Christopher Beha - Arts & Entertainments - A Novel

“I didn’t really mean for people to see it.”

“You don’t have to act all embarrassed. It’s hot. I’d like to be fucked that way.”

Eddie tried to remember whether girls had spoken this way when he was Melissa’s age. Certainly they hadn’t spoken this way to him, but perhaps they did to the older men who hung around at parties. Under the circumstances he seemed to have lost any grounds to protest.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll meet a nice guy who can, you know, take care of that for you.”

“The world is crawling with nice guys,” she said. “Patrick’s the nicest guy I know. But I’d like to be fucked that way by you.”

“I’m married,” Eddie said, somewhat irrelevantly. “And twice your age. And your boyfriend is a student of mine.”

“He’s not your student anymore, or my boyfriend. It’s not like I’m some kid. I’m nineteen years old. Anyway, didn’t your wife throw you out?”

“Did you read that in the paper?”

“Good one. ’Cause I’m some lame who reads the newspaper. It was on Teeser. You’ve got your own threadhead and everything. ‘Mr. Drake.’ I hear she threw all your shit out on the street.”

“She did.” It still didn’t seem quite real to him.

“That sucks.”

“It sucks,” he agreed.

“But so do I.”

It occurred to Eddie that being propositioned by beautiful nineteen-year-olds was another part of the fame he’d once wanted so badly.

“It’s a little weird talking with you. I mean, knowing you just watched that thing.”

“Because I’ve seen you but you haven’t seen me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You can see me if that will even the score.”

“I guess you’re not too hung up on privacy.”

Melissa laughed.

“Just to be clear, I’m getting a lecture about privacy from a guy who sold a sex tape for a hundred grand?”

“How did you know how much I sold it for?”

“Morgan told me.”

“You know Morgan?”

“I met him here a few weeks ago.”

“That son of a bitch.”

“If you want my opinion,” she said, “you got ripped off. You could have sold it for twice as much.”

“You should have been my agent. Maybe we can go into business together.”

“No, I’m serious. I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s superhot. I’d watch it again even if there wasn’t anyone famous in it.”

Eddie was surprised at how reassuring it felt to hear this. In spite of himself, he was enjoying talking to her.

“So what are you going to do from here?” Melissa asked. “I mean, what are you going to make of all this?”

The obvious answer was that he was going to convince his wife to take him back. That he was going to find a way to return everything to normal as soon as he could. But he knew that answer would disappoint her, and he couldn’t bring himself to give it.

“I have some ideas,” he said. “But I don’t want to talk about them. It’s private.”

“Private,” Melissa said, and she laughed again. “Suit yourself. Do you want another drink?”

WHEN HE WENT TO make a pot of coffee in Blakeman’s kitchen the next morning, Eddie found a note on the counter.

Off to work. Make yourself at home. Aspirin in the cabinet beside the fridge. I left the paper, thought it might interest you. — Blakeman

Beside it was a copy of the Daily News. “Who Is Handsome Eddie?” the headline asked. It showed a still shot of the video, Eddie’s body leaning into Martha’s. Some parts of the shot had been blurred, but it revealed a lot for the newsstand. Where Eddie had carefully cut out his own face, the paper had superimposed an image from a commercial he’d done years ago. In it, he wore the expression of a man eagerly accepting a stick of cinnamon chewing gum. It was a grotesque contrast, the forced smile on top of the thrusting body. He should have known that he would become part of the story. Now that he had, his efforts to conceal himself were damning. He would have been better off just leaving his face visible.

Below the picture the front page read “Details Emerge of Dr. Drake Tape Bum: See Pages.” Eddie flipped to the spread, which attempted to tell the story of his life. It was filled with old head shots and playbills — most of them, it seemed, from the box that Susan had emptied out onto the street. But there were also more personal items, including a photo of Eddie, Justin, and Blakeman standing on a corner in their school uniforms, their arms over each other’s shoulders. It looked to be from about seventh grade.

“At the Upper East Side’s elite St. Albert’s School, where he earned the nickname ‘Handsome Eddie,’” the caption read, “Hartley’s friends included Justin Price, now a megarich hedge fund manager and prominent philanthropist, and longtime lit scenester Max Blakeman.” This might please Blakeman, Eddie thought, but Justin wouldn’t be happy to see it. Although he was a familiar figure from charity boards and benefits, Justin kept his personal life out of the news. He had a very simple metric for success — money — and he didn’t need public approval. He didn’t even want public attention.

But Eddie had wanted attention. Now that he had it, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did the quality of the attention matter? He remembered Melissa telling him that he could be a star, wondering what he planned to make out of all this. He set the paper on the table and called Talent Management.

“Where were you yesterday?” Alex asked when Eddie got through to him.

“Were you trying to reach me?”

“Are you kidding? I called ten times.”

“I turned my phone off. I was getting a lot of calls.”

“No shit you were getting calls. We’ve got a real story on our hands.”

“I know. I was hoping you could help me with that.”

“Before we go any further, what’s this shit about a movie in China?”

“Korea,” Eddie corrected him. “It’s a much smaller market.”

“Now you’re a funny man?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied about that.”

“What do I care if you lie? Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been asked to help out with some domestic deception. But come up with something semi-plausible. Then tell your fucking accomplice, so I don’t have your wife asking me about checks I don’t know about. That’s Bullshitting 101.”

“I was going to tell you. Everything got out of hand so quickly.”

“Water under the bridge. This story has real potential. We’ve got not one but two wronged women, both pregnant. And triplets! The tabloids love these multiple births. I’m going to have a lot of opportunities for you.”

“That would be great. I need some opportunities right now.”

“The first thing we do is get you and Susan on the morning show circuit. Tell your side of the story and whatnot.”

“She threw me out.”

“Don’t I know it. I read the paper. What are the chances you two patch things up?”

“We’ll straighten it out eventually.”

“Eventually is great, but how about right now?”

“I’m guessing it’s going to take a little bit of time. She seems pretty hurt by things.”

“You aren’t going to get many invitations to appear by yourself. People want Susan. They want those triplets. I could get you on one of the twenty-four-hour entertainment channels, but if you want the Today show or This Morning Live, you’re going to have to get her on board.”

“I don’t want to go on talk shows and talk about Martha or the tape or my triplets or any of that. That’s not the kind of opportunity I’m looking for. I want to act, Alex. I think this is my chance to have a real career.”