A New York Romance (17 page)

That evening, after Julie’s mother left, Daisy returned to the apartment with some exciting news.

“I’m getting married!”

“What?! Married?” Julie knew Daisy rarely went out with the same man more than a few times.

“Yes, isn’t that exciting?” the blonde Southern Bell squeaked.

“To Simon? Simon asked you to marry him?”

“No, not Simon, Paul!”

“Paul? I never heard you talk about a Paul.”

“Well that’s because I just met him tonight. You see Greg took me to…”

“You mean Simon! That’s who you went out with tonight,” Julie corrected her.

“Oh yeah, Simon. He took me to this wonderful party and the room was filled with handsome men in black tuxes and Armani suits. You could smell expensive cologne in the air. Ah! It was breathtaking. I just knew I was going to meet someone there.”

“But you went there with Greg, or Simon, right?”

“Well yeah, but we’re not attached or anything. Anyway, it was so exciting. I was just standing there while Simon was talking to his colleagues when Paul came up to me, wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me to him on the dance floor.”

“That’s rude, he didn’t even ask?”

“No, he just swept me off my feet. It was soooo romantic,” she continued until she was suddenly interrupted by a telephone call from her mother in Texas. Her mother was excited to hear the news.

“Yes, he wants to fly the whole family in for the wedding…”

Julie rolled her eyes and turned away.

Marrying somebody she just met today,
she thought to herself.
But she found what she was looking for. She wasn’t exactly looking for a good man more than she was looking for a rich successful man. He probably doesn’t even know what she enjoys or even her favorite color or flower. Probably didn’t even ask. Then again, maybe he is a good guy. Maybe Charlie set it up and they just knew it was right.

Over the next few days, Daisy moved her things into her fiancés luxury apartment and Julie began looking for a roommate.

She dreaded the thought of finding someone to live with. Some came to the door with no job. Others drunk. Some she couldn’t even tell if they were a man or woman. Her money was running out and another month’s rent was due.

“Stay with me, Juliet. You don’t even need to go back to that diner if you don’t want to,” her mother said over the phone.

There was something about her mother’s voice. She was sincere.
How could such a sincere woman leave her daughter?
Though Julie had no real memories of her mother, she could tell she was a different person. The woman that stood before her in the diner and now spoke with her on the phone would never have done such a thing.

“I want to work there, just for a little while anyway,” Julie replied, with a quiet understanding that she would move in.

That evening she packed her things and felt a strange sense of going home, like everything would be all right now. Somewhat unable to forgive her mother completely, she hesitantly moved into a spare bedroom, ready to run if she needed to. It felt strange, as if she was back home and had a parent to take care of her once again. Part of her felt as though her mother never even left. She was still angry inside but not at Jill, as if her real mother was someone different, a phantom that did not exist anymore. She trusted and knew she could lean on her new mother.

“What are you doing here?” Mel said when Julie walked through the door the next morning, still wearing his burger stained apron from a week ago. “I thought you qui…I fired you.”

“No, you didn’t, Mel,” Julie replied in a tone her mother would use.

“Just like your mother,” he mumbled.

“She’ll be working here only part time,” Jill said.

“Whatever,” Mel agreed with his usual irritated tone, knowing he didn’t really have a choice. “Just don’t drop anymore food on the damn tourists!” he yelled in front of his patrons. It made him feel in control when he yelled, even though he knew better. An older couple, obviously tourist, sat there shaking in their booth until his presence was gone.

After work, Julie’s mother grabbed her by the arm as they were walking home, pulled her into a nearby bar, and said “Come on, there’s someone I want to introduce you to.”

The bar was dark—one of those places where the professional drinkers drank from morning until night.

Jill walked up to a man sitting at the bar. His head hung low as if passed out. He had an empty mug in his hand. The bartender slid him another beer and took his money off the bar.

“Don’t you think he’s had enough?” Jill said to the bartender.

“Hey lady, I just serve ‘em. I don’t tell them when to stop,” he responded.

“Bob, come on! Get up!” she said as he rose, tipping the empty glass above his mouth. Julie looked on in surprise.

“Huh? Werrrmear?” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Wherrmy ear?” he mumbled again.

