I smiled at Tom and Heather, "Take those coats off and make yourselves comfortable." They did just that, slipping their coats off and walked into the living area. "I hope you didn't tear yourselves away from a family gathering."
"No," Tom shook his head. "If anything, I thank you for giving us an excuse to leave!" He sat on the sofa with Heather. "I love my family." He began defending what he was going to say next, "I do, but it is kind of like being in a whirlpool-hot tub. It's great when you first get there; you relax and unwind, but after a while your skin prunes up and it's not as comforting as it was." He grinned at Heather, "My married brother is trying to impress Heather, his wife sees what Tim is doing and gets bitchy. Mom gets offended when Heather doesn't eat as much as Mom thinks she should..."
Heather chuckled, "I told you I can handle Tim. Your mother knows I can't eat too much."
"Yeah," Tom rubbed his stomach. "I'll have to work off the last few days."
It could have just been the actor in him talking, he was relaxed and sounded as if he'd known us for years! "We have some drinks in the fridge, but no alcohol..."
"We've got that champaign!" Chet said loudly with excitement. "PopE, you said there was alcohol in that!"
Tom and Heather smiled at Chet's happy nature.
I chuckled, "Yes, it does, but that's for New Year's Eve. It's tradition to toast the new year in. It's just what you do." I turned back to Tom and Heather, "I didn't know what you would like. There are fruit drinks, Perrier and Perrier Fusion..."
"Oh!" Heather smiled, "I'll take one of those!"
"Me, too," Tom said. "I won't have to work out so hard after that."
I got up to get their drinks.
"I'm surprised," Mark said. "No diet sodas?"
Tom shook his head, "Not for me." I handed them glasses and poured the sparkling, bubbling water.
Heather took hers, "I haven't found those diet sodas to be very helpful. Not for me." She shrugged, "Even all those zero drinks don't hydrate well. These only have forty-five calories."
Tom grinned, "This is water!" He said simply. "With flavor!"
I liked him. So far. "The question is, I've seen your show and parts you've played in movies...You read the upcoming movie script."
"I did!" Tom chuckled. "So why did I agree to play a gay man?" Then he got very serious and inhaled as a painful emotion surfaced. "My father."
Heather reached over and touched Tom and rubbed his arm, "He died two years ago." She explained quietly.
"He came out about ten years ago," Tom admitted and he got this sad smile on his face. "He was a great man. He died of an AIDS related illness."
This was very serious. Tom wasn't acting. They had treatments available now. HIV was detected earlier now and has a good amount of success. People were living so much longer with the help of medicine. To hear someone died was so...tragic. Practicing safe sex and pleas for getting tested had reduced the deaths of AIDS to where it was almost unheard of. HIV positive women even had children who were HIV negative. Yes, AIDS was a major problem! The death toll was in the millions. There was more here that Tom was talking about. The fact he was willing to play this part in a movie and people would see it said a lot even if he didn't say it.
"My father was raised in a very strict family growing up," Tom continued. He laughed at the irony he saw and felt about that, "They didn't belong to any religion, so you can't blame that. My grandfather was a drunk and he died when Dad was little. My new grandfather had to control everything and everyone. He wanted to control what my father did and thought. When my new grandfather found out Dad was gay, or thought he was gay...they sent him to one of those conversion camps." Tom sighed, "He was beaten and threatened until he finally convinced them he was straight."
"Beaten!?" Mark asked in shock, "How would that work?"
"It wasn't sponsored by any church and not sanctioned by any psychiatric or psychological group," Tom shook his head. "Dad was sixteen!! He was just a kid!"
"That was just after the AIDS threat began," Heather explained. "People were desperate!"
"But these people advertised to be able to do what my new grandfather wanted," Tom growled. "They would make a man out of your son!"
"Using a method not approved by most people!" I said shaking my head. I knew of many people that were bisexual that chose to act straight if only so those that society accepted and saved themselves from harm. "I'm sorry that happened to him."
"He married my mother," Tom said. "He raised my brother and a sister with Mom." He grew bitter, "But he had a secret life almost no one knew about." He looked at us, "Okay, so he was gay! Big deal!! I was sorry for Mom who is still angry, but he was a great father! He didn't suddenly become a bad father after we found out! He went on business trips and when he did that...he had these encounters with other men. In secret!" Tom threw his hands up, "What choice did he have? He felt forced into a life he didn't want. He thought he could keep his secret life buried and no one would find out, Until he was diagnosed with HIV. He had to come out about that. He had all of us tested. We couldn't get it from him, but he wasn't taking any chances." He sighed again, "Mom divorced him. But I didn't. Tim grew distant and Gale, my sister cut him off. Why?" He nodded, "Yes, he lied, but I could see why he did! He was Dad! I want to show that he was still the same man! He was Human, like all those who are homosexual. Who they love and kiss mean nothing." He gave a sardonic laugh, "There are plenty of bizarre people out there that claim to be straight, but who cares? We're all Human!"
"Wow," I said using Chet's favorite word these days. What word is better to use in a situation that defies any other?
"Eric was worried about kissing you," Mike said. "Can you kiss a guy?"
Tom gave a grin that was almost a leer, "I've kissed a few guys in the past." He volunteered.
Heather chuckled, "And not always on camera!"
I know my eyebrows rose at that.
Tom looked at Chet, "Does he..." Tom asked slowly and hesitantly.
"Yes," Chet just said it. "I know about sex. You all do it. What I've learned sounds kind of disgusting, but I know...I know...I was told one day I won't think so, but for now I do!" He folded his arms across his chest and huffed.
Tom and Heather both chuckled.
"He's too smart sometimes," Mike grumbled and rubbed Chet's red hair.
"He takes after you!" I smiled and shrugged. "Combating ignorance takes education. Combating ignorance on a global scale is nearly impossible. I agree about showing them we are all just people. If we can get a few to stop and realize that they might be wrong. It's worth it."
"Right!" Tom said.
"So, the title he used to address you..." Heather began to me.
I smiled, "Is a combination of Pop is for dad and the first letter of my name. It has nothing to do with the flower." I smiled at Chet, "He came up with that name."
Mike smiled, "We were a part of one of those religious groups." He scratched his ear, "At least my late wife was. Now, we don't hide things from Chet."
Mark chuckled, "No, they do not."
I looked quickly at Tom and Heather, "Uncle Mark means we answer his questions and tell him things he needs to know."
"At the age-appropriate level!" Mike added quickly. "He's a sponge for knowledge."
Tom's smile was back, "As I said, I've kissed guys before and even on camera. They were always independent films...they aren't hidden."
"With feeling?" I asked.
"Yes!" Tom said. "Almost all kisses are felt. That's why I had to meet you!"
"Corey will be kissing Dan," I said.
"Yes, but when the scene is done we'll be facing each other as Tom and Eric," Tom said. "We need to be comfortable with each other and get along! I do that with all my co-stars I kiss."
I was mentally giving a victory cheer, "And the nude scenes?"
"I have no problem with people seeing me naked," Tom said. "I'm a human male. Even the censors are Human and have the same things. They may not be willing to show anyone, but they have it."
"Okay!" I smiled. "This will go nicely."
"Sure it will!" Tom grinned. "I like you already!"
This was New York City! This city didn't have a "down time." It got late and Tom and Heather left for their hotel in Soho. That was several New York City blocks south of where we were. They had driven to Soho from where Tom's family was, but they were taking the subway! I didn't know how. I knew the subway did wonders for Manhattan, but if you weren't trained how to do it...I wondered if you'd survive! This line went to somewhere, then another line went somewhere else. I wouldn't do it solo! There were trains to New Jersey and Long Island! If I went solo, people would have to report me missing. They were dressed for it. No one would know who they were. They had done it before. I know, even children did it with confidence, but I wasn't confident enough to do it. Don't even get me started about the highways, the Long Island Expressway, the Holland Tunnel. Charleston traffic was horrible. They did a movie not long ago where a city was threatened by a nuclear bomb and the city was evacuated. No special preparations were necessary. They set up a filmed the bumper-to-bumper morning traffic. Dallas and Fort Worth traffic could be nail-biting, but New York City!? If no one drives in Manhattan? Then where the Hell are all those cars coming from? Take a train! Live!
