“It’s obvious you’re an athlete. You have good speed and excellent arm strength. It’s also evident that you hit for average and for power. You showed you can field the ball. Based on what I’ve observed, we’ll want to see how you develop over the next year. One workout isn’t enough for us to tell if you can produce over an entire season.
“You have a lot of potential, and I’d like to see you play some summer ball against better competition than you can expect in high school. I have some ideas if you’re interested,” Lucas said.
“I have a commitment for June, but have the rest of the summer available.”
He wrote down my information and then had one piece of parting advice.
“I know you said you wanted to play shortstop. I’m going to be brutally honest. As a shortstop, you might have a chance to get to the big leagues, but you’re a much better prospect as a center fielder. I would suggest that you switch and forget about pitching. If you were a pitching prospect, we would have already identified you as one. You’re a better than average high school pitcher, but not as dominant as you would need to be at the next level of competition.”
“Okay. Should I get some coaching?” I asked.
“For now, work with Coach Revilla until he has to leave at the end of the month. He tells me that the place you signed up with also has fielding coaches. After he leaves, you might want to get one of them to work with you,” he suggested.
Once he left, I returned to the studio. This had always been the dream as a kid, to play ball for the Cubs. All I could think of was what Caryn had said her grandmother had taught her: ‘to wish impossible things.’ I remembered there was another saying: ‘be careful what you wish for.’ What would happen if I had to decide between football, baseball, or a career in movies? I guess I would worry about that later. For now, I would wish for playing for the Cubs while working as an actor. Maybe I could figure out how to do all three.
◊◊◊
When I arrived at my trailer, Frank and Caryn were there, talking. It had to be something important for Frank to show up unannounced.
“Sorry, but can you let me take a shower? I need to be on set shortly,” I explained. “Caryn, I hate to ask, but do you think you could get me something to eat?”
She just nodded, and I hurried to the back of the trailer where the master bedroom was. I showered and dug out some of my analgesic cream to rub on my bruises. I came back to find Frank, Fritz, and Caryn eating Reuben sandwiches. Caryn pointed over to where I found mine. I joined them at the table.
“The attack video has gone national, and many of the news organizations around the country have put in requests for interviews. The LA Police Department would like to do a joint press conference this afternoon. I would suggest that you work with them on this. It’ll give their talking heads a chance to shine, and they’ll be saying good things about you. I want to capitalize on the media while your story is hot,” Frank said.
“What do you mean, ‘while it’s hot’?” I asked.
“A story like this will have its own life cycle. I expect we can use this through Friday, and then it’ll die down. Over the weekend some kitten will fall down a well, and they’ll be off to cover that,” Frank said.
There was a knock at the door. “You’re needed on the set,” I heard through the door.
I felt bad because they’d never had to come and find me until today. That meant everyone was ready, and as Jessup reminded me fifty times a day, time was money.
“Okay, do what you think is right. Keep Caryn in the loop,” I said and hurried off.
◊◊◊
When I was done with my scene, Caryn filled me in. Frank had arranged for me to be downtown at LAPD Headquarters at three-thirty. The national nightly news would begin to air on the East Coast at four, our time. He’d written up a statement for me to make. I had Caryn read it because I had to get back on the set. She then handed me an envelope.
“This was delivered while you were on set.”
I opened it. I shook my head and handed it to Caryn to read. It was from an LA law firm representing the three men who attacked me. It was a shakedown letter that threatened they would sue me for all the damage I’d done to their three clients. They would like me to get an attorney, and we might possibly settle before it got ugly. I found the phone number and called them.
“David, I’m glad you’re taking this seriously,” was the greeting I heard when the phone was answered.
“Listen carefully. Have Al Faulkenburg call me by three o’clock. I believe we can settle this if he does. If I don’t hear from him by then, you can go ahead and sue. I’ll make sure I crucify you and your clients in the press, starting with my three-thirty press conference with the police.”
“Hang on …”
That was all he got out before I hung up.
It was a good thing I was supposed to be a brooding, angry teen in my next scene because that’s exactly what I was.
◊◊◊
On the ride to LAPD Headquarters, I received a call from the law firm with Al, his parents, and everyone else on the line.
“David, I’m sorry you’ve taken such a hard line, but we’re willing to work with you on this,” Al’s lawyer said.
“Al, are you on the line?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m about to arrive at the LAPD Headquarters to do a joint press conference about what happened. I have two options: I can go along with your story about this being about surfing, and things got out of hand, or I can tell them the truth. When I say the truth, I mean I will tell them about every little thing,” I said. “Do you understand what I’m talking about? Do you want the world to know?”
“What’s he talking about?” a woman I assumed was his mom asked.
“What did you do this time?” a man asked.
The conversation was muted, and I waited for them to decide. When I was put back into the conversation, it was just the lawyer.
“They’ve decided they’d prefer the first option. We’ll send over a letter of agreement and state that all parties will take no civil action against you concerning this matter. Would that satisfy you?” he asked.
“Please contact my attorney, and I’ll have her review it,” I said.
I gave him Ms. Dixon’s information. I would have Caryn call her while I met with the police.
◊◊◊
After that, I did the dog-and-pony show for the police, who wouldn’t tell anyone much because it was “an ongoing investigation” and “the three attackers were minors.” When I was asked to talk, I kept it short and admitted I believed them when they said they intended to kill me. I didn’t speculate as to why it happened. I figured if they hadn’t sent over the letter by the time my interviews with national outlets started, I didn’t want to be telling two different stories.
After we were done with the police, we drove over to Frank’s office. He had a room set up for my interviews, with large posters from my two movies placed behind me that featured me in the pictures. I’d no idea where he got them, but they were going home with me.
The rest of the day was a blur as I did one interview after another. By the time I arrived home, I was exhausted.
◊◊◊ Thursday December 17
Caryn woke me up at three-thirty in the morning. She had a suit for me to wear today that had been delivered from Dakora. I was impressed that it was very businesslike with only a touch of their creative flair. Caryn told me they had offered me money to wear it on the morning talk shows. We were back at Frank’s studio so we could be on America Today, Dawn America, and The Outlook.
By now, Ms. Dixon had come to an agreement in principle, and she said it was okay for me to start telling the surfing story. The reason I was okay with telling that version was that it was true—as far as it went. Several people had seen him jump my waves, and it wasn’t uncommon for surfers to fight over that. What made this different was the fight was caught on camera, and they’d used bats, and I’d used my training to protect myself. Added to that, I was a high school football All-American and an up-and-coming movie star.