“If this is such a stressful situation, Eric,” asked Pauline, “why did you come here? Why did you put yourself through this?”
“Because Laura invited me,” he said simply. “It would have been rude to say no. Besides, the more I expose myself to these situations, the more used to them I get. And you’re all very nice people, not like those ... well ... never mind that. I wanted to come here; although I have to say flying on that helicopter was quite terrifying.”
“It wasn’t really my idea of a good time either,” said Celia.
“I thought it was exhilarating,” Greg said. “It reminded me of when I was filming Others. There’s nothing like riding in a chopper.”
“I disagree,” said Nerdly. “I have ridden in a helicopter on several occasions now and I must report that, while exhilarating, the sensation does not rise to the level of intimate physical activity and orgasm, either within or outside of a committed monogamous and legally sanctioned relationship.”
“What?” Greg asked, flabbergasted.
“He means that the helicopter ride isn’t better than sex,” Jake translated.
“Ohh,” Greg said slowly. He thought about this for a moment or two and then nodded. “Okay. Maybe it isn’t as good as sex, but it comes in a close second.”
“I would put the experience in sixth place,” Nerdly said. “Second would be witnessing the birth of your child.”
“Uh ... I haven’t experienced that one yet,” Greg said.
“Third would be achieving an approximation of perfect audio reproduction on a master CD,” Nerdly went on. “Fourth would be hearing your own musical performance on public airwaves for the first time, and fifth would be solving a complex physics equation in a manner that supports empirical and repeatable evidence of a hypothesis.”
“Uh ... yeah,” Greg said. “I guess those are pretty exciting moments too.”
“Bill,” Sharon said, indignant. “What about the moment I said ‘yes’ to your marriage proposal? What about our wedding, when we stood in our Star Trek uniforms before the rabbi?”
Bill shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m afraid on a strictly momentary enjoyment level, the helicopter rides ranked just a bit higher than those.”
This proclamation was met by silence from all within earshot of it.
“What?” Nerdly asked. “I was just being truthful.”
“I think you need to learn the art of the little white lie, Nerdly,” Obie suggested.
“Please do,” agreed Sharon.
“Well ... all right then,” Jake said. “On that note, I think I’ll go check on my turkey.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Obie, standing. “Is it too early for a cigar?”
Jake thought about this for a second and then smiled. “Emily Post might think so,” he said, “but she doesn’t seem to be here at the moment. Let’s hit the humidor.”
“Hear, hear now,” said Greg, his face brightening. “A good cigar sounds like just the thing.”
“Let’s do it then,” Jake said. “Anyone else for a stogie out on the deck?”
No one else was up for it. Jake went over to his humidor and pulled three hand-rolled Cuban Cohibas from it. The three men went out through the sliding door onto the deck, their drinks in hand and took seats at the granite patio table next to the barbeque. Jake handed Greg and Obie their cigars. They took turns prepping them with his cutter and then fired up with the barbeque lighter sitting on the table. They blew the fragrant smoke out over the deck where the light wind carried it away.
“Good cigar, Jake,” Obie said, impressed. “Genuine Cuban. How do you get your greasy little hands on these things?”
It had been illegal to import Cuban cigars into the United States since 1962, but a fair number still found their way into the hands of those, like Jake, who coveted them. “I used to get them from a little cigar shop in West Hollywood that kept some under the counter for special customers,” he said, “but the price was high and a couple of times they sold me counterfeits. I could tell by the taste they weren’t the real deal. So, I stopped doing business with them and went without for a while. But when I moved here and started flying out of Whiteman, I met a cargo pilot who flies 747s for UPS. He owns a Mooney Bravo and keeps it in the hangars near where I park my truck. We got to talking one day—he’s an Intemperance fan—and he told me his route is from Vancouver, BC to Shanghai. After we got to know each other a little better, he let me know that he would be willing to buy me some of these Cohibas in Vancouver and bring them to me for just twenty-five percent above cost.”
“That’s actually pretty reasonable,” Obie said.
“It is,” Jake agreed. “It costs me six hundred and twenty-five bucks for a box of twenty-five. And they’re always genuine Cohibas and they’re always fresh. When I was getting them from the cigar shop, I was paying eight hundred a box for cigars that were usually a little stale and sometimes fake.”
Greg shook his head sadly. “I do abhor dishonesty when doing business with someone,” he said.
“Yeah,” Obie agreed. “It’s a bitch when your illegal goods supplier is screwing you, ain’t it? No fuckin’ Better Business Bureau to complain to.”
“Exactly,” Greg said, missing Obie’s sarcasm.
The three men puffed their cigars and drank their drinks for a few minutes, talking of unimportant things. Jake made a point to pay particular attention to Greg during the conversation. This was his first time in the actor’s company since the night of the Los Angeles premier of his film more than a month before. Jake had been on two trips with Gordon and his band since then, playing sixteen separate dates with them. He had just returned from the second one five days before and had been helping out with Celia’s tour planning and rehearsal every day until the Thanksgiving break started. Greg, in turn, had been busy doing promotional appearances, mostly in LA, and giving interviews for various entertainment media groups. Celia had confided in Jake during one of the lunch breaks at the rehearsal warehouse that her husband had been acting “a little strange” ever since returning from the trip across the country with Mindy Snow and the production crew.
“What do you mean by ‘a little strange?’” Jake had asked her.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s nothing I can quite put my finger on, but there’s something off about him in some subtle way.”
“You don’t think anything ... you know ... happened between him and Mindy, do you?”
“No,” she answered immediately, shaking her head firmly. “It’s nothing like that. I’m sure I would know right away if he had been unfaithful to me with that puta.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Jake told her.
“It’s just that it seems like he’s ... I don’t know ... putting up a false face for me.”
“A false face?”
“His acting face,” she said. “It’s like he’s playing a part whenever we talk these days. And he’s ... well ... much more interested in having sex.”
“You can’t blame a guy for that,” Jake said. Especially not when he has a wife that looks like you, he did not add.
“Maybe not,” she allowed, “but I can’t help but feel his increased interest is related to the false face.”
As he watched Greg now, Jake detected no real difference from the personality he had always known. Greg was arrogant, pompous, and somewhat of a square; just like always. But then again, Jake did not live with him day in and day out, nor was Jake someone Greg would necessarily be putting on an act for.
“What was it like being out on tour with Bigg G and his boys?” Obie asked now, derailing Jake’s thoughts. “That must’ve been some experience.”
“It was mostly great to be back out on the road again and performing regularly,” Jake said. “Playing in front of an audience has always been the best part of this life for me.”