Once you were in Manhattan, you were fine. Once you got there. It was the getting there that was the trick. Tom and Heather knew what to do. We made them promise to come by and we'd have a meal, either at the hotel or whatever they chose. We exchanged phone numbers and promised to text each other to finalize plans. I needed to rehearse the next day. My band didn't, but I needed to make sure my equipment worked and that no one, no one, would bother it or move it; just to get things they didn't know or care about out of their way.
We saw them out of the suite. Closing the door Mike let out a sigh of some relief and smiled at me, "So how do you feel about doing the scenes with Tom?"
"Much better," I admitted. "He seems like a very nice guy. We'll see if that's true when I work with him."
"Why?" Mike asked.
"I've heard horror stories about actors that get so full of themselves and their talent," I said. "They become unbearable! Demands for this and that, late for their scenes..."
Mike frowned, "I have read them, too, but I've not heard one about him."
"Like I said," I smiled as I kissed him, "We'll see."
The next couple of days it was going to be a madhouse of controlled chaos. For the hotel and for Time Square.
During breakfast we had delivered by room service. We heard they had a wait time of nearly an hour downstairs. Mister "I'm hungry" would not make it. I was very pleased when it arrived as promised. "It's a shame Tom and Heather couldn't get a hotel room here." I said to Mark.
Mark's eyes grew, "Are you kidding!? This hotel is overbooked! I feel sorry for anyone that pulls a no-show. Their reservation can not be canceled. You pay for the room! In fact, this hotel had all credit cards booked double!"
Mike looked puzzled, "Double? Why?"
"If you have a room and you don't show up," Mark said firmly, "Even if the guest died on the way here, you will be charged, and that second amount is taken away!" He waved with his fork. "It's in the reservation contract when they book it."
"That's very cutthroat," I said.
Mark nodded, "Business is very cutthroat. This hotel is very much desired the next few days. And no debit cards."
"Why not?" Mike asked. "If it authorizes..."
"And any card that doesn't authorize, the reservation is canceled." Mark said flatly.
"Why!?" Mike asked.
"Banks," Mark answered. "They get involved and delay and cancel payments...it can be a real legal mess!"
Chet was now earning an allowance. Yes, I hear you. Why does he need an allowance? Mike and I buy what he needs or even wants! We were careful not to spoil him. Just because he wants something doesn't mean he'll automatically get it. Ten dollars a week. He earned it by doing chores! Such as taking out the trash or loading the dishwasher. Cleaning his room was expected. He wasn't paid for that. We didn't reward for good grades; he didn't get bad ones! When he saved up enough for this game for his X-Box, he was so proud! He was learning to manage his money! "So, they reserve a room, and the hotel gives it to them, but they can't get there..." Chet said as he worked it out in his head.
"Say Bob wants a room," Mark began.
"Bob who?" Chet asked, but I saw an extra sparkle in Chet's eye. He knew what he was doing.
Mark went with it, "Who cares?" He said in mock irritation, "He's an example."
Chet covered his mouth as a giggle came out.
"He calls and asks the hotel for a room, and they say yes," Mark said, "The hotel knows many people will want the room, so they have a contract that Bob has to agree to and the contract says what happens if he doesn't show up and Bob agrees by signing the contract."
"But I didn't sign anything," I grinned at Mark.
Mark narrowed his eyes and looked at me, "As your manager, I sign many things for you," He was about to go on.
"You read the contract for this hotel?" Mike asked to be sure, but he was grinning. He knew what he was doing, too. "The whole contract."
Mark had frozen and then his eyebrows came together, "I'm more than a pretty face, Mike." He leaned toward Chet and said in mock confidence, "I do have a pretty face. I know that, but that's not all." Chet was laughing harder. Mark sat up, "Yes, Mike. I read the whole thing! Contracts and lawyers go together. I am a lawyer. I read everything and check for fine print." He leaned again to Chet, "That's when the hotel wants to hold you responsible for something the hotel hopes you won't see. They have to include it on the contract and once you sign it. You are bound to it."
"But what if Bob couldn't make it?" Chet asked.
"Bob knew the consequences!" Mark said. "He agreed and signed telling him what would happen. He is under contract." He held his finger up. "Larry says he couldn't make it either, but Larry lies to try to get out of payment. He also signed another contract that says the same as Bob's. The hotel turned guests away saying they had no rooms."
"Larry should have to pay," Chet said. "Bob had a real reason."
"How do we know? Maybe there is no evidence for either of them." Mark smiled. "They hire me! Or Amy, or Barry...and we argue about it. The hotel has their lawyers, and we argue in court about it! We use laws to settle the argument!"
"Oh!" Chet said understanding and nodded.
Once again, this Mark was rare! The truth is; he enjoyed being this Mark. Uncle Mark was funny and won Chet over quickly and Chet knew how to get Uncle Mark to act that way.
Mark turned to me, "Tom and Heather were lucky to get a hotel room in Soho!"
I met with Ryan again. This would be a live performance. Every show I did was a live performance. Every singer up here tomorrow night were used to giving concerts live on television or on stage. We could do three or four songs. No problem. It started an hour before midnight where I would perform a song. After midnight I would do another. One more at the end of the broadcast. Another just for those in Time Square before sunrise. Tomorrow at sundown all street access would stop. Thousands would begin to gather for the ultimate New Year's Eve party. So would many police! There was a stage that would quickly go up. New Year's Eve tradition started in Time Square in the very early 1900s and just got bigger every year.
Ryan told us what was scheduled, what was to happen and who to pay attention for direction and look for our cue to come in. There were singers and groups that had their own bands that had to rehearse. They also had to set up. The only thing I needed was to see if my computer and cables were set up and see if it worked! Rain or shine, the party was going to happen. The forecast was clear, but it was cold!
I did have to speak with the sound manager. She looked over all we needed to do, and I explained about my equipment. She would make sure no one bothered it. If something happened and I couldn't be heard, someone's head would roll! She was a professional and swore it would be done per my instructions.
I was very aware of the situation I was in. I told Papa Ray what happened to me before a performance. I told Mark when he asked why I wasn't excited because it would make me nervous. This performance was in front of my largest audience! Ever. There would the thousands here, but there were the millions that were watching me live on television. I was nervous! I wanted to present my absolute best. That nervousness caused me to obsess about my equipment. When I found myself wanting to check it again for the third time that morning, I forced myself to take deep breaths and relax. Otherwise, I'd drive myself crazy. My equipment had never given me problems. I was too cautious with the checking and safe guards. There was the one incident in San Diego where the building I was preparing to perform in lost its power. Everyone was plunged into darkness. The emergency lights came on and you may know how little that helps. One whole section of the city was out of power. Why? I still don't know. However, being in a city with a lot of military, the Navy brought the huge generator on this large truck and plugged the whole building in. I gave my concert! It took two hours for them to get that part of San Diego back on the power grid. There were a few thousand there that night.
I went back up to the suite and found Tom and Heather there again with Mike, Mark and Chet. They were dressed in jeans and sweaters.
"...for tomorrow," Mark was explaining to them. He looked up and smiled when he saw me. "And he's back!"
"Everything good?" Mike asked.
"Yes," I nodded. "Tomorrow night should be a good concert. Not just by me, but there are some other groups and singers. I hope you like it."
Tom frowned, "Yeah, well we ran into a problem. We're leaving Manhattan after lunch today."
"I thought you were staying for the whole thing!" Mark protested. "Do you want to leave?"
"No!" Heather shook her head. "The Sheraton overbooked."
"They overbooked," Mark said. "The Sheraton. You're there already!"
"I know," Tom nodded, "This older couple had a reservation, but it was booked!"
Chet frowned having learned this morning about hotels and contracts, "But the Sheraton took their money! By contract, the couple should have the room the hotel promised them!"
Tom smiled at pointed at Chet, but looked at Mike and then me, "How old is he?"
"I'm eight!" Chet answered for us, "But if those people did what the contract said and paid for the room, doesn't the hotel have to give them a room?"
Mark grinned at Chet, "I'll make a lawyer out of you!" He brought Chet in for a loose hug. "He does this uncle proud." He dramatically said as Chet chuckled.
Tom and Heather were laughing, too. Tom nodded and said, "They were going to have to, but the nearest hotel was in West New York!"
Heather nodded, "That's in New Jersey!" She emphasized.
"The hotel was going to transport them to and from, but these next two days!?" Tom said.
"We gave them our room!" Heather explained. "I have a cousin in West Babylon, but that's way out on Long Island."
