Never Enough

by Alexandra Caluen

  “For chickens, we can move the throne again,” Sandesh said. “Let us know when.”

  “Soon,” Andy said. “Patrick and Dmitri are coming tomorrow. Thanks a lot, guys. We’re grilling on Sunday, so come on over.” He walked them all out his back gate, took a moment to appreciate having useful friendly tenants, and then went to think about things for a while.

  With the throne in place, he could finish designing the scene. He’d decided to shoot that line at night, and with the effects he was planning there wasn’t much else to add to the set. He got himself a drink and positioned a lounger so he could sit and watch how the evening light changed, and how the throne looked after the piazza lights switched on. After a while he went up to the studio and found the velvet wizard’s robe he’d used for the Tempest shoot, draping it over the back and arms of the throne. There we go. It softened the lines, making it not so obviously dragonish. Imposing, but more sensual. He folded up the robe, but didn’t go in the house. His better half was in there being a writer; Andy was content to take a little me time. He was still outside when Victor came looking for him. “What are you up to? Oh.”

  “I didn’t move it myself.”

  “Glad to hear it. Thanks for not asking me to help.” Andy snickered.

  “Jonathan’s getting the four-one-one from Loretta about the whole Jim thing.

  She’s getting the four-one-one from him about Jenny. He’ll be heading out pretty soon.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “He and Jenny are good. I told him to let us know when they could come over for dinner, or vice versa. And the outline’s pretty much done. It was coming almost as fast as the last one.” Victor sat beside Andy, squeezing onto the edge of the lounger. “We can’t quite decide where to set it, though.”

  “Well, you started from honeymoon hell last time. Niagara and the Poconos were a gimme.”

  “Those wedding magazines, my God.” Victor giggled. When they were

  in Miami shooting ‘Countdown 2,’ he and Andy had been invited to a rainbow wedding. The grooms had given them a whole stack of magazines.

  “Yeah, we figured we’ll assume that this one does well, which means me and Loretta would still be a couple. Can’t decide what to do with Jonathan and his lady.”

  “He wasn’t a hundred percent comfortable with doing that, was he.”

  “Well, he was single when we wrote the treatment for number three. By the time we started filming he wasn’t.” Victor twisted his back, rolled his neck. “And he’s not as cool about it as you.”

  “Well, he’s straight. Doing a straight love scene while his girlfriend watches is different. So tell me what you’ve got.”

  “Let’s get on the double, so I can stretch out too.”

  “Yeah, good idea.” They moved the single lounger back into position, then settled themselves on the double. A few minutes later, while Victor was starting to talk through the outline, Jonathan came out. He brought Molly with him. She greeted Andy and Victor with her typical where-have-you-been excitement. “Hey pretty girl. Hey there big guy. All caught up with Loretta?”

  “We’re all caught up. This is such a nice backyard. Holy shit, what is that?”

  “That is the Beowulf death throne that Red Warner built five years ago.

  We used it for my Tempest photo shoot, and I’m using it tomorrow for King Lear. What king are you going to be?”

  “Eh?” Somehow Jonathan hadn’t heard about this.

  “What’s your favorite Shakespeare play?”

  “Coriolanus.”

  “Jesus, why?”

  Jonathan laughed. “Because I loved what Ralph Fiennes did with it. That was sick.”

  “Those modern militaristic settings really work, don’t they? The Lear we saw last year did the same thing. Patrick Stewart’s Macbeth, Ian McKellen’s Richard the Third.” Andy was eyeing Jonathan. “We don’t have a bad guy yet.”

  “Coriolanus is a bad guy,” Victor agreed. “You’ve played bad guys.”

  Jonathan snorted. “I played nothing but bad guys for ten years.” He’d

  been recruited to play a bad guy, at the height of his career as a professional wrestler. Nobody had expected him to steal every scene.

  “This show concept is Shakespeare with a twist. If we found you a line that put you with that other guy, the one Gerard Butler played, that implied there was some kind of kink going on, would you be cool with that?” Andy would go with a solo image if it meant getting Jonathan in the show, but remembering that film adaptation had inspired him.

  “Sure, yeah. I’ve done kink before.”

  Victor remembered an early low-budget action movie with some homoerotic subtext that wasn’t terribly ‘sub.’ “Yes you have.”

