From The Dead (8 page)

From his seat at the dining-room table, Jesse heard
Jada stir in the bedroom when she awoke. Without getting up, he
peered around the corner and caught sight of her through a portion
of the bedroom doorway. She held her hand against her head as
though to combat a headache.

He watched her as she discovered the other side of
the bed empty. She fingered the imprint of Jesse’s body, still
carved into the sheet, a ghostly reminder of his presence. When she
rose, Jesse resumed his breakfast.

On her way out of the bedroom, Jada bit her lip. Her
face looked a tad too flushed. To Jesse, she appeared bothered.

Though Jesse didn’t ask, Jada gave him a status
report anyway. “I didn’t fall asleep till dawn. You shifted around
last night,” she said.

Jesse shrugged but said nothing.

With the aroma of brewed coffee in the air, Jesse
watched as Jada padded into the kitchen toward the bistro-style
pot. Jesse continued to munch on his organic oat cereal while he
perused one of the scripts Jada had left on the table.

He had hoped the prior day’s birthday party would
help shake the relentless cloud of depression that continued to
weigh on his shoulders, but it hadn’t. And he didn’t feel like
talking this morning. Too embarrassed from having let her down in
bed the prior night, he couldn’t look her in the eyes. Such a
problem had never occurred between them before.

Jada poured herself a cup of dark roast and topped it
with a splash of soy milk. As she stirred, she eyed Jesse and took
a seat across the table. “Script any good?”

Jesse swallowed another bite. “Did Barry sign on with
it?”

“No.”

“It’s awful.”

She forced a smile. “That’s why it ended up on the
table and not in my portfolio.”

“Straight to the recycle bin, huh?”

“That’s quite a comment from someone who won’t go out
of his way to recycle. You’re full of surprises.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

“Nothing wrong with trying something new.” She sipped
her coffee and shot him a grin.

He could tell Jada wanted answers, probably about his
lack of performance. Humiliated enough, he wasn’t about to take her
bait.

Jesse set the script aside and took another bite.

Her jaw clenched, Jada inhaled the steam from her
coffee. After Jesse headed for a refill, he returned to the table
and studied his finger as he circled the rim of his cup.

“Preoccupied last night?” Jada asked.

“I wasn’t in the mood, that’s all.”

“You initiated the whole thing to begin with. Was it
because I wanted to be on top?”

“I’m sure that didn’t help.”

“I’ll always end up on top one way or another—in
everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” Despite her pause, Jesse could tell she
was ready to prod further. Jada continued, “Maybe we should try
something different, spice it up for once.”

“You mean with sex?”

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Like what?” Disinterested, he didn’t know how else
to respond. When it came to intimacy, Jesse was more conservative
than she was, but he seldom encountered an issue when he indulged
her.

“I don’t know,” Jada said. “Maybe a threesome.”

Alarmed, Jesse dropped his spoon. He glared at Jada.
Determined to maintain his self-control after this unwarranted
insult, he tried to hide his shock behind a neutral tone of
voice.

“Are you kidding?” he said, his words clipped.

“Just one time, for a little variety. Kind of
like—oh, I don’t know—to treat ourselves.”

“
A treat?
I don’t see how that’s a treat.”
Composed, Jesse channeled his anger to the cereal bowl as he slid
it aside.

Thick as honey, tension hung in the air. Now both
their jaws were clenched.

Jesse broke the silence. “Are you saying you’re
dissatisfied with me?”

“Of course not. Don’t take it personally.”

“How do I
not
take your idea personally?”
Jesse felt his face turn shades of maroon. Was that a stifled grin
on her face? She seemed to find satisfaction in his anger. Jesse
stood before he would lose his temper. He shook his head in
disbelief. Even for Jada, her suggestion crossed the line. His
voice a notch louder, he added, “This is ridiculous. What are you
thinking?!”

She kept silent, just watched.

He raged on. “And you’re thinking the third person
would be
who
?”

“Well, it’s my idea,” she said with a shrug of her
shoulders, “so it’s only fair to have another guy, right?”

Incredulous, his cheeks grew hot. “Unbelievable! What
the hell is supposed to run through my mind while another guy fucks
my girlfriend?”