Mark's eyes narrowed, "The hotel knows what you did?"
"We saved their butts!" Tom grinned, "Yes, they know."
"What compensation did they offer?" Mark asked and then shook his head, "It doesn't matter. Whatever they gave you won't be enough. Your lawyer will help you," He slapped his own chest, "Me." He smiled again. "You will use my hotel room here and I will bunk with Chet. His room has an unused bed in it!" He looked at Chet, "If you don't mind." Chet grinned and nodded. "Do you snore?"
Chet shrugged, "I don't think so. Do you snore?"
"Mark," I chuckled, "He's eight! Of course, he doesn't!"
Tom and Heather began the usual, we couldn't impose and that isn't necessary.
Mark held up his hands, "Can we just skip to the end where you say yes and accept it?"
"Sure," Tom replied and bowed slightly. "Thank you."
Mark was right with his wanting to skip to the end. As a child I quickly became familiar with protocol. Someone invites you out to eat. At the end when it was time to pay there was always the "I've got it." "I invited you out, I pay." "You don't have to do that." And last, "No, my invitation; I pay." It was the most generous argument, and no one yelled or was angry. My thoughts were, "Grown-ups." My eyes would roll and wondered why they bothered with it. Everyone knew how it would go. Who invited changed back and forth. I figured it was just what grown-ups did and I'd know why when I was a grown-up. In spite of my behavior most of the time, I was a grown-up now. I still don't know why we waste time.
We brought Heather's and Tom's luggage from their car in the garage. Parking in New York City was very expensive. One space was set aside by our suite. Mark got a parking pass to put in the windshield. The space was paid for with the rate, if you needed a second one...you paid for that almost as much for the room. Once more, almost no one drives in Manhattan. Many don't even have a car! Or a driver's license. There were parking spaces that people buy! It was property like a house and no one could trespass. There were even some that buy one just to be able to say they own one. I swear! If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'. Think of it as a bigger $150 martini. Was that martini better than others? I don't know! People didn't drink them because they were good. They drank them to show everyone around they were drinking it. It was status! Gay or straight, New Yorkers were...different.
When we asked where we should have lunch, it was clear what was going to happen. They didn't care where we went.
"We aren't familiar with what's here," I said. "Just tell us where to go. You two know what you can eat."
Heather nodded, "Sure." She looked at Tom. "Carmine's?"
The only Carmine I knew of was Shirley's boyfriend on the Lavern and Shirley reruns. Everybody had to know Carmine was gay! Shirley was safe and so was Carmine! She was holding on to her virginity until marriage. Carmine deflected rumors by pursuing Shirley. And everyone had to know about Lenny and Squiggy! I saw it! In my head. They're fictional characters and I say they did. Usually, I put Carmine with Lenny, they were a better match. I'll leave Lavern and Shirley up to you.
Carmine's was almost a mile away. We walked. Four guys, a girl and an eight-year-old boy? Nothing odd here. The hats, caps and jackets hid a lot.
"Was your father ever happy?" Mike asked as we walked.
Tom smiled, "If you're talking generally, he was often happy. He loved his kids and was almost always happy with us."
Mike snickered, "I'm glad about that, but Eric and I met, and we both made mistakes. He was engaged to a girl back in Charleston..." He looked at Chet, "He makes me happy many times, but...I almost made a similar mistake..." Mike was hoping that Chet wouldn't hear and not understand. "I thank God for him every day. He is not a mistake."
Chet was busy watching all the people and looking at the many cars, shops and up at the buildings.
"He isn't," Tom nodded. He looked at me, "Your life for the last decade is recorded in song." He chuckled, "The first CD the most."
Heather smiled, "We are big fans! I loved Oblivious!" She bumped Tom so he stumbled a little bit but laughed. "That was about him! He was so busy looking for something when I was right in front of him!"
That's what I wanted and hoped people would do. I was careful with the pronouns and kept them generic.
Tom rolled his eyes and shrugged, "I was busy! But I came around, didn't I?"
Heather laughed grabbing Tom's arm, "Finally. It took almost a year!"
"Yes," Tom avoided looking at us in the eyes. "Well, I wasn't going to be pushy. The first season, she guest starred in the cliffhanger."
I grinned as I nodded, "I remember that."
She was brought back for a few episodes. Tom was a young detective with the police department. He picked up on corruption that went to some high-level officials in the government. Including the Governor! Tom's character spent the entire first season trying to connect who was connected! With almost each episode, he found something new about someone else. It became deeper and deeper and more exciting each week. Finally, a brilliant Federal Bureau Investigator was assigned to help with the search. Brilliant and gorgeous. Carla, Heather's character helped to track down who was in charge. Three episodes until the end of the season, Tom began suspecting, but needed proof! Everyone watching suspected and of course, you had to wait for the next season to air to find out "she" was the head of this corruption. A sociopath that was a genius. Carla had mastered manipulating people, felt no guilt or empathy, but was charming! She killed with no remorse. And she knew she was never wrong. Carla had been helping Tom's character to keep track of him and throw him off of the trail. Her trail. She was keeping an eye on him! She could kill using her bare hands! A man, woman or child was killed without thought and none of that monologuing or just leaving them for whatever trap to kill. Carla killed them! This was no story about a superhero or villain. It was done realistically. No one ever asked, "why did she do that?" She did it! It shocked you! Suddenly and with no emotion.
Yeah, she was so good at being bad! I loved hating her! But the two characters had chemistry! She ended having to come back to the show as the same character and everyone just waited on pins and needles. They loved it!
"She got through to you," Mark grinned.
"Yes," Tom chuckled, and he raised arms helplessly. "I was used to dealing with Carla, not Heather! Heather was much more subtle." He smiled at a memory, "Dad did find someone, and they were together for five years." He gave a sad grudging shrug. "Neal. He was at Dad's side at the end." He looked at me. "I hope people can see that love is love, sex is sex and the two don't have to have both. With just sex alone comes the perverse and deviant. Dad was a man. Just like the others. Human. He wasn't perverse or a deviant. He was just a man."
"I think we're both saying the same thing," I said. "For different reasons." I grinned. "Now, that car you drove!!" I said. "That dark red..."
Then I was joined by Mike and Mark as we said together, "...1967 Mustang Shelby GT 500!" We high fived each other.
"Oh," Mike groaned. "That ride is sweet!"
Chet was watching us and smiling at what he saw.
Heather was smiling, but shook her head, "Are you guys back in high school now?"
Tom shook his head as he laughed, "Nothing speaks to the heart of all men like the right car."
"Where are we GOING?" Chet suddenly wailed having reached the end of his patience. "I'm hungry!"
"We're getting there!" Mike said getting to the end of his patience, too. With Chet.
"There's a rumor it's very good!" Mark said.
Chet frowned, "If we'd gone across the street to McDonald's we would be eating now! That's good!"
Heather smiled, "True." She admitted. "It is good, but I promise; this will be much better!"
Tom pointed down the sidewalk at the deep red/purple awning that covered customers from the restaurant to their car without getting wet if it rained, "It's right there."
Mark took Chet's hand and began pulling Chet lightly, "We better hurry." He said. "From the sound of Chet, he only has a little time left!" He grinned at Chet's smile that grew, but Mark said. "Can we afford to take a chance? He's wasting away!"
Carmine's was busy. It was lunchtime and the day before New Year's Eve. Like Carmine on that show, it was Italian. The rich smells of many spices used that were uniquely Italian. The smell of garlic, oregano, sage, thyme and many other spices scented the air and made you salivate smelling a good meal. Music played by a mandolin that also spoke of Italy. It was a nice sized restaurant and the hum of many customers dining at tables or at the bar with a wall filled all the way to the ceiling with many bottles of liquors.
Tom was a tall man, but he stood on tiptoes and searched over the heads of guests waiting to be seated. There weren't that many waiting, so it didn't seem like anyone was waiting too long. Tom saw what he was looking for, leaned toward Heather and said something to her.
I am always fascinated how you knew what was happening yet couldn't hear a thing. She went up to the bar area and spoke to a man there who was filling a glass stein with beer from a tap. The man was in his forties with black hair and an olive complexion that said he was Italian. He was helping two others that were working the bar. Heather said something to him. He looked at her and when she pulled her stocking cap off he quickly smiled at her in delighted surprise. Obviously, he recognized her. He carried the stein over a couple of steps and gave it to a waiting customer. He came out from behind the bar and hugged her.
