Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins Page 0,33

Ireland.” She snorts a gentle laugh at the memory. “They were two peas in a pod, brothers in all but name. Both loved movies, both were a hit with the ladies, both never knowing when to stop. They came out here together to make it in the business, shared a tiny apartment, scratching up rent God-knows-how. I was living with a roommate at the time, right next door to them.”

“How was that?” I say, trying to put a little humor into my voice.

“A pain,” Ramona smiles. “Actually there were whole weeks when they’d barely be home, but when they were, it was like living next to a frat house, bar, and nightclub all at once.”

“I think I know what you mean,” I say. “Dylan’s a handful.”

“Imagine two of them,” Ramona smirks. “Actually, Cal was worse – or at least, he became worse before too long.”

“What happened?”

Ramona lets out a deep sigh and sips from her coffee again.

“Dylan got the lucky break. And Cal didn’t. It really was as simple as that.” I nod as the picture starts to feel more real. “Both of them tried their best to get an agent, do as many jobs as possible. Both of them were great actors, with so much determination, and such a weirdly obsessive – but kind of admirable – passion for movies. But…well, you know how it is, you work in Hollywood. There’s plenty of talent out there, and without that little bit of luck you can work your ass off and still end up landing on it. Another coffee?”

“Oh,” I say, when she breaks me out of the story. “No, thanks.”

Ramona nods and looks at Ben again.

“It happened so fast, almost overnight. Dylan got an agent, and then he started working all the time. I used to ask him if there was anything he wasn’t auditioning for. In a few months he had his first supporting role in a movie, and within a year he was a lead – while Cal was still struggling to get work as an extra, or a part in a shitty local advertisement.

“Everything changed. One minute they were always together, working on their script, either partying, talking about their careers, or doing minimum-wage jobs to scratch up the rent a week before it was due, and then, Dylan was away all the time, working and working, paying the rent himself. That’s when me and Cal got close. He started spending more time alone in the apartment, drinking and taking drugs, slipping away.”

“Didn’t Dylan try to help Cal with his career?”

Ramona rolls her eyes.

“He tried. Of course he did. I think Dylan still beats himself up about that, thinking he could have tried more, done more, regretting it with hindsight. The truth is, though, that by the time Dylan was big enough to help, Cal was too far gone. It was weird. Before, both of them had been passionate, hard-working, and hedonistic. Then suddenly, it was like Dylan took all the hard work and passion, and Cal was left with the drink and drugs.”

I try to think of something to say, but can’t, and instead settle for looking at Ramona as sympathy and pity fill my heart.

“Anyway,” she continues, “Cal and I got close. I…fell in love with him. I could see he was tearing himself apart, but I believed in him. I thought he’d turn it around. I ended up getting pregnant. I thought it would be okay, though. Cal was a great guy, he just needed something in his life to replace the movies, to put his energy into. I thought I – we,” she says, nodding towards Ben, “would be it. But I was naïve. Nothing could help him.”

Ramona gulps and rubs her eye a little. I see the quiver in her lip and reach out to put my hand on her shoulder.

“What happened?” I ask, prompting her. She gathers her strength and takes a breath.

“I was away at my mother’s. Just visiting. I don’t even remember why. I didn’t even know it was the night of the Oscars, and I didn’t care. My mom wanted to watch it. So we did, not knowing anything…just joking around like nothing was wrong. Then I saw Dylan win the Oscar for best actor, and I was so fucking happy…God damn it…” her voice breaks.

I look around and find a box of tissues on the side cabinet, then bring it to her.

“Thanks. I called Cal. To ask if he’d seen it. If he’d heard Dylan mention