Never Enough

by Alexandra Caluen

  “Well, our solution was that I wore high heels too. Like, really high heels. Oh my God it was torture.” He laughed out loud. “I got used to it. Oh damn it was fun being tall. At dress rehearsal everybody was like -” He made a confused Scooby Doo noise, and listened for another minute while Andy laughed into Molly’s fur. “Next week? You mean Thanksgiving?” Victor made a what-the-fuck face at Andy. “With your kids? Okay, your other kids.

  Hang on.” He muted the call, staring at Andy, who had instantly grasped what was going on. “T-day dinner. In Escondido, with the whole family. He wouldn’t ask us if he thought it would be weird for us.”

  Andy knew that was true. He also knew this was big for Victor. “I’m game. Can we bring Molly?”

  Victor un-muted the phone. “Hey John, I’m back. Could we bring our dog Molly? Yeah, you met her last time. Great. That’s really nice. Thank you. Are you sure? Because we could bring something. Oh okay, pink champagne.” He laughed. It sounded professional, if not quite forced. “Yeah, it goes great with turkey. Looking forward to it. We’ll see you then. Bye.” He

  disconnected, stared at the wall for a few seconds, then met Andy’s gaze.

  “Twenty-five years later.”

  “What did you do those first two years?” Andy’s voice was soft. Victor had come to California after getting out of the hospital. After the stabbing.

  When he left Mexico, his father had given him a place to live, in a finished apartment over the garage, formerly occupied by each of his half-siblings.

  John spent those first two Thanksgivings with his wife and their kids.

  “I knew it was a thing for Americans. I didn’t really feel like an American. Told myself I didn’t mind. It was just another day, and there was a parade to watch, and football.” Victor looked away again, rolled his shoulders, sighed. “Those guys really resented my existence at the beginning.

  His wife knew all along, but they didn’t. After I was eighteen I said look, I think it would be better all around if I wasn’t right here. He asked me what I wanted to do. I asked him to stake me for a year in L.A. I’d already gotten some little things, local things. He apologized.”

  “For what?”

  “For not telling them earlier, so they could get used to it. But you know I never blamed him.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “He might be thinking, with Ronnie going this year, time to work it out.

  The other kids, well, you know. We haven’t had a bad relationship, exactly, but we’ve never been close. Probably never will be. When he dies, though,”

  Victor stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “He wants to make sure you’re cool before that happens. It’s a good thought. A good thing to do. Come here, baby.” Andy got a hand around Victor’s arm and tugged. Victor lay down next to him and Molly, sharing that comforting hug. Molly licked his nose, then his face. They stayed there without speaking until there weren’t any more tears.

  Victor was fine by the time they left for the beach, and more than fine after an hour spent walking with Molly. He and Andy flopped down on the hotel’s loungers. The breeze was cool, but they were comfortable in their wet-to-the-knees jeans and windbreakers. Andy pulled out his phone as Victor reclined and closed his eyes. “I’m going to check in with Dana. See what kind of buzz there is.”

  “Don’t even want to know. Wake me when it’s time to go inside.”

  “Okay, dinnertime then.” Victor snickered. Andy patted his thigh and thought this was a good idea. They did this a few times a year, and every time they did, it was great. They were at a hotel in Oxnard, one they’d been coming to for a long time. It wasn’t in an obviously-touristy spot, it was way out of the usual celebrity-hunting areas, and the hotel management pretended not to notice when people took their dogs out on the beach. It also had good security and a fondness for repeat customers. They might have hit an L.A.

  beach today, but after that phone call Andy had suggested Oxnard. And after that phone call, Victor had been easy to convince. Oh my God so many messages. Andy had no intention of listening to voice mail. He worked his way through the texts, saving Dana’s for last: Hey big brother that shit was EPIC and you are breaking the internet again Hey cutie. We aren’t looking. Brought Molly to Oxnard for a little overnight escape

  How sandy is she?