“I can’t understand you, Bob,”

“Where mabeer?” he uttered more clearly.

“Your beer is gone. They’re all out of beer,” she said as she slid the full beer away from him. “You drank it all. Come on, let’s go to the coffee shop,” Jill said as she helped him up.

“Jillllly. Hower you dune ees ays?”

“I’m fine. I have a favor to ask, but you have to be sober,” she said as she helped him out of the bar.

“Iee oh ‘n dawaaa cacaro em,” he said stumbling onto the sidewalk. “Ima en carrra gooo ha.”

“You’re not making any sense Bob. Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Inna da da do du. Da caca ton wawa.”

“We better forget the coffee shop,” Jill said to her daughter.

They helped him to his apartment, which happened to be above the bar. They sat him down on the couch, got him water and coffee to drink. His body decided to sleep.

Julie watched how her mother took off his shoes, picked his feet up on the couch, laid him down, and turned him on his side in case he puked. She tucked a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket like she was caring for her child.

“Who is this?” Julie asked.

“This is Bob Arand.”

“Bobaran?” Julie questioned, “Like the song Barbara Ann, kind of?”

“Actually, yeah. Like the song, kind of. Don’t worry, he’s not too sensitive about it. He got a great personality when he’s coherent.”

“Who is he?” Julie asked again. “Why did you want to introduce him to me?”

“He’s an agent. He’s actually very good at it, again, when he’s coherent,” she stated the obvious. His head tilted back on the pillow and his mouth was open like a flip-top head snoring. “He’s best when he just got a little alcohol in him. He knows many people in the business. He can get you an audition in no time.”

“But I don’t even know how to act yet,” Julie said. “I never had lessons or anything. I don’t know if I’m ready for an audition.”

“Leave that for the judges to decide. You just do it because you love it, and no other reason,” she nodded. “Let’s go now and we’ll come back in the morning. I’ll take his keys. He won’t be going anywhere early in the morning anyway.”

“Except maybe downstairs to the bar,” Julie commented.

Julie and her mother returned to their apartment. They didn’t say much. Julie tried to relax in the comfort of being with her mother, trying to not dig up the emotions from the past. Television was a good distraction. Her mother made her a meal. All Julie could think about was that the last meal she made her, which was probably heating up a bottle of milk or spoon-feeding her a jar of baby food. Julie said nothing of the thoughts that roamed her head. She kept her attention toward the TV so she didn’t have to endure them herself.

The next morning they returned to Bob’s apartment. They could hear him in the bathroom flagellating and making all kinds of disturbing sounds that came from the human body, which were not pleasing to the ears of others.

“Is he making fart sounds with his armpit?” Julie asked.

Suddenly they heard one that could not be mistaken.

“That wasn’t from his armpit,” her mother said and they laughed. It was the first time they genuinely laughed together, probably since she was a baby, if it happened then. Then Jill shouted, “Bob, what the hell are you doing in there?”

They heard him fall then the door creaked open. He walked out of the bathroom in his underwear wearing only one sock and toothpaste on his cheek. His hair was sticking up like an electrified Albert Einstein hairdo. Julie quickly turned around.

“Bob, put some pants on,” Jill ordered.

“Who’s there?” he asked tripping over his pants, lying on the floor in the hall.

“It’s me, Jill. Jill Lavine,” she said to Julie’s surprise. She realized she did not even know her mother’s last name till that moment. She was also surprised that she kept her father’s name.

“Hey, Jill. I’m sorry, I had a late meeting last night,” Bob said.

“Yeah, I bet you did,” she replied.

“Yeah, I didn’t get home till late,” he said as he put his pants on and walked out into the living room.

“Mmm hmm! And how’d the meeting go?”

“Oh real good, real good,” he said.

Julie turned back around.

“I’m glad to hear that, Bob. Look, I need a favor from you. My daughter is going to stay here with you this afternoon and you’re going to make her a profile then get her some auditions, alright?”

“I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Bob, you don’t have a schedule. Come on, pull yourself together; this could be a break for you too.” Jill quickly picked up his apartment stacking the loose papers and tossing the remnants of dinners gone by in the garbage. “It will give you something to focus on besides your late night meetings with Old Milwaukee on tap.”

