DANCING ON THE TUNDRA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER XXII
"I want to do a musical. Can't you understand. I'm a dancer. I want to dance." He was tired of arguing. Terry just couldn't understand the way the system worked. He was supposed to be the star, but he always heard that stars got their way. People were supposed to cater to stars. And yet in his real life it seemed that he never got his way. Pete was always telling him what to do, what jobs to take, where to go, who to see.
"Okay," the man on the other end of the phone said. "How about this? You do this film and I'll see what I can find for you in the way of a musical opening in L.A."
"It's a war picture. How many times do I have to tell you I don't do war pictures."
"It's not a war picture. It's a rescue movie with a darn good love story. So you wear a uniform and fly a plane. No big deal. That's not where the interest is."
Terry stretched out on the couch and sighed. "And I suppose the bombing run on Cambodia and the big battle scene where I kill all those Vietnamese is no big deal either."
"It's action. Your fans love you in these action films. You never objected to killing people before. What about those drug smugglers in 'The Baja Connection'? That never bothered you."
Terry was at a loss to explain the difference. "They were the bad guys," he said weakly.
"Well so are the Viet Cong in this script."
"You just don't understand. They're only bad from our perspective because they're on the other side in a war. It's not like they've really done anything to me personally."
"Terry, don't you want to work? It seems like we have this same argument before every project and quite frankly, I'm sick of it. You make up your mind and call me back." Pete banged the receiver down in his ear. Terry slid the antennae back down on his cordless phone and dropped it on the table next to him. A deep depression began to settle in. Pete was the closest thing he had to a friend. Unfortunately, Pete was only driven by his lust for money. He didn't seem to take into account Terry's feelings, as long as it was good for the image. Terry often wondered who he really was. The image that Pete had built in his careful selection of movie scripts was definitely not the real person. But who knew this. Even his mother seemed to confuse him with his film persona, suggesting that he hire a bodyguard in case the Columbian drug lords would try to have him killed.
The phone rang again and Terry debated whether he should pick it up. After the third ring he grabbed it and pulled up the antennae. "Pete, I'm sorry," he apologized.
"Terry?" a vaguely familiar voice asked.
"Yes?"
"Terry, its Paula."
"I'm sorry, I thought you were my manager." Then suddenly it hit him what the voice said. He sat up, instantly alert. "Paula? My God . . ."
"I got your number from your mother. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? No, it's great to hear you. Are you in Springfield?"
"No, I'm still in Dallas, but I was thinking of coming out to California. I just thought I'd give you a call and see if you might be willing to have a visit from an old friend."
"Hell yes! That'd be great! When are you coming? Do you need a place to stay? I've got plenty of room. Are you bringing the wife and kids?"
"No, it's just me and a friend. It's really a long story and I can't afford this phone call. Give me your address and I'll write you the details." He quickly relayed his address and she hung up. Terry jumped up from the couch with a whoop. He suddenly felt alive again. He could hardly wait to have company, someone to help end the loneliness of this big house. He'd be on his best behavior and try not to say what he thought of her spouse. He felt so good he immediately called Pete and told him he would do the film.
The next day Pete called back to tell him he was off the war picture. The company decided they wanted Chuck Norris instead. Terry didn't look rugged enough for them. He then asked Terry if he would be interested in doing a weekly comedy series. The actor said he would definitely consider it. At least it was comedy and that might be fun, but he again put in a request for a musical.
Three days later a very brief note arrived from Paula. She said she would be in L.A. in a week and was looking forward to seeing him again. She said she was driving in and would call for direction when she got in town. Terry quickly scanned the envelope and letter. There was no return address, just a Dallas post mark. He was dying of curiosity. She didn't say anything about her friend who was coming along. She didn't mention the reason for the trip. She didn't reveal why she chose now after all these years to make contact. It all seemed rather mysterious, but then that was only looking at things from his point of view. He tried to be objective. Paula was probably coming on business. She was aware of his success and thought she'd look him up. Her friend was probably a business associate traveling with her. He would just have to wait and see.
Ten days later Terry was on pins and needles. He had Conchita in to thoroughly clean his house from top to bottom. He cleared his calendar and double checked with Pete's secretary to make sure no one was expecting him anywhere. He then curled up with a trashy romance novel and planted himself next to the phone. Every time it rang his heart stopped in anticipation. Finally at 10:30 in the morning the call came through. "Terry?"
"Yes, where are you?" he asked. "I've been expecting you for three days."
"Sorry. We had car trouble in the desert. I'm at a Howard Johnson's on South Sunset Boulevard." Terry thought for a moment, then gave her instructions to find his beach house. "Great," she replied. "I'll see you soon."