  We’re not even going to try to wash her, it’s kind of chilly out here for a middle-aged lady. She’s in the sun now. We’ll let her get good and dry and then brush it all out

  She’ll be back in the water tomorrow anyway Probably so

  Glad you’re taking a day. Wanted to ask if you had plans for T day, seems like everyone is going out of town

  Andy had gathered that, from chitchat at the dress rehearsal. The B side are going to NY to see Vicky’s family. We got an invitation to Escondido Well that must have been unexpected

  Very much so, but welcome. An understatement, for both parts. Victor had always been kind of stoic about that situation, but after getting to know Andy’s parents he’d let a few things slip. What are you two doing?

  We’ll be at Dmitri & Patrick’s with Kenji & Michelle. D asked me to check in with you

  I’ll tell him thanks for the invitation. Last year was great, you should have been there

  Eh you know. A year in San Diego for Rory’s parents, a year in Savannah for mine, a year for us

  LOL We’ll check in when we’re back in town. I might convince the boy toy to stay two nights

  Might as well. Have fun OXO

  OXO. Andy disconnected and glanced over at Victor, confirming that he was already asleep. Molly was too. Andy decided he might as well try for some of that himself.

  Chapter 16

  December 2019

  “Jesus, it’s as big as a house.”

  “Well, you’re the one who wanted a bloody thirty by forty.” Reggie helped heave the crated painting onto the luggage cart. Then he took a minute to recover, studying the people in tee shirts and shorts inside, then staring out the window of baggage claim at the clear blue sky in the distance. “Is it always like this? Is that some kind of special effect or is this, in fact, true?”

  “I’m sorry to break it to you but yes.” Andy was laughing under his breath. He’d checked the weather after getting Reggie’s confirmation. When he’d boarded at Heathrow, London was thirty-eight degrees and raining.

  “Which one of those generic black bags is yours?”

  “None.” Reggie turned back to the carousel. “That one.” His rolling bag was hard-sided and bright yellow. He had it off the conveyor a moment later.

  “Right. Is that everything?”

  “That’s the lot. It was lovely of you to collect me personally.”

  “Well, you said it was your first time here, and this airport is a trial at the best of times. Come on, I’m parked right across the street.”

  “Street,” Reggie muttered, looking at the multiple lanes. “God help me.”

  They arrived at Andy’s car unscathed, performed some serious contortions getting the crate into the cargo area, squeezed Reggie’s bag in underneath it, and eventually made their way out of the airport. “It’s appallingly vast.”

  “Yes it is. London is not exactly a small town either.”

  “Yes, but it’s my town. And my bit of it is like a village. God’s effing teeth, look at this traffic. Where is your masterpiece of a husband today?”

  “He’s up in the Valley at a meeting with our arranger. After that he has a meeting with our friend who directed last year’s movie. And after that, he has a meeting at the studio lot.”

  “That’s quite an agenda,” Reggie said after a moment. “Thought you said you buggers were on vacation.”

  Andy snickered. “Well, those appointments could have been arranged for different days, but then he would have had to go to the Valley on more than one day, and he didn’t want to.”

  “Can’t say I blame him, if the roads are all like this. Bleeding
Christ, what is that?”

  “That is the 405 freeway, also known as the tenth circle of Hell.”

  “Fuck me!”

  Andy laughed. His father had said that exact thing two years before. “For a long time I was the freeway fucking master. Then I started working on the TV show, and before long they assigned me a driver. Boy did I get spoiled.

  We both did.”

  “Well, but that was for your safety, wasn’t it?”

  “It was, and a damned good thing. Since we got back from the movie tour we’ve been driving ourselves again, mostly, and it’s not too bad. I never get on the freeway, though, not unless there’s absolutely no other way to get where I’m going in a reasonable amount of time.”

