1.
The first sip of Teddy Baxter’s initial evening cocktail always stung a bit, but that mostly proved it was working. Any medicine worth its salt came with a good kick, was his feeling. A scrambling of the molecules, a shift in consciousness, something, anything to cut a hole in the sticky fabric which wrapped him tightly as the trials of the day moved toward the night. On this particular evening he did not feel the need to finish his first drink before calling his mother; a few sips ought to do. This would prove to be the perfectly wrong choice.
“Hello, mother, is everything fine?”
“Why do you keep having that actress on your show, I can hardly bare to watch.”
“She’s very popular, mother. And she always asks about her old friend Evie when we go to break.”
“She’d say anything to get in between us, really Teddy, she’s simply horrible.”
“I thought the monologue was working well.” Teddy said, finishing his whiskey and walking quickly to his upstairs bar for another.
“Your blazer made you look chunky and I don’t think Alice knows a damn thing about ties, honestly.”
“George Clooney is on for next week . . . maybe you’d like to stop by?”
“Now there is a man with his act together. And so handsome. He ought to run for the Senate.”
At the full-length mirror next to the bar, Teddy turned to look at himself in profile, smoothing his shirt across his waist.
“Teddy? Teddy, are you still there?”
“Yes, yes Mother, right here.”
"Well . . . I hate to bother you, but we have a problem."
"We?"
"Yes, this concerns you. Some men came to the house yesterday when your father was out. No easy way to say this, I suppose . . . I am an old woman now and I have not always made the best choices for my family, but . . . these men threatened me. Threatened harm to me and Max. I need money and not a small amount. And you're going to need to call that cop turned lawyer friend of yours, too."
"His name is Gene, Mother."
"That's just fine. I can't say anymore, Teddy, but please don't take this lightly, my dear."
5 .
“Our first guest tonight, is the Oscar winning actress and now first-time director, a warm welcome please for Jill Constance, everyone.”
Teddy met Jill Constance in front of the desk and they exchanged the classic Hollywood double cheek air kiss. The actress wore a floor length fitted black dress with a slit halfway to her knees and a smart white blazer.
“Well, welcome to the show. Welcome back, I ought to say.”
“Thank you, Ted. It’s super to be here.”
“It’s been too long, really.”
“Has it?”
“Well, for me, it certainly has. As you know, I’ve enjoyed your work in films for many, many years.”
“Thanks a lot, Teddy. You sure know how to make a gal feel her age.” Jill Constance smiled, tugging at the edges of her blazer.
“Oh, I did it now, didn’t I?” Teddy shook his head sheepishly. “But seriously, you had your first role as a three-year-old if I’m not mistaken?”
“Something like that, yes.” The actress smiled again and seemed to grow more comfortable in her chair.
“It’s fair to say, I believe, there are very few actresses who can point to a body of work as respectable as yours.”
The audience responded with a full and resonating round of applause.
“Thank you. Thank you, that’s kind of you.”
“My absolute favorite role of yours, I could watch you in that film over and over, was as Gabrielle in The Tiburon Paper.”
“Well, anytime you get to make out with Bobby Taylor.” This brought hoots and hollers from the studio audience. “Then that’s a good role to take.” Jill Constance winked in the direction of the band, which brought a chorus of horns and drums from Sammy Scorpio’s gang.
“Make out, yes. Yes, indeed. And good enough for your first Oscar.”
“Oh, I like that you said ‘first’.”
“Well, if you ask me and what the heck, it’s my show, right? If you ask me, you’ve been overlooked a few times.”
“I like you more every minute, my dear.”
“Ok, wonderful. It’s all true.” Teddy took the left hand of Jill Constance and presented it with a dramatic kiss. Still holding her hand, he continued. “Now, a silly and somewhat pat question; One which folks who receive this prize are often asked, however. Where do you keep your Oscar?”
Jill Constance withdrew her hand slowly and looked suspiciously over her shoulder before leaning in to whisper in his ear.
“Uh-huh. Oh, I see. Lovely. Right. Perfect.” Teddy Baxter smiled as his guest leaned back into her seat. “Very good, then. Told there were perks to this job, Sammy. I know where Jill Constance keeps her Oscar and y’all . . . do not. Beautiful. Thank you, Jill. I appreciate your trust. Unless, of course, you’re throwing me off the trail, in which case I still enjoyed you whispering in my ear.”
“Our little secret, Teddy.”
“Excellent. And, so now you’re directing your first film?”
“That’s correct.”
“We can whisper again, if you like?” Teddy leaned towards his guest with his eyes closed and a big grin on his face.
Jill Constance paused and cocked her head to one side, as if weighing her options. “Yes, Hollywood finds less use for women in front of the camera after they reach a certain age. And that’s fine, I get it. I’m sure I’ve landed a part or two based solely on a certain, shall we say . . . physical stature. Absolutely during the early stages of my career. But at a certain point, it turns into the macabre, if you ask me. What women are doing to their faces in this town these days, with various ‘enhancements’ . . . is criminal.”
There was more than a polite round of applause from Teddy Baxter’s audience. He himself nodded in agreement as the clapping faded.
“I’m afraid I agree somewhat with you there, my friend. This can sometimes be a wicked business we’re in around here. And good for you for speaking up. Good for you. We’re going to take a quick break and be back with our friends from the San Diego Zoo. Stick around.”
9.
It is said there is no replacement for time. No substitute when it comes to that person who has known you through lifetimes long and short. Watching Becca with her friend, Max fell deeper and deeper in love with the girl who’d come into his shop to get a business card. There was a quality. An unguarded quality between the two girls.
The drinks flowed and eventually they moved the party to the beach and lit a bonfire. Leigh was an honest to goodness hippie from her bell-bottoms to her buckskin top. She’d been to Woodstock, got a little sick, and a lot pregnant. Her and her old man had named the boy Mud.
“Oh, baby Muddie. He’s got to be so big now.” Becca cooed, taking a pull from the burlap wrapped jug of wine Leigh had brought.
“Growing like a weed, yup. He’s up in Loma Linda with my mom, right now. You oughta come up.”
Leigh played Dylan songs on her guitar by the fire and passed around a joint which made the stuff they had been smoking feel like baby aspirin. The girls told stories on each other from their school days and spent the evening either laughing until they fell over or crying in each other’s arms