________________________________________
BRAD/BRENT
New Year’s Eve at Dave’s San Diego
house with the guys ushered in 1997 and heralded the end of my Navy enlistment.
Although I was mustered out a week earlier, as the clock struck 0001, January
1, I was officially a civilian and a soon-to-be working actor in New York.
Dave, Mark, Tom, Doug and I celebrated the arrival of the New Year with dinner
and wine. Mike got home from the North Island Officer’s Club New Year’s Eve
party early to join us in the countdown, watching Dick Clark broadcasting from
Times Square.
Doug and I were pleased that we bought
the two-bedroom condo at the Remington on Wilshire Boulevard three months
earlier. Sam arranged a non-interest bearing loan from CAM against our earnings
over the next 10 years for the purchase price of $321,000. Sam smiled cagily
when I observed that he had effectively locked me into CAM for that period. However,
the loan allowed us to use some of our savings for décor and upgrades that
would only enhance the value. As predicted by the real estate broker, the condo
prices were increased 20% the first of the year. While I was in New York for
the run of the play, the condo would be completely decorated and furnished,
within a restrained budget, prior to our move in July.
The Saturday night before my flight to
La Guardia, Doug and I had dinner with his folks at the Di Marco house. Mom, as
I now called her, pulled out all stops to prepare several of Doug’s favorites
including manicotti, veal cacciatore, eggplant parmigana, a big salad, and the garlic
cheese bread. Dad Di Marco brought assorted berries home the night before and
marinated them in Amaretto di Saronno. For dinner,
the berries were served over fresh peach homemade ice cream.
After thanking Mom and Dad for such a wonderful meal and the love
shared around the table, Doug and I adjourned to his bedroom and our last night
together for a while. We lay side by side in bed and reviewed our plans for the
next six months.
“Babe, we’re both going to be pretty
busy for a while,” Doug said. “It’s the pits that we’re going to be 3,000 miles
apart.” He looked at me soulfully, while his hand stroked my thigh.
“It will go fast. You start “American
X” on Monday, and I begin rehearsals in New York.” I smiled and looked deep in
his eyes, as I thought about going back east for the first time in several
years. “By the time I finish my contract with the play the end of May and
return to L.A., we can move into the new place.”
“I’ll be able to come out President’s
Day weekend in February. The producers are shutting down the set for a long ski
weekend holiday.”
“That’s super, Doug. I’ll get tickets
for Pam and you that Saturday night.”
“I look forward to meeting your sister and seeing the show on
Broadway. You’re all set on housing?”
“Part of my contract is an apartment.
I understand the producer has arranged for me to live in a small, furnished
studio on West 46th Street that’s within walking distance to the
theater. To be on the safe side, Sam demanded car service for me after the show
is over. He’s been great.”
“Babe, Sam’s wise. No way my love is
going to be walking around at night out of the theater district. That’s the old
Hell’s Kitchen area, isn’t it?” Doug asked.
“It was pretty rough years ago when
Mom was in the theater. Today, there are luxury high-rises on the same real
estate.”
“Just be careful. I want you back in
one piece, Brent. We’ve got a long life awaiting us.”
“Oh, I got a call from Trevor
Thompson, today,” I announced, casually. Trev, along with Jim, had successfully
filled Doug’s and my shoes in Memphis.
“How is our buddy? I haven’t spoken to
him for a while,” Doug replied. With the ‘training’ that I helped Trev through,
we had a closer friendship.
“He’s at the top of his class and will
be finishing school in June. He’s going to officially retire from Argosy in
May, with Tan Man’s blessing, and go on to graduate school. He has applications
out to several right now. And he said Jim Weiss and he broke up. But they’re
still friends.”
“I’d love to see Trev, again,” Doug
said, sincerely. “But right now I want to see you and make love.” He moved
closer and kissed me with an intense warmness. I welcomed his probing tongue.
“Lover, I look forward to that for
many years to come.”
There was no urgency as we slowly
started our coupling ritual.
*****
‘Jesus, fuck,’ I thought, getting out
of the cab in front of 545 West 46th Street, ‘January in New York is
cold. I’ve been in the South and California too long.’ I had brought three
suitcases that the driver retrieved from the trunk. Hopefully, the packed
clothes would last me though the five months. Wearing jeans, construction
boots, sweater, a Warner Brothers baseball cap, and Doug’s heavy UCLA jacket, I
could cope with brief bursts of winter from a cab to a warm lobby. I paid the
fare and saw a doorman come out with a luggage cart.
“Yes, Sir. You’re living here? You
look familiar, but I don’t recognize you as a resident,” the doorman remarked,
as he loaded the luggage on the cart.