He looked at her like he recognized the kindness she showed him last night.
Busted! 
He straightened his pants attempted to flatten his hair. “Sure, I’ll just finish getting ready.”

Julie looked around the room. The place was relatively clean except for the clutter of papers everywhere. The food didn’t take long for Jill to clean up. She noticed several rotary phones lined up on a long table on the far side of the room.
How strange,
she thought to herself.
What does anyone need that many landline phones for?

She whispered to her mother, “I don’t know if I’m comfortable staying here without you.”

“Don’t worry, my dear. I wouldn’t leave you here if I didn’t know you would be safe. He’s a good person. He just doesn’t like business too much so he’s a little miserable having his own business, but he’s a good
bullshitter
, and that’s what makes him good at what he does. He could sell organic tofu patties to Jeffery Dahmer if he put his mind to it, and cut ties with Old Milwaukee.” Jill ran her hands under the sink then dried them on the back of pants to avoid the dish towel. “You’re scheduled to work later in the afternoon. I’ll see you when you come in, alright?”

“Okay,” Julie agreed.

“See ya, Bob! I have to go to work!” Jill yelled across the apartment. “Take good care of my daughter!”

“Yeppy yahoo,” he howled from the bathroom.

Julie’s mother kissed her on the cheek. “Good luck.” The words
I love you
were on the tip of her tongue like a reflex but she didn’t say them. Not because she didn’t feel it, but because she didn’t know if her daughter would believe them. She smiled in a way that conveyed the feeling then slipped out the door. Julie took a seat and waited for Bob to clean himself up.

“So you need a profile made. First we’ll start with a basic resume,” he said as he immediately sat down at his computer. “Tell me where you studied acting before.”

“Well that is kind of a problem. I have never studied acting before. I just always used to act for my father. I did a couple small plays in sch…”

“What was your father’s name?”

“Sam,” Julie answered. “Sam Lavine.”

“Oh, you’re Sam’s daughter,” he replied with a sense of familiarity. He turned to look her over studying her face the way a sculptor might do before he begins his work.

“You knew my father?” she asked.

“No, I never met him but your mother talked about him often.” He returned his attention to the keyboard in front of him. “Great,” he said excitedly, then he mumbled as he typed, “studied at Sammy’s School of Fine Arts for 3 years.”

“My father didn’t have…”

“And where did you perform?” Bob interrupted.

“I’ve never performed outside of school plays. I just used to act for my father in our living room and fell in love with it,” Julie said.

“
The Living Room
. I like that,” Bob said then typed and mumbled, “Performed regularly at
The Living Room
. Got a nice hometown feel to it.”

“But the living room is not a place, it was our actual living room,” she explained, wondering if he was still drunk.

“Look,” he faced her placed his hands on his knees with a quite serious look, “if you want to get ahead in this town, you gotta look good on paper first. Don’t worry you don’t have to do any lying.” He placed his thumb to his chest and grinned, “I’ll do all the lying; it’s what I’m good at. They might ask you,” he pointed at her, “‘How often did you perform in
The Living Room
?’ And all you have to say is?”

“About 3-4 nights a week,” Julie replied, understanding that she was not actually lying. “But it really was a living room.”

“Look. They’re not going to be honest with you. If they really like you they might just pretend to like you a little bit so they don’t have to pay you as much. You know, make you feel like they’re doing you a favor for letting you act at all. They’ll try to work you. They’ll make you believe things about yourself that aren’t true. They’ll try to shape you into who they want you to be rather than just letting you be you.” Thumb to his chest again, “That’s what you got me for. I don’t take any shit from these no good sons-a-bitches. Don’t worry though; most of them are my friends. I won’t let them jerk you around. It’s the least I can do for your mother. You know she helped me kick the drinking habit four times,” he said, turning back to the keyboard. “I fall off the wagon, she throws me back on.”

Julie immediately wondered what their relationship was like, but she didn’t dare ask. She could not help but wonder what happened between them that he seemed to feel in debt to her.

“So what happened in
The Living Room
? What did you used to do?”

“Well, I used to make up characters as my dad pre…”

“Ah, you’re a writer/director type,” he said as he typed, “with excellent character development skills and freestyle acting.”

