Stranded (9 page)

“‘Hurry up and wait’ type stuff?” Johnny asked.

“I hope not. From what I’m told, I’m booked back-to-back with the various departments all day,” Kendall explained, but he didn’t want to talk too much about movie stuff where he could be heard, so he changed the subject. “How is the book coming?”

“I made my deadline, but just barely, and now I’m starting on a new project.” Johnny sounded excited.

“Does this one require a lot of research?” Kendall probed.

“Nope. For this one I know all the material I need. But I’m researching some ideas for the next story that’s working its way into my head.” For a second Kendall wondered just what kind of research Johnny was doing with the guy who’d answered Johnny’s phone and with the guy from the cab. He was starting to get paranoid.

“When do you think you can come out for a visit?”

“I’m not sure. This book is flowing pretty quickly and I don’t want to break the rhythm,” Johnny said.

“You can work from out here,” Kendall told him.

“I know. Why don’t you see what your schedule is going to be like? And when you think you might have a break, I’ll make arrangements to fly out.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Kendall said quietly, and Johnny sighed.

“It isn’t that,” Johnny said. “I don’t like to travel much, you know that. And if you’re going to be busy, there’s no use in me coming out if I’m not going to be able to see you. I’ll only end up sitting around waiting for you to come home.”

“It just feels wrong being apart like this,” Kendall said.

“It’s not going to be forever, and when you’re done, you’ll come back here. We’ve been together for a long time, and yes, this will be the longest we’ve been apart, but you’ll make it, and so will I.” Johnny paused. “I do miss you. This place just isn’t the same without your clothes falling on the floor of the closet and shoes left everywhere.”

“Okay, I get it,” Kendall said as he felt the tender moment slip away. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Call and let me know how it goes,” Johnny asked, and Kendall agreed before hanging up. He noticed there was no “I love you” or any other sentiment at the end of the call, and he tried to remember when those had disappeared, but he couldn’t. He’d just now realized they were gone and had been gone for quite a while. Kendall missed them. He also knew it wasn’t Johnny’s fault any more than it was his. They’d let those things slip away, along with some of the intimacy in their relationship, and Kendall wondered if it was too late to get them back.

Lyman finally hung up, and their small group rode in near silence until they got close to the gas station where they’d started their trip. The limousine was waiting, and when they stopped, Kendall got out and shook hands with both men. “Thank you,” he told Lyman. “This was an eye-opening experience, and I think it helped me build the character in my mind.”

“Very good. We’ll talk later this week or early next week about how you see your character and how I see your character. Then we’ll come to an understanding going forward,” Lyman said with as much camaraderie as Kendall had heard all day. “Let me know if you have any trouble getting everything done tomorrow. I know there’s a lot going on, but we’re crunched for time.”

“It’s fine. I’ve been through this before,” Kendall said. “Not with a movie, but I understand the urgency.” Lyman nodded a bit, and Kendall thought he might be seeing the beginnings of a touch of respect from him. When he didn’t say anything more, Kendall walked toward the limousine and found it blessedly empty. He climbed into the back and asked the driver to take him to the hotel. As he rode he called Juan.

“I need some help,” he said after they’d exchanged greetings. “I’m going to need a small place to live while I’m here as well as a car of my own. Can you help me?”

“Of course,” Juan said. “Let me make some phone calls to see what I can find.”

“Thanks. I don’t want some huge showy place; just a small secure apartment for a few months will do.” He was used to making do with a small space and that suited him.

“But what if you decide to stay?” Juan asked, and Kendall paused. Leaving New York had never occurred to him. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the help,” Kendall said.

“No problem. I’ll see you in the morning and help you get to all your appointments,” Juan said.

“Thanks.” Kendall hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. He was exhausted, and tomorrow promised to be long, as did most of the days ahead. He was used to long days, but he was also used to coming home to Johnny every night, and he really missed that, especially once the driver had dropped him off and he took the elevator to his solitary hotel room.

K
ENDALL
never knew four weeks could fly by so damned fast. Juan had found him a nice furnished apartment through his studio connections. A car proved more problematic, but he finally managed to lease one for six months. Granted, he wasn’t expecting to need it that long, but it was the shortest duration he could find. “They’re ready for you on the set,” a runner said, and Kendall didn’t even get a chance to turn his head before he was gone. He understood speed, but everyone here seemed to exist in hyperdrive.

As he headed out to the set, he was handed an updated script for the scene he was about to shoot. “Thank you,” Kendall said with a smile and began looking it over. He noted the change and committed it to memory. When they were ready for him, he took his position.

“Okay,” Lyman said from his position just off camera. “You got the change?”

Kendall nodded and stepped into position. He did the scene as written with the feeling and enunciation Lyman had said he wanted, but it felt off to him.

“Cut,” Lyman said at the end and waited for the playback. “It’s what we said, but….”

“Can I try it again?” Kendall asked, and Lyman nodded and then called for everyone to move back to their places. They did the scene two more times, with Kendall making minor changes, but Lyman still wasn’t happy. Finally, on the fifth attempt, Kendall played the scene the way he thought it should have been played all along.

“Perfect,” Lyman called and then watched the playback. “That’s exactly what we needed. Let’s get one more and we’ll wrap this set.” Kendall did the scene, and when Lyman cut and said they were done, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“God, I thought he was going to keep us here half the night, like he did yesterday,” one of Kendall’s costars, Barbara Hamill, said softly to the woman next to her.

