported you.”
“I know. I’m just too embarrassed to sing in front of him.”
“You better get over that. You’re about to sing in front of a whole audience.”
I bury my face in my hands.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this. I may back out. It would be better to have a few more weeks to tweak my song.”
I look up to see Kizzy’s stern expression.
“No. You’ve made a commitment. And this is going to be a pivotal moment for you. If you can do this, you’ll have a new view of yourself.”
She pats my leg with her hand.
“Be brave. It suits you.”
“I guess.”
“No guessing allowed. You know you can do it. I’ve you heard you sing and play guitar. You’re good, Esme. I wouldn’t set you up for a fall. I would never have encouraged this, if you weren’t so talented.”
I suppose she’s telling me what she thinks is the truth. But she’s my friend. Maybe she wants me to succeed so badly, she’s blind to my lack of talent. The only way I’ll know is if the audience responds well. They’ll be brutally honest, I’m sure.
We pull into the parking lot, and Kizzy parks in one of many available spaces. I’m happy there aren’t too many people here. Less witnesses for my crash and burn. As if she read my mind, Kizzy speaks up.
“It’s only six thirty. It’s still pretty early. It’ll fill up.”
I exhale a big sigh. I need to center myself.
“By the way, you look very pretty tonight,” Kizzy says.
“Thank you. I’m wearing the sweater my grandmother gave me. It brought me good luck once before.”
“Good thinking. Shall we go inside? It’s now or never.”
We get out, and I retrieve my guitar case in the back seat. Once again, I feel like I’m taking my last steps to the electric chair. That’s been a theme running through my time here. I can only hope this turns out as good as the last time I was about to be shocked. That ended up being the most beautiful night of my life.
We enter through the back door, as instructed earlier by the management. Right away I see two other people waiting in the narrow corridor. There’s an older man chewing a wad of gum, and a pretty young girl with long blonde hair. Neither one is holding an instrument, so I imagine they’re both singers. They look up at us. The man smiles, the young girl doesn’t. I doubt it could be snobbery though. I think she’s just as frightened as I am, because her eyes hav
e that glazed over look. Kizzy touches my arm.
“I’m going out front, to get a good table. You ok here?’
“I’m fine. Pray I don’t go blank and forget the words.”
“You’re going to wow them. I know it.”
She kisses me on the cheek and leaves me to my own thoughts. I lean my case against the wall and take a seat across from the man and next to the girl.
“Hi,” I say to both of them.
“You a singer?” says the man.
I hear a Jersey accent.
“Yes, and I play guitar.”
“I’m Joey. Joey Star.”
When he says his own name, he lifts his shoulders for emphasis.
“Ever heard of me?”
“No, but don’t go by me. I haven’t been to many clubs.”
I can hear the bracelets he’s wearing jingle. Now that I look, I see he’s wearing lots of gold jewelry. Chains, rings, bracelets, he looks like a nineteen seventy something lounge singer. He wears a suit with a vest, and it’s a throwback to “Saturday Night Fever”. How did he end up here, so far from his roots? For that matter, how did I? I turn to the girl next to me and smile.
“Hi. I’m Esme.”
She smiles unconvincingly. “Hi. Victoria.”
I watch her retreat back ino her own terror. I get it. I feel the same exact way. Only I’m being distracted by the stare of Jersey Joey. He’s looking at me, and he’s nodding his head. I know he’s having a private conversation with himself, inside his head. He straightens his collar and smacks his gum.
“Yep, you’re gonna be good,” he says.
“Pardon me?” I say.
“I have the gift.”
He looks at me, as if I should bow and lower my head at the news. I just stare at him blankly.
“I’m psychic. I know you’re going to be good out there. I see it.”
Even though I know he’s full of crap, I appreciate the lie.
“Well good. I need all the encouragement I can get.”
“You don’t believe me. I can see that too. But that doesn’t change the fact that what I say is true.”
Now we have the attention of Victoria.
“What about me?”
“I don’t see nothin’ about you,” he says.
That did absolutely zero for Victoria’s confidence. We all go back to our silent waiting. I check my watch every five minutes. Time’s passing both excruciatingly slow, and unbelievably fast. I can hear the crowd of people filling the room out front. It’s getting louder and louder. Do I dare peek out the curtain on stage? I juggle this idea around for another five minutes, until I can’t stand it any longer. It’s better to see what I’m about to face. If I walk out there blind, it will freak me out. Maybe I’ll be able to spot Kizzy and know where to focus. She always calms me.
So I get up and walk down the corridor to the back of the stage. The heavy, maroon velvet curtains hide the crowd but don’t muffle their mood. There’s a spirited group out there. I don’t know if that’s good or bad for me. They could storm the stage en masse, like the villagers who went after Frankenstein. Or maybe they’ll love all three of us. I pull back the edge of the curtain and look out.
At first it’s hard to see, because the corridor is dimly lit and the main room is bright as day. I try to focus on the faces. And then I see them. Right at the front of the room, at the first two long tables, sit the delegates from Hollywood. Finn, Bliss, Steven, Nicki, Jack and Kizzy make up table one. Table two has a few of the stunt people, Roger from Crafts Service, and three women from the office staff. Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! How did this happen? Did Kizzy tell everyone? What do I do now?
