Yes

I was really self-conscious as I made the table.

My Turkish pizza had arrived a couple of minutes after Norman had made his surprise visit and I was now serving it. I felt embarrassed as I put the plates on the tall table while eyeing the abnormally handsome guy sitting there.

He seemed so out of place for my apartment.

He’d brought me a bottle of wine which I served with the pizza. I didn’t really have anything else but water otherwise, so I was grateful for it. I sat down next to him while quickly giving my outfit a gloomy glare.

Couldn’t I have cleaned in a better-looking shirt?

I was wearing one of my ex-boyfriend’s old t-shirts; a grey way too large one with “The Misfits” printed on the front. I took a bite from the pizza and almost whined in satisfaction.

Fuck, it was good.

“I talked to Troy, you know, the guy I told you about, and he would like to do a casting with you. I showed him your picture; and I’m quoting: “She could look like an angel… Bring her in!”” Norman’s voice sounded through a big mouthful.

I felt awkward.

“An angel?” I asked, “What kind of production is it anyway?”

In my mind I pictured myself standing on a white vinyl staircase, great wings loosely flapping around my body and a glory above my head.

I almost chuckled.

He put his thumb to his mouth, nubbled on the skin there and looked at me with those piercing blue eyes. He opened his mouth but shut it again repeatedly as if he didn’t know how to answer the question.

Please tell me that it’s not some weird shit like “Supernatural” gone bad… I thought to myself.

A sudden thought hit me.

“Hey, how could you show him my picture?”

I’d already explained to him why I hadn’t answered my phone. He actually had tried to contact me.

Several times.

He smiled at me, a devilish look on his eyes.

“Shit, I don’t think I realized just how drunk you were last time. We took pictures, remember? I even posted one on Twitter, ha!”

I moaned.

What the fuck? I needed to get on one of those social media sites. Had he said Twitter? I’d never really gotten into the whole “put-your-life-on-the-Internet” thing.

He continued, still that mischievous smile on his lips: “But I can’t really tell you about the movie just yet. I’ll leave that to Troy. But, you’ll like it, I promise; it’s already part of a big franchise.”

My mind went blank.

A fucking MOVIE?!

Franchise?!

Can ou say: B-l-o-w-n a-w-a-y?

I had to get this part. It would be a dream coming true for me; working with professionals, helping to develop a character… The list was long. I’d had a small part in a movie once, a low-budget Danish movie about gangsters in Copenhagen. I’d really hated my role.

A smile snuck up on my lips.

“So, when’s the filming starting? How much do you know about it? What franchise?”

Curiosity filled my mind. I felt hyper.

............................................................

Norman wouldn’t tell me anything about the up-coming project. He’d said that the director would contact me by mail one of the following days and give me the information about my casting.

I suddenly felt bad about eating the pizza. If I was going to be in a movie, I really needed to start working out again on a regular basis. I wasn’t getting chubby or anything, hell, I only weighed 60 kilos with a height of 170 cm, but I was getting curvy. Not that I minded it, I liked my body better this way because it made my frame look more like a woman’s instead of a girl’s. But Hollywood craves the girlie look, so as a not-so-successful actress, you have got to just suck it up, right?

“We really have similar taste in music, that’s rad,” Norman said from over by my stack of CDs laying spread out on a shelf.

I didn’t really see a reason to keep them in order because I always messed it up not long after.

I chuckled at him.

He held up an old CD by Green Day – the album “1,039 Slappy Hours” – with questioning eyes.

“They’re that old? Shit, I only thought they made that American Idiot-crap.”

He put it in my stereo and the music started playing out the big black speakers that were a little too big for my place.

“You know, I really had a cool time with you at the Politian… You seem pretty cool.”

I could feel my cheeks blushing and I immediately grabbed the wine bottle and poured some more for both of us.

I nodded: “Yeah, uh, you too.”

Why was I this awkward?

He sent me a playful smile as if he could read my mind. My cheeks were burning.

“Would you consider doing it again?” he asked.

Could he stop doing that? Sending me off into some dream world of me and him sitting close to each other, getting drunk and maybe going home to…

Control your thoughts, please... He’s right there in front of you.

“Sure,” I stumbled out.

He must have known how intimidating he was to me because he sat down, his hand on my arm and lit a cigarette for the both of us. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that to dull my wild thoughts; I sucked the smoke in hard.

He stood up. “Let’s get some beers then!”

Can you say spontaneous?

............................................................

Why was it that when Norman and I were together, I always had to get drunk?

It was like I couldn’t keep count on the beers I poured down when I was with him. However, this time I wasn’t the one most drunk.

Good... Then I don’t have to once more search for my dignity laying spread out on the floor.

Norman was such a funny guy. Every time he told me one of his stories about crazy fans or wicked actors, I would giggle foolishly like an idiot.

Like this story about a fan humping his leg in the middle of a fan expo; or this other time when a fan came up to him and told him that he was going to buy a gun alike one that Norman had used in some movie he’d done years ago. “And the gun was really huge, I mean, on a tripod and everything, and I was just like: What the fuck are you gonna use it for? Kill elephants?”

I laughed.

He was such an exciting person; he had seen so many things in his life and met people from all over the world. He made me so curious.

“When was it that you really realized that you have fans, I mean, truly famous?” I asked as I lit another cigarette.

I wasn’t supposed to smoke inside my apartment when I’d just cleaned and gotten out the worst of the smell, but what the hell…

He chewed on his thumb as he always did when he was thinking and then said: “It was probably when I was in Prague with my kid, Mingus, and we were walking around town, you know. And then we walked by these skaters and one of them was wearing a t-shirt with my face on it. And Mingus was like; Whaaat? He looked at me, then at the t-shirt and went over to the dude wearing it, like: 'Why is my daddy on your shirt?!'"

Again, I laughed with him watching his icy blue eyes fill with warmth as he talked about his son.

I wasn’t really surprised to learn that he had a kid; he seemed like the type that had the experience of raising a kid. A certain calmness to him, you could say.

“How old are you anyway?” I asked out of the blue. I didn’t even know if I’d interrupted him.

He scratched the back of his head.

“43.”

My eyes widened.

“Wow! You certainly don’t look 43!”

That can’t be right… I thought to myself and let my eyes wonder his frame. He looks only 35 or something, if not younger. Hell, here I am with my 26 years of age thinking I have to hurry to be successful; he has never had more success in his life but now.

Norman got up and reached for his jacket.

“You wanna grab something to eat with an old man?”

Embarrassed, I nodded and followed him out the door.

Why oh why was I always so awkward around him?