Soon turned out to be two o'clock in the afternoon. Terry was ready to explode from the anticipation when he finally heard the bell ring. He ran to the door, then stopped to check himself in the hall mirror. He brushed back his blond hair and took a deep breath, composing himself so he didn't look as nervous and anxious as he felt. Terry gripped the knob and pulled the door open. He wasn't expecting what he saw.
Standing in the doorway was an attractive woman. Her permed, raven hair was long and curled down, framing her thin face half hidden by large sun glasses. Her figure was proportionally curved and attractive, set off by the tube top and tight fitting jeans. Terry was disappointed, having expected his friend. "Terry," the familiar voice said. "I guess you don't recognize me."
"Paula?" He was stunned. She was the right height and hair color, but that was the only thing that fit besides her voice.
"Aren't paybacks a bitch? Now you know how I felt when I saw you in Dallas and you dyed your hair and were using that dark makeup." He just continued to stare, his mouth hanging open. "Well don't I get to come inside and see your mansion?"
"Y-yes. Come in. My gosh you look . . ."
"Different?"
"You can say that again."
"Do I at least get a hug?" He reached out and grabbed her, crushing her to him as if his life depended on it. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and he fought hard to force them back, then he realized that she was crying as well, and he had to join her. Finally she pushed him back. "Let's go inside before the National Enquirer gets a photo of you holding me and runs a story about the girl you left behind." He laughed at her joke and escorted her in.
He gave her a quick tour of the house at her insistence, then they settled on the terrace with a couple of lemonades and looked at each other. "When I said a mansion, I thought I was only joking," she said to break the ice.
"It's just a typical Malibu beach house," Terry replied, embarrassed by the opulence of his one Hollywood extravagance.
"Just a typical house with a swimming pool. My God, Terry, what do you need a pool for when you've got the ocean in your backyard?"
"Didn't you ever see 'Jaws'?" he retorted. "But enough about my house. What happened to you?"
"Cosmetic surgery," she replied. "It made my face more feminine."
"But why?"
Paula began to relate her story. She had become more and more discontent with her life. She and Virgy began fighting over every little thing. So finally one day, she went to a bar where a bunch of her truckers hung out. They all knew her from work. The only thing was, she went dressed as a woman. Needless to say, they thought she was a transvestite and being the intolerant group that they were, several of them decided to rearrange her pretty face. When she was rushed to the hospital it became all too apparent that she wasn't a transvestite. She had to have the cosmetic surgery to repair the damage the men had done in the bar.
Virgy decided she couldn't handle the fact that Paula was no longer Paul. The woman took the two kids, who were very confused, and fled back to Minnesota. Her lawyers straightened out the custody and arranged the annulment. Meanwhile, Paula decided that she was happier being herself for a change. Of course she lost her job with the freight lines, but she managed to grab hold of an opportunity with a rival company. She was only a dispatcher, but she was a lot happier now than she had been in a long time. Meanwhile she was saving up to buy her own rig so she could go back to trucking.
"A female truck driver. I love it," Terry said encouragingly.
"It's no longer just a man's field," she said with a smile. "And I just don't care what people think anymore. So I'm going to be a female truck driver. So what?"
"You know, there's lots of opportunities out here in the film industry," Terry suggested. "I bet if I ask around I could get you a job. Maybe you could even move in here. I've got plenty of room and . . ."
"Stop, time out," she said waving her arms. "I didn't come out here looking for a hand out for me. I came out here to see my oldest and dearest friend . . . And I want you to meet someone, a very special friend."
"You came all the way out here to have me meet your friend?" Terry laughed at the uncomfortable look on her face. "I'd love to meet your new girlfriend. Where is she?"
"It's a guy, not a girl." Terry slowly set down his glass. "He's back at the motel. He didn't exactly know about all this, and well I think he's getting cold feet about meeting you."
"Well, when you go in for a change you really do the whole thing," Terry said. "Cold feet about meeting me? Give me a break. I made a couple of movies, big deal. I'm still a human being. I wish people would get over this celebrity worship crap." He stood up and reached out for her hand. "Come on. Let's go get your boyfriend. You don't need a motel. I've got room here for both of you."
Paula stood up and smiled. "No. He's not my boyfriend. I'm still a lesbian. Things like that just don't change. But he is a very good friend, someone I care a lot about. He's a writer. And no, we can't go get him. He's too nervous about meeting you as it is. Can you just stay here and I'll go get him. I'll do my best to convince him to come back with me."