“Hi, my name’s Brad Williams. I’m
going to live in a studio that the CAM agency has arranged for me. Just came in
from California,” I replied, as we walked into the lobby.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Williams. I have a memo
about your arrival. And, now I know why you look so familiar. You’re on that
show, ‘Friendships’, aren’t you? My wife loves the show.”
“First, Miles, the name is Brad. And,
yes, I was on the show in November,” I answered, picking up his name
embroidered on the jacket. “I’m in New York to be in a play down the street.”
My stock rose in Miles’ estimation of me as his eyes registered approval with
each statement.
“Really? Which one?” Miles asked, with
genuine curiosity.
“It’s called, “The Pleasure Was Ours.”
It opens at the Broadhurst early next month.”
“I’ll try to get tickets for the show.
My wife loves a good play.”
“Miles, I’ll try my best to get you a
couple of tickets.” I figured that it was never a bad idea to keep on the good
side of the doormen.
“Ah, Mr. Wi…Brad, that would be
great.” He gave me an envelope and continued, “These are the keys to your
apartment. Follow me, and we can get you settled.” We called an elevator and
went up to the 30th floor. He ran down the amenities of the building
that included a gym and sauna. When we reached the apartment and unloaded the
bags inside, he said, “The New York Times and Daily News will be delivered to
your door each morning.”
After Miles unloaded the cart, I gave
him a ten-dollar tip and thanked him. The studio was compact. It was only a
little larger than a large hotel room, with a built-in Pullman kitchen and a
separate sitting room area. The room was decorated in tasteful “Marriott
Modern.” It took only a half-hour to organize my clothes in the closet and
drawers. I was pleased to see the bathroom had an over-sized shower. That would
come in handy when Doug visited.
After stripping down to my briefs, I
noticed it was 8:30 p.m., EST. Knowing that my pal was waiting for a call, I
found the phone and called Doug on his personal line.
~~~ “Is this who I think it is?”
“Yeah,” I answered in a low voice, “We
met at Hunter’s Bar last night. I wanna know if you want a date tonight. I got
something long and hard that you’d like, buster.” I started rubbing my crotch.
~~~ “Sounds good. My lover is out of
town, and I’m ready to bust a nut. How much and where?” he replied
aggressively. I could hear him getting out of his clothes.
“I usually charge five bucks and bus
fare for a fuck. For you, I’ll make a deal on a quantity discount. Three times
a week and ya got me for $3.50 a night. Deal?” I was breathing heavier as my
sleeping cock woke up.
~~~ “Three bucks and throw in a blow
job. Oh, fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it, champ.” I had a mental
image of him stroking that Di Marco log, aggressively.
“Gee, Mister, that’s a pretty tough
deal. But I like ya. Let’s do it tonight. I’m gonna grip my fist around your
hard cock and slowly stroke.” Doug could hear my breathlessness in the phone. I
pulled off my briefs for better access to my dick.
~~~ “Yeah, I feel what you’re doing. I
know you’re excited by the size of my hard on. Man, it feels hot with the
pre-cum spurting out. Ohhh…”
“Think about my lips wrapped around
your cockhead, licking those drops clean. And, then, going down on you until my
nose is in your pubes,” I said, inhaling in the phone and speeding the action
of my hand-piston.
~~~ “I feel it, buddy. Squeeze my
balls. They’re hot and full. Ohhh…shit…this feels sooo good,” Doug said,
panting.
“I love going up and down your hot
cock while my fingers find their way to your asshole. Ohhh…ahhh…” I could feel
a tingly feeling in my balls. “Man, I’m about to explode…”
~~~ “I’m right with you. Let’s go
together. Oh, Brent, I’m going to cum…”
“Me too, lover. Ah…oh…yeah…here it
comes,” I yelled into the receiver as the first volley of cum shot up to my
chest.
~~~ “Fuckin’ A…urghh…” was all he
uttered as I heard a rustling sound. Then there was silence. “Hey, babe. That
was good. We may have to do this often. It’s awfully messy, though,” Doug said
with a laugh.
“Who said phone sex can’t be fun? I’m
covered with cum. Thank god that I brought a towel with me. That was terrific.”
My breathing rate was slowly recovering.
~~~ “Brent, glad to hear you made it
safe. How’s the place?”
“Small, but nice. I’m up on the 30th
floor. It will be a great fuck pad when you visit next month.”
~~~ “You’re all set to start
rehearsals tomorrow?”
