Blackholes

Chapter 2 - Meeting Up

Chapter 2 – Meeting Up
Geoff - just a business meeting

His steps echo as his mind flutters somewhere else. He hasn’t gotten any sleep and he is having trouble managing his own thoughts. His body is sliding down the hallway that will lead him to Karina Musso’s meeting room. Charlie Thatcher, the owner of Commerce Studios, and the rest of the cast are already waiting, eagerly looking forward to meeting him, or so did Karina Musso’s agent say. However, he is not so eager on this reunion. Even though every one is being so overly friendly and attentive, he wishes he could postpone all of this. It is not because of his lack of sociability, the fact that he isn’t good in the human relationships department doesn’t bother him all that much nowadays. It is more the fact that the anxiety which this meeting has been creating him is keeping him away from wanting to continue walking towards his future path. As his steps become slouchier he realises that, so far, LA hasn’t really been the place he had expected it to be.

Although he has only been in town for about three hours, he can already notice the abysmal differences. LA is surely no Europe, far from it indeed. The tanned and happy faces contrast with the pale sadness of the London streets. He misses the walks along the Thames, watching the city through the glass of the London eye, walking over the London Bridge as the wind pushed him towards infinity. He misses Oxford Street and all the little souvenir shops and the repetitiveness of the whole. He misses everything and anything, and he realizes: how could have he ever left his life behind?

“It’s right here.” Karina Musso’s agent points out as he opens a door. They are all sitting, smiles plastered on their faces as they inspect him thoroughly. He shivers.

He knows he isn’t a good talker therefore he must stay calm. He mustn’t go into details about his life; they mustn’t know about his past, it is crucial. What if they find out, though? What would he do in the possibility they already know? Is it really that important to hide all of this? Now he wishes he could be a rock star instead, at least then he wouldn’t have to hide behind a teeny bopper star mask. “Stay calm.” He tells himself trying to focus.

He looks at them once again. He can recognize Charlie Thatcher, the man on the fancy suit sitting at the back of the room. Charlie Thatcher smiles at him but Geoff escapes from his gaze. Sitting next to him is a girl, probably Fame, his daughter. He can clearly see the resemblance. He must admit she is very pretty, the agent wasn’t kidding. He flicks his eyes onto the next person and realizes he can’t quite identify the face of that blonde young bloke. Must be that other actor, what’s his name… Oh and that other one right there sitting in front of Karina Musso. That must be Lorraine. He has heard she’s very good friends with Fame. That’s about it though.

“Welcome!” Charlie Thatcher says opening his arms. The others join him except for the blonde bloke.

“Isn’t he just perfect, Charlie?” Karina Musso exclaims with an explosive smile on her face. Charlie Thatcher nods. “Told you so!” She looks very touched, as if Geoff was her very own creation.

“You are the perfect Ferdinand.” Fame adds. “Where the hell did you find him, Karina?” Karina Musso shakes her head still wearing that goofy smile on her face.

“You wouldn’t believe it. In a gift shop in London.” Fame opens her mouth in surprise. “Yes. Oh sorry Geoff. C’mon grab a seat.” Geoff drags his feet and seats next to Fame. “So Geoff, tell us how was your flight.” Karina Musso says as her smile expands a little bit more (if that is even possible). All eyes on Geoff.

“It was fine, I guess.” Geoff mutters through his teeth. “Stay calm.” He repeats to himself. “I am just really tired right now.”

“Oh are you? Well how about us, dude…it’s 6:30 in the morning on a Sunday!” The blonde bloke explodes. He can see anger in his eyes. Geoff is too tired to show his…or to actually feel it matter-of-factly.