“I would have if it wasn’t for Kendall,” Lyman said in his booming voice to let Barbara know she’d been overheard. Yes, Kendall knew many things were new to him about making movies, but being a good actor wasn’t an issue. That came naturally, and Kendall was a hard worker and always made sure he knew his lines and blocking. It came from the discipline the stage required. Movies were forgiving in a lot of ways; live theater was not. “We have a lot to do tomorrow, so everyone finish up and go home. Rest well, because you’re all going to need it.” Lyman said something like that at the end of every day, and it was usually true. Of course, it hadn’t taken Kendall long to realize that long after they’d all left, Lyman was still up planning the shoots for the next few days. Barbara hurried over to him as soon as they broke up. “No, you don’t look like you have a brown nose,” she sniped.

“This isn’t high school, Barbara,” Kendall retorted. “Act like a professional rather than a prom queen and you’ll get a lot further.” He stopped the next comment that threatened to come out by turning away and walking toward his dressing area.

“What do you know?” she asked as she stormed after him. Kendall continued to his dressing room, and she followed him inside and closed the door. Kendall could tell she’d worked up a good head of steam, but he wasn’t about to take any crap from a glorified cheerleader.

“Plenty. You don’t do eight shows a week with your name on the marquee without learning a few things. One, always know your lines inside and out; two, it’s about the show and the audience, not you; and three, treat people the way you want to be treated, because someday you’ll have to work with them again.” Kendall kept his voice level but firm. “Do you think the people you’ve pissed off are going to want to work with you again? The Broadway community is small and word gets around. Suddenly you don’t get called back, no matter how high you can kick it.” Kendall actually kicked his foot well over his head. “No one will hire you. And I’m sure the community here is just as cliquish and word spreads just as fast. So cut the dumb blonde act—Marilyn Monroe is dead.”

Barbara’s mouth hung open. “Am I really that bad?” she asked, a bit horrified.

“Not yet, but you could be.” Kendall sat down and began removing his makeup. “I headlined shows in New York, big ones, and I always have work lined up.” Sal was lining up offers and opportunities for Kendall as he spoke. “People like to work with me, so I get to work with the best people.” He turned around in his chair. “You want to make a career of this? Or are you just looking to be famous? Because if you want a career, then do your best every day, and the fame and everything else will come. But if you want to be Paris Hilton, and the butt of everyone’s jokes, then you could be well on your way.”

“You don’t pull any punches,” Barbara said, moving toward the door.

“Nope, but I will say I wouldn’t have bothered to tell you anything if I didn’t think you were worth it,” Kendall said, watching her in the mirror. “The last thing you want is people writing tell-all books about you. Become good at what you do.”

“Is that what you did?” Barbara asked, stopping near the door.

“You better believe it.” Kendall turned back to her. “Because when you have a theater full of people all watching you, and you flub something or screw up, all those people will know and they’ll tweet it and tell their friends. Then when the show closes, so does your career, and you’re back to waiting tables at Ruth’s Chris for tips.” He went back to removing the last of his makeup.

She giggled. “You must be doing something right. I certainly don’t get flowers.”

Kendall looked around and saw two pink roses resting on one of the chairs. They’d been showing up every now and then in his dressing room or on the seat of his car. At first he’d wondered, or hoped that Johnny had been sending them, but that wasn’t Johnny’s style, and when they started showing up in his locked car, Kendall had gotten nervous. He began carrying his keys everywhere with him or hiding them when he was on the set. None had shown up in his car since, but now they showed up in his dressing room more often. “Please take them,” Kendall said as he reached over and lifted the flowers, then handed them to her.

“You’re serious?” she asked as she accepted them.

“Of course. Enjoy.” Kendall smiled, and Barbara left his dressing room, closing the door behind her. He finished up and grabbed his things, making sure he had everything and that nothing was missing. Then he left the soundstage with the actors and crew and headed for his car.

“Hey, Kendall.” He turned and saw Guy striding toward him. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a drink or something.”

Kendall smiled. “Can we make it another night? I’m really tired and want to eat, shower, and fall into bed.” Kendall tried to think. “What day is it, anyway?”

“Thursday,” Guy said.

“Then how about Sunday afternoon? There’s nothing scheduled, and Lyman needs to give the crew a day off.” They could all use a day to recharge.

“All right. I’ll call you,” Guy said, and Kendall continued on toward his car. He got inside and drove out the studio gate. His apartment was only five miles away, but it took fifteen minutes for him to get home. The building had a locked parking garage beneath the building, and Kendall’s apartment came with its own parking space. The gate slid closed behind the Mustang, and he pulled into his space.

Kendall took the elevator up to his floor and let himself into the apartment. After setting down his bag, he flopped into a chair and called Johnny. His call went to voice mail. Kendall left a message and then began making a quick dinner.

T
HE
Sunday following their ride through the park, Johnny was coming over for dinner. Kendall stood in his kitchen, wondering what in hell he was going to do. He didn’t cook much, and had gotten food he thought was too simple to mess up. His apartment had this tiny stove and oven that was perfect for mouse-sized meals. Kendall opened his small refrigerator and stared at the groceries he’d bought. He could cook the steaks, that wasn’t a problem, but the rest of it…. In desperation, he picked up his phone, dialed, and waited.

“Mom, I need your help,” Kendall said as soon as his mother answered.

“What’s got you so frazzled?” she asked.

“I need to cook dinner and I’m not sure what to do,” Kendall whined, and his mother laughed hard and long. “What’s so funny?”

“You sing and dance in front of thousands of people every day, but making a meal for someone
—
I’m assuming there’s a guy involved
—
tips you over the edge? That’s so funny.”