Hollywood Ass. (18 page)

At first I wanted to retaliate, but after letting it sink in for a couple of seconds, I realized that in a way he was right, maybe this
was
a great opportunity for me. In my rather sketchy situation with
B
, a divorce, a mysterious lover and lord knows what else, it actually made sense to give it a shot.

I looked at Cesar who was watching my reaction desperately and I said: “Maybe you’re right.”

And after that we ordered another round of beers and with each sip the plan was starting to sound better. A major change in my life edged closer and I was getting more and more excited about it. Little did I know what kind of change it would become.

***

Jorge didn't sound very convinced about what I just had told him. No, his anger levels were not far from the time when the main oven broke down in the middle of preparing for a big show-off dinner at the Johnson mansion, “You told him he actually has talent? Why did you do that, Darryl?”

“Because I honestly believe so. I’ve even booked a meeting with Barry Waldruff to show him his video. That’s how good I think it is.” This wasn’t hundred percent true, at the time I was still waiting on a confirmation from Barry’s secretary.

“But how do you know he’s good? You don’t have any experience in the music industry. I’m really disappointed you didn’t come to me first.”

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” I said in a nervous and awful imitation of Darth Vader, “I know this might sound crazy to you, but I think it’s definitely worth a shot and if it doesn’t work out, then Luís at least got the opportunity. And if that happens, I will let him down as gently as I can and to be honest with you, I see no harm in him doing American Idol. He’s good enough to win it and not bad enough to make a fool out of himself.”

Jorge was quiet for a while, probably wondering what to think about his friend running wild with his son’s farfetched dreams, then he said, “You’re a good friend and I of course trust your judgment, but this is my son we’re talking about and I don’t want him to get hurt or waste his time on something that will never work. Do you really think he's that good?”

“I do, Jorge, I really do.”

“Well, let’s just pray you’re right. And if you make my son’s dream come true when I doubted him, I will be forever grateful to you. But please keep me in the loop.”

“Of course.”

We ended the phone call and I was happy I’d managed to convince him, although I still needed to convince myself. Things were moving too fast and I felt that, though they could end up absolutely fine, I didn’t have control and could equally well find myself in the other end of the line rather soon.

***

Before I met with Barry, I wanted to tell
B
about my plans. After all, she was the only reason I got an appointment with him in the first place. He simply hadn’t gotten over his crush for her yet. For him she was the woman who had eluded him, something which few women had done before thanks to nothing but his money and power. Because no matter how fat, disgusting and remarkably unattractive he was, there were always a few young girls in skimpy clothing close to him. But
B
had always thought he was a pig, so no matter how hard he tried, he would never snatch as much as a kiss from her.

I didn’t care if Barry was a pig or not, he was the only natural way I could get my new career rolling. I needed to work fast, because I didn’t know how things stood with
B
, we hadn’t talked properly since she yelled at me for stalking her and I had no clue how she felt about things. I knew I needed to tell her what was going on and she had via text message agreed to have a drink with me at the famous King Cole bar terrace.

I wanted to dress extra nicely for the occasion and had bought a new beige blazer and a black shirt, admittedly from Gap and with my own money (I didn’t feel like extending my expense card privilege anymore), but it was still an effort. I arrived early, sat down at the table I had reserved and ordered a glass of Pinot Noir. I was very nervous.

I had never gone to King Cole before, which I felt sad about as soon as I sat down and looked around. The ambiance was spectacular: classy, elegant, warm, and with lots of personality soaked up through the history of the place. I could easily have spent half-an-hour just studying the beautifully painted and massive mural hanging over the elongated and carved oak bar.

B
had of course been here before, or at least that was what it seemed like with her rushing in, looking flustered and annoyed and almost falling into her chair. As usual she gathered the attention from the other patrons, but probably not for the “right” reasons.