“Hey hey kids!” Charlie Thatcher puts order. “Don’t get so excited. We are all tired. That’s not Geoff’s problem. Now, let’s get down to business then.” He puts on his glasses and gets a document out of his folder. “In here it says that we will start filming on the 1st of July. The first scene will be done on the set. Now, Geoff, I know this will be a bit hard for you as you are quite late on schedule but you will have to catch up.” Charlie Thatcher hands a script to Geoff. “Here, you will have to read the whole script. Mr. Carlton is unfortunately out of the country but he told me to tell you to please learn your parts from scene one up to scene ten, at the least.” Geoff nods to all of what Charlie Thatcher says even though he doesn’t know how to read a script and has no clue on who the hell Mr. Carlton is. Fame has probably noticed his complete ignorance on the subject so she has just whispered to him that Mr. Carlton is the director and producer of the movie. “Now please people, be on time. We will have a longer meeting tomorrow with the band who is writing all the soundtracks and with Mr. Carlton himself.” There is silence and a yawn.

“Can we go now?” the blonde bloke asks utterly bored.

“You sure have been partying hard yesterday, huh, Douglas?”

Teo - Uphill downhill experience

Noel says Laura is fine. She is eleven now. Although he didn’t say so, I could sense his complete discomfort; he didn’t want to talk about her. If I hadn’t asked, he probably wouldn’t have said a word. I tried to ask him more questions but he kept on changing the subject so I decided to leave it there. I didn’t want to try his limit. I didn’t want to sound like a pushy. Everyone hates pushers. Plus everything was going so well, it reminded me almost of the old times. He was being civilized on the subject, a sign of progress. He just repeated the same thing Dante had told me about a million times already, the fact that Sam needs more time.

“Women.” Noel sighed as he chewed on a piece of chicken. “They can cause wars, my friend.” He was looking directly at me, practically into me with that strong gaze of him “Just look at how Brad Pitt ended up in that stupid Greek movie. I don’t trust them.” He paused and shook his head twice as if preparing for what he was going to say next. “Look at you two now.” He was referring to Sam and me, I guess. I kept silent all the time. Not because I didn’t agree, it was mainly because I didn’t know what to say. “It is just a phase, man. You guys will be friends again, trust me on this one.” And he kept on chewing that same piece of chicken.

“Just a phase.” I repeated to myself as if necessary.

Yes, a phase. I am riding my 1986 second hand Volvo, the one I bought yesterday with Dante. It is actually the only thing I bought with my own money, the only piece of junk in my life that actually belongs to me and only me. It was hard picking a model due to the fact that I am on the verge of bankruptcy, but it was worth it. I am currently on my way to Sam’s house, I googled it. Clearly, he hasn’t because it is still up on that stalker.com website. Don’t get the wrong idea though, I am usually not this creepy, I just need to clear up some things with him. It is necessary.

The wind is blowing my hair and I’ve realized that I really need some new sunglasses; the summer is already heating up. I am wearing new clothes and I have finally shaved my hobo beard. Dante must be glad. I have gently brushed my hair, for once, and it is the first time in a while that I am feeling clean. In fact, I haven’t felt this clean for almost four years now. It is and improvement considering I used to take a shower every two weeks…and that was if I hadn’t forgotten…or passed out on the living room carpet. That was the every-day Teo Rumano for you. Now I am a completely changed man. Or at least that’s what I like to say.

I am currently lurking around Beverly’s Hills. None of the houses can be seen from the streets, the unnecessary long entrances are all the eye can meet, the rest is left to the imagination. The newly painted walls enclose the enchanted mansions that populate this side of the city with their majestic architecture and their magnificent deco. The smell in here is different, it seems to be much more purified and it almost resembles the scent of newness. As I go by, I feel a very unusual sense of loneliness. I look around but the streets seem to have been drained of people. And while I admire the gardens and all those beautifully shaped bushes, I wonder. My mind gives it a thought and one more again. How do this people bare to live with all this mind-created necessities? How can they manage to put a fake smile on their faces everyday and admit to themselves that happiness is unreal? How can they keep on with their lives, caring only about the frivolous, the material? How can they buy the new cars and pretend to rejuvenate as they grow older and not dare to look out into the real world? How can they be so utterly false? It is only now that I understand why I never fitted in this completely hypocritical world. An underground kid from Brooklyn placed all the way into the wealthy life. The spot. And I wonder again. Is anyone else in this universe sick of this plasticity?

