Famous (17 page)

Since I have several hours before the movie
premiere, I drive down to Century City.

Ravenous Games occupies a suite in this
office building across the street from 20
^th
Century Fox
Studios.

I ride the elevator to the fourth floor and
walk down the drab, impersonal hallway. It doesn’t even have the
name of his company on the door.

Bo’s office is incredibly messy. There are no
windows. The walls are covered with posters advertising videogames
with names like
Blood Bath XII—The Reckoning
.

Bo sits in front of a television playing a
videogame. I’m sure he doesn’t get paid to do this. He’s so focused
on the game, he doesn’t hear me walk in.

“You’re telling me you get paid to play
videogames?” I ask.

Bo pauses the game and looks over his
shoulder.

“What’s up, Lance?” Fuck, I hate that.

“Just thought I’d stop by. See where you
work.”

“You’re looking at it.”

“What are you working on right there?”

“Just testing a late phase of this
first-person shooter. Look, I hate to be this way, but I am
insanely busy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Could we talk tonight? I was thinking of
grilling a few steaks.”

I lean against the doorframe. On the paused
television screen, a samurai warrior is on his knees. Another
samurai is swinging a huge sword at his head, which will
undoubtedly roll when Bo resumes the game.

“I won’t be here tonight,” I say. “I’m
leaving.”

“When?”

“Right now. I came to tell you goodbye.”

Bo turns the videogame off and stands.

“Let’s go outside.”

Bo’s office building is one of four in a
small business park called the Quadrangle. In the courtyard between
the buildings, there’s a manmade pond with a fountain in the
middle. Swans sail through its green water.

We sit down on a bench near the water. It’s
two-thirty and very hot. Someone sits by themselves on an identical
bench across the pond, reading a book and eating lunch.

Bo asks me where I’m going, and I tell him
that I don’t know for sure. I’m considering taking what money I’ve
got left, buying a used car, and driving down into Mexico.

“What’s in Mexico?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Desert, ocean, tacos. I’ve
always wanted to go.” This is true. I have always been intrigued by
its wildness.

“You have to leave this afternoon? Why can’t
you stay with us a little longer. I love having you here.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Hannah doesn’t.”

“Fuck her. You’re my brother.”

I pat Bo on the shoulder, and then something
happens that I never even expected. I start to cry. Not weeping or
anything, just tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m going to miss you very much,” I say.

Bo squeezes the back of my neck.

“I’m sorry about what I said the other night,
Bo.”

He smiles. “Don’t be.”

“No, I should never have—”

“It’s fine. Look, I thought a lot about our
talk out on the soccer field. Especially after I never saw you
yesterday, and you didn’t come home last night.” Bo looks at me the
way only he looks at me. Sometimes, I think he’s the only person in
the world who loves me. “I don’t know what’s going on with you
right now, Lance. I don’t know why you came out here. Why you’re
leaving now. I love you. You know that. You know that?” I nod yes.
“Maybe I’m off base here, but I’m just going to say it. And I say
this in love. You seem to me like a man who’s lost his bearings.
You come out here, you buy flashy clothes.” He motions to my
beautiful leather pants. “You rent a Hummer, you do the nightclub
thing. I don’t understand where you’re at, Lance, but if I can help
you in any way—money, a place to stay, finding a job,
whatever—please let me. The other night, I sort of made it sound
like my boring suburban life is the only way. I know it’s not. I
know it’s probably not for you. And I’m sorry I pulled that shit on
you.”

I smile at my brother.

“I envy your life, Bo. No, I envy your
ability to love it. To let it settle you. ”

“You’re not at peace are you?”

“No. But I’m getting there. I honestly
am.”

And I start to tell him about the spider web,
but I stop myself. I don’t think I could bear him not getting
it.

Chapter 21

Rex saves the day * looking
fabulous * picks up Kara * quells her fear * on the Red Carpet *
talks with Entertainment Magazine * Harvey Wallison *
The
Action
* the scene that made Jim cry

At 4:30, I realize I haven’t called the
limousine service. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Stars don’t
step out onto the Red Carpet from their Hondas. In my BlackBerry,
there’s a number for Rex Smothers with “limo” in parentheses beside
the name. I call up Rex and tell him I’d forgotten to call him, but
that I’m attending the premier of Richard Haneline’s new movie at
the El Capitan Theatre tonight and would give him any amount of
money if he could pick me up at my place in one hour.