It felt strange seeing her. Not that it was long ago, but a whole lot had happened since we came to New York and I’d gone from being over-my-head in love with her, to contemplating leaving her side.
B
, on one hand, was married when she arrived in New York, and had had to suddenly readjust to thinking she was single again. Not that she was only a
victim
of that equation, she hadn’t exactly been a relationship role-model herself. And when it came to our relationship, our friendship, nothing seemed certain anymore. I had stalked her, she had shouted mean things at me, she was moving and had originally wanted me to move with her. What she wanted to do at any point in time, only she could know.

“Hi Darryl,” she said in a forced voice as she sat down. For a second I felt sorry for her, for no particular reason.

“You look dazzling,” I said, trying to sound both upbeat and relaxed, carefully masking my dangling strings of nerves.

“Thanks. Glad you like it. I had my doubts about this green, but I think it works,” she said, suddenly not looking so upset.

A waiter passed by and
B
asked for a glass of pink Moet. Obviously.

I suddenly felt frozen, with no idea of what I was going to say. I had a clear battle plan when I came, but when it was crunch time I started doubting myself. Thankfully, B began the proceedings.

“Before you say anything...I saw the papers.
A
has called me twenty times and you were stalking me the other night. I know what’s going on. You all seem to be thinking I’m sleeping around.”

No beating around the bush here. With
B
you never needed an ice-breaker, more like a helmet.

“Is it strange? You looked very much in love in those pictures. And I think it was a very unnecessary thing to do, you knew there was a huge risk those pictures were going to be circling the Internet today. You’re in the early stages of a divorce and ought to tread more carefully.” I tried to sound like I only meant her best and that I came in peace, but it was hard to mask the hurt in my voice. I just couldn’t shut my feelings off either, they were still there, I was just trying to run away from them.

“Right now, I honestly couldn’t give a shit what people think. I’m not saying it’s true, but so what if I’m seeing Matteo? I’m sure
A
is not being the best boy around the movie set. I hear stuff too, you know.”

“He told me he was considering getting back together before he saw the pictures.”

“He said that? What glorious bullshit. A bird whispered in my ear he’s already shagging a younger actress. So if he wants to make a hassle about our divorce, let me tell you that two can play that game!”
B
sipped her champagne with determination, she appeared stressed and unhappy and I couldn’t help but think back to Rome and simpler, more beautiful times.

Days ago.

“So what are you going to do?” Now that I’d completely lost my footing, all I had were more questions.

“Nothing changes. We’re going to get a divorce and I’m going to move here.”
B
’s tone was short and frosty. It was not one of our nicest times together. I decided to go straight for the elephant in the room.

“First you screamed at me and then you woke up in my bed? What was that about?”

“I realize that was weird and I’m sorry. I was lonely and drunk and felt bad for shouting at you. I guess you only had my best in mind.”

“I always have your best in mind.”

“Did you have my best in mind when you called up Barry Waldruff to book a meeting without telling me?”

B
’s voice hit me like the recoil from a gun. If she had known this all along she really was a talented actress
.
I guess I had some explaining to do.

I took a deep breath and prepared to meet her cold stare, “Well, I met with Jorge’s son Luís the other day and it turns out he’s a major RnB talent. I’m not kidding - he’s really good! So as a favor to Jorge I’ve booked a meeting with Barry to see if I can get him signed.” The cat was out of the bag, but
B
’s frosty glare was still there.

“Like his agent?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Something like that. It’s a long-shot, but I’m doing it as a favor to Jorge. We’ll see what happens.” My idea was starting to sound more and more farfetched for every second
B
gave me that look. What had Cesar pushed me into? Not that this was all his fault, I had gotten carried away too.

“Sorry Darryl, but this plan of yours sounds absolutely ridiculous to me. You have zero experience in music and suddenly think you might help a kid score a record deal?”

The wine had developed a sour taste along with the conversation, “I just said it would be stupid to miss out on this opportunity.”

