From The Dead (9 page)

“A personal one,” Jesse repeated. What was the reason
behind Adam’s loss for words? Adam seemed to search for something
in Jesse’s face.

“A favor,” Adam said, slower.

“Of course. Name it.”

“No, I mean a
favor
.”

Jesse paused. He tried to grasp what Adam meant by
his inflection.

Then it hit him.

Though no one was around, Jesse couldn’t help but
speak in a hushed tone. “Are you talking about—you mean, like a
sexual favor?”

Adam stared at him. The absence of a reply spoke
volumes.

Jesse’s back grew rigid. Now the stranger’s
spontaneous conversation made sense; Jesse’s mind had been so
focused on his own life, he hadn’t recognized Adam’s words as a
means to try gauge his sexual orientation. He wanted to lash out at
Adam but contained it instead. Jesse attempted to maintain a
neutral demeanor. After all, Adam knew people in the industry and
could, with a phone call, ruin Jesse’s future chances of
success.

Jesse couldn’t face him. So he stared into the
distance. “I couldn’t do that.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened around
here.”

Jesse had heard of such scenarios but had never
involved himself in one, nor had anyone he knew. Some people would
jump at the opportunity. Granted, Jesse was desperate, but at least
he had an agent who worked on his behalf.

“Remember Michael Casey?” Adam continued.

Michael Casey was a young Hollywood heartthrob around
Jesse’s age. News media credited Mick Lewis with the actor’s
discovery after he cast him in a small role.

“What about him?”

“How do you think he got discovered?” Adam
hinted.

Skeptical, Jesse snorted. “No.” In a tug-of-war
between his own honesty and the temptation to open a career door,
Jesse hesitated, shook his head slowly. “No, that’s not an option
for me.”

“Look, you don’t need to do anything except stand
there. Besides, you’d be safe; it’s only oral, and I’m the one who
would go down. Nobody will find out. Trust me, my dad would kill me
if he knew.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and
scribbled. “Here’s my cell number. Think about it. Five minutes,
and your career takes off. Small price to pay for your big
break.”

He handed the paper to Jesse and then continued his
stroll along the beach. From the corner of his eye, Jesse followed
Adam Lewis until his figure disappeared into obscurity. Adam never
once looked back—this must be ordinary to him, Jesse concluded.

Jesse’s belly churned. He shoved the paper into his
pocket for the next trashcan he found.

CHAPTER 14

The following afternoon, Jesse finished a customer’s
transaction at LensPerfection and bid her good-bye. With the
lunch-hour rush long gone, the store grew dormant. He approached
another customer to offer assistance, but the customer
declined.

Jesse’s cell phone vibrated.

As he rounded back to the checkout counter, he
answered his phone in the nick of time before voice mail
interfered.

“This is Maddy. Do you have a minute to talk?” She
sounded concerned.

“I’m at work, but it’s a ghost town in here.” Jesse
didn’t concern himself with his reply. He wanted to hear what Maddy
had to say.

Maddy paused. “I’ve always been direct with you,
haven’t I?”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

“There’s no easy way to say this, so here’s the deal:
We’ve opted to release you as a client.”

In an instant, Jesse’s mouth filled with marbles and
his tongue rested heavy. His life continued to worsen. Desperate,
he lacked a backup plan.

Maddy filled the awkward silence. “The agency needs
to trim its client roster so we can focus our attention in a more
strategic manner. You’re not alone; we’ve released 20 percent of
our clients.”

Broken, Jesse tried to think on his feet. “What can I
do to avoid this?”

“I don’t have a choice; I had to examine my roster
and make objective cuts. I wish I could keep you, but I’ve have a
hard time placing you for projects. As you know, your last audition
was the first in two years, and I—“

“Couldn’t we give it another month?”

Maddy listened. Throughout their professional
partnership, she had listened and understood. But today that era
had come to a halt.

“I’d keep you on board if I could.” She paused.
“Others may not recognize your talent, Jesse, but I believe in you.
We’ve partnered together for a long time, and you’ve been a
pleasure to work with. You’re not a prima donna. You’re patient,
kindhearted. I wish I could partner with more clients like you. But
in the end, that’s just not enough.” Jesse could almost hear her
tongue in cheek as she said, “When you win your Academy Award, I’ll
cheer for you from the seats.”