  “I don’t drive at all,” Reggie said. “Never had the need to, and a private car in London is more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Andy drove up through Baldwin Hills and eventually into Beverly Hills, where he made the turn onto Olympic.

  Reggie had been looking around with interest all the way, with sounds of disbelief as they passed the oil field. Seeing the Metro construction at La Cienega, he said, “Is that meant to be an underground?”

  “Yeah. It’s taking so long. They should have let Walt Disney’s people build monorails everywhere in the sixties. Los Angeles would be almost livable. Okay, that way is Museum Row, and we’re almost home.” Andy drove down the street in front of their house. “The triplex we bought last year, our place, and the latest place.”

  “I can see why you wanted to get your mitts on it.”

  “If the tenant situation looks stable after a couple of years, we might sell it to those people. Same deal with the triplex. This was all about controlling the outcome, not building a property empire.” He told Reggie about the extended, blended family in the triplex, and about their friends who might be moving into the new old house, as he pulled around into the alley. He parked and said, “Let me tell Adrian we have this cargo situation, he’ll give us a hand.” Getting the crate out of the car was marginally less difficult than getting it in. Adrian didn’t let Andy help carry it to the house. He and Reggie took it inside while Andy followed with Reggie’s bag. “Thanks buddy. Take

  a load off for a few minutes, have a drink.” Consuelo was looking interested.

  “This is a present for Victor, and this is our new friend Reggie Galant from England. Reggie, this is Consuelo Alvarez, who takes care of us.”

  “Lovely to meet you, señora. Oh, thank you, coffee’s perfect.” There were a few minutes of chitchat, then Adrian returned to his station outside.

  Reggie glanced at Andy. “Permanent situation?”

  “We’re hoping not. But after what happened last year, it’s kind of in the

  ‘utilities’ category. So let’s unpack this thing, I’m dying to see it.” That was quite a process, involving multiple tools, some gymnastics, and a lot of cursing from both men. Finally the crate was disassembled, the layers of bubble wrap were cut away, and there was only a layer of brown paper to get through. Reggie stood back with a ‘help yourself’ expression. Andy took out his pocket knife and carefully slit the paper, peeling it away from the frame.

  “Oh my fucking God. Reggie, goddamn. This is great. He is going to love it.

  Consuelo, look.”

  “Ay, Mr. Andy, how you get your leg so high?”

  Reggie laughed. “Wouldn’t I like to know!”

  Andy was gazing at the painting. “You got his face just right. That expression. What you did with the lighting. Fucking sensational.”

  “The framers didn’t know who you were. They said, were these models or did you make this one up? Can people even do that?”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them, well I can’t do that, but these blokes can. And they said, blimey, they’re both men? Thought that was one of them ballet dancers.”

  Andy laughed at the mostly put-on Cockney accent. Reggie was smiling. “I said, how long have you been framing my rubbish.”

  “This is not rubbish. This is in the top five best ways I’ve ever spent money. The only way it could be better is if it were twice as big.”

  Reggie was gratified. “So where are we hanging it?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Stand back, then. I can manage it myself now it’s out of the bloody box.” Andy followed Reggie and the painting upstairs. “Hell’s bells, so this is how movie stars live.”

  “Wait till you see the bathroom. And the closet. Our neighbor designed those, she’s basically a genius.”

  Reggie set the painting by the wall and gave himself a tour. “A turret in your closet? An effing turret. Christ save us.” He crossed the room, ignoring Andy and his giggles, and went into the master bathroom. There was a prolonged silence. When he returned, he leaned against the bathroom door frame, pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, and said, “You’d never get me out of there.”

  Andy cracked up. “That’s what our friend Patrick said. My King Lear.”

  “Your friend who designed it, she did the stairs, the coffee bar, all that?”

  “I told you she’s a genius. The sunroom was actually me. We had to have exit stairs,” Andy explained. “It’s code. You have to have a way to escape the building. But you don’t want an exit door right there in the bathroom, right? So after Sharon showed us the princess closet and the palace bathroom I had to think, how can we not fuck that up, and having a private space to sit together seemed right.”