"She is known around here," Tom explained. "There are friends and family in this area."
"Which is he?" Mark asked.
"He was married to her cousin," Tom answered.
"Was," Mark repeated. "That was past tense, meaning he isn't now." He clarified.
"No," Tom nodded.
"He's her ex-cousin in-law!" I nodded.
"That's right," Tom chuckled and nodded. "He was family, but still friends!"
"I challenge anyone to find a card for that in any card store!" Mike muttered.
Heather was back and her stocking hat was on. No one should easily recognize her, "Lonzo says to come with me."
He waved us through the door the waiters used to enter the kitchen to get guests dinner requests. You know. One door was to enter, another was to exit and avoid collisions when they were busy.
"Ciao, amico mio!" The man greeted Tom with a hug and did the traditional kiss greeting on both of Tom's cheeks. The man had a moustache he was "trying" to grow. It wasn't thick. Yes, again I thought he was a nice-looking man! Happy people make beautiful people. He looked happy!
"Alonzo Parisi," Heather took the man's arm and waved at us. "These are our new friends Eric Richards, Mike Calhoun, Chet Calhoun and Mark Hill!"
Celebrities in New York City were seen by people. From television, Broadway, movies, sports...if the celebrity didn't like it, they moved out of town only coming to town to work. I had a friend here see a famous female movie star in the Produce Section of a grocery store. The angle was right and he recognized her, in spite of her disguising her look. He didn't make any scene and didn't ask for her autograph, but simply said, "I thought you would have people to do this for you." She smiled at him and said, "I do, but there are things I like to do for my family." He knew two personally, adding me and Mike did not change Alonzo's expression.
"Call me Lonzo," he instructed pleasantly. "Benvenuti da Carmine!" He did the same greeting with us! Spanish is so close to Italian; I knew he welcomed us to Carmine's. He also gave us the brief hug and two kiss greeting, left to right. Very Italian. That was also meant that he saw us as we would be good friends; not just people he would meet on the street and say hello. "Follow me."
He led us away from the bar and dining area in the opposite direction and through some doors that swung like saloon doors. He turned lights on from a switch on the wall. This was a private dining room with a long conference table in the center which could seat ten people on each side and one on each end. Dark wood table, polished and shined. There was a slightly lighter wood paneling on the walls.
"I think this will be comfortable for you," Lonzo said he pointed to the other side of the room. "Bathrooms are over there. I'll get your drinks. What can I get you?"
"Do you have iced tea?" Mike asked.
I touched Mike's arm and added, "Mike might mean southern sweet ice tea." I clarified but knew the answer.
Lonzo knew what I was saying, too. He raised his arms and shrugged, "This is New York City! So, no." He grinned. "We could have if we'd known you were coming, but..."
I nodded grinning, "We get it. Ice tea and sugar for me. No lemon."
"They have Big Macs, but no sweet tea," Mike shook his head and muttered to me. "Maybe they aren't that civilized here."
In spite of the not having the sweet ice tea, Carmine's was nice! Heather's ex-cousin-in-law didn't just stash us away and forget about us. Again, this was a busy time for the city. Did we deserve special treatment? Some thought yes. We were people who did things so well, we brought attention to ourselves. That was partially true. Heather, Tom and I told stories. We did it so well, that people wanted to hear more. I did it to music and actions that people liked to see telling a story my way. Tom and Heather told stories that were done playing parts and did it so convincingly. We distracted their attention from life around them for a while. Lonzo was an artist, too. A meal is a means to an end. We stayed alive by eating more that simply ending hunger. It was done at Carmine's that made you want to do it again! Two additional people Lonzo had working with him made things even better! They offered things we might like and we told them what that was.
Chet was having a great time learning Italian meals were more than spaghetti and meatballs. He had to try a little of everything. We had the Garlic Bread, Stuffed Mushrooms, Fried Calamari, beef, chicken and shrimp. When Chet took a little of mine, I was chewing and didn't have a lot of time. "That's very spicy! It's hot" I warned, but he'd also started to chew and his eyes widened. His mouth opened as he sucked cool air in and even fanned his hand at his mouth to lessen what he felt. He was about to commit what I considered a crime by drinking his tea! "What has your father and I told you about Tex-Mex?" I asked quickly picking up the basket of Garlic Bread and held it to him. Chet grabbed a toasted piece of buttery bread with green flecks or onion and chewed quickly.
"What is that, PopE!?" Chet gasped as the overwhelming sting lessened.
"Shrimp Fra Diavolo," I answered with a grin. "The Devil's Shrimp."
Chet looked at Mark, "You should try this!"
Mark frowned, "This is payback for me moving in with you tonight, isn't it?" He asked. "You're trying to kill me!"
Chet grinned, "Nah, you're too old."
"Excuse me!?" Mark sat back.
"I learned in Health Class that kids have more nerves than adults do," Chet shrugged and again he knew what he was doing with Uncle Mark. "That why little kids hold the blanket to their face for comfort. They can smell better and smell their Mom and previous meals. Babies can taste better than anyone and have tastebuds even on the roof of their mouths. We lose them as we age." He waved at Mark. "You are too old for this to affect you."
Mark was going right along with it. It was in fun. Mark's eyes were so wide in shock and then narrowed, "Why you little...red headed..."
"Uncle Mark," Mike said in a sing-song manner as he quietly said.
Mark glared at Chet and leaned in only inches from Chet's face, "I hope I do snore and keep you up all night." He looked smug, "Maybe I'll do it on purpose just to keep you up!!"
Chet wasn't worried at all. He looked at Tom and Heather, "You need to come to Texas! There's the Cattlemen's Steakhouse in the Fort Worth Stockyards...They have great steaks, but they have the Shoot `em Up Onion Bullets, Wrangler Calamari and sauces to make what is hot and spicy even hotter and spicier!" he pointed at my plate, "but that has in all on one plate!!" He looked at Mike and me, "but it's different, but just as hot. Why?"
"I don't know, son," Mike smiled. "I know peppers are involved."
I nodded, "There are so many kinds of peppers," I added. "And what is used. The seeds in a pepper is the hottest part. Some chefs will just use a pepper having removed the seeds." I smiled a bit evil, "Others will allow some to cook with the dish. Some will even crush the seeds into a liquid and make the dish very hot."
"And!" Mike smiled. "It changes color as the pepper matures on the vine! The color will also tell you how hot it will be!" He sat back and smiled, "In fact, I think that would be an excellent assignment for you!"
"What?" Chet asked.
"For extra credit or something," Mike grinned. "Do a research project that tells how a pepper can become hot. What makes it hot? What are the kinds of peppers? You can do it in Los Angeles. Prepare a report telling what happens."
Chet didn't look worried. He was intrigued! "I can't taste it all by myself."
I looked at Mike, "It's a duty of a parent to help their child with their homework or school projects," I said taking Mike's hand. "Are you willing to help?"
Mike chuckled, "It's a sacrifice I'd be willing to make." He looked at Mark, "Are you willing?"
Mark looked at us each, "First, I'm not his parent. Second, anything over two alarm is too much for me...if it's Chili, Taco or..." he pointed at my plate, "that!"
"You may not be," I did finger quotes, "a parent." I smiled. "You are parental and can mentor as his uncle."
"You are all trying to kill me," Mark said looking at Tom and Heather. "You two are witnesses. They are encouraging me to do something, knowing I might die!"
It was funny! Laughter came from everyone at the table.
"Stop being a Drama Queen!" Mike said.
"It could be fun!" I added, "And delicious!"
Chet was liking this assignment!
In just two visits, Tom and Heather moved from strangers we knew of, to friends! Mark had changed! I tried to reach the part of him he was showing now. That was all Chet!! He didn't even know he was doing it. Who wouldn't want the love, devotion and faith of a child? Don't tell Chet I said that. He would not like me referring to him as a child. He was a big boy now. Sure. He was at an age where the baby becomes a child and was using a code of behaviors he thought were important. He was becoming more independent. Mark was a good man. Now that the pressure was off about winning me back or looking for his next conquest sexually he was fun! I knew the problem with him finding anyone would be mine. Yeah, that was kind of sick, huh? I was protective! The former marine, turned lawyer was emotionally a virgin! No one...I mean NO ONE was going to abuse him or break his heart. No one. Who was I? What made me think I had that responsibility? What right? Because I was the only person that could claim to be his family! There was no one else. I was no expert. I had no Psychology Degree, but I gave a damn! I loved Mark! I've admitted it! I still am! I said that, too. That love changed and he cheated on me, I never cheated on him. However, I also know if Mike had come back with Mark and I were together...I would have. With Mike and Chet...even with Della, we were all his family. I don't want to be too free with that word, but when everyone rejects you including the man and woman who gave birth to you. Emotional connections with others is natural and necessary. Protection is what family members do.
