The Paradise Box Set

by Leslie Pike

  “Okay, no more,” I say, admiring the evidence.

  He pulls into the driveway and parks next to Paul’s Audi.

  “What? BB’s on time?” I say.

  “That’s a first. Look for flying pigs.”

  We wait for his erection to go down. But every time it starts to soften and he taps it to gauge if it’s ready, one of us starts laughing. Then I touch it and it starts to get hard again. Finally he grabs my purse and covers himself to stop my shenanigans. I was literally cock blocked by my Louis Vuitton.

  We make our way into the building. There’s a group of three theaters for small parties to rent for the night. But HBO rented the entire building. This made things easier for us all. Had we screened in a neighborhood theater the actors would have been mobbed. Social media has made it impossible to sneak a peek at anything. No, this was the way to go. Inside I see a group of about fifty people talking and laughing. Most of them I recognize. The others must be the spouses or dates of the cast and crew.

  “There’s our intrepid writer!”

  I turn to see Albie and Renee. He’s waving us over.

  “Hi!” I kiss their cheeks.

  Steven shakes Albie’s hand and goes in for a kiss from Renee. “Hi, you two.”

  Renee puts an arm around my waist. “Excited? You should be. Have you seen the episodes?”

  I make a face showing just how nervous I am. I suck in my breath. “No, I wanted to see it when the whole thing was done. After post-production got ahold of it.”

  “Honey, it turned our great. I told you that on the phone,” Albie says.

  “She’s not going to relax till she sees it for herself, Albie,” Steven says.

  “Okay. Well let’s go inside, everybody’s in there already.”

  We walk into theater one. People are socializing and making the rounds, talking with friends and introducing wives and husbands.

  Albie points to the roped-off three rows in the middle of the theater. “Our seats are in the center there.”

  As we walk toward out row I see BB stand up on her seat and wave us over. “Bliss!”

  She and Paul sit next to Esme and Finn. Carl and Amelia are talking to Alec, who sits a few seats away. Well at least Amelia’s talking to him. He’s actually watching BB. I don’t see Darius anywhere.

  “Excuse me,” I say as I cross in front of four people I don’t recognize. But the fact that they’re in this row means they’re either HBO executives I haven’t met, or people being schmoozed by the producers.

  “Hey, there they are!” Finn says as we make our way to the seats.

  I give a little wave to our friends, and blow kisses in their direction. We sit.

  “Too many of you to kiss. Hello all! Hi, Carl!”

  He blows me a kiss back.

  “Hey, Steven,” Paul says.

  “How the hell did you get BB here on time? And before us.”

  She steps down and takes her seat. “Don’t ask.”

  “I won a bet and this was the payoff,” Paul says with a shit-eating grin.

  Steven chuckles. “I’m afraid to ask. Especially if BB says not to. It must be a doozy.”

  Peripherally I see someone coming down the row toward the one vacant spot next to Paul. It’s Darius.

  “Hi,” he says taking his seat.

  “Hi, Darius. How are you?” I say.

  “Good.”

  The lights lower and everyone scrambles to sit. We turn our attention to the screen. The music swells. It’s The Who’s “My Generation.” The crowd starts clapping and yelling their approval. There’s nothing like the right music to carry you away and drop you in the right place in time. Behind the credits is an aerial view of the streets of San Francisco, and then specifically Haight Ashbury in the sixties. Whistles and loud comments begin as the series title appears on screen.

  This is one of the fun parts of the film business, watching a film with the cast and crew. Everybody acts as if it’s the first time they’ve seen their names on the big screen. And the strange part is that the reaction can be huge for a favorite grip and tepid for the lead actor. It all depends on how much the person was liked or how much of a mischief maker he or she was on set.

  I think the biggest reaction I’ve ever witnessed was for Kiki and Coco, the makeup and hair team on Finding Collier. They made some kind of lasting impression on everybody. The fact that they had a lot to do with exposing the farce that snake Caprice was trying to perpetrate made Steven and I clap the loudest. But this is my first time seeing my own name in big bold letters. When it appears everybody gives me their best. I hold a hand up on the air and wave it like the Queen does to her subjects. Of course, in my case I’m joking.