“So you’re into monogamy now?”

“Are you
high
right now? You don’t make any
sense!”

“So you’re saying there’s no one else?” she said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Of course not!” Jesse wasn’t perfect, but he had
remained faithful to Jada throughout their relationship.

Her voice was hushed yet venomous. Jada leaned
forward, pressed her palms against the tabletop. “Then who the fuck
is Caitlyn?”

“Who? Why are you asking me this?”

“Your dream. You had a bad dream last night and said
her name.”

“Wait, you’re telling me this is all about a
dream
?! You’re holding me accountable for my
dreams
?!”

“They come from all that subconscious crap, right?
You must know a Caitlyn or be thinking about a Caitlyn!”

“How many times have you flirted with any producer
you think could give your career a boost? You can never swallow
what you dish out!” Jesse could feel his ears turn scarlet. He took
a deep breath, then held up his hands and exhaled. “I’m not doing
this right now. I don’t need this shit so early in the day.”

Jesse stormed out of the room. Jada got up for a
refill.

CHAPTER 13

He felt miniscule compared to the expanse of the
ocean.

Small.

Insignificant.

Atypical of southern California, the overcast sky
featured ashen overtones today. From a window, one would think it a
winter afternoon. The beach was desolate and, at the moment,
belonged to Jesse alone.

Jesse loved Malibu. The oceanfront community didn’t
feel as commercialized as Santa Monica down the road. He loved to
cruise northward along the two-lane Pacific Coast Highway as it
wound through the area. The road ran parallel to a series of high
hills, rolling plumes of greenery where white mansions sat nestled.
While Malibu’s cost of living was much higher than that of Sherman
Oaks, walking the shoreline was free and Jesse escaped here to
contemplate, to dream.

Jesse pondered his previous argument with Jada. Her
words had dealt him a severe blow. In spite of her blunt accusation
and lack of tact—both characteristic of Jada—to hear that she
considered their intimacy less than satisfactory had sunken
straight to the bottom of his soul. The last thing a man wanted to
hear from his partner was that she was bored and he was the
cause.

He had clung to her for so long that he’d forgotten
why. It wasn’t habit per se, nor could he attribute it to genuine
love. But in recent days, as the prospects of life caved in around
him, he needed her—she was the one constant factor in his life.
Perhaps that made no difference to Jada, but he appreciated the
security. Did that make him feel like a failure? Yes. Did it
tarnish his sense of masculinity? Absolutely. Although unspoken, in
this honest moment he had to admit it was true.

The breaking waves welcomed him. Jesse removed his
shoes and socks. Camera in hand, he wandered barefoot across the
fine, ivory sand and walked to where the water’s edge ebbed and
flowed. When it retreated back to sea, the savory water abandoned
its bubbling, salty foam to reveal smooth, damp sand that begged
for a fresh layer of footprints. Jesse halted. He closed his eyes
to savor the chilled Atlantic water as it massaged the tops of his
feet and hurled sand granules between his toes. He listened to the
hypnotic undulation of the breakers and the squawks of seagulls
that cried ownership of the scene.

Serene. That’s the word he would use to describe this
ambience. This is why he had come.

When he opened his eyes, he absorbed the sight once
more, then took a photograph of serenity. While the sky above
reflected how he felt inside, the steady motion before him
communicated what he
sought
to feel inside. The ocean seemed
to hold a spiritual quality: untamed yet predictable. Larger than
life. Jesse’s father, in preacher fashion, said God could be seen
in nature. So where was God in times like this? Where was God as
Jesse’s future unraveled and he tried to hang on by his
fingernails?

Jesse had to think of something. He couldn’t lean on
Jada for validation. It made him feel like a loser.

He held up the camera again, waited for a large
breaker to mount in the distance, and clicked.

“Are you a professional?”

Apathetic, Jesse glanced at the figure that
approached him. Grasping a camera made him appear an expert, while
busting his ass for eleven years in front of the camera said
nothing?

“Just taking a few shots,” Jesse replied.