If you've ever watched a show broadcast live and you wonder how they pull things together and make it seem flawless. I'll let you in on a secret. It is hard work! The cameras have to be ready, meaning the camera person has to be in place and ready when the time comes. The manager had to be listening to make sure the lights were on and equipment ready. The many, many police had to be ready to deal with...whatever the problem was. Everything from pickpockets to drunken partiers that get out of control. Emergency Medical also had to be ready to respond quickly. Candid shots of the crowds of people had to be coordinated. Everyone had a cue. I just was going to be ready. There were several cameras on one group or person. My concentration was going to be on the crowd before us. I had someone to give me a hand signal and go. Like it was at Disneyworld, I worked. Again, my family and friends were having to do whatever without me. This was why we were here, so I could do this.
I got through with what needed to be done. Returning to the suite, I was by myself. Following the death of my parents, I was by myself. I came from Charleston to Fort Worth by myself. I felt by myself in the world after I realized I was gay. Being by myself was okay with me, because I was never alone. I knew being by myself wasn't permanent. I sat in the living area and turned the television on. At home I had programs that I liked digitally recorded and streamed the program when I was done with a concert or tour. On a local twenty-four-hour news channel they spoke of what was happening here, in Time Square. And there were the reminders to local New Yorkers and those coming to New York of the alternate routes and blockages. When some streets would be shut down when. The people that lived in Manhattan had dealt with it for a hundred years and were accustomed to it. Then I heard faint, muffled voices and a keycard inserted in the lock. The suite was well sound proofed, because when the door open...
"...not natural!" Mike declared to the others who were laughing. "It just isn't!" He was followed by Mark who was carrying Chet piggyback. Heather and Tom came in. Mike looked up at me. "Hi, Babe!!" Mike greeted with a big smile. "I hoped we be back before you finished!"
I grinned as he came over and kissed me. It wasn't a long passionate kiss, but it was more than a quick peck of greeting, "I haven't been here long."
Chet slid off Mark's back and raced over to hug me, "Hi, PopE!" The excitement of whatever they'd done was in his eyes. "We went ice skating!!"
"Which isn't natural!" Mike pointed at the others, "How many ice skaters are from Cuba?" He waved his hands in exasperation. "How many even from Florida? There is not a lot of ice!"
Now, I knew what he was saying when he came in. I nodded, "Oh, I see."
"Didn't you have ice rinks?" Chet asked.
"Maybe," Mike said grudgingly. "I don't know. This Cuban was too busy making money for food!"
Mark was putting the coats in the closet, and he grinned, "Rinks of ice are really new in a lot of areas." He looked at Tom and Heather, "How about some hot chocolate?"
"That would be marvelous!" Heather stated.
"Do they have any for Mike to sit in?" Tom asked pointing at Mike.
Mike grudged a nod, "I spent a lot of time sitting on my butt on the ice." He reached back and rubbed his backside.
"Oh, you poor guy!" I said with amusement and sincere sympathy. "Do you need a heating pad?"
"Nah," Mike grinned, he hugged me. "The hot chocolate should work fine."
The modern hotel had a way to get coffee and hot chocolate yourself! The suite had one of those machine/thing you take one of those pod things and put your mug under to catch the flow. This one used water and milk! The milk or cream was in the little refrigerator. It had to be done one at a time, but... Mark made the first and gave it to Heather. Ladies first! Everyone knew that rule. I hadn't been skating, so I took mine last.
Mike nor I had to worry about getting Chet to bed. He did that on his own. Anytime he ever asked to stay up for some reason we agreed. We knew he wouldn't make it. Mike told me Chet would always say he felt it in his legs. Huh? He told us one evening and I had to know.
"What do you feel in your legs?" I asked kindly. "Is it pain?" It could have been serious.
"No," Chet would say very sleepy. "It's..." he thought, "like the muscles are heavier. It doesn't hurt, but they just tell me it's time for bed." He shrugged. "There isn't even an ache. The muscles just feel like they're hanging on the bone." He reached down and touched a calf muscle, "Here," he ran his hands over his thighs and mostly in the back, "and here."
Mike had been worried a little, but Sherry had him to several doctors. That I agreed with Sherry. She was his mother! Maybe, it was a little extreme, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finally a doctor told her, "I see nothing wrong with him. He's very in tune with his body and he's just tired."
Neither Mike or I were surprised when Chet got up and said, "My legs are telling me to go to bed. I'm going." He said with the little energy he could muster. He came to his father and pressed his forehead against Mike's. "I had a great time, Dad." He did the same for me, "I know you'll be awesome tomorrow, PopE." Then he did it to Mark, "Good-night, Uncle Mark." He waved at Tom and Heather. "Good-night." We watched him go in the bedroom and closed the door.
"That is an amazing kid!" Tom said to us.
"I agree with you," I smiled.
"He's weathered a lot," Mark nodded.
"It's a long story," Mike fidgeted uncomfortably. "Losing his mother and the struggle with his grandparents who think we'll make him gay..." He looked with pain in his eyes at the closed door to the room where Chet was to sleep.
"How are you doing that!?" Heather asked in shock.
Tom put his hand on Heather's arm, "Probably the same way they did with my Dad and drove him into a life of secrets and death. Ignorance."
I also touched Mike's arm, "I say he is being triumphant! He's smart and he's guided by you."
"And you," Mike smiled. He grinned at Mark. "And you."
"As we will get further acquainted," I said to Tom and Heather. "I know you'll know more. I have no doubt about that."
Mark chuckled, "I give it another day or so. He'll be calling you Uncle Thomas," he pointed at Heather, "and Aunt Heather."
I smiled at Mark, "I think you need one of them yourself."
"A child!?" Mark's eyes widened and held his hands up to stop where I was going with this, "Oh, no! Thank you very much, but I like what I've got now!" He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, "I've got a future lawyer growing in him. I'll be the fun uncle and when he gets annoying send him home! To you!!" He smiled grandly.
I had a long day the next day. I didn't stay up much longer.
There also was a point where even doing what you love to do becomes a chore. You prepare too much. That was like my getting myself too excited would make me nervous. Rehearsing too much was the same as studying too much. It was a game in the mind. A subject you know; answers you knew you can make yourself doubt. I knew the songs I'd chosen. I wrote them! The bout with amnesia was just a part of the performance process. It would happen, but when it was time to come in...I knew I would make my cue.
Sleeping in was not a good plan. The body is programmed when to go to sleep and when to wake up. It can be adjusted, but that doesn't happen doing it once. Adjusting from Central Time, to Eastern Standard Time and then to Pacific Time...all in one week!? My brain would throw in the towel and give up.
In the bedroom Mike and I shared, Mike watched me get things ready.
"I know you no doubt have it under control, but..." he shrugged as he sat on the side of the bed.
"But?" I grinned at him.
"You know what they say the temperature will be tonight," he stated and not a question.
I turned back to a leather garment bag. "I do," I nodded. "It will be in the low thirties to upper twenties."
"And you're wearing something warm," Mike said as a statement again.
"Certainly," I unzipped the leather bag. "I think this will keep me warm and yet stylish." I pulled the tuxedo I had chosen out. "It is insolated yet has the needed flash!"
Mike's expression became one of wonder as he slowly got up and walked over, "Is that..." he touched a sleeve, "a leather tuxedo?"
"Yes," I answered.
The first thing you noticed was the red. The upper portion of the coat was that color. And the red sparkled in the light. The best description was your head was a rocket or a comet. The sparkle were the sequences and red crystals that covered the shoulders. As your eye followed the red down, the space between the sparkles and red were spaced farther apart replaced by black. Like an exhaust trail left from your head. As it went, just at the mid-level of your torso the black became all you saw. The pants were also black. The purpose was to make people look at you. I usually used costumes in my shows. The night Mike proposed in Las Vegas I wore a nice black tuxedo, but there were no flourishes about that tux. This tuxedo should capture your eyes live in front of you or at home on the sofa while watching. Yes, there is probably a diagnosis for someone who wants to be the center of attention. I know there is. That's what being a showman requires!