  “Feels pretty great, right?” Steven says.

  I take his hand and he sees my smile. The writer’s credit is second to the last in the opening credits, followed only by the director. Albie’s name comes up and then slowly fades to the opening shot as the camera dips down to the street level. Here we go.

  Two hours later the credits begin to roll, and we’re all clapping our hearts out. I love how it turned out. I join in on the whistles and calls. Steven leans in for a kiss, which I wholeheartedly return. When the lights come up we’re like ants, moving between the seats to offer congratulations. First I go to Albie and Renee a few feet away.

  “You both did a tremendous job. It looks spectacular, Renee. And Albie, you captured the soul of my story. Thank you so much.”

  He gets up and wraps me in his arms. “It was all there in the script. You did that.”

  For the next half hour we slap each other on the back and congratulate ourselves. It’s so funny, but in this particular art form the participants are the most self-congratulatory bunch. I can’t really think of another who gives themselves so many awards. You don’t see painters or ballet dancers or photographers doing that. Maybe musicians are our closest rivals for conceit. But they’re a distant second. I don’t look at it as a negative though. I think of it more as an appreciation for the wondrous business and art. And more than anything for the fact that it’s part of our lives.

  I’ve been trying to find Carl and Fin since the lights went up, but I can’t see them anywhere. Even Amelia is M.I.A. and now that I look further, Esme’s gone too. So I turn back to Steven and take his hand.

  “Shall we go? I want to get a good table at the wrap.”

  “Don’t worry about that. They’ll have tables for you and the director and actually all our friends. Are you forgetting you’re a player now?”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. It’s good being up here in the stratosphere.”

  As we walk toward the exit we let our friends know we’re going to head for the party. All the way up the aisle I’m hearing congratulations from both sides. It’s not hard to believe their opinion of the episode is genuine. Steven lets me go ahead of him as we walk through the door and out to the lobby.

  “There they are,” I say spotting Finn and company.

  A pale Carl is sipping on a water bottle, and his companions are around him looking worried.

  “Hey guys, what’s up? You okay, Carl?” Steven asks.

  I noticed as well, and I’m sure my face shows it. Carl waves his hand in a familiar gesture. Every time someone shows any kind of concern for his well-being, he brushes them off.

  “I’m fine. I just felt a little dizzy in there. It passed though. I’m already back to normal.” He laughs. “Whatever that may be.”

  I lock eyes with him. “Are you telling me a true lie, or a damn lie, Carl?”

  He likes that I’m quoting his own fathers line. “A true lie.”

  “Maybe we should get home, Da. You got to see the first episode. We don’t need to be goin’ to the wrap party,” Finn says.

  I know Finn’s expressions and this one tells me he’s worried.

  Esme touches Carl’s arm. “It’s just going to be a lot of loud music and too many drinks. Let’s pass. I’ve made a pineapple upside-down cake, and we can h
ave dessert by the fire.

  Carl looks a little perturbed. Esme will learn in time not to coddle Carl. He still thinks he’s twenty-five.

  “Stop it. All of you need to stop hovering. I’ve partied longer and harder than all of you combined. I was at Woodstock for Christ’s sake.”

  He’s got a point, but that doesn’t make things any less worrisome.

  “I partied at The Filmore. I stayed up one time for fifty hours straight then I went to the beach and body surfed for a few more. I can sit in a theater for two hours then be at a table for three more. Jesus people, I’m not dead yet.”

  How well I understand his view of things. Here’s a man who was vital and virile well into his late seventies. But since Mary’s illness and her subsequent death, the toll on him has been visible. I guess it happens to all of us, even Carl.

  Finn jumps in. “All right, have it your way. But let’s make a compromise. A nightclub isn’t the best environment for me you know. Too many people drinkin’ and having a great time doin’ it. I’m still vulnerable.”