I turn right, drive for a few walks, then turn left and there it is, blinking at me as if hesitating. That massive chunk of concrete. His house, I cannot look. The location for the gatherings I missed all this years. The location never achieved; the cause of the lost time. The mansion of the richest guy on the whole western block. The lodging of the king, the he who everyone else loves.

I turn off the engine and remain sitting, looking out the front window with my eyes rapidly rambling from left to right, my mind still quite indecisive whether or not I should abandon the car. I breathe deeply and picture myself walking towards the doorbell, my legs tremble. What would I say? “Hi Sam, it’s Teo and I’ve come back to haunt you.”? I clasp my hands under my chin and close my eyelids. I can see sparkles of exploding gunpowder while I try to relax. What more badness in the world can reach me now? Am I not bullet proof already?

The decision has been made. It is two against one and I am back in the band. He cannot run away from the dead, nor can I. It is the time to sort everything out, to put all the dirty laundry in the washing basket. In any case, he will have to face me some time soon. It can either be in a meeting room, in a bar, I don’t mind. He cannot escape from what is bound to happen. I cannot let myself do that. It is time to act. I am not a boy anymore, I am a man. I can handle this. Cant I?

I open the door cautiously as if I was in the middle of a battlefield. I gain strength, pause myself straight and lug my feet hastily towards the entrance, the giant black verge looking down at me in pity. I ring the bell and I look into the insides of the property, I inspect the surroundings too. How long has it been? The walls look higher now and the spikes sharper. The sun glares vividly into my eyes through the thick deep-green leaves of the old Beech American tree that dissects it. “I don’t know why Teo, but every time I look at that tree, it reminds me of you.” Sam confided me once. I wonder why it isn’t dead yet then.

“Hello?” A voice chirps out of the speaker. “Corgans’ Residence.” The maid. What to say? I cannot reveal my name, not yet, Sam won’t receive me. I tremble. My legs shake in absolute discomfort and I get the shivers. I feel cold, insecure and stupid. Insecure for standing here and being completely unable to speak, and stupid for trying to beg for a dusty unrequited friendship I am obliged to relive. I must stay firm. “Hello?” She asks again. I must talk.

“Uh hello.” I blurt. “Is uh, Sam home?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“I-uh, I am a family friend.” I lie.

“May I ask your name, sir?”

“Charles, Charles Dickevoy.” I pause for breath. “May I speak to him?”

“One second.” She hangs up. I sigh.

Short and precise. Charles Dickevoy was the name of Sam’s favorite uncle. He wouldn’t want to leave his dear uncle waiting, would he? The impersonation had been perfect. I lean against the entrance wall and wait for an answer. However, calmness doesn’t last for long. An infuriated Sam is on the other side of the line.

“What do you want, Teo.” Shit. I am done.

“Uhm. It’s Uncle Charlie, Sam. I better get going though; your aunt is getting all weary and-”

“Jesus Christ, Teo! Charles Dickevoy is dead!” I keep silent and try not to breathe the fear out of my nostrils. How could I be so stupid? This had been clearly a mistake. What am I supposed to say? I can hear the anger through the speaker, the fury in his words. It is scalding rage to my ears frigid white ears.

That unpleasant cold wind invades me once again and I feel scared, disposed from any defense against everyone and everything. I feel like running to my car, turning on the engine and driving away from all I have ever known. I feel like going back to Brooklyn, hiding behind my mother’s skirts and actually feeling happy for once in my life. Feeling protected, feeling warm. I wonder when the last time I meant the smile on my face was. I have lost every feeling of reality. In fact, I am completely numb.

“What do you want?” Sam repeats, a bit calmer now.

“I want t-t-to talk.” I mutter almost unconsciously. “I just want to talk, Sam.”