"It is lined on the inside to keep me warm," I explained. "It could be breezy, but the leather will protect me." Like a motorcycle jacket that blocked wind as you rode. I picked up the remote I used to let the computer know what I needed to do. "I will need to keep my hand warm." I chuckled, "At least my thumb, anyway." I held my right hand up and moved my thumb toward the center of my hand. "It's great we have these opposable thumbs."
Mike grinned, "Millions of years of evolution just so you can give a concert."
I shook my head, "You're seeing it wrong." I said kissing him. "I can give a concert because of millions of years of evolution. The millions of years isn't just so I can."
Mike smiled, "Is there a difference?"
"Yes!"
I got a call, Ryan told me the "dress" rehearsal was pointless. That had to be tough on him. He was such a perfectionist. The need to control everything was right on the surface. I saw him surrender a few times when one of the staff didn't do what he envisioned! "No! Not there!" I heard him and saw him say to one of the camera crew, "You'll be in the wrong place. Don't stand there, stand over here." No one could argue with him. He made a Hell of a lot of money doing what he did. He knew what he was doing.
Tom, Heather, Mark, Mike and Chet ventured out of the suite. As everyone was told...and I mean all those who watched the news, they knew what would happen and when. Below, the number of people increased. The number of vehicles on the street decreased. The stage area on the sidewalk in front of the hotel was going up. That stage would spill over into the street. At six in the evening, all cars and vehicles were gone. There were police cars and a couple of ambulances parked, but that was it. More people were beginning to gather in the Square. Sidewalks were not the only thing traveled on foot now. Many were walking in the streets freely now. I got ready to go down to be there by nine that evening.
The door to the suite opened again. I saw several McCafé drinks held and Chet was happily consuming his Oreo McFlurry.
Tom looked at me and realized, "We didn't get Eric anything."
Chet bounced, "Nah, PopE won't eat or drink before he goes on stage except for maybe water."
I grinned, "That's right. I can't afford to burp while singing."
"Oh," Tom nodded. "I get it."
I had on the pants and shirt. There was no tie. The shirt was smooth, not one of those with the fluffy or frilly front. It buttoned at the neck and only a small sliver of the shirt would be seen. The jacket covered everything else.
Mike smiled, but the smile was also a slight leer, "Can you show them the coat?"
I grinned back, "Sure." I nodded. "With the thermal underwear on, I can only wear it a few minutes." I went and got the jacket and pulled it on. In the light of the suite, the sparkles just shimmered with sparkling red.
Chet even stopped eating his McFlurry as his eyes widened, "Wow." He said almost in a whisper.
Mark grinned, "You said it, Kiddo." He waved at me. "Now that...is a star!" He said proudly.
I came down as I saw Ryan where he said we were to gather. He wasn't pacing, but his face and stance spoke of a ritual he did before any broadcast. He looked up and saw me and a big smile spread over his face as he saw my outfit.
"You're ready," Ryan smiled.
"I am," I nodded. I pointed at him. "I didn't want to interrupt you getting prepared mentally."
Ryan physically waved that off, "It's something I do." He shrugged.
"You always make it look effortless," I smiled.
"So do you," Ryan said. "An artist will make a person believe anyone can do it. That takes a bit of centering of the mind."
"That makes you an artist," I smiled.
There was a monitor that showed the broadcast.
"Three, two, one and now." A woman pointed to someone at the control panel. There were pre-recorded parts.
There were panning shots of the crowd that were here all waving and cheering as the camera came across them, "Live, in New York City's Time Square. It's Dick Clark's Rocking Eve with your host Ryan Seacrest," Ryan stood with his microphone in hand talking to the camera, "and special guests..." now the different guests singers and groups were shone singing their hearts out as each was introduced, including me. The image of me was when I was in Las Vegas dressed in a tuxedo as I sang Mine At Last. I had mixed emotions about that because that's the night Mike proposed and got shot the next day. From extremely happy to an extremely tragic event. "And now, your host. Ryan Seacrest!"
"I'm in Time Square," A long and thick coated Ryan began holding the one ear he didn't have an earpiece monitor in. Behind him were dozens of people behind a waist-high barrier, dressed in coats, thick scarves, mitten-wearing and various kinds of stocking caps and hats all waving at the camera. Some just cheered, you saw a couple say "Hi, Mom" loud. "It is pandemonium here tonight as we get ready to usher in the New Year. This is another year for Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve!" The screen showed quick clips of the Master of Ceremonies at the many New Year's Eve parties with crowds behind him like the one behind Ryan now. Ryan might be the nicest guy you could ever even hope to meet, but Ryan knew he could never be what Dick Clark had been. Dick Clark was referred to as the Oldest American Teenager, because he seemed to be immortal! The man didn't age! Not like regular Human Men at least. Everybody just knew he had a secret. For thirty years he was the face of America's Youth on the American Bandstand. He hosted game shows and acted in a few shows. He was loved by almost everybody. I never heard anyone say they didn't like him. All the women (and some men, I'm sure) wanted him. The men wanted to be like him. He had that horrible stroke which I could sympathize a little with and everyone gasped! My "stroke" was a blood clot, he had a breech in his head. It was hard enough for my recovery, but I knew he had a hard uphill battle he wouldn't win. But he tried damned hard! He had my full support and, yes, I prayed he would get better. He did. He could never fully recover, but when he returned to host the Rockin' New Year's Eve most everyone was thrilled!! I was. I remembered some comments that were not in support. One I read about how horrible it was to see him struggle so hard to speak. Why? I understood him. He had a stroke!! He worked DAMNED hard to come back even that far. I, and many people, applauded him. It was miraculous! Who was hurting with his speech? It sure as Hell wasn't Dick Clark! He didn't just give up and die. The man triumphed! Perhaps that person who thought it was so horrible suffered because they weren't looking at the situation right. Instead of thinking about how horrible the victims had it, they only understood how the victim made them feel. It's called narcissism. The world revolves around this person! The sun didn't shine until they got up in the morning. Nobody knows people like that, right?
The screen showed a handsome man in the late 1950's, 60's, 70's and 80's. Game show hosting and the only thing to change was how he did his hair and the style of clothes. The rest of him seemed to be frozen! Yep, he had some big secret he was keeping to himself. Even with that, I say "Good for you, Dick Clark!!"
"You can't go..." a man's voice behind me and some others said. I turned and saw someone remove a thick knitted stocking cap, "Oh!" The man who guarded the closed off area said suddenly and smiled, "I didn't recognize you, Mr. Calhoun." He pointed over his shoulder in my direction. "There he is."
Mike nodded, "Thanks." He walked over and smiled at me. "I couldn't miss that suit with my eyes closed!" He grinned kissing me.
"And that's why I'm wearing it!" I said logically, "You can't lose me."
"Even those lights and crystals on the New Year's ball can't outshine you!"
I shrugged, "All stage artists do it. Male and female. Remember Lady Gaga in the meat dress? Or Cher's feather dress?"
Mike chuckled, "I remember Elton John's feather suit more. He had some wild outfits!"
I nodded as I grinned, "Yep." I grinned. "Don't forget Queen's Freddie Mercury. He had some pretty wild costumes."
Mike nodded, "His were almost normal."
"Normal!?" I balked. "What is that!? And where would you put me?" I demanded.
Mike grinned but backed up. His arms coming up to prevent my attack on him, "I don't know. Somewhere between Elton and..." he thought, and you could see his eyes dart back and forth as he thought and he finally shrugged, "Liberace?"
I heard it, but I don't think he expected my reaction. I smiled appreciatively, "Liberace?" I asked quieter. "Really?" I liked that. It was a compliment! To me, anyway.
"Well, yeah!" Mike chuckled as his arms lowered slowly, "You've got all of Elton's flash and Liberace's sophistication. Elton bordered on outrageous, but Liberace was over the top with his clothes, but they were always a tuxedo or something. And you are all three very talented with the piano, you just don't have the candelabra!" He frowned, "Liberace was flashy with his actions, and he was always followed by the blue-haired older ladies. They followed him everywhere!" He looked at me curiously. "You know? Fag hags?" His head went back a little. "I remember seeing clips of him back in the 1960's and 1970's...did they have Fag Hags back then?" As I was about to comment, he went on, "They had fags then, right?" His face got distorted as he thought, "Are they Fag Hags if they don't know they're Fag Hags?"