  I know that’s an absolute fib, or at least an exaggeration. But Finn’s protecting his father’s ego, good son that he is.

  * * *

  My cell is vibrating. We’re in the club throwing back our second martini while we watch blooper reels from the Carl and Mary shoot. The sound of laughter is deafening. I look at my phone. It’s Esme.

  “Hello?” I say loudly.

  “Bliss, Finn asked me not to call you because it’s your big night, but I thought you’d want to know. Carl’s in the hospital.”

  I immediately get up and walk toward the bathroom to find a quieter spot.

  “What happened? Is he all right?”

  “We don’t know yet. He’s in the emergency room. They’re testing to see if it was a heart attack. Finn’s in there with him.”

  Her voice is shaky, and when I speak mine is too.

  “Did he faint, or what?”

  “No, he got really pale and was touching his chest over his heart. He said something was wrong but he couldn’t describe it very well. I could tell it scared him though, so Finn called for an ambulance.”

  “That was the right move,” I say.

  “Yeah. We didn’t know where the nearest hospital was or want to take the time to get directions.”

  “What hospital are you at?”

  “Mission on Crown Valley in Mission Viejo, right off the 5 Freeway. Go left and it’s about four lights down on the right. I hope I made the right decision calling you, Bliss.”

  “You did my friend. We’re coming now.”

  We disconnect and I walk back to where Steven is sitting. I lean over and whisper the news in his ear. He stands and grabs his jacket. I motion for Paul to follow us. He understands my wordless signal. As we walk out I’m filling Paul in.

  “What’s up?” he says.

  “Carl’s in the hospital. We’re going over there now. I’ll call as soon as we know anything. Maybe it’s his heart. They don’t know yet.”

  “I’m coming too. Let me get my coat.”

  You sure? It’s BB’s big night too,” Steven says.

  “She’ll be all right staying by herself here. I want to come.”

  “Okay. Meet you outside.”

  Navigating the corridors of a hospital is seldom easy, but when you’re looking for the emergency room you can usually find it pretty quickly. We’re all three glad to find it’s just one straight shot to the entry of the ER.

  Paul and Steven take their seats amid the crowd of coughers and crying children. I set my purse down between them

  “I’ll go speak with the admitting nurse.”

  It’s packed here at eleven o’clock at night. I suppose that’s typical for a Saturday.

  I walk to the window. “Hello. I think one of our friends was admitted here. Carl Kennedy is his name.”

  The overworked looking nurse doesn’t have to check her list of names. Her expression changes. She’s smiling a we have a movie star here tonight look. She leans in to have a quiet confab with me.

  “Finn Kennedy’s father, right?”

  She’s confirming that her eyes didn’t lie.

  “Yes. So he’s still in emergency then?” I say.

  “Let me go check on that for you. Your name please?”

  I’m under no delusions that the first-class treatment I’m about to receive has anything to do with hospital policy or the goodness of the nurse’s heart. It’s all about Finn. Women of all ages and shapes are damned horny for him. And now because she has a reason to go back and speak with him, she’ll have a good story to tell her friends.

  “We don’t need to go back there. We’d just like Esme, who’s with them, to know we’re here,” I say.

  “Okay, I’ll let her know. Your names?” she’s up and ready to move.

  “Bliss, Steven and Paul.”

  That’s all she needed to hear. Like a racehorse waiting at the gate. And BANG! She’s off.

  I walk over to the empty seat between the men and sit down on the hard plastic. I’m sure the whole room is like a big Petri dish swimming with bacteria. And this is one of the best hospitals from what I’ve heard. But you can’t avoid the germs in a waiting room, from the chairs to the magazines. Note to self…don’t touch anything you done have to.

  “What’d she say?” Steven asks.

  “It’s a good night for the nurses. Finn has arrived.”

  Paul shakes his head in disbelief. “That never ceases to amaze me. I would hate that.”

  “I’m with you. It’s too big a price to pay. I like my autonomy and privacy,” Steven says.

