Carter
“CARTER, WE HAVE great chemistry.”
Gwen Styles and I are sitting at a table in the tree-lined courtyard of New York’s iconic Tavern on the Green. Classical music plays from speakers camouflaged as rocks and nestled in the shrubbery framing the space. She’s wearing the biggest sunglasses I’ve ever seen, and the server just delivered Styles’s second Tom Collins.
While she sipped the first TC, she asked me enough questions to ghostwrite my autobiography. A thin sheen of sweat covers my arms. I’m not nervous. It’s just hot as Hades.
The read went well per Styles, which is good news because ten minutes into it, I realized her opinion trumped virtually all others in the room. The director, John Paulson, consulted her on everything, much to Samantha Bell’s annoyance.
Styles is an attractive woman with a regal bearing. The fluidity of her movements makes it easy to imagine that she was a professionally trained dancer in a former life. She also has a sharp tongue. When we arrived at the restaurant, she looked around and said, “Fucking great. It’s a tourist trap now.”
I wait for her to say more.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Carter?”
I nod. “I do.”
“Is she an actor, too?”
“No,” I say, picturing Tori’s terror-stricken face when I asked her to read with me. “She’s actually averse to all things Hollywood.”
“Here’s my advice. If you find someone who doesn’t care about the lights or the cameras, a person who’d rather sit with you on the couch than walk the red carpet, you should grab onto her and never let go.”
“Do you have someone like that in your life?” I ask.
“Yes,” she answers with a smile. “But it took me a long time to find them.”
I don’t disagree with her theory entirely, but Tori should be willing to bend, too. I’m a young male actor whose livelihood depends on being in the public eye. My perceived popularity fuels my actual popularity. If Tori wants to be with me, she can’t ignore that reality. “I’m trying to make it work, believe me.”
Fifteen minutes into the lunch, she passes me the bread basket, takes a long sip of her drink, and gets to what must be the true point of this meeting. “I’ve dealt with enough dirtbags in my life, so I refuse to spend the next three months with a jerk. You seem like a good guy, but there’s just one thing that concerns me.”
My stomach plummets. “What’s that?”
“I know Simon Cage. He doesn’t have great things to say about you. He seems to question your abilities.”
I choke down on all the negative information I could share about my former agent. Hearing that he’s still trashing my name, I regret that I didn’t go after Simon legally. In my mind, it was easier to let our business relationship end quietly. I reasoned that bringing a lawsuit against him would make industry types skittish to work with me. He misused his position and stole from me, yet I’m the one still experiencing the repercussions of that failed relationship. “If I may be frank?”
Styles tips her head forward. “Please.”
“Simon Cage is a snake who took advantage of me. Even if I’m as bad as Simon claims, why would he share such negative information about a former client? I’ll tell you why. He’s deflecting.”
The easiest way to shut up Simon forever is to get this part. If I land the lead role in Swan Song and deliver a kick-ass performance, Simon’s criticisms won’t carry much weight, and I’ll have proved him wrong in the process.
“We all have a Simon Cage in our lives, Carter. It’s an unfortunate but inevitable fact of every actor’s life. Some of us are unlucky enough to have several.”
“Do you?”
“A few. I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve met so many people on my journey, and here’s what I realize: This business makes users out of people who never even set out to harm us. It’s hard to resist latching on to someone else’s success when the opportunity arises.”
That’s Simon in a nutshell. And now that I think about it, the shit-for-brains doctor in Philly went there, too. I don’t think he set out to sell photos of me, but when he realized there was something to be gained, he jumped at the chance to make money at my expense. And I’m sure it’ll happen again. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but someday.
“So how do you protect yourself against the users?” I ask Styles.
“I’m very selective when it comes to choosing the people I let into my life.”
So am I. Usually. Tori’s my exception.
I welcomed her into my life with relative ease, never questioning her motives. And there was no reason to, given how she initially resisted being with me. But if Tori were presented with an opportunity to trade on our relationship, would she?
Now that I’ve thought about it, I’m finding it difficult to think of anything else. Because if Tori betrayed me in that way, I’m not sure I’d recover. Trust her, Carter. She hasn’t given you any reason not to. Besides, what other option do you have?
I’M AT THE airport when Julian calls me.
“Good news,” he says without preamble. “The word is, you’re still in the running. It’s down to three: you, Andy Winn, and Drew Cherry.”
My meeting with Styles messed with my confidence, so I’m relieved to hear I remain a contender. “Any other intel?”
“Just that the director, Paulson, is nervous about the reviews for Hard Times. Wants to be sure you’re still a hot commodity. So I called him and told him about your upcoming appearance on The Actor’s Couch, and he seemed mollified by that. My advice? Don’t hide in your condo. Get out there and be seen. Spend time with your Hollywood counterparts. Banks, Conner, Madlin. Conner’s celebrating the opening of his new restaurant and club this Thursday. Dana says she can get you on the guest list.”
Ace Conner is an ass, and we don’t move in the same circles, but his star is on the rise, so it’s not a terrible idea. “Tell Dana to get me that invite. I’ll be there.”
“Will do. And congrats on making it to the final three.”
“Thanks, J.”
I make a quick call to Jewel and explain the change in my itinerary. Within minutes, she’s got me on the next flight to LA.
I’m not due to board for another hour, so I call Tori. No matter how frustrated I am by our situation, I know she cares, and that knowledge sits in my pocket as a constant reminder that she’s worth waiting for.
She picks up after three rings. “Hey. How did it go?”
I hear weights clanking in the background. “It went well. Julian says it’s now down to three actors for the lead, and I’m one of them.”
“Carter, that’s great,” she says. “I’m so happy for you, and I’m not at all surprised.”
There’s a genuineness about her response that soothes my soul. I’m not ashamed to say I want her with me all the time. “Thanks, baby.” I hesitate to bring it up, but she needs to know I’ll be leaving from New York. “I have to head back to California for a bit. A week probably. I’m just going to leave from here.”
“I’ll miss you,” she says in an uneven voice.
“Listen, there’s a thing this Thursday. An event I need to go to. Part of the song and dance to make myself appealing to the Swan Song producers. Any chance you’d like to join me?”
The silence lasts several seconds. “Carter, I can’t. My pitch to the investors is scheduled for Friday morning. I need to prepare, and I don’t think there’s any way I’d be able to get back to Philly in time.”
“Yeah, no. I get it. Just thought I’d ask. So I’ll check in with you when I get home, okay?”
“Okay. Have a safe flight . . . and enjoy your . . . thing.”
“Thanks.”
Patience, Carter. This pitch is important to her. It could open so many doors.
Gwen Styles’s observation pops into my brain: “This business makes users out of people who never even set out to harm us.”
And no matter how hard I try to, I can’t force the thought out of my head.