Chapter 13 #2
He’s trying to hold onto a bunch of envelopes, a garment bag, and a small box.
I’ve seen him like this many times, juggling the many tasks Phil throws at him.
He’s been Phil’s assistant for as long as I can remember.
He used to be young and nervous-looking.
Now he’s middle-aged and nervous-looking.
I don’t think he even has a family of his own.
Phil’s kept him too busy. It’s sort of depressing.
But Clarence must be getting something out of this—a big, fat paycheck, maybe?
Otherwise, why would anyone put themselves through the stress?
Phil has that grandfatherly side to him, but he’s also got a harsh taskmaster side to him. He can be pretty demanding.
I exchange nods with Clarence, and I get out of his way, holding the door for him, but he stumbles going down the stairs, dropping everything. Whatever was in the box smashes, and the envelopes scatter across the lot in the wind.
“Oh, shit,” I say. “Let me help you.”
I help him chase down the envelopes. He counts them and says one is still missing. I help him look for it.
“Aren’t you going to be late?” he asks.
“I’m early, actually. Thought I’d get breakfast in the dining room.”
“Phil wanted me here at six this morning. Chugged half a bottle of Pepto. I think I’m getting an ulcer.”
“That’s not good.” I glance at him. “Hey, um, kind of a random question, but do you know why Phil hates Pete Laden so much?”
Clarence’s dark eyes look owlish behind those coke bottle glasses. “Pete Laden?”
“He’s in Hot Night. The guitarist.”
“Yeah, sure. You didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
He whistles. “Well.” He looks around us, then lowers his voice. “Pete screwed Phil’s first wife. They had an affair.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. “Really?”
“Yeah. It was in all the gossip columns and tabloids. There it is.” He stoops down to pick up the missing envelope laying by the steps.
“I don’t remember hearing anything about that.”
“You were just a little kid back then. Phil was humiliated. He was out for blood. He had me hire a couple of private eyes to tail Pete and his wife. But Pete caught one of the guys following him, busted his headlights with a five iron and broke his kneecap, so Phil had to call off the dogs.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Yep.” He picks up the box and shakes it. He curses.
“What was in it?”
“Birthday present for his youngest. He wanted me to get it gift wrapped.” Clarence sighs. “Guess I’ll have to get another one. I don’t know how I’m gonna explain that yet.” He gathers up the box, garment bag, and envelopes again.
“Let me help you carry something,” I offer.
He shakes his head. “I’ve got it now.” He glances at me. “Listen, I wouldn’t bring any of that up to Phil. Ever. Not unless you want your life to be a living hell. He’s still holding a grudge. Even hates Pete’s kid, that Harvey guy. Real chip off the old block.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you ought to know. You were in those magazines together, weren’t you? The resemblance to his old man is downright uncanny.”
“Yeah. He looks a lot like him.”
“Between me and you? I think Phil would off them both if he could, just so he’d never have to see their faces in the papers again.” He turns to go. “But whatever you do, don’t mention the name Laden around Phil. I think he’d even knock your block off, and he actually likes you.”
“No, I won’t say anything. I was just wondering. That’s all.”
Clarence gives me a nod and walks off. I stand in front of the studio for a few moments, taking everything in. I hardly remember Phil’s first wife. He married her long before anyone even thought up Love Thy Neighbor. She was a lot younger than him, I remember that. An actress. He’s since remarried.
And Harvey? He’s nothing like this father.
Does he know about any of this? I doubt it or he would have said so when I mentioned Phil to him.
I’m not even sure if I should tell him. What good would it do?
He’d just hate his dad even more than he already does.
And besides, stories can get twisted around.
Some of it might not even be true, like Pete breaking someone’s kneecap?
I don’t know if I can believe that. The affair?
Sure. Maybe even the headlights. I don’t think Clarence is lying, but did he actually see Pete do any of those things?
I’m also having a hard time believing Phil would “off” anyone. He can be ruthless and tough, but to have somebody killed? I Just can’t see it. Maybe Clarence was just being dramatic.
I really don’t have time to think about it anymore, because I really am going to be late, so I go inside the studio to put on my police uniform, my mask, and become someone else.
It all happens fast.
We tape the pilot and two more episodes for the network. Phil and Arnold aren’t worried about the show getting picked up. They watch the playbacks and offer Devin suggestions, most of which he shoots down. He’s a brave guy. There aren’t many people who would tell Phil Baxter no.