Terry shrugged. "Fine. But bring your luggage. This place has three bedrooms. I'll take you both out to dinner. Oh, and be sure to tell him I won't bite."
"I've got a better idea," she said with a smirk. "I want you guys to get to know each other, but not in a crowded restaurant. Can you maybe have a pizza delivered?"
Terry laughed. "Pizza it is." She gave him a quick hug and laughed a little giggle as she ran out to her car and drove away. Terry shook his head and gave up trying to understand her actions. He went to check the two guest rooms, then came back out to set the table in the kitchen. As he put out plates and glasses he suddenly thought about Paula's very odd behavior. He was happy that she now seemed so content. He was likewise happy that she was no longer saddled with Virginia. He never really liked the woman. But why would she come all the way to see him just to introduce him to a friend of hers. Suddenly he had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. This couldn't possibly be a set up. Surely, Paula wouldn't walk back into his life after eleven years only to play matchmaker for some guy she just met. But then she said the man was a writer. Maybe he had engineered the whole trip just to take advantage of Terry, hoping to get a connection in the film industry. Well if that was the plot, Terry would be ready. He closed his eyes and focused on the cold, inner whiteness of the tundra.
Some time later the pizza arrived. Terry paid the delivery man and took it out to the kitchen to toss it in the oven and keep it warm. He then selected a bottle of wine and placed it on the table. He had just put out the napkins when the bell rang.
Terry walked slowly through the house and to the front door. He looked out the carefully disguised peep hole to see Paula standing next to a tall, muscular looking man with dark curly hair. Terry couldn't make out much more as the man was looking off to the north and his face was in shadow. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he pulled open the door.
"Hi," Paula said with a mischievous smile. "I convinced him to come back with me, against his will, I might add. Terry, I'd like you to meet my friend, Dan Beaumont."
The man beside her turned to look at Terry. He was older, more mature, but he still had the same devil-may-care smile that seemed to light up his whole face. "Hi, Michaelson. Long time no see. How's it going?" he said. Terry stood rooted to the spot while the room and the whole planet seemed to spin around him. "You're right," Dan said as he glanced down at Paula. "He isn't at all like his characters in the movies. They talk."
Terry closed his mouth and tried to swallow the big lump that had formed in his throat. Memories of his first college play came flooding back. He could still see Dan dressed as a guard in 'Antigone.' "It . . . it's really you?"
"None other," the man replied.
"Terry Michaels, this is your life," Paula said with a laugh. "Well go on. Aren't you going to at least hug each other, or something?" Dan opened his arms and Terry gave him an awkward hug, fighting to control the conflicting emotions that were coursing through him.
"The National Enquirer," Paula said as she observed how uncomfortable the two men looked.
"What?" Terry asked in a daze.
"The National Enquirer," she repeated. "They're just across the street taking pictures. You want to invite us in?"
Terry glanced nervously across the street before realizing that she was joking. "Yeah, come on in." He lead his two friends inside. "I've got pizza in the kitchen."
"Shit!" Paula suddenly exclaimed.
"What?" both men asked together.
"In our hurry I left the suitcases sitting in the parking lot of the Howard Johnson's." She turned to head back out the door.
"We can call them," Terry offered.
"All my money and clothes are in there, not to mention Dan's stuff. I've got to go back and get them."
"Paula, it's okay," Terry said as he chased after her.
"You guys start without me. I'll be back later." She jumped in her car and raced off. Terry stood in his front doorway and had the sudden realization that he had been out- maneuvered.
He turned slowly to see Dan standing in the hall behind him, hands folded on his still muscular chest. "I think we've been set up," the man said with a grin. "Sorry."
"That's okay," Terry replied with a nervous laugh. "Come on. We might as well have dinner." The two returned to the kitchen and Dan sat at the table while Terry retrieved the food.
As they ate Dan related his side of the story. After he dropped out of school he went to work for his father, but that didn't last. Eventually the older man begged Dan to return to school and insisted on paying everything. Pride can only go so far, so Dan agreed and finally, after changing majors seven times, he graduated with a BA in English. A year later he returned to grad school to obtain an MA. "You've got a Masters?" Terry asked. "In what?"
"English Lit. Pretty good for a dumb jock, hunh?"
After grad school Dan tried several occupations from teaching high school to being a traffic cop. But nothing ever seemed to click. He moved around a lot, hoping to see the country, and eventually ended up in Dallas working as a male secretary in a government office.
"Paula said you were a writer," Terry told him.
"Yeah, I do that on the side. I sold two books, just pulp romance novels, but it was fun." He bit into a second piece of pizza. "You know, this stuff is really awful," he finally admitted.
