Christopher Beha - Arts & Entertainments - A Novel

“The only reason I’m even with Melissa is so I can get Susan back.”

“You’re in danger of making me very disillusioned,” Alex said. “It looked so real from where I was standing. In any case, you’re going to have to keep it up if you want on the show, because that’s what they’re looking for. And once you sign this contract, you can’t go around telling people this thing with Melissa isn’t on the level.”

“Does Susan know about this?”

“She doesn’t have much choice, if it’s what Moody wants. It’s going to be great for the ratings. They’re talking about a special when the babies are born. Live from the delivery room.”

“Will I be there for that?”

“Let’s worry about keeping people interested for a few more months. Right now, they want to see you with Melissa.”

“I’m going to have to ask her if she’s all right with it,” Eddie said, though he knew Melissa would be thrilled.

“She’s already on board,” Alex told him. “She’s represented by the agency now.”

“You spoke with her before you spoke with me?”

“I knew we needed her for it to work, since I’ve already tried to pitch you to these people solo. And she’s been really proactive about things. To be honest, you owe her a lot. Moody loves her. You’ve got some kind of gift, Eddie. People don’t want to put you on TV, but when you fuck someone, they want to put her on TV.”

“I didn’t fuck Melissa.”

“For our purposes, you did. If you say that out loud two days from now, you’re in the hole five million.”

“I don’t have five million dollars.”

“That’s why you’re not going to go telling people you didn’t fuck Melissa.”

“I’m not sure I want to do this.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t this the reason you started this bullshit with the girl? So people would get excited about it and put you on TV?”

“I thought I’d be on TV with Susan.”

“You’ll probably get there eventually.”

“Probably?”

“Do you think people are going to be interested in all this nonsense forever? You should take some advantage of it all while you can. You’ve been living in a luxury hotel. How much money do you have left?”

THE NEW YORK OFFICES of Talent Management were in midtown, not far from Hope Springs Clinic.

“Glad we’ve got you involved,” Alex told him in the office’s conference room. “This is a great opportunity for you. Brian Moody is a real pro. I’ve done lots of deals with him. I hardly ever get involved with scripted work anymore. Ninety percent of an actor’s job is maintaining a public image anyway. If you can cut out the acting part, it really simplifies things.”

“I wish I’d figured that out sooner,” Eddie said. “The acting part was always what gave me trouble.”

“Well, it was a different time then,” Alex assured him. “You couldn’t have known.”

Alex had first contacted Eddie after reading a review of Midnight with the Lotos-Eaters , but so far as Eddie knew he’d never actually seen him act. He now handed Eddie a copy of his contract, and they went through it point by point. It all seemed fine to Eddie until they got to the part about payment, which was a thousand dollars an episode.

“A grand a week doesn’t seem like that much,” Eddie said. “It’s less than I got for teaching. And it’s not like I’m just on a set for a few hours. They’re asking for complete access to my entire life. Shouldn’t that be worth a bit more?”

“Moody could charge people a grand a week to follow them around with a camera,” Alex said. “Most of the time giving complete access is the whole point. Plus you’ve got to think long term here. There will be other opportunities. Appearance fees, things like that. This is about exposure. Building your platform. How you monetize it is up to you. In the meantime, you won’t have to pay your hotel bill anymore.”

The Cue had agreed to put Eddie and Melissa up free of charge for the remainder of the show’s season. They’d be moved to something called the imperial suite, which was large enough to provide the crew their own room, so that their living space would be unobstructed.

“Does that mean she’