“What happens if you manage to get him signed, then?” As she waved the waiter over for more champagne, I felt disappointment wash over me. Disappointment at myself for getting so excited about such a crazy idea, but also sadness for her going out of her way to belittle my chances of doing something new and different. Maybe this wasn’t really friendship after all, maybe it was just a job, I thought. Maybe I was stupid?

B
took a brisk sip from her champagne, she was anxious and edgy now, ready to snap. I wished I could have turned the clock 20 minutes backwards. Or 20 days backwards.

“I don’t know what happens. I guess I’ll help him out with his career a bit, I think I can do both.” I knew this sounded ridiculous, but I wasn’t in control of the situation, which meant I wasn’t in control of my mouth either.

“I honestly thought you were smarter than this,” she said in a sharp voice, “You can’t be my assistant and the agent for some kid, that doesn’t work and we both know it. I think this sounds like you want to leave me. You wouldn’t have thought of this crazy idea if you weren’t.”

B
was now feeling lonely and insecure, which often turned her into a nasty person. She was right in her reasoning though, if I was perfectly happy where I was, I probably wouldn’t have done this in the first place. But then I didn’t know if I was unhappy because of her unreturned feelings or if I was just tired of my job. Or both.

“
B
, I have no idea what's going to happen. Like I said, there's a high possibility that nothing comes out of it. I just wanted to tell you what’s going on, nothing more. It’s not a big deal.”

She suddenly had this vacant look in her eyes, like all the positive energy she had collected in Rome had been drained from her. “I can't deal with this right now, I can't even look at you.”

Then she took her chunky Gucci bag and rushed out of King Cole, leaving me alone with her empty glass and a mouthful of guilt.

***

It was going down
, well, I was actually going
up
in the elevator of Barry’s headquarters, anxious like a coke-head who’d just found a 100-dollar bill. I had brought my laptop, a USB-stick with Luís’ video, my best suit, my Hugo Boss leather shoulder bag, everything to look the part. You could say I was ready to rumble, in fact my stomach already did.

When I reached the correct floor and the stainless steel elevator doors opened, I found myself in front of a huge, marble slab of a reception desk where Barry Waldruff's secretary and assistant, Jacqueline, held court. Jacqueline had a fierce personality (over the phone) and short, boyish, brown hair, thick lips and beautiful mocha skin, sort of like Halle Berry, except further away from a smile. Working for Barry probably did that to you. She looked at me in a way that spelled out,
“Now who the hell is this lowlife?
”

A fair question. And that was why I had donned my new suit and really put care into my appearance, because I knew that with Barry you really needed to make an impression. I had never had a longer conversation than a couple of sentences with him, but I had picked up on his body language and heard some of his famous anecdotes from afar. It was enough to know that he was the kind of person even his own mother thinks is an asshole.

But he was a rich and powerful asshole and that’s why I was paying him a visit.

“Mr. Waldruff will be available in a few minutes, Mr. Glendale. Please have a seat.” Jacqueline said, more of an order than a suggestion. I sat down in one of the black leather chairs and felt my heart jolt. I hadn’t been this nervous since the first day with
B
. It was good they had the air condition on the freezer setting, because I was sweating profusely.

After a few minutes wait, the massive oak doors in front of me opened and out waddled Barry, his blazer big enough for me to camp in and his cheeks red and flabby like hanging slabs of meat. He looked like a man ready to explode.

“Darryl, right?” He reached out a thick arm and shook my hand so hard I was afraid he was going to yank it out of its socket.

I said yes, posed a weak smile and followed him into his office, which offered a fantastic view of the Empire State building and was big enough to have an almost full-size putting green in it (an 80s executive cliché if there ever was one). The walls were lined with gold and platinum albums and plenty of pictures of himself, shaking hands with famous people.

“Pretty wow, huh?” he said, congratulating himself.

“Yeah, it's spectacular,” I said, while I did my best not to throw up. It was not only nerves, Barry also made me physically sick to my stomach.