Even tender remarks could puncture a wounded
spirit.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Good-bye, Jesse.”

* * *

He didn’t head straight home that evening. Though
hungry, he had no desire to eat. He cruised westbound along Ventura
Boulevard until he tired and headed back. Well past sunset, he
passed the series of manicured palm trees that poked through
shadows.

He had fought his tears for the remainder of his
shift. But once he climbed in his car, they poured forth. And under
the guise of night, those tears were his alone, revealed only by
the illumination of streetlights that raced past him. The tears
were overdue, stifled for many months. He didn’t want his emotions
to flow, but deep down, Jesse was tenderhearted.

Still, he had no other choice but to press
forward—even if he had no idea how to do so.

Jada would never see the tears. Nor would anyone
else.

It had taken Jesse years to secure an agent in Maddy.
Now that she was out of the picture, the horizon appeared bleak.
His chances of locating a role just grew slimmer—if that were
possible.

And then, while he turned left onto Van Nuys and
headed home, it hit him: He might have another option.

When he left for work earlier that morning, he
realized he’d miscalculated his laundry schedule and had worn
yesterday’s jeans a second day to bridge the time gap. But maybe
that wasn’t such a bad thing …

He dried his eyes with his sleeve and cleared his
voice to hide any evidence of his emotional valley. With one hand
on the wheel, Jesse dug through his pocket in search of his trump
card. Had he gotten rid of it? Coins, mints, cell phone …

There it was.

He removed the crumpled piece of paper and smoothed
it against the dashboard. As he drove, he angled the paper and
tried to decipher the digits beneath the streetlights. He hated to
do this, but after eleven years in L.A., he’d grown sick of
failure.

Five minutes. Was it such a horrible trade?

Five minutes for a career breakthrough. He possessed
the talent to carry him in the long run; he simply needed an open
door. Wasn’t that worth five minutes?

The call wasn’t easy. Jesse stalled for time: He
tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, calculated how many
minutes until he arrived home, counted car dealerships along the
way. At last, he tightened his jaw and grabbed his cell phone.

He dialed the number. It rang numerous times, and
Jesse grew relieved when an answer didn’t appear forthcoming. Ready
to flip his phone shut, he heard a voice on the other end.

“This is Adam.”

Jesse winced. Anger bubbled in the pit of his
stomach—not anger at Adam Lewis, but anger at himself because he
had stooped so low. Jesse bit his lip and moved forward.

“It’s Jesse.” No response. “From yesterday in
Malibu—the beach.” He gritted his teeth. “The offer.”

“Oh yeah, I remember. I take it you’ve thought about
it?” Adam shouted over music that blared in the background. A group
of people with raised voices walked past him in laugher. The call
was impersonal. “Can you hold on a sec? I’ll find a quiet
spot.”

As the music grew muted on Adam’s end, Jesse pulled
in front of his own apartment building and turned off the engine.
He remained in the car and listened.

“You still there?” Adam said.

“The answer’s yes.”

“You mean we have a deal?”

“I’ll do it. But I want to clarify: Your dad has a
role available, right? This isn’t a situation where we go through
with this, and then I get put on a waiting list?”

“He has a role he needs to fill. Don’t worry, I don’t
offer to do this often.”

“Why me?”

“Tall, blond—“

Jesse didn’t want to hear this after all. “Never
mind. I understand.”

“So we’re set?”

“Like I said, I’ll do it. Not a public place
though.”

“It won’t be.”

And they made arrangements. They would meet at Adam’s
house. They figured a time when Jesse wasn’t scheduled to work;
when the Lewis family’s housekeeper wouldn’t be in the house; when
Mick Lewis would be out of town, with no chance of unplanned
interruptions.

In a matter of days, Jesse’s career could surge.

His mind was relieved.

His stomach was queasy.