  “Who would be Aufidius?”

  “I dunno.” Andy thought for a few seconds. “Hey, how about Mike Borodin? He worked with us on the movie last year. He’s your same height, blond, straight. He’s a dancer but he’s great with character. I’ll send you links to a couple of his things. He’s tough as nails. Got broken in half in a car accident and never quit.”

  Jonathan clearly liked the sound of all this. “Sure, yeah. I’ll be in and out till we get this treatment done, so keep me posted. I’d better get out of here now, though”

  “Thanks for this,” Victor said, standing up to shake hands. “This shit is fun to do with you.”

  “Same goes. Talk to you soon.” Jonathan headed for the back gate.

  Victor stretched his back again.

  “You need a massage, don’t you,” Andy said. “Call your person.”

  “Yes sir. I need dinner, too.” Victor pulled Andy up off the lounger. “Go put away your wizard robe, I’ll get things started with Loretta.”

  After dinner, Andy sent Jonathan links to a studio video of Mike Borodin dancing a brutal jazz piece, and to an Underground Cabaret routine he’d done with Rory and two other women set to Madonna’s ‘Human Nature.’ Then he and Loretta were discussing what movie to watch, and Victor interrupted.

  “Honeymoon in Vegas? Is that what you just said?”

  “Yes,” Loretta said. “Don’t you like it?”

  “I love it. Put it on. Holy shit.” Victor had his phone out, texting Jonathan. “Las Vegas, Andy. For ‘Countdown 4.’ We could do a whole helicopter thing at the Grand Canyon.”

  “Oh shit.” Andy was giggling. “Car chase up the Strip. You have to.

  Have to!”

  “We could steal so much shit. This movie. ‘Diamonds Are Forever.’

  ‘Casino.’ ‘Swingers.’ This is so money.” Victor was giggling too.

  Loretta said, “I want to be a showgirl. Or a drag queen. ‘Miss Congeniality 2.’ Oh my God, no.” Now she was giggling. “Andy, you have to be a drag queen.”

  He laughed out loud. “Oh, I really do. Where do you get any fucking water in Las Vegas? All these damn things have water.”

  “Bellagio,” said Victor and Loretta together. “Oh my God,” Loretta added, “in the fucking fountain. Would they let us?”

  “Honey, for the right money, they’ll let you do anything. Okay. Who gets caught backstage and has to disguise himself as an Elvis impersonator?

  You or Jonathan?”

  “It should be Jonathan. I got the backstage thing this time around. And could we get Lucas?” Victor was thinking of one of their co-stars on Tanith’s movie, who actually played an Elvis impersonator on a streaming series set in Las Vegas. He glanced at his phone; the reply text from Jonathan was simply a thumbs-up. “Loretta, honey, we may actually have to write this whole thing.”

  The next day, Andy was going through Open Source Shakespeare and said “Holy shit” out loud. He sent a text to Jonathan: Hey buddy there is an Aufidius speech in Act IV that is like whoa. I mean WHOA. Okay with you if we use something from that for your image with Mike?

  A reply came back fast: what speech?

  Scene 5 right after ‘I know thee not’ where CC does his do me a favor and kill me
thing

  It was a few minutes before Jonathan wrote back. Then: Whoa is right. I did not remember that

  So is that too far over the line? I’d want to get physical with the staging No, it’s great. Go for it. Those videos were pretty whoa too Awesome URA rock star TTYL. Andy disconnected and made some notes. He could not fucking wait to see what Jonathan and Mike did with ‘Let me twine mine arms about that body.’ Or ‘I have nightly since dreamt of

  encounters 'twixt thyself and me.’ They might have to do both, because damn. He pulled up Mike’s number and sent a new text describing the project and proposing the role.

  It was almost three o’clock before he heard back: Hi Andy sorry I had to wait till lunch hour and then look it up. I’m down for it. Do you have anyone doing Hamlet and Ophelia? Because I mentioned to Paula and she said Ophelia should have lived, Hamlet would have too because she would have knocked some sense into him

  She is absolutely right and no I don’t have anybody down for those roles.

  Get in Open Source Shakespeare and find me a couple of lines that work for them both surviving!