  “Hasn’t BB experienced some of that?” I say.

  “It’s starting to pick up now. After the nominations. But I don’t think it’s quite as bad for the actresses.”

  I nod in agreement. “That’s because women are much more aggressive than men are when it comes to approaching a celebrity.”

  “True.”

  The nurse returns through the door in her cubicle and motions me over.

  I get up and make my way, pausing for the teenager with the bloody towel wrapped around his forearm to go ahead of me. When I get to the window the nurse draws back the glass.

  “I told Finn you were all here and he said to tell you he’d be out in a few minutes. They’ll be taking Mr. Kennedy in for a scan.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  I turn to walk away, but her voice stops me.

  “Hey, do you think you could get an autograph for me? Or better yet, do you think he’d agree to take a picture with me? I’d love to have that as my screensaver.” She smiles hopefully.

  Incredible.

  “Well why don’t you give me your address, and I’ll get you the autograph. I don’t think this is a good time to ask for a picture. You know, considering his father is ill.”

  What I want to say is, “Are you fucking crazy? This is a family crisis, you idiot.” But instead I just smile. I’d hate for Carl to have to pay the price for my big mouth.

  I return to my chair and we resume the wait. Silently I begin to pray for my father figure. Please Lord, protect Carl and keep him under your angel’s wings. Next to me I see Paul pull a simple wooden rosary from his pocket and wrap it hidden within his strong hands.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  BB

  “How many steps now?” I feel the beads of sweat run down my face and drop off my chin.

  Esme checks her Fitbit without slowing the pace. “10,122, 5.1 miles.”

  “Is that all?” I say disappointed.

  “All? I think we did pretty good. This is our fastest walk yet. It’s just nine thirty.”

  “You’re right. And this is my favorite walk in Dana Point.”

  I look around at the green rolling hills that rest against the coastline. March rains have made the pampas grass and spring flowers come to life. And as we round the path we’re following, the Pacific Ocean reveals its full glory.

  “Beaut
iful. Look how many surfers are in the water today,” Esme says.

  “They must be freezing their balls off.”

  The trail rounds beside and through the golf course. We’ll cross the golf path and take the tunnel through to the other side of Pacific Coast Highway. It will lead us to the backside of the Ritz Carlton. As we walk toward the tunnel, I catch the plaid pants foursome eyeing Esme and I like wolves would two bunnies. I imagine drool is gathering in their mouths.

  If I had to describe these men I’d say they were probably the guys who had zero game in high school. Age hasn’t changed things. And now in their seventies golf has become their mistresses. They’re waiting their turns to wash their golf balls at the stand next to the path.

  I feel Esme’s eyes on me as we approach. “Oh no! Don’t do it BB,” she pleads.

  “You know me entirely too well,” I say.

  But it doesn’t stop me. I wait for the exact right moment. It’s as we pass and they’re pretending not to stare at our tits and asses.

  “Hi, boys! Make sure you scrub them nice and clean!” I give them a big smile and a wink.

  “Oh God,” Esme says under her breath.

  “I couldn’t help myself. They look like they haven’t been laid since Reagan was President,” I whisper.

  I hear them start laughing. I think I provided the boys with the best moment of their round, maybe of the year.

  “You are a crazy woman, BB, but I admit you’re fun to be around. Is my face red?”

  I look at her bright crimson face. “No, I don’t see anything.”

  Better not to point out to Esme that she gives her embarrassment away every time. There’s no hiding it, and why should she? It’s adorable. I could never get away with blushing because nobody would buy me being embarrassed at anything. They’d think I had rosacea.

  The trail is busy with walkers and runners and more than the occasional dog. Things are just about perfect here in Paradise. Everywhere I turn is another gorgeous scene. The homes bordering the path and adjacent to the ocean are something out of an agents wet dreams. And they’re next to one of the premiere resorts in the world, the Ritz Carlton Laguna Niguel. It stands majestically on the cliff overlooking one of California’s best spots for surfing.