Sure he can. Rex is a hell of a guy.

I don’t go the traditional tuxedo route
(we’ll save that for the Oscars). Several years ago, I wore this
slick gray Armani to the premier of
Under the Sea
. I find
that very suit hanging on a row of two dozen Armanis, and it puts a
smile on my face like you wouldn’t believe.

I shave, style my hair, and put on a touch of
eyeliner. Honestly, I’ve never looked so good. It’s frightening.
There’s a change now in my eyes, too. A calm, blue confidence.

Kara’s waiting in the lobby of her apartment
building when Rex pulls up in the black limo. I step out and hold
the door for her. Man, she’s beautiful. I tell her so. She’s
wearing a chiffon evening dress, which is such a deep shade of
green it could be black.

We climb in and we’re off. Rex looks back and
tells us we’ll be at the theatre in ten minutes. He’s a small,
black man. You can hardly see him over the steering wheel.

“It’s so good to see you,” I tell Kara.

“I’m scared, Jim.”

I pull her close to me and take a whiff of
her hair. I stroke her bare shoulder.

“Are people going to ask who I am?”

“They might.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Look at me.” She looks at me. “I’ve done
this so many times it’s boring. You’re with
me
tonight. No
one’s going to bother you. If a reporter happens to ask you
something inappropriate, I’ll be right there beside you. Besides,
all the questions will probably come at me anyway.” I kiss her
forehead. “Just smile and enjoy it. You’re going to be famous
tonight, Kara.”

“I don’t want to be famous, Jim. I just want
to be with you.”

Richard Haneline’s new movie is called
The
Action
, and from the previews I’ve seen, I have to say it
actually looks halfway decent. It’s apparently about this
degenerate gambler who takes out a second mortgage on his house,
cashes in his kids’ college savings, and sneaks off to Vegas. It’s
good to see Rich starring in a character-driven movie. If I have to
watch him blow up one more thing, I’m seriously not going to be his
friend anymore.

The clock on the dashboard reads 6:40 when
Rex stops the limousine at the Red Carpet and opens his door. As he
walks around to open the door for us, I look at Kara and kiss her
on the lips.

She squeezes my hand.

“If you move more than two feet away from me
at any time this evening, I’ll kill you, Jim.”

Beyond the tinted glass, I see swarms of
people. I put on my deep dark shades.

Rex opens our door. My heart throbs like a
migraine, but I smile through it and step out of the limousine onto
the blood-Red Carpet. These are the things I will always
remember:

-The brilliant evening sun.

-The roar of fans screaming from the
bleachers.

-The van-size dice hanging above the theatre
entrance.

-Flashbulbs going off like machinegun
fire.

-A wave of weightlessness, as though I’m on
the verge of floating up into the sky.

-Kara’s sweaty hand gripping mine as she
steps out of the limo.

“Are we going, Jim? Why aren’t we moving?” I
hear her, but I’m not ready to move yet. I’m looking down at the
ground, at that beautiful Red Carpet beneath my mirror-black shoes.
Have you ever stood on Red Carpet that’s been rolled out
exclusively for you? It means you’re too important to walk on the
pavement. Normal people can walk on pavement but not you. You’re
better. You’re special. That’s the implication, and it feels so
good.

No one can ever take this moment away from
me.

I look up into the bleachers. Fans are waving
and shouting my name. I smile the smuggest, coolest smile you’ve
ever seen and wave back at them.

We begin to walk. The carpet ahead of us is
crowded with Stars and normal people involved in the production of
The Action
.

“James, please! I love you!” This girl
literally screams. She’s on the front row behind the metal railing,
holding out a notepad. I walk toward her, and the crowd squeezes
in, crushing her up against the bars.

“Could I have an autograph, Mr. Jansen?”

“Of course you can.” I release Kara’s hand
and take the pen and pad. “What’s your name?”

“Bethany.”

I scribble down, “To Bethany, Love, James
Jansen.”

“Can I have a kiss on the cheek, too? I could
die happy.”

She’s probably twenty or twenty-one. She’s
not a knockout or anything, but I’m feeling pretty generous, so I
plant one on her cheek. She and everyone around her commence
screaming. I wave up to the crowd above their heads, shout, “I love
you!” and then Kara and I walk on.