“First day will be pretty basic,
listening to the director and getting to know the cast.” I was the only member
of the La Jolla Playhouse cast in the play. Everyone else was a highly
respected New York actor. “It’ll take a couple of days just getting used to the
theater. And I’m sure that they’ll be judging this kid from Hollywood.”
~~~ “You’ll have ’em by the balls in a
week. Any plans with your sister?”
“Pam and I are planning on having
dinner tomorrow night on the West Side near her apartment. The restaurant is a
expensive place that was a favorite of Mom’s, years ago.”
~~~ “Do you plan on seeing your Dad?”
“No plans, at this point. That’s one
of the things Sis and I have to discuss.”
~~~ “Well, babe, good luck on that. I
know it won’t be easy for you.”
“I’ll cross that bridge later. Listen,
I’m tired and need to shower off this mess that you caused so I can read the
script a few times before bed.”
~~~ “That I caused? You horny devil…I
love you. Go get yourself cleaned up and we’ll talk tomorrow night?”
“Love you, too. Tomorrow then. Bye,
Doug.”
~~~ “Bye, lover.”
*****
CAM’s New York office had provisioned
the apartment with all the basics for breakfast. After a fast read of the
papers while having coffee, juice and toast, I checked the weather forecast on
the 8:25 a.m. local break in the Today show. ‘Yuck,’ I thought, seeing that the
high today would be 35 degrees with snow flurries displayed on the TV screen.
I walked the five blocks to the
Broadhurst Theater on 44th and 8th Avenue bundled up with
several layers of clothing. Cast call was scheduled for 10:00 a.m., and I
didn’t want to be late. At the corner I looked up at the theater marquee and
saw the billing. The first line announced ‘Margo Fontaine ~ George Lemmings’.
They were legendary actors who were playing the leads. On the second line,
before the title, was ‘and Brad Williams’ in the same size lettering. ‘Shit,’ I
thought, with my eyes tearing up, ‘It really is something special having your
name up there before the title.’ After standing still and looking up for a few
moments longer, I pulled myself together and found the stage door.
As I approached the back stage desk,
before I could say anything, an older man, who was security, smiled broadly and
said, “Welcome to New York, Mr. Williams. Everyone is looking forward to
working with you. I’m Steve, by the way. Guarding the door and managing the
back stage is my little world.”
“Swell, Steve,” I answered, taken back
a little that he knew my name. “I look forward to working with everyone. By the
way, I go by the name of Brad,” I said with a big smile as I extended my hand.
“Were do I go?”
“Let me show you your dressing room,
first. You can store your coat there. It’s about 9:45 a.m. The cast is
assembling on the stage now,” he said as we walked up a metal stairway to the
catwalk and dressing rooms. I almost choked at the first sight of my name on
the door below a star.
“Thanks for taking the time, Steve. I
appreciate it. I’ll be down in a few.” It was an effort to revert back to
civilian terms.
“Oh, Brad, there’s coffee and Danish
on stage left. See you downstairs,” he said with a wave as he left.
Walking into the small dressing room
that was clean but a little threadbare, I immediately saw a bouquet of roses
with a note that said, “Break a leg. Sam.” I smiled as I removed the jacket, sweater,
and cap, before going down to the bare stage and my new cast members.
I immediately went to the table off
stage left for a cup of coffee. ‘Was there some unwritten law,’ I wondered,
‘that said all paper coffee cups in New York had to have that generic blue
Greek design?’ while I poured the coffee, smiling. Turning, I took a deep
breath, and walked over to the cast and director.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think
we are almost complete with Brad Williams here. Brad, welcome to the company.
I’m Nelson Lewis, the director.”
“Mr. Lewis, it will be a pleasure
working with you,” I replied, walking over to him. He introduced me to the
other cast members. All were present except George Lemmings. Margo Fontaine,
while a bit regal, was very friendly. I knew that they would all be appraising
this actor from ‘out there’ for the first week.
“Sorry, cast. I’m running a few
minutes late, I’m afraid,” came a deep voice from the wings. As the man came
forward, I recognized the face of George Lemmings. “The power was out in my
block early this morning.” He walked over and shook the director’s hand and
gave Margo an air kiss. Coming up to me, he said, “And you’re Brad Williams?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answered, extending my hand.
He took it and said, “Williams, as in
Brenda Williams?” By now everyone was watching and listening to the two of us.
“She was my Mom,” I said, swallowing
hard.
“Your mom and I worked together on
“Guiding Light” for two years,” George said, putting his arm around me. “I see
where you get your looks, kid.” Smiling, he announced to the cast, “If Brad has
the acting chops his mother had, I’ll be proud to be on the same stage.” There
was a slight murmur.