CHAPTER 15

On Saturday afternoon, Jesse parked his car in the
garage at Hollywood & Highland Center, bought a latte at a Java
Cup, and roamed down Hollywood Boulevard. Jesse’s sister, Eden, had
asked him for a memorabilia trinket, so he’d headed out to the
largest tourist area he knew. Jada had said she wanted to shop for
clothes that day—alone.

He didn’t miss the days when he and Jada lived in an
apartment down the street. He didn’t miss the automobile congestion
or foot traffic or the smog that thickened nearby.

As he headed down the sidewalk, he observed the usual
platter of American hors d’oeuvres: Starving-artist locals. An
individual dressed in a fusion of Goth and drag. Pale-skinned
visitors in fluorescent T-shirts at street corners who huddled
around caricature maps of narrow streets and ballooned buildings.
Jesse passed themed museums crammed into retail-shop-sized
allocations; he peered into dives that sold key chains, miniature
Oscar statuettes, and rolls of camera film. And most of the
employees had a dream.

First, Jesse ducked into a shop to purchase a “Best
Sister” Oscar statuette for Eden. Then he made his way further,
along the Walk of Fame, where he tread upon terrazzo tiles of pink
stars against a charcoal background, stamped with bronze seals to
represent the celebrity’s media sector. Jesse walked past Elton
John’s star, defaced by a worn decal applied by a passerby.

He arrived at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, where he
scanned the series of handprints and footprints embedded in
concrete slabs at the Theatre’s forefront. The uneven imprints
rippled under the soles of his feet as he walked on them. While
some were recent, others had existed for decades. Jada dreamed of a
star on the Walk of Fame; but in Jesse’s view, the concrete prints
represented living individuals who had applied their hands and feet
to the ground as they had to their careers. For Jesse, these prints
provided evidence that, yes, dreams indeed come to fruition.

Jesse noticed the horse mascot, which walked upright
on its hind legs in the Theatre’s far corner, near the entrance.
Unless he was mistaken, the costumed character was Clickety
Clack.

It couldn’t be him,
Jesse mused.

As he sneaked up behind the horse, which clipped
along and waved to kids in strollers, Jesse heard the sound of
tin-can hoofs reminiscent of the character’s name.

“Gavin, is that you?”

Clickety Clack spun on its hind hoofs and spread its
front legs apart like arms, a toothy smile stitched upon its furry
face. As the character tilted its head back, Jesse caught a glimpse
up the horse’s nostrils, the location of two black-screened
peepholes.

Gavin grunted. “Rescue me, man. This sucks. I’m
burning up inside this costume.”

“I thought you worked at the shopping place.”

With his front hoof, Gavin gestured toward the
massive theater beside him. “The movie version opens next week.
They’ve got me out here promoting it. I’ve already gotten kicked in
the gonads by a teenager. Fun and games for me.” With a tone of
sarcasm, he added, “If I do a good job, they’ll promote me to the
popcorn costume.”

“I don’t know about that promotion. You make a
convincing horse.”

“Yeah, well, it smells like ass in here.”

“Clever, but your pun is inaccurate.”

“I’ll work on it. Anyway, this beats working in a wax
museum down the street. I had a job in one of those in a former
life. Like being surrounded by dead people. Felt like a morgue in
there, cold as it was. Avoid it if you can.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“How’d your audition go?”

“It didn’t pan out,” Jesse replied. “My agent just
dropped me.”

Gavin clucked his tongue and leaned on his other hind
hoof, which caused another clack to issue forth from the speaker
inside the horse’s derriere. “To be honest, I expect mine to give
me a phone call of abandonment before the end of the year. Any
possible leads to cover you in the meantime?”

Hesitant, Jesse feigned interest in a man who stood
at a corner and handed out game-show tickets. “Yeah, I’ve lined one
up—almost. One technicality to work out, but it sounds
promising.”

“In that case, congratulations! You’ve gotta
celebrate the little things.”

If only.
Jesse hoped word would never get
around regarding the specifics. He wanted to bolt before Gavin
probed for more details—or asked Jesse to hook him up with a
similar so-called opportunity. “Listen, I don’t mean to brush you
off, but I’d better run. Look out for those abusive teenagers you
mentioned; it would be a shame to see you submit a workers’ comp
claim.”