I laughed, "I don't know! I would assume they are." I raised my finger, "and that fag was magic with the keyboard! The piano was an extension of himself, and he never had to look at where when he ran his fingers over those ivories! He knew," I tapped my head, "in here where his fingers should be. It looked so effortless! His was never faked."
"Faked?"
"Yes, faked! You know," I insisted. "They have an actor...and they can be a pretty great actor! But, one scene the actor the actor tries to convince viewers they can play the piano or any instrument well...the actor has no musical abilities and it SHOWS!!"
Mike's head went back as he thought, "They show the hands when they play the piano."
"Do they really?" I asked knowing better. "If it's a face or body shot, they always shot where the piano blocks the view of the hands! If there is a complex run of notes to show real talent, they show the hands, but just the hands to show the complex fingering! They have on the same shirt or jacket the actor does, but not the face! A pianist's fingers flow and their arms move smoothly and gracefully. They show the actor and he or she looks like they are having a seizure almost; bobbing shoulders and all that." I shuttered, "ewe." I then pointed. "Even worse are those that fakes playing a violin! The bow is never in the right place. All they show is someone moving the bow, erroneously back and forth, in the wrong place and their left hand is just holding the damned violin...often wrong and their left fingers never move!!" I saw Mike's eyes grow and his smile, too. "Is it too much to ask for the actor to spend more time to learn to fake it more convincingly!?" I raised the finger I was pointing with, "Now, Liberace! They never had to worry about him! No convincing. He really played! He knew where his fingers went and he never LOOKED!!"
"You never look either!" Mike pointed out as he laughed. He shrugged lightly, "You have a pretty big performance in a few minutes. Did I distract your thinking?"
"Yes," I looked at the surroundings. "Thank you. Where are the others?"
Mike put his arms around me, "They're back in the suite. They can see all this better on the television." He smiled and looked like he was going to confide something, "I'm not sure Chet's going to make it. He wants to be down here at midnight to watch the ball drop, but..."
I nodded as I grinned, "He doesn't have to try too hard. There will be other New Year's celebrations."
Mike nodded, "Yes, but he doesn't get to see his PopE perform live very often. Mark's bringing Chet down before that. He's very proud of you." Mike kissed me gently. "So am I."
I wasn't the first act, so it was a few minutes later right before I was to sing that I saw Ryan on the side bring Mike and Chet to stage right! Chet had a good view to see me. I waved at a very happy little boy! Sleep was just going to have to wait on him. He bounced next to Mike and waved at me. Of course, I waved back, but didn't move. I was in position for when the camera person knew where to start me.
Ryan was speaking with his female co-host on camera.
"...and now," Ryan said grandly. "Here is Eric Richards!!" He waved off camera.
My right thumb hit the button and my "band" began the subtle introduction for Oblivious! What surprised me was as soon as it started, the crowd spread before the stage began to cheer! They knew the song! There was a party atmosphere, and they were noisy anyway, but were now specifically noisy for me!
"I see you every day!" I sang, "But you can't see me! How I feel about you, how can you be so oblivious?" The first lines of the song rang out and my motions on stage were the exaggerated motions of a person trying to get the absurdity across in a dance-like form! I could see the huge monitors that helped those people not near enough to see what was happening on stage. Yes, those sequins and crystals sparkled! That showed! I gave the camera persons a challenge keeping up with me, but like me; they were professionals and never lost me one time! I wrote and composed the music to make your pulse rise and your hips had to move! The song told about love from afar and asked if both were oblivious. Yes, it started subtlety, but grew more intense with each verse and blended with each chorus where it rang to an explosive question, "Why so Oblivious?" It was a question asked for both the target of the song and the singer! The crowd was going nuts!
The camera cut to Ryan's co-host. Ryan came out with a big smile, and he hugged me! "That was amazing!! You really felt that song!" He glanced back at Mike and then looked at me with a grin. "I know the story, but I'd say no one's oblivious now."
I shook my head, "Not anymore."
Chet raced to me as I exited the stage. "You did so great, PopE!!"
Mike was smiling as he kissed me, "And the next song will be?" He asked, knowing the answer.
"Mine at Last," I smiled. "I can't let everyone hang." I said logically. "I'm putting on a show, even if it's not a themed show."
"I disagree," Mike shook his head. "The theme tonight is life." He shrugged. "You've got unspoken love and you'll be singing next about that love is finally realized." His hands were on Chet's shoulders as Chet stood in front of him, but he motioned with his right, "You have love sought," his hand moved again, "and then love found." He shrugged. "That's the theme of life." He smiled, "Love."
Okay. Inspiration is just is so...unpredictable!! Those crazy muses don't care if your driving, sleeping or just finished one of their previous inspirations. We give it supernatural explanation, because...how else do you describe a thought or idea that quite literally hits you right between the eyes!? It did! Mike even saw the impact!!
He tightened his hold on Chet, "Uh, oh." He said quietly to Chet. "He's being inspired."
"Huh?" Chet's face squelched a little in confusion. "Inspired? When?" His eyes grew. "Now!?"
Mike leaned down and put his face next to Chet's and pointed at me, "Yes. Right now." His finger moved slightly pointing a each of my eyes, "You can see it. He gets this startled, almost vacant look in his eyes." He rose again. "I've seen it a few times over the years. I know it now." He grinned at me. "That must have been a pretty good one."
I chuckled and I know I rolled my eyes, "Anytime you're inspired is a good one."
"Yeah," Mike nodded. "But even you say what Bubba sends you sends you some really good stuff." His eyebrows rose up and down. "He did that one just now, didn't he?"
"Bubba?" Chet asked smiling looking from Mike to me, "Who is Bubba?"
Mike grinned, "He's one of the Muses from Greek and Roman mythology. They are demigods who inspire men in art, music, science..." He pointed at me. "PopE named his Bubba."
"Oh," Chet smiled. "Like Zeus, Apollo and Venus?"
Mike nodded, "Yes!"
Chet frowned, "Bubba is real!?"
I shook my head and said, "Mike." I smiled but didn't want him to mislead Chet.
"What!?" He asked innocently on purpose and looked at Chet. "I ask you. If I say something happens because I say someone did and you see that it did happen. What would you say? Is what I said real?"
Chet was enjoying this and smiled, but he was using what his father had taught him to think, "But you just said someone did it. Did you see him do it?"
I chuckled. Chet had also been spending a lot of time with his Uncle Mark. "Your Uncle Mark is right! You would make a good lawyer."
Chet grinned, "Is there evidence what you say happened was done by that someone?"
"You saw it happen!" Mike pointed out. "PopE was inspired, and he was the one that said it was Bubba!"
Chet looked at me, "You've seen Bubba do it?"
I laughed, "No. I never see him do it. I just was just taught he and some others do it. That's their job."
"And there you go," Mike waved at me, but looked at Chet.
"It's like..." I thought a second, "You lose a tooth, put it under your pillow and find money under the pillow in the morning. Did the Tooth Fairy put it there? The tooth is gone and the money's there." I looked up at Mike, "Please tell me they allowed him to know about the Tooth Fairy."
Mike nodded and scowled, "Yes. Go figure."
Chet nodded, "Mom said it was for fun."
I nodded, "Bubba is the same thing."
"Oh," Chet nodded.
"You aren't going to be anywhere to do anything about it," Mike said.
I grinned and bumped him gently, "I'll just have to retain it."
He nodded and smiled at Chet, "The last time that happened, Mine at Last stayed at the top for..." he looked at me, "What was it? Almost two months?"
"Just shy of six weeks," I chuckled.
"Well," Mike threw his arm around me. "The last time Bubba hit you with inspiration you ended up with a movie offer and the trip here!" Mike pointed down. "Who knows what this one will do?"
"The point is," I said to Chet, "I get these ideas in my mind and..." I raised a hand helplessly, "I don't know where they come from." I shrugged. "Your Dad inspired many songs, but this idea suddenly explodes in my head, and I have to write about it! That's where Bubba comes in sending me tunes and words to express my feelings." I chuckled. "Personally, I find Bubba's timing questionable. He's a trickster and he sends me the tune and words in the middle of the night and waking me up." I waved at the stage, "Or like now."