“Mr. Lemmings, I hope to do your
comments justice,” I replied. His hug became firmer.
“Thank you, George,” said Nelson
Lewis, as he gestured for everyone to sit down. “Over the next two days we will
read the script at the table. You’ve all had the script for the past two weeks.
I expect to do an initial walk-through Friday with the lines memorized. All
next week we will work on blocking, followed by working with the set the week
afterwards. Ladies and gentlemen, we have our first public preview performances
three weeks from Thursday.”
*****
After a full day of general discussion of the script, the
characters and the director’s vision, we were dismissed at 5:00 p.m. ‘Not too
different from the La Jolla Playhouse,’ I considered. ‘I’ll have to pause and
project my lines differently because of the larger house.’ This was clearly the
major league. It would be my challenge not to strike out. ‘Bring it on. I wanna
hit a home run.’
Hurriedly, I returned to the apartment
to get cleaned and dressed for dinner. Pam had made 7:30 p.m. reservations at
Café des Artistes on West 67th Street. It had been mom’s favorite
restaurant for special occasions. I remembered going there for my birthday and
being fawned over by the owner, George Lang, as a boy.
The restaurant, originally opened over
80 years ago, was famous for the Howard Chandler Christy nude women murals
on the wall. The art in pastels, rich walnut paneling, soft lighting, damask
linen, and an over-abundance of long stem flowers gave the room a very warm
feeling. Entering the restaurant, wearing one of two suits I had brought with
me, I was greeted by the Maitre d’.
“Mr. Williams, your sister just arrived. Allow me to escort you to
the table. We’re honored to have you with us. Your appearances on ‘Friendships’
were very well received in New York,” he said, as we wound our way through the
crowded room. As we arrived at the table in the front room, I smiled broadly.
“Hey, Sis,” I said to the most important person in my life after
Doug. I nodded to the Maitre d’ and leaned down for a light kiss before sitting
down across from Pam.
“Brent, I can’t believe it. My brother, the Hollywood and Broadway
star. You look scrumptious, bro. Don’t look now, but the entire room is
following your every move.”
“Pam, don’t exaggerate.” However, turning around, I subtly
discovered that she was right. “On second thought, did I come in with my fly
open?” I asked, with a laugh.
“Little brother, I wish Mom could see you now. She would be so
proud.”
I looked at Pam a little sadly and said, “You don’t know how much
I wish she was still with us, every day.” I reached over and squeezed her hand
as the captain arrived with menus and to take drink orders. Pam ordered a Lemon
Drop, and I selected a glass of the Sonoma-Cutrer chardonnay.
“You’re all settled in at the apartment?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Just a studio, but well furnished and close
to the theater. You’ll have to come over some night next week and check it out.
We can go over to Joe Allen’s for some dinner, later. After next week, I’m sure
rehearsals will be in the evening.”
“Being a single career gal, I’m always
up for dinner with a handsome man. Speaking of handsome men, when do I get a
chance to meet Doug?” she asked. I had sent her a few pictures of us and
mentioned him whenever Pam and I spoke on the phone. “I guess I should think of
him as a brother-in-law?”
“Brother-in-law or another brother.
We’re together for the long haul. He makes me very happy,” I said with a warm,
glowing smile. “He’s coming out the middle of next month for the long
President’s Day weekend. We will certainly get together then. In fact, you may
have to entertain him when I’m on stage.”
“If he’s as nice as you say, I’d love
to show him around. We’ll certainly see the play one night. Gives me a chance
to do those touristy things that all New Yorkers secretly love to do, but are
ashamed to admit.”
“Plan on coming to the play Saturday
night. I’ll get tickets for you two. I’m starved, Sis. Why don’t we look the
menu over before the captain returns?” I asked.
“I know exactly what I’m going to
have. Cold asparagus vinaigrette and rack of lamb, pink. I’ve been ordering
that since I was a little girl when Mom and Dad used to bring us,” Pam said,
with a smile.
“Well, Sis, I’ll up your memory game.
You remember what I would have Mom order for me?”
“Oh, sure. You loved the escargot, I
seem to recall.”
“Yep, garlicky snails. Don’t ask me
how I acquired the taste as a boy. I would always order the escargot and breast
of duck. I guess we don’t have to look at the menus?” ‘Jeez,’ I thought, ‘How
marvelous it is to be with real family again.’ When the captain returned, I
ordered for both of us. In addition, I asked that a bottle of Rhone red
Hermitage “La Chapelle” by Paul Jaboulet 1992 be brought to the table for
breathing.
Raising an eyebrow, Pam commented,
“Well, not only have you picked up a little more worldliness about you, Brent,
but you seem to be spending money pretty freely. That wine is not cheap.”