  On it, thx Andy. He set down the phone, because Dmitri and Patrick would be there in an hour and he had shit to do. Then he picked it up again because he’d had another brainstorm and was too excited to wait: Hi Charlie saw Sacha in ‘Diamond Dogs’ and am dying to have him model for me. The Shakespeare project. Rosalind. Should have thought of it eons ago. Have him ping me back plz? Thx! Now he could concentrate on Kent and Lear.

  Andy shut down with difficulty that night. There was suddenly a lot going on with the Shakespeare project. Half a dozen sets of costume were in production, he had several more characters scheduled to shoot, the Kent and Lear pictures were absolutely killer. Victor had been asleep for an hour when Andy thought goddammit just write an email and get this out of my head. He copied, watermarked, labeled, and compressed one of the photos of Dmitri and Patrick first. It was his favorite for the Kent line, showing Patrick on the throne but turned to profile, Dmitri standing alongside, their foreheads tipped together, right hands clasped and held to Dmitri’s chest. His eyes were downcast; Patrick’s gaze was on Dmitri’s face. Andy knew they were going to love it.

  Hi Reggie I would apologize for wee-hours communication except thank God for time zones I don’t have to. Shakespeare thing is on fire.

  Also I’ve been cast for a thing shooting in England and Spain same time Victor is out there for his deal. So we will both be there next July, in an official capacity meaning we’ll be doing publicity, and I’m going to have a fuck-ton of artwork. Attaching a sample of Kent/Lear from today. Haven’t heard from Red and Mary regarding their upcoming stage thing, assuming no news is good news and that is still a thing.

  Hope all is well in the porn and painting biz. Cheers – Andy He would have tried to get to sleep, except a reply came back before he shut down his tablet.

  Good morning Andy. It’s a bit early for me but no more than I deserve since I neglected to go out carousing. Thank you for the smashing picture (even without effects). Is that the bugger’s natural hair?? As one who commenced shaving his off at the first sign of gray, I salute him. In more ways than one.

  It so happens the company in question has opened rehearsals. A broadsword fan-club assembles every time they run the fight. Ms.

  Vaughn & Co. are of course away for their tour, but rumor has it Mr.

  Phelps gave the company’s Macbeth considerable grief, of the ‘why are you so much better than me you twat’ variety.

  Madame Warner is a stunner. They engaged Mr. Anand for the tiniest re-write of her canon scene, and to write a brief reunion at the end. The company has already pre-sold six weeks out and doesn’t know what to do with itself. They’ve binned Hecate and their Lady Macbeth is said to be delivering a perfect performance. I shouldn’t be surprised if the RSC sends a scout.

  The porn business is, shall we say, on the rise. The traffic on your photo essay is breaking records. People are begging for prints. I am working on your picture and expect to deliver ahead of deadline. Hope all is well with you and Mr. Garcia, it’s lovely looking at you both every day. Yrs – R. Galant

  He is such a flirt, Andy thought, amused.

  Hi Reggie I wish to fuck we could get there to see Red and Mary on the boards. Have already suggested they get the company to film it.

  Will nag some more and will underwrite the goddamned thing if necessary. Did you put an ad on that photo essay? If not, you should.

  Make some money and you can take us out for drinks when we’re in London. Re: prints I’ll consult V and advise. Had better sign off now though, if he wakes up and catches me online I’m in the shit. If you wanted to hand-deliver that painting we’d both love to meet you in person. Cheers – Andy

  Smiling at the thought of Reggie in Los Angeles, Andy finally shut down and went to sleep.

  Two weeks later - weeks full of dance rehearsals, photography, and speed-writing ‘Countdown 4’ - Victor woke up when it was still dark, which was unusual. Molly wasn’t curled up by his feet; Andy wasn’t by his side. He blinked, frowned, noticed a faint light through the half-closed bathroom door.

  And then, now that he was listening for it, heard a soft low voice. “Yeah, I know. Me too, Mom. Most of the time I’m living life and things are fine. But sometimes it hits me. Of course it’s terrible for you. You lived with him for fifty-four years. I only lived with him for eighteen. Who said you should be over it? Well, fuck them. It’s barely been three months. Tell them, my son Andy, the movie star, says go fuck yourself.” A soft laugh. “Yeah I know.