A couple of reshoots are needed, but we finally wrap on Thursday afternoon. We’re all hoping for more episodes to film, but for now, as everything moves to post-production, we’re finished. We can relax for a bit.
To celebrate, Brad invites the cast to a party on his yacht in Marina del Rey.
“Bring anyone you want,” he says. “The more the merrier.”
Once I learn Phil won’t be there, I decide to bring Harvey.
“You want me to what?” he asks when I bring it up. “Get on Chad Dick’s fancy boat?”
“We haven’t really been out anywhere together,” I say. “We don’t need to hold hands or anything, just thought it would be fun. And it’ll be entertaining to see the reactions when people see us being nice to each other.”
“Oh, I’m not going to be nice to you,” he says, grinning.
“You’re not?”
“No. I’ll ignore you. I’ll ignore you all night.” He climbs top of me in the bed. “Then you can get mad at me, and we’ll start fighting all over again.”
I smile up at him. “I don’t think I could hit you now, even if I was mad at you.” I pause for a moment. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
His smile fades a little. “You’re not worried?”
“Worried about what?”
“I’m not exactly the kind of guy who gets invited to yacht parties.”
“Well, you are now.”
He looks pained. “You don’t care if people see me with you?”
I look at him, confused. “No. Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Just thought maybe you’d be embarrassed.”
I sit up, facing him. “What are you talking about?”
“Austin, my reputation in this town isn’t that great.”
“Neither is mine.”
“Better than mine, though.” He slides a finger down my cheek to my neck. “You’re an angel.”
Phil’s words echo in my mind. He’s the talentless, spoiled son of an even more talentless man.
Young men like him always end up OD’ing in a whore house before they’re thirty.
At the time, those words were like gospel. Now they make me cringe on the inside. It makes sense now, though, why Phil would say them.
“I don’t see it that way,” I say. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. I think we’ll get some weird looks. No one’s ever seen us being civil toward each other.”
He seems to be considering whether to say something.
I lick my lips and butterflies flutter in my stomach. I take his hand in mine and keep my eyes on his when I say, “I want you to be a part of my life.”
He threads his fingers through mine, lifting my hand to his lips. It’s hard to read his expression.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go.”
I smile.
“But I’m wearing black.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m the Bad Angel.”
He doesn’t wear all black.
Mostly black. And he looks great. The way women’s heads turn to look at him just proves it.
But he’s mine. Sorry, ladies.
I brought champagne but notice caterers going back and forth from the boat to the dock.
Quite a few people are already on board.
I greet a few cast members and introduce Harvey, but most already know who he is.
They glance at us warily and whisper behind our backs, but I don’t care.
All anyone will think is that we finally buried the hatchet.
It probably won’t cross anyone’s mind that we fuck each other silly every night.
And Phil and Arnold aren’t here, so who cares?
I’m not going to let what Clarence told me get in the way, either. Harvey is not like his father.
We’re standing on the deck by the railing with drinks when Brad comes over. He’s wearing loafers and has a sweater tied around his shoulders. He looks like he’s exactly where he belongs.
He reaches out to shake my hand. “Glad you could make it.” Then he offers Harvey his hand. “Hi. I’m Brad Vick.”
“Hi, Chad,” Harvey says loudly. “How’s it hanging?” His grip looks tight on Brad’s hand.
“Uh.” Brad pulls his hand away from Harvey’s. “It’s, um, Brad… and good.”
“Right,” Harvey says.
Brad glances at me.
“We’re friends now.” I gesture between me and Harvey.
“Best friends.” Harvey flings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him. “We have sleepovers and talk about the boys we like.”
Brad blinks at Harvey, then glances at me again.
“We’re not going to beat each other up on your boat,” I tell him.
Brad still looks perplexed, but he smiles. “Uh, great. Okay. There’s some hors d’oeuvres. And a wet bar. Just help yourselves.” Then he walks away.
“Bye, Chad,” Harvey says.
I look at him. “What are you doing?”
“He was looking at you kind of funny.”
I laugh. “He was probably thrown off because you kept getting his name wrong. On purpose.”
Harvey smiles wickedly.
I sigh. “Are you going to do that all night?”
He shrugs. “I might. Can’t promise anything.”
“I have to work with him, you know.” I sip my drink. “We’re costars.”
“Doesn’t mean he gets to grope you.”
I laugh again. “You’re seeing things. And you’re very possessive.”
He leans against the railing. “You’re telling me that if him or some other guy was looking at me the way he was looking at you, you wouldn’t want to throw his ass overboard?”