“First, I was rooming with a guy in
the final year in the Navy who manages restaurants. He really opened my eyes to
fine dining. Second, I’m making pretty good bread these days.” ‘No reason,’ I
considered, ‘to mention that my old roomie, Mike, ran the Officer’s Club.’
“If you don’t mind me asking, how much
‘good bread’ are we talking about? I thought we’d go Dutch treat tonight.”
“Pam, don’t worry. I’m getting 10K a
week for the play. And, last year, I cleared a little over 175 grand with the
two movies and the TV show.”
“Wow, I’m impressed, little bro. That
being the case, let’s break the bank by sharing a Grand Marnier soufflé and a
split of champagne,” she said with a giggle. I beckoned the captain and added
Pam’s requests to the order.
“I guess that I should ask the
obvious, Pam. Have you seen Dad? And, does he know I’m in town?” I asked, with
somber lowered tones.
“Spoke with him this weekend. He’s a
stubborn bastard, Brent. He seemed happy that you are professionally doing so
well. But that’s as far as he’s able to go. I’m sorry that he’s so set in his
ways,” she replied and reached over to my hand. “He doesn’t say anything
against you, though.” She squeezed it and smiled in a forlorn manner.
“Well, at least he’s consistent. He
knows where I am and has to take the first step.”
“I get a good feeling that he’s
struggling to change. If I give you his home telephone number, would you call
him? He works the 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. shift. You could leave a message. It’s
one little step.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. Maybe you could
bring him to one of the performances? But don’t tell me he’ll be in the
audience beforehand,” I said, with a quietness that hung over our heads. The
waiter bringing our first courses broke the solemn moment. “Let’s change the
subject. Tell me about any new men in your life?”
“Brent, it looks like all the good
ones are either taken or gay. Cliché, but true.”
“Or both, Sis,” I replied with a grin.
“Touché. It’s just that, at 28, I seem
to be running out of time.”
“Sis, you’ll find someone special.
Even if I have to place a personal ad for you,” I said laughing.
As we were about take the first bite,
I heard a voice with an Eastern European accent say, “Well, if it isn’t little
Brent Williams, all grown up. Hello, Pam.” I turned and immediately recognized
the immaculately dressed bald man, now somewhat elderly, with a twinkle in his
eyes.
“Mr. Lang, I don’t think we’ve seen
each other for at least 15 years. You remember me?” I asked, with a broad smile
as we shook hands.
“Brent, your mother was a favorite of
mine. You remember your birthdays here?”
“With the Hungarian cake. What was
it?” I asked.
“It was and is Ilona’s Torte. My
mother’s flourless chocolate walnut cake. We still have it on the menu.”
“Yeah. It was great,” I answered,
seeing in my mind a younger George Lang fussing over our table. Mother always
looked beautiful and composed while I squirmed around the restaurant banquette
in my blue suit.
“But you’re following your mother’s
footsteps. And your name is now Brad? What was wrong with Brent?” George asked
innocently.
“SAG. Someone else had the name
registered with Screen Actors Guild. So, now I’m Brad. But I’d like you to call
me by the real name, Mr. Lang.”
“And you should call me George. I
loved you in the Friendships show last fall. I know the NBC brass is very
excited to have you back for the May season finale.”
I looked at him with a questioning
look. “How do you know this, George?” I asked. No one except Sam had said
anything to me about this, other than encouragement.
“Brent, the President of the network
is in here at least once a week. He was very impressed at the ratings in
November. And, when I saw you arrive tonight, I watched the room very
carefully. Even the most jaded New Yorker couldn’t get enough of you. I’m proud
to call you an old friend. Tonight’s dinner is on me.” George did a sweeping
hand gesture and bow before a winking departure.
My mouth was partially open in
surprise as Pam said, “Brent, I am impressed. The last time George did anything
like that, Mom had just won a daytime Emmy. Mr. Lang has a nose for selecting
winners.”
“Pam, let’s enjoy the hospitality.
I’ll repay the favor by asking that Sam Barron have the opening night party
here.” I was aware that the late dinner usually included the stars, the
playwright, director, producers and any major backers of the show. With
approximately 20 guests, Mr. Lang would get tonight’s generosity back ten-fold.
Raising her cocktail glass, Pam said,
“Brent, to all the happiness in the world for you and Doug.”
“Thanks, beautiful,” I replied, with a
light clink on her glass with mine. “I’ve at least got two people who I love
very much.”
“And, maybe a third?”
“Yeah, Pam. There is a spot in my
heart for Dad.”
TO BE CONTINUED