“And are there any actors or movies that stand out to you?” His eyes lock onto mine, a soft intensity in his stare.
“I really respect the likes of Christian Bale, Heath Ledger.You know, those actors who really commit to the role.” He nods back at me in agreement, and my smile widens across my face.
We’re interrupted by the waiter coming alongside the table and setting down another slew of dishes. He grabs a couple of the empty plates before looking directly at me.
“Can I get another one, please?” I ask. I reach for my glass and shake the almost melted ice cubes inside.
“Certainly, sir.” He looks across to Paul and Alfonso, who exchange a glance at one another and then at their empty glasses of wine.
“Sure, we’ll take another as well,” Paul responds. From there, the conversation gets lost in the nuances of what the role will entail and what I’ll need to prepare for.
Paul puts his hands down on the table once the bill has been settled and looks across at me.
“Right, we better get back to the hotel, before our car turns into a pumpkin,” he says. His speech is lightly slurred, the glazed look in his eyes magnified by his glasses.
The restaurant crowd has thinned out, but there are still enough tables with guests to provide an audience as Rob steps up and helps me out from the booth. The warmth I feel inside, a mixture of the four drinks I’ve had and the warm chat with Alfonso, has opened me up tonight more than any journalist ever could. Alfonso is ultimately still a stranger, but he’s one who has been able to put me at ease. Well, that and the vodka. Still, that’s hard to do, given my trust issues.
I’ve lost count of the number of people I used to know who changed once I became famous. They say fame changes you. Well, I’ve come to learn that fame doesn’t changeyou, it changes the people around you. Which then, by extension, forces you to change.
You never know who’s going to sell a story or come out of the woodwork to befriend or reacquaint themselves with you.They’re not interested in who I am, but in what I am. What I can provide as a result.
Yet tonight, with Alfonso, I didn’t pick up on that feeling from him. Maybe it’s because he’s already in the industry and conveyed a genuine interest in what I had to say. And I felt safe with him. That, and I know Paul would never put me in a situation where something could come back to bite me in the ass.
I stumble slightly as I step out of the booth, laughing it off when the others look at me. “All this talk about acting has me giddy with excitement,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Alfonso smiles back, while Paul shakes his head and grabs his briefcase, and we all follow Rob to the entrance. Thankfully, the bill came with mints, allowing me to hide the alcohol on my breath. Although, by the look of Alfonso and Paul, I needn’t have worried. The two bottles of red they knocked back contribute to their slow meandering through the tables to the door. The delay gives a couple of tables enough time to reach for their phones and slyly try to take a photo, as if I wouldn’t notice.
I’m shocked when I see Paul lean in to hug Alfonso goodbye at the restaurant entrance. It’s an unusual display of affection for Paul, one that I’ve not seen in years.
“We’ll be in touch soon to discuss next steps,” Paul says, patting Alfonso’s back.
“Sounds great,” Alfonso says, and smiles before turning to me. “It was great to meet you, Alexander. Thank you for your time tonight.” He stretches out his hand.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I say, ignoring his hand and leaning in for a hug.
I feel my eyes welling up and quickly shake my head to clear the sensation. I pull back and release myself, and Rob nods before opening the door to reveal a small crowd of people and a handful of paparazzi waiting next to the car.
I didn’t realize how big my suite was until I began pacing it twenty minutes ago, trying to build up the confidence to knock on Christopher’s door. The conversation we had earlier didn’t go exactly how I hoped. But thankfully, it didn’t go as badly as itcouldhave gone if he had walked in thirty seconds earlier and caught me rummaging through his backpack.
The alcohol that loosened me up at the restaurant is starting to wear off, which is unfortunate. I could really do with some Dutch courage right now. I’ve spent the past hour showering twice and changing outfits three times, finally settling on gray sweatpants and a white vest. I want to give off a cool laid-back impression, but that’s a far cry from how I’m feeling right now.
Another glance at the clock above the TV shows me it’s 2 a.m. If I don’t head across to his room soon, I’ll probably blow my chance.
I get up, head over to the tall mirror attached to the wall, and begin psyching myself up, just like I do before stepping out onto the stage each night.
You got this.
You’re the man.
I repeat the mantra a number of times, believing it slightly more with each go around. As I grab the room key and my wallet off the side table, I hear the faint sound of chants coming from outside and notice the pile of new earbuds sitting on the table. I grab one of the boxes and slide it into my pocket.
Great.
That’ll give me a more plausible reason to knock.
I leave the room, closing the door quietly behind me, and slowly walk toward his door. I stop outside and lingermomentarily, taking long deep breaths to try and steady my heart, which has begun beating rapidly against my rib cage.
I hesitate as I reach up to knock, and pull my hand away. He’s probably asleep. I turn and start to head back toward my room when I remember the mantra.