“Uh, I use to put on different clothes and wigs and when…”

“Ah, experienced in costume design,” he said and typed.

“He would pretend to flip through the channels and I would act out different scenes, dance shows and singing…”

“Dancing and singing! Excellent talents to have,” he added and typed.

“Well, I don’t know if I would consider them talents,” Julie said.

“What are some other shows you did in
The Living Room
?” he emphasized the quotations with his fingers and grin.

“I did anything from comedy and magic acts to animals scenes and old westerns…”

“Excellent! They will love the variety of experience you have,” he said as he continued typing the resume adding to all the things Julie said. “There are not too many westerns around here but it will look great on your resume. Let’s see. For a reference I’ll give you John Hinkman.”

“Who’s that?”

“That, I believe, is telephone number four right over there,” he pointed to the line of phones on his table. “John Hinkman is great. He’s been an actor/actress teacher for a long time in this business. He’ll give you a great reference. He’s well respected in New York and parts of Philadelphia. Even got a couple calls from L.A. for some big-time stars.”

“But the phone is here. Where is John Hinkman?” Julie asked.

Bob pointed to his head with a big smile, “He’s right in here. I made him up like 23-24 years ago when I got into this business. He helped me get a few important clients and has gotten many interviews for my other clients over the years. It’s funny how over the years nobody has ever seen his face but they know him so well. Some even claim to be good friends with him, tennis or golfing buddies. One guy told me of a fishing trip he went on with Hinkman, who supposedly is quite the fisherman too. Caught a 100 pound tuna once. So I heard.”

“But you’re John Hinkman, right?”

“Yep! Well, he’s more like a character in my head. They all are,” pointing to the phones again. “Each one of those phone lines is connected to an answering machine and represents a different character I made up for business purposes. Hinkman is one of the more successful ones. Number two is Dezmond Stinger. You should hear the stories I’ve heard about him. He’s a son-of-a-bitch. Number eight is Finley Starbural…Starburd…or…hell I don’t know. Well, I think you’re all set. I’ll put myself down here as a reference too, but I think I got enough here to get started. I’ll just fill in the rest with this and that and then you’ll be on your way. Where are you staying? With your mother?”

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing the tension in her face.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with all this. None of it’s true.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Everybody’s an idiot in this business. They don’t care about this piece of paper as much as they care about who you know, and if you know Hinkman and me, that’s good enough for them. I just hope you can act. It’s Hinkman’s and my reputation on the line. I’m only doing this as a favor to your mother,” he said and again Julie wondered what their relationship was like.

“Alright, I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, I’ll get your profile out there. We’ll get pictures the next time I see you.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly, confused about what really happened here. “Thank you.”

“One more thing,” Bob said as he opened the door for her. “No one knows about Hinkman and the other lines. I don’t even tell my other clients. I don’t do business in my apartment either so keep it under the mussel. If you’re anything like your mother I know I can trust you that’s why I let you in on my secret. Alright,” he nodded. “I’ve got some work to do. You have a good day. And relax! I’ll take care of everything.”

Julie nodded and stepped onto the landing outside his door. Before she could thank him again he closed the door. She took a deep breath and climbed down the long black staircase and excited beside the bar. On the street she looked out in every direction. It was quiet for New York City. Gusts of wind seemed to flow through the canyons of the buildings. She thought of Beethoven, then of the violin player, perhaps once a young musician with an aspiration to play in a world famous orchestra. But the streets were his home now. Perhaps it was the streets that gave him his power and inspiration to play so well, and an orchestra would only dull him.

She thought of the orchestra again, which made her think of Charlie and the sounds of Beethoven echoing through the modern halls and city streets. It was the only orchestra she had ever seen and Charlie had taken her. The music of Beethoven was a gift he gave her—a gift that would last a lifetime, as the music would now forever echo in her heart and mind. She wondered how long the memory of Charlie would echo in her mind with the same intensity.

Whether she would ever see Charlie again or not, she was feeling brighter. Perhaps it was the mending of old wounds, or the first step in following her dreams, and she had her mother to thank for it. She was beginning to feel alive again, like she did in the days when she acted for her father in
The Living Room
and in those simple New York spring days when she had Charlie Daniels at her side.