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and turn to see the manager.
“We’re about to start. Joey Star’s on first, and then you, followed by Victoria. Got it?”
“Yes,” I say.
My mind’s racing with thoughts of how I can back out of this. I can’t think of one plausible excuse.
“Ok. Get backstage. I’ll give you a heads up, when you’re about to go on. If Joey has the same reaction as his last time here, he may do a half hour.”
As we move through the corridor. I call to the manager walking ahead of me.
“Half an hour? I thought we only had to perform one song.”
He answers without turning around.
“You and Victoria have one song. You’re new, and we don’t know if they’ll want to hear more. Joey’s got a following. That’s why there are so many people here tonight. They’re here for him.”
I know not everyone’s here for Joey. Way to build your acts’ confidence. And so much for judging a book by the cover. Jersey Joey must be pretty talented. We make it back to the waiting area where he’s doing his vocal exercises. I see his wad of gum stuck on the wood beam behind him.
“You’re up, Joey,” the manager says.
He’s not fazed in the least. He just nods and saunters off toward the stage. Victoria and I sit wishing we were anywhere but here. From off in the distance, we hear the intro over the sound system.
“Let’s put our hands together and welcome back to Tempo’s, Jersey’s favorite son, Joey Star!”
The crowd responds with cheers and applause. The prerecorded music starts.
“Hello, Park City! Hope you enjoy a Sinatra classic. It’s one of my favorites,” Joey says.
It doesn’t matter that we’re in a Country/Rock bar, or that most of these patrons were barely born when Sinatra was around. When Joey starts singing “Come Fly With Me”, they react enthusiastically. He sounds so much like the man who made the song famous. And he’s singing it note for note the way Frank did. It’s not original, or performed with an original arrangement, but it does sound good. I can’t see him, but I bet he’s using all the familiar body language Sinatra did.
Somehow listening to Joey Star’s music relaxes me. It puts me in a good place emotionally. And isn’t that the power of music? It soothes and inspires and lifts us. I’m counting his songs, because I know most are three to four minutes long. By the time he gets to his sixth choice, I know my number’s almost up. Joey croons the last notes of “New York, New York”, to the cheers of the crowd. Not the optimal act to follow, but on the other hand, maybe the audience is feeling generous with their approval.
The manager points to me.
“You’re going to be up. I’ll introduce you after the staff has had time to take the new drink orders. Everybody’s thirsty tonight.”
He moves off, hurrying after his next job. I get up and walk to the curtain. When I peek out, it looks like everyone has a few more cocktails in them. They’re a little louder and there’s more laughter. I watch Finn’s table, but it’s hard to read what’s happening there. I’m surprised to see Paul there, without BB. He’s the only one at the table who looks unhappy. Come to think of it, Bliss isn’t looking too jolly either. But Finn’s making up for both of them. Someone’s sent a drink over to him. He downs the shot in one quick movement and slams the glass to the table. Then he stands and points to the three women who must have sent the drink. They respond with waves and shrieks of joy. The movie star has accepted their offering. At least when he’s drinking, he doesn’t get mean like Kevin. But I don’t like it. Brings back bad memories for me.
The manager approaches.
“Ready?”
I just nod and pick up my guitar. He carries a stool out to the stage and speaks into the microphone standing in front.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a treat for you tonight. She sang for me a few days ago, and I became an instant fan. Let’s give a warm welcome, to the lovely Esme Scott.”
I take a deep breath, touch my St. Jude medal and walk onstage to the applause. My legs feel so weak. I can hear my friends shouting their encouragement. I’m aware in this moment, that it feels like I’m apart from myself, watching it all happen. I take my seat, and the room quiets. When I look up and see all the smiling faces, I feel at ease, and strangely at home. It’s a
s if I’ve found a place that was just waiting for me to remember it.
“Hi. I’m Esme. I hope you like my song.”
I start strumming my guitar, in a slow and smooth introduction. The strings brush my fingertips, and as the tempo picks up, I become lost in the song.
“I’m not wishing Prince Charming rides in and rescues me.
I’m not looking for lifeguards, to save me from my rough seas.
Ten soldiers armed with big rifles, can’t serve protect and defend.
I need to be my own captain, steer my own ship round the bend.
I’ll plot the course of tomorrow, won’t second guess or make nice.
I’ve got the inclination, left to my own device.
Yesterday’s not tomorrow, I’ll start again if I must.
Won’t pull my horse when it’s leaping, I’ll leave them all in the dust.
Won’t question my direction, won’t bet the roll of the dice.
I’ve got the inclination, left to my own device.
I’m going to rise up like Venus, left to my own device.
I’ve got the inclination, left to my own device.”
A few seconds before the final notes are played, the applause begins. And when I take a little bow, it continues. They liked my song, there’s no denying. And it’s not just my friends that are woo-hooing their approval. I can’t stop smiling, my heart is so full at this moment, I think it might burst. Tears of happiness fill my eyes. I close them and feel the audience’s affection wash over me. It’s a very specific kind of joy, like nothing I’ve felt before. It erases any doubts I’ve had about my music. That’s some powerful magic. One song, publically sung, erased every criticism, put down, and belittling comment Kevin ever made. What I took as truth, I learned tonight was just one asshole’s opinion. An opinion without merit.