Terry laughed. "It is pretty bad." He put the remaining food back in the box and poured each of them more wine. "Hey, I've got an idea. Let's . . ."
"Save the rest for Paula," both men said together as Dan flipped the lid shut on the box. Laughing, Terry took the pizza and stuck it in the refrigerator.
Dan glanced inside at its empty expanse. "You still don't keep food in the 'fridge?"
"I eat out a lot," Terry explained.
"And Riunite," Dan said as he downed his wine. "A nice flavor, but not as expensive as I might expect from a movie star."
"Oh, please," Terry groaned. They took their drinks out onto the terrace and watched the sun setting in the ocean as they sat beside the pool. "So tell me how you met Paula."
They ran into one another in Dallas, literally. He was late for work and ran a red light, broad siding her car. After exchanging insurance information, Paula recognized him and when she described herself in college and mentioned Terry, he remembered their one meeting. He took her out for a drink. She apologized for being a bitch nineteen years earlier and they became friends. The rest Terry knew.
"But I don't," Terry protested. "Why did you come out here?"
"It was Paula's idea. She said she felt responsible for our breaking up years ago. So she wanted to at least get us to meet and make peace."
"There's no peace to make," Terry said as he chugged his wine. "I mean, we were just a couple of kids, not ready for a commitment." They both looked out at the golden waves. "So how long can you stay?" Terry asked.
"Not very long. I've only got two weeks vacation and we used several days just getting here."
"Well, while you're here, you're my guest."
"Just like old times," Dan said with a smile.
"Not quite," Terry replied wistfully. He told his friend about Wayne's death.
"That's a shame," Dan said, his voice tight with emotion. "I've lost so many friends over the years."
"Me too," Terry added sadly. They sat in silence, each lost in his own memories. Terry thought about Wesley, and then repeated the dead actor's words. "You know, there's a lot of incentive to stay out here."
Dan looked up, staring curiously at Terry. "Such as?"
"Such as the climate. You can go swimming all year long. How about it?" He stood up and began to pull off his shirt and kick off his shoes.
Dan laughed at the impetuousness. "But Paula hasn't gotten back with the luggage and I don't have any swimming trunks."
Terry slipped his jeans off, revealing his nude body. "That's okay. I'm not wearing any either." He dived into the water, deliberately making a big splash and aiming it at Dan still standing on the side. The big man began to follow suit, stripping to the buff and jumping in after Terry. They splashed and played, racing around the pool, and finally ended up at the side, both gasping for breath.
"You know, I was really nervous about this," Dan said, brushing back his hair. "You being a big success and all, I was afraid you'd probably turn the dogs out on me."
Terry looked deeply into the man's eyes, the eyes he remembered so well from the past. "I can't believe you're really here. There were so many times when I wanted to talk to you, tell you . . . things. Why didn't you ever answer any of my letters?"
"My stupid pride, I guess. And then when I realized what a jerk I had been, you stopped writing. I followed your career, even seen you on TV the night you won the Tony. What would a big star want to say to a nobody like me?"
"In the first place, you aren't a nobody," Terry said as he reached out and gripped Dan's wet shoulder. "And in the second place, I wanted to tell you how much I loved you. Only, back then I was too stupid to know it."
"You can tell me now," Dan said as he reached out and embraced Terry. "That is, if it's not too late."
"I don't think it's too late." They pulled together, pressing their lips in a passionate kiss.
In a moment, Dan broke free. "Maybe we better continue this on dry land," he said. "I'd sure hate to drown just as all my fantasies are about to come true."
They had just drifted off to sleep when the phone rang. Terry rolled over and picked it up. "Terry Michaels?" a man's voice said.
"Yes," Terry replied as he tried to rouse himself.
"Mr. Michaels, this is the police department. I'm awfully sorry to bother you at this time of night, but our patrolman picked up a woman in a late model Toyota parked in your neighborhood. She says her name is Paula Brown and that she's a friend of yours. She was just sitting in her car and it looked awfully suspicious."
"Thanks," Terry said. "But she is a friend. We . . . we had kind of an argument and she was just waiting for me to cool down. I'd be very grateful if you'd let her go and tell her she's welcome to come back. I'm really sorry for the trouble."
"No trouble at all," the man said. "We just didn't want to bother you if it was some crackpot fan or something. We'll send your girlfriend right over."
"Where are you going?" Dan asked sleepily as Terry got out of bed and looked for a robe.
"To let Paula in," he said. This seemed to satisfy the big man who instantly rolled over and began to snore softly. "I sure don't remember him snoring in college," Terry mused as he left the room and headed downstairs.