  Reggie nodded agreement. “I’ve never thought myself an envious chap.

  Clearly I simply hadn’t seen anything I wanted before.” He sighed. “Right then. Which wall?”

  Victor knew Reggie was flying in that day. He’d apologized for having all those appointments lined up, but Andy told him not to worry about it, that he and Reggie would probably be looking over the Shakespeare shit for hours and Victor would have wanted to flee the scene anyway. Victor accepted this, because he had seen the gallery images selected and processed so far (which was nearly all of them). Still, Andy had an air of sneaky glee about him.

  Considering Reggie’s profession, Victor thought he could be excused for wondering what they were up to.

  The meeting with Valerie was efficient. All she needed to do with any of the songs he and Andy had on their list was create arrangements in the correct range for their voices. Whatever instrumentation she thought was appropriate, they could contract the musicians later. Victor’s lawyers were already working on clearing the music rights, for the performance and for a proposed album. Andy had given him carte blanche to clear anything else that came to mind; they probably wouldn’t add anything to the concert set, but there was certainly room on a disc for a few more. Once Valerie knew what they were after, Victor headed off to his next meeting.

  He’d blocked out more time for Tanith, because they hadn’t spent any

  time one-on-one for a year, and had a lot of catching up to do. “What you and Vicky did on the screenplay was ace,” she told him, once they moved on to business. “Really good. Solved all my problems.”

  “We were a little nervous about it,” he said. “We had to start actually writing, and that’s way different from tweaking a line or a bit of business here and there.”

  “No, it’s good. Remember what we were talking about back in August?

  The art wants what it wants. I am more interested in getting a working story on-screen than in who wrote what. Also, frankly, I want this to be commercial. It’s already got two big hurdles to jump.”

  Victor knew what she meant. “Forties setting and female-centric. We’ll need to get the word out to all those people who are pissed about Agent Carter.” Tanith laughed. “Hey, I know people. They’re like, the best part of the whole Captain America story was the World War II thing, that shit’s interesting.”

  “It is interesting. So all that new stuff with the post-war mob angle was really great, especially since it let you get some action scenes
in there. All my action was either dancing in the club, or people getting quietly killed. Now, even though it is apparently set in San Francisco, it’s more L.A. Confidential.

  It was getting too Agatha Christie.”

  “Eh,” he said. “That’s actually what Vicky said.” Tanith gave him a dirty look. “She did! Sorry. Anyway, good. I figured you could still film all the great nightclub stuff, the dances and the songs, and cut them in the way you did those Tanguera scenes last year.”

  “You haven’t done a historical piece before, have you? Aside from the play inside our thing last year.”

  “No I haven’t. Andy’s doing one next year. He’s stoked.” Tanith wasn’t sure she knew about this; she made a ‘tell me more’ face, so Victor told her about the project. “It’s that thing he was working on with Nick, back in August. He aced the audition, of course, so he’ll be in Europe with me next summer.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t hang up his spurs after all. He was like, never again, for quite a while there.”

  “Well.” Victor looked away for a second, then back at her. “Our TV

  show was not fun for him, after the novelty wore off. And your movie, you know.” He shrugged. “He learned a lot, and he always loves that. But

  learning he could do that was kind of a shock. Finding out he was capable of violence. And that he could bring it against me.”

  Tanith understood. “How is the whole aftermath thing for both of you these days?”

  “We’re both still seeing our counselor, but it’s for maintenance now. We do a joint session once a month, and then each of us makes an appointment whenever we have something we want to dig into. A lot of times we’ll talk something through with her, then go home and talk it over with each other right after. We’ve both had a few moments. Cranky, impatient, frustrated moments. Mean moments, sometimes. We’re both learning to hear it, catch it, and deal with it right away. Having this time off together was the best possible thing we could have done.”