Jesse estimated the young guy to be in his mid
twenties. His sandy-brown hair tousled by the light breeze, the guy
looked like someone who had broken many girls’ hearts in between
tennis matches. He finished a cigarette, then made his way to
Jesse’s paradise to share in the vast view. Dressed in high-end,
brand-name gear and a two-hundred-dollar watch, Jesse figured the
guy lived in Malibu. He didn’t see a parked car nearby, so the
visitor must have strolled from a few minutes down shore.

“You live around here?” the guy asked, a hint of an
accent in his voice—British or Australian. The females must croon
over him, Jesse figured.

“Sherman Oaks.”

The guy nodded. “I live around the corner. Tell you
what, I’m addicted to sushi.” With his thumb, the guy gestured
south. “Especially the stuff they have at the hole-in-the-wall down
the road. Ever been there?”

“No.”

“It’s a little dive on stilts—a bar-and-grill type
with a sushi counter. Gotta make my appearance there every couple
of days to feed my passion. If I hadn’t just come from there, I’d
insist on leading you over to it,” the guy joked.

Jesse wanted his solitude back.

The intruder extended his hand. “I’m Adam.”

“Jesse.”

“So if you’re not a photographer, what are you?”

Your first guess is correct, buddy.
“An
actor.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose. “Really?” He stepped back and
gave Jesse a once-over glance. “Makes sense though; you’ve got the
build for it. Have you been in anything recent?” His tone wasn’t
judgmental like many with whom Jesse crossed paths in L.A. This guy
didn’t come across as threatened by a competitor; rather, he seemed
curious, easy to talk to. By nature, however, Jesse remained
guarded.

Jesse wasn’t in the mood to fend off a stranger, so
he decided to let the guy feel welcome for a few minutes. Jesse
offered a polite smile. “An
unemployed
actor,” he clarified.
“Thanks for the compliment. Meanwhile, I work a part-time job but
have today off. What do you do for a living?”

Jesse watched as Adam fought to hide a smug grin and
shrugged. “I guess I take it day by day, enjoy life. Smell the
sushi.”

“Don’t you work?”

“I’d be awful at it. I’m not really a nine-to-five
kind of person. I dabble in production with some friends, tried to
put together a couple of reality-TV shows. They never took off,
though.”

“Doesn’t that make it hard to pay the bills?”

Adam withdrew into an air of genuine humility, as if
he seldom shared the next piece of information with strangers.
“Well, not if you’re Mick Lewis’s son.”

Unbelievable. Known for his successful summer
blockbusters, Mick Lewis directed action films with major budgets.
In the late 1980s, Mick married Regan Cooper, an Australian actress
who starred in his first film. They divorced ten years later.

“Mick Lewis?” Jesse chuckled, then pivoted in Adam’s
direction. More hospitable now, Jesse was eager to hear details
about the good life. “Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t worry about a job
either. Lucky you. Is Regan Cooper your mom?”

Adam answered with a nod, which also explained his
accent. Once again, he scanned Jesse. “No films in the pipeline,
you said?”

Jesse shook his head.

Adam studied a seagull that stomped nearby. Before he
caught himself, he rubbed his finger along his own bicep, which
seemed an absentminded habit. Jesse thought he saw Adam take
another quick glance from the corner of his eye. It was obvious
Adam weighed his words.

“Listen,” Adam said, “my dad’s got films lined up.
He’s given a career start to some of my buddies. I could probably
talk him into arranging a bit part for you—just a few lines,
shouting at an enemy invader or something.”

Jesse didn’t expect this, and he never would have
asked a stranger for such a thing. He’d heard Mick was a well-liked
director; maybe his kid followed suit.

Speechless, Jesse searched for a response.
“That’s—wow. It’s hard to believe you’d do that for someone you
just met.”

Adam pursed his lips. “Yeah … sure, but I thought,
you know, maybe something a little more … if you’re up to it.”

“Like what?”

“Something more involved, if you know what I
mean.”

That’s the way it often worked, through mutual back
scratches. Not a problem.

“I doubt there’s much I could do; but sure, whatever
it takes. My roommate works for a director.”

Adam slid his hands into his pockets. He pursed his
lips as if Jesse had misunderstood the meaning. “It’s … well, it’s
not exactly a professional request. More like a personal one …”