“You’re very good at this, Jim,” she
whispers, as we approach a woman with a microphone standing in
front of a camera. “You should feel my heart. It’s just
racing.”

The woman with the microphone spins around as
we pass by.

She’s one of the anchors for
Hollywood
Starz!
. She wears a highly glittery dress.

“Look who it is,” she tells the camera,
“Oscar-winner James Jansen.”

I stop walking and stand beside the reporter.
I think her name is Marcy Meyers, but I’m not certain. When you’re
a Star, you have to talk to the reporters. It’s sort of a rule.

“How are you doing tonight, Jim? You look
fabulous!” She puts her hand on my shoulder.

“So do you.” Always complement the female
reporters. It’s easy with Marcy, because she honestly looks
exceedingly hot.

“So are you guys looking forward to seeing
the movie?” No, I think it’s going to be a steaming pile. Ever
notice how reporters, for the most part, ask blazingly stupid
questions?

“Oh absolutely. I think Rich has worked some
magic in this film.”

“That’s certainly the buzz, isn’t it? And you
look beautiful, too,” Marcy tells Kara. I squeeze Kara’s hand, and
she smiles gracefully.

“Thank you.”

I can see in Marcy’s eyes that she wants to
ask Kara something, but she backs off.

“So, Jim, when are we going to be standing at
your
premier? Not too much longer I hope.”

Right, like I’m going to tell you first. You
have to be very careful how you answer that sort of question,
because if you say the wrong thing, or even the right thing with
less than perfect ambiguity, you’ll wind up in the tabloids.

“Things are in the works, Marcy, and that’s
all I can say at this point.”

“Oh, come on, Jim! You’re teasing us!”

I smile that winning,
this-conversation-is-over smile.

“Well, thanks for stopping by to chat with
us. You guys enjoy the movie.”

As we walk away, I wonder if two people are
sitting in Huntersville, North Carolina at this moment, on an old,
stinky couch, in a house that smells like cabbage. The man is
soused up pretty good on cheap gin, the woman thinking about Jesus,
and neither of them realize who just strolled across their
television screen.

To the households that watch us, we are
nothing more than glorious, enviable constellations. We’re symbols
of perfection. Charismatic gods. I’m beginning to understand how
necessary we are.

We’re drifting through the lobby of the El
Capitan, when this guy in a tux steps right in front of us with a
big, goofy smile on his face. He wears thick, black-rimmed glasses,
and his hair is black and curly.

“Jim! What’s going on?”

I smile, guardedly.

“Hey, there,” I say. “Good to see you.”

“Great to see you. Look, are you going to
Rich’s afterward?”

“I think we’re planning on it.”

“Great, because I want to talk with you about
something. It’s a project that’s in development, and I’d love to
tell you about it. I think it’d be perfect for you.”

“Sounds good.”

“And nice to see you,” he says to Kara. “I
don’t think we’ve met.”

“Kara Suthers,” she says, extending her
hand.

“Harvey Wallison. A real pleasure. Well, you
guys enjoy the movie, and we’ll talk later, Jim.”

When Kara and I have taken our seats in the
theatre, she leans over and whispers into my ear: “Who was that
man?”

“You mean Harvey Wallison? You haven’t heard
of him?”

“Should I have?”

“He’s a brilliant director. Did
Down From
the Sleeping Trees
, and if you tell me you haven’t heard of
that, I’ll take you home right now.” I smile to let her know I’m
only kidding. She smiles back, and as the lights go down, we
kiss.

The Action
, I’m delighted to say, is
one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long, long time. Rich’s
performance as Wally Miller may very well earn him an Oscar
nomination. I even mist up, and as a rule, movies never make me
cry. The scene that got me happens toward the end of the movie.
Wally has blown the last of his $110,000 dollars at the blackjack
table, and he sort of has a meltdown in the casino. It’s very
poignant, as they say. He crumples down on the floor and just
starts wailing, and practically everyone in the casino is staring
at him. Then this lady walks over to him, kneels down, and gives
him a $1,000-dollar chip. Wally looks up at her and says, “I can’t
do it anymore. I just can’t.” I’m telling you, everyone in the
theatre lost it at the same moment. Then Wally starts crying again,
and the pit boss has security drag him out of the casino.