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Berrigan's Bliss
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A small snapshot fell out and Joe leaned down to pick it up.
He was sure the redhead was watching him. Girls always watched him now. Things had changed since he’d become a movie star. He flipped the small photo over and stared. He couldn’t tell how old this girl was but she was a knockout. She was a pretty little blonde in full cheerleader get-up. If he’d been a few years younger and less savvy, he would have whistled. This was the type of girl he and every red-blooded young American male usually dreamed of, but Joe’s tastes had changed as of late.
Now he was too cool for that. The edgier and kookier girls were his thing now. Girls with spiky hair and sexy tattoos caught his eye, as well as the older ladies. He was finding that LA was a smorgasbord of females, young and old, that all wanted him.
He tucked the photo into his pocket and stood up. Leaning over the redhead’s desk, he relied on his natural charm when he spoke. “Any paper? A pen? An envelope?” He purred using the voice that was becoming a major part of his movie star persona.
“Oh, my. Writing back, are we?” She lowered her eyelashes and opened a desk drawer, leaning forward enough for this hot young thing to see down her dress. “Here, sweetie,” she said. “Wait. You’ll need this too.” He paused, his eyebrows up, questioning her. She handed him an extra piece of paper with her name and phone number on it. Joe smiled. Tall, lanky and full of himself, he was learning just how far that smile of his could take him.
“You’re right. I do need that.” He winked, turned and bounded over to the sofa. Joe bounced more than he walked. He was the picture of energy and youth and more handsome than even he realized, with his black hair and dark movie star looks. He certainly had talent. He had massive talent, but it was his looks that would take him a very long way in Hollywood. He was 20 years old and just getting started. He was also cocky and more self-assured than almost any young fellow walking the planet.
He looked back at the redhead before he started writing. Raked a hand through his hair and then concentrated on this little baby-doll pen pal. Sarah, the twenty-eight-year-old receptionist, watched him. Joe knew that she couldn’t stop herself. In fact, at that time, Joe Berrigan thought he knew most everything.
***
Gary frowned. He didn’t like it when she called him that. He’d prefer Mr. Clooney at this point.
“We’re away now.” He took her arm and steered her toward the lunch counter.
“Bathroom first. Go ahead. We’ll do this in a minute.” She disappeared, swallowed up in the lunch crowd while Gary made it to the counter.
He ordered two coffees, propped his knee up on the stool next to his and fiddled with a newspaper page that had been left behind. Pulling a pen out, he began scribbling on the crossword puzzle someone had started but not finished.
“Loquacious.” The deep voice was connected to the hand pointing to a piece of the paper’s puzzle.
“ ‘Talkative.’ Ten spaces. I never would have gotten that.” Gary wrote in each letter and turned to thank his neighbor. It was just a glimpse he got, as the man beside him stood to leave. Black sunglasses and a dark hooded sweatshirt. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem.” The mystery guy left, snaking his way through the crowd.
“Was that....?” Gary turned back to the waitress, jerking his thumb backwards.
“Yes it was.” The redhead sighed. “He eats here all the time.”
Gary stared at the waitress.
“Yes, but is he loquacious?”
“What?” She blinked.
“Talkative.” He grinned as he saw Jacey coming towards him through the mass of people.
“Never mind. Just let me order, please.” Gary thanked the lunch counter gods, the big movie star was gone before Jacey arrived in all her glory. He’d heard too many wild rumors about that ladies’ man.
***
And that ‘ladies’ man’ walked across the parking lot, his mind on many things. He had perfected a way of not looking anyone directly in the face when he was in public. That and he was quick, barely giving most folks a chance to recognize him until after he’d passed.
‘Loquacious’ he thought to himself as he pulled car keys out and bleeped his door open. ‘I am about to become the most loquacious anonymous celebrity blogger that anyone’s ever seen. Well, they still won’t ‘see’ me. And also there hasn’t been an anonymous celebrity blogger before.’ He slid into his black ‘sleb’ SUV. He laughed to himself. The first of January and he’d found something to keep himself occupied and amused.
“This might be a good year after all.” He spoke aloud as he backed the vehicle out.
“I will be as loquacious as I like...” Driving past a group of people who were staring at him, he waved. “....and no-one will know who the loquacious son-of-a-bitch is.”
*****
Blog of Rave, 1 January 2006
Second entry
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Thank God for Vin Diesel
The true meaning of life? Wanting to kick this baby off with spirit, but that’s a tall order. What say I start with meetings, production noodle heads and those glorious things we call re-writes?
‘Spruce’ meetings are horrible little events planned and organized by the worst of the executive types. The one’s who ‘know’ Scarlett Johanson personally and feel she might work in that role of suburban house- wife gone mad, attacking Vin Diesel and Paul Walker, who play the local Express Oil change guys. “ ’Alias, My Big Fat Ass’ was a great script to begin with and needed no touch-ups.” You urge. (trying hard not to sound like a candy-ass) Usually, the tension in the artistically decorated western cowboy motif board room is lifted as they all laugh and remind you that, although you will be starring in said feature, you are only (they sigh here and look at you with pity)..... an actor. Playing the character of boss at the Express Oil and undercover CIA leader of Diesel and Walker, you have no say what so ever.
Re-writes are scheduled, meaning you must:
1. Wait.
2. Wait.
3. Flirt with Scarlett Johanson ( knowing that’s a supreme waste of time.)
4. Start your own anonymous celebrity blog and fill that time smartly and with great style.
Do I sound callous? Ungrateful and whiny? I can hear it now. ‘ How could you Rave! With all you have how can you look down from your ivory tower and complain about your situation? We are appalled! And would also love Scarlett, Vin, and Paul’s autographs faxed immediately.
Oh, and yours too.
The amount of insanity grows hourly.
Later,
R
P.S. To Bliss. I did find out that Vin Diesel is the true meaning to life.
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