Falling into Forever (Falling into You) - By Lauren Abrams Page 0,30
let me tell you, that shit don’t come around often. Not the twenty-five million a picture kind of bankable, and that’s what you’ve got going for you at this very instant. I know you hate those shit movies that we make, but they make you and me a hell of a lot of money. So, the way I see it, given that you want to keep on being a movie star, and you’d have to be a fucking idiot to not want that, you have a couple of options. You can make more shit movies and stick the cash away in a bank account. Then, you can just pay someone to punch the lights out of anyone saying that you’re a sell-out. But, hey. If you’re not happy hearing the whispers about selling out, you can lose thirty pounds to play the crackhead brother in one of those boring-as-shit art movies. You might even be able to snag yourself an Oscar. Then, you can make some more boring movies about ‘real life historical situations’ and somewhere along the line, you can direct one. Everyone will call you some kind of genius.”
“Those are possible career paths, Marcus. That’s not a life.”
“It is a life. Do you really think all those people in the suburbs with two and a half kids and an early midlife crisis have lives? Hell no. They’re buying cheap red convertibles and trying to pretend they’re you. I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t trade places with you in a heartbeat, Jensen. Why do you think we sell so many goddamn tickets to your shit films? We’re selling you. The lifestyle of a young, rich, ridiculously good-looking New York kid who hit the big time and went through some bad shit to emerge as America’s hero. Even the rehab thing was just a bump in the road. Everyone goes to rehab these days.”
“Even if I’m buying all of that nonsense, and I’m not saying that I am, I’ve still only got another ten good years of getting the parts, as long as I make the right choices and don’t send my career into the shitter. What then? Twenty years of playing the dad in some bad comedy about taking care of the kids while Mom goes on a girls’ weekend? Eventually, if I’m really lucky, I get to put the old tux back on and head out to a bunch of stupid banquets where they put my name on a trophy and call it a lifetime achievement award. All the while, you and I are sitting around in some uppity restaurant, reminiscing about the good old days, when I was a real movie star, and you were a real agent. We do all of these things to avoid talking about the fact that we’ve become old hacks who are past their prime and can’t stop telling stories about girls and booze and all the shit that goes along with it. Do you really think that’s enough for me? Would it be enough for you?”
“It was enough five years ago.”
I take a deep breath.
“It’s not now. Jesus, maybe I’m getting old.”
Marcus claps a hand on my back and smiles faintly. “I think I see some wrinkles. I know a guy who can take care of those for you.”
“I’ll let you know.”
His smiles falls away and his face darkens. “Are you sure about this?” He shakes his head in disgust. “Captain fucking obvious over here. I don’t know why I even asked. Of course you’re sure. You win, Jensen. If I know you, you already have some kind of grand plan to convince Hallie Caldwell that you’ve changed. And if I know me, I’m going along with it.”
“As a matter of fact, I do have a plan. What would you say to a little party?”
“You know I’m always down for a good party.”
I pull the embossed invitation that I managed to extract from the garbage can. I flash it at him.
“Want to be my plus one?”
Chapter 9
HALLIE
As I step out of the cab, I see Sam standing outside in the garden, with understanding and a faint expression of sadness on his face. I take a deep breath and collect my things, ready to face the firing squad. He opens his arms and I collapse into them.
“Let’s get you upstairs.” He breathes it into my hair, and I nod at him gratefully. Hoisting my bag over his shoulder, he pulls me behind him, and we don’t say anything, even when we