  But it sounds better than my son Andy who’s married to a movie star. Oh, he’s great. He’s perfect. How did you like those pictures? I don’t know if he’s going to let me cut my hair for a while. Yeah, I’m getting all desperado up in here. I’ll send you the link as soon as this new dance is done. He’s killing it. We never had so much time to work on one before. He’s doing stuff he thought he couldn’t do. Well yeah, of course I knew he could do it. He’s a talented son of a bitch. So is that one guy still trying to get in your pants?”

  Another, less-soft but muffled laugh. “Oh shit Mom stop, I’ll wake him up.

  Yes it’s the ass-crack of dawn on this side of the continent. No, it’s fine.

  We’re on vacation, I can nap all day. Call me anytime. No, I mean it, any damn time. I love you too.”

  Victor was sitting on the side of the bed in his robe, cherishing those casual words, waiting for Andy to finish talking. As soon as he did, Victor went through the bathroom and into the sunroom. It wasn’t full dark. The sun would be up in an hour. The light from the phone was less noticeable out here. Molly looked up and thumped her tail. Andy gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  “Not a problem.” Victor leaned over for a kiss. “Everything okay with your mom?”

  “Eh. She’s how you’d expect. Okay most of the time, fucked up some of the time.” Andy rested his head on the back of the chair. “When’s the last time you saw John?” Victor’s father, who still went in to work every day at his car dealership near San Diego.

  “It’s been a while. I was thinking I should go.”

  “Isn’t his birthday in October?”

  “Yeah. He’s going to be eighty-two, can you believe that?” Victor was standing behind Andy now, hands on his shoulders. He dug his thumbs into those tight trapezius muscles and felt Andy start to relax.

  “I didn’t realize he was older than Pop.”

  “His other son is your age.” Not ‘my brother,’ because by the time Victor came to the United States both of John Larson’s other children were already grown and out of the house. They knew each other, they were all friendly in a careful sort of way, but they weren’t family.

  “Do not tell me John is a great-grandfather already.” Andy had recently realized – thanks to having Loretta in the house all this time – that he himself could, technically, be a grandfather.

  Victor laughed soft
ly. “Not yet. You want to go down there with me?

  Couple of days at the beach, go into Escondido, take the old man out for a birthday dinner?”

  “Sure. That would be great.” They were quiet for a minute. “Trying to decide if I should make some coffee, or go back to bed.”

  “If you can’t decide, there must be something on your mind. You won’t sleep anyway. How about I make some coffee, and you get ready to tell me what’s on your mind. Then maybe we’ll go back to bed.” He squeezed Andy’s shoulders and went into the bathroom to set up the coffeemaker.

  “Remember what a scene Patrick made about these bathrooms?”

  Andy huffed out a laugh. “He didn’t stop bitching for weeks. He still wants his own sunroom.” He stayed where he was, curled up in his chair, while Victor came to the sunroom door, collected Molly, and took her down the outdoor stairs to the backyard. By the time they returned, the coffee was ready. Andy accepted a mug and another kiss. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m really okay.”

  “I know you’re okay. Let me be nice once in a while.”

  “You’re almost always nice.”

  “I thought I was perfect.”

  Andy laughed into his coffee. “I’ve been telling you that for years.” He uncurled himself, setting his feet on the ottoman. Pointing, flexing, curling his toes. They cracked. “Yeah, fuck you, feet. I was thinking about something

  Pop told me on the way to Key West.” Victor didn’t press him. “We were talking about their trip out here, for the wedding. When they met John, and everybody else. Mom started by saying how glad she was that we got married then, when they could come. And then of course she said she was glad we got married at all, after living in sin all that time. Pop was cracking up. Then he starts talking about, I guess this was before the ceremony because after that it was party all night, he wasn’t super clear about the timeline. Anyway he said, okay, from here on out this is Pop talking.” Victor made a sound of comprehension. “Me and John were talking about our boys. He said how proud he was of Victor, my son the movie star. He said he had a picture in his office at the dealership that Victor signed to him. Says ‘para mi padre.’ Every time he saw it he was like, I made that. How the fuck did that happen. And I said, shit, me too. I look at Andy and some of the shit he’s done and I think, how did me and Eva do that. I drive a bulldozer and she’s a waitress and we made that? Hard to believe.” Andy sniffed, swallowed, took a breath. “And then Pop said, he said this to John, when they said they bought a house and then we saw the pictures and of course it’s this fucking castle, I thought, well it figures.”