“Well, I’m listening. We’re already talking.” He answers without demonstrating any emotion. “What brought you here, what do you want to tell me so eagerly?”

“I-uh, I want to know why you won’t answer my calls.”

“C’mon Teo! We both know, don’t we?” He says followed by an ironic laugh. “Besides, do you really want to see me? Let’s save the awkward meetings for another time.”

“But Sam I seriously can’t understand you! Why did you agree to let me back into the band if you don’t even want to see my face?!” I exclaim and then I fiddle with my feet. “Yes, I know I was wrong but, haven’t I had enough already?” There is a long pause, I can feel the water flooding back and it this moment I feel I can both, cry my brains out, and pee in my pants.

“Look, I told Dante to tell you that I would talk with you about the band’s businesses only.” He sighs. “Look I don’t want to talk about this right now, okay? Plus, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now so…”

“-tomorrow we have a business meeting!”

Well, it went perfectly alright didn’t it? Thought so. I grab my keys out of my pouch pocket and walk up to my decaying Volvo. The conversation was just as uncomfortable as I thought it would be and maybe even worse in some aspects. What was I supposed to say anyway? I should’ve sketched it. Or I should’ve seen it coming. Actually, I should’ve accepted this wouldn’t work in the first place. Jesus, I could barely talk! The nerves had overwhelmed me completely and I couldn’t think. Nor could I couldn’t hear clearly. It was as if I was living a real nightmare. If only he could somehow understand.

As I drive along the Venice jetty, I look out of the window into the midst of sea weed scent and I breathe in. The sky is in that point just after the sizzling palette of rouges, that moment of darkness stained with inked blood. The first stars glimmer up. I park my car in front of a juice place and walk out. I’m going to take a stroll down the shoreline; I want to feel the breeze smoothing against my skin. I want sit by that rock, lie down and remember.

The sand mingles through the holes between my toes. It feels funny, almost a bit cold. I walk through the empty beach straight towards the pinnacle of rock, the waves crushing mildly against each and every stone. That familiar swashing sound, that was the place. As I approach, I can perceive that salty smell becoming stronger and stronger.

I climb up the slipper rocks and sit on the top of the mount. It was there were I kissed her for the first time. It had been just after Laura’s seventh birthday party. We had all celebrated it at Rita’s like always and after a few drinks (even though at the time she was not legal); Fame was in no conditions of driving. Sam had asked me if I could pretty please give her a ride as he had to pick up her mother at the airport. “Sure” I had mumbled with a weak smile. Fame and I, we barely knew each other before that night. We had met quite a few times and we had shared a couple of awkward glances but that didn’t mean anything. She had acted all cheery and funny, trying to speak in between laughs, her hair impregnated with that particular smell that Tequila shots have. She had begged me to stop and she had made me park in front of that juice place, just like I did today. She said she wanted to breathe some fresh air. She said please and for some reason, in her panther eyes I got lost. She took her shoes off with a grin and then made me take mine off as well. She grabbed me by the hand and hauled me all the way into the mist of the first sparkle of the dark, and she laughed. Even I laughed. And she danced and danced in circles, wetting the end of her tiptoes with the cold night waters of the salty crystal mass. She swashed with the waves and we played splashing each other, laughing, grinning, dancing under the moon sky. Her teeth glistered with joy and she smiled. She told me to climb to the top, she told me she dared me to and so we did.

I looked at her and she looked into me as we sat on the slimy rocks. She caressed my face in her soft milky hands. She raised my face and closed her mouth. I could hear her heart beat speeding, mixing with my already accelerated breathing and my bursting eyes. We didn’t think about Sam nor did we think about ourselves. She let herself fall into my shadowed body and so did I. We merged in that pure misty kiss that is and will always be the imperturbable memory I will forever have.

But off I fall from the pond of memories I shuffle around. Someone is behind me, someone with icy careful hands.

“Teo?”
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