"It's a good thing," Chet said to be sure.
"Oh, yes," I grinned.
Mike nodded, "It will keep him up for hours and even days!! He doesn't sleep or eat..."
"Mike!!" I stated firmly, but Mike was still smiling and so was Chet. "Don't let Chet think this is a bad thing!!"
"How do I get Bubba to inspire me?" Chet asked enthusiastically.
I waved at Chet but glared at Mike, "See what you did!?"
Mike shook his head, "Yes! I'm not sorry."
"You can do another movie?" Chet asked excitedly.
I laughed and held my hand up, "Whoa, guys. Let me do this movie before we plan for another one."
Mike's eyes grew, "Now Bubba's inspiring me!!" He said in a quiet voice, and he even gave a look vacant, startled look. "Yes!! A gay version of A Star is Born!"
"A Star is..." I said knowing my eyes were getting wider. "That's been done so many times!"
"Not like the one I'm seeing!" Mike grinned, he waved a hand across scenery only he saw, but he was smiling. "An unknown comes on the scene loaded with raw talent. He is discovered and with the help of a more seasoned performer blossoms and they fall in love." He looked at me and points, "Then the new talent's career soars and he surpasses his lover and mentor bigger than his mentor ever was! Then there is the angst of depression, alcohol and drug abuse...there is no limit what can happen as new talented man and mentor man struggle to balance careers and hold on to love! It will be great!"
"It can also be a tired flop!" I said.
Mike didn't back away, "Not with you in it! Your voice knocks people out!! More chances to add music and songs on the world!"
"And who will I be?" I asked. "Janet, Judy, Barbra or Lady Gaga?" I shook my head. "Or am I to be Fredric, James, Kris or Brad?"
Mike's head went back, "What?"
I held my hand out and counted out on my fingers, "1937, 1954, 1976 and 2018. Those were the years every one of those movies came out."
"Call it something else!" Mike's excitement was back.
I nodded twice quickly, "Sure, we'll call it A Fag is Born! Isn't that what the movie I'm contracted to do is about?"
Mike stopped a moment and thought, "No." He said quietly. "This...Breathless movie is to show we're just Human. The same struggles for love and happiness everyone does. Your character Dan is gay and admits it. Tom's Corey character is not and has to come out! In the Star is Born I see the characters' struggle will be life, career and love. They just happen to be gay!" He shrugged. "Both movies would be about the same thing. Life. The story will be how people deal with life that make it interesting."
"Mr. Richards?" A female voice said coming close to me. I turned to see a woman dressed for the cold in a thick coat. Her knit stocking hat had a microphone stick out toward her mouth and there was a thicker lump on the right side of her face where the microphone joined with the earpiece under the hat. She had a clipboard? It was really a tablet with a screen that showed moving images to her. "Mr. Seacrest is asking for you on camera." She pointed off to where Ryan was speaking to a different performer, this one famous for Country Music. There was the enthusiastic crowd being held back by barriers of concrete and police. I think they were police. They all wore coats and jackets that said they were.
"Coming in seconds," I assured her with a smile. I turned to Mike. "We'll talk more." I kissed him quickly. "Don't give up on your dreams, but every movie or show needs a Producer. Does the name Aaron Spelling mean anything to you? Work on it and let me see a script and we'll talk more." I hugged Chet and ruffled his head, "Now, I got to go pay the rent!"
I wasn't kidding with Mike. Everyone knew Aaron Spelling. He was the face of television for decades!! Every hit show you would see in the late 20th Century on the American Broadcast Company (ABC) had his name on it. He was a very smart businessman and had his fingers on the pulse of viewers and gave them what they wanted and made himself filthy rich. I think his wealth was simply the result, I don't think wealth was the focus.
People watch television, but I don't think they really know what it takes to make any entertainment. You watch and have to see the commercials because they provide the money to see the show, but all those people who bring it together...make-up, costumes, camera operators, directors, all those people we barely read about when the credits roll...gaffer? What the Hell is a gaffer? Remember the woman that I told you about who I instructed on what was needed to be done? She was a gaffer!! A boss or foreman that keeps things in control. I had to look that up. All these people needed to be paid whether the presentation was a success or failure! They did a job. Constructing sets, special effects...all these people needed to be paid. That was where producers came in! They were presented with an idea; a producer has to gage whether it would be a good idea to back the idea with money. Their money. They pay all those people, and those commercials pay the producers back. It's a risk. I've done it a few times when a singer or group impresses me so much and I see what they need is a little financial help, I'll do it. That's where I negotiate a portion of the profits they make comes to me! Well, Mark negotiates, but I tell him I'll help. He was my producer and still is. It's a very tough business. All those people I mentioned had to prove with a track record of success they were the best. A talented actor is really just a small part. Yes, they are. Mark loved the fact that a lot of those jobs were done by me. I was the band, sound engineer, mixers...I did rely on several choreographers for the dance moves and still do, but I eliminated all the assistants and other positions by doing those jobs myself. Della was a huge help as a coordinator and sound engineer.
If Mike thought what he told me about was a good idea, this could be a way to get him into the business. If he wanted to. If the budget was gargantuan he would need to talk to others into helping foot the bill. We had some money, yes, but we couldn't do it alone and shouldn't have to. That just wasn't smart business wise. Mike was smart. He'd figure it out. While we were in Los Angeles he could do more than keep Chet up with his schoolwork.
"Eric," Ryan began holding the microphone. "That was an incredible song!!"
I bowed slightly as I got closer, "Thank you."
"How is it that you just slipped under the radar and within two years are having such an incredible rise in the world?"
I grinned at him and the viewers, "Hey, now. I've been singing almost twenty years!" My arms went up in helplessness. "No one was hearing me!!"
Ryan's smile grew, "I think they've heard you now!" He knew, but he was asking for all those who didn't know, "Where do these songs come from?"
I nodded, "It was really a cathartic expression to what I was going through. It's universal! Everyone seeks acceptance, love and comfort." I shrugged, "I wrote them in hopes that everybody can relate to them. Male, female, gay, straight, no matter what race...everybody can relate at some point in their life. We're all human. It's what we do!"
"Everybody is looking forward to your singing again tonight." Ryan said, "We'll be watching you for what you can do in the future."
I grinned and then got mockingly serious, "Yeah, I tried to pick out something to wear tonight." I moved and saw the monitor show the red sparkles. "Do you think they see me?" I was an actor and asked so sincerely and innocently.
Ryan didn't last but a second before he burst out laughing patting me on the shoulder, "Yes! I know they can!" He turned me around as he looked at my coat and the camera showed it close up. "I will definitely have to get one for me! I like it. Can I get away with it?"
I smiled bigger, "Absolutely!" I put my arm around his shoulder, "You can't be shy and wear it and you..." I pointed at him, "are not shy!"
"I don't think you even know what shy is!" Ryan said laughing.
"Nope," I said and saw the woman gaffer again signaling me I needed to be in place. I pointed a thumb over my shoulder, "I'm going to go sing again."
All of us performing tonight had songs that lasted anywhere from three to ten minutes. That was because of all those records. Surely, you know about records. Those wonderful round vinyl things before digital? You used to be limited by the length of a song because of the limited space to make the recording. Place the record on the player, adjust the speed of the rotation and enjoy! That's what I heard. We came a long way from the first song, Au Clair de la Lune on that phonautograph back in the mid Nineteenth Century. Personally, I think because you can only attract someone's attention for so long. They like variety. Rock, pop, metal, country-western...they were all here tonight. Even the dancing changed some. I saw one of the biggest line dancing done that night. There must have been a hundred people or more that did it!
The red light told me it was my turn again, so I hit the button on my handpiece and the usual start began. As soon as the crowd heard the first few notes, they knew the song again and were cheering and sang along.
"I can't believe you're here! With me! You are mine at last!" I sang. This song started slower and just built from there. That was my usual style. Each performance had the same structure, but...each time I sang it; I changed. More energy was put into the song tonight and I never just sang. This time, I SANG!! Using my thumb, I adjusted the volume and stretched the last note on my remote control as I blasted out, "I will never let you go! At last...you...are...mine!!" I held the note, my arms spread out and let it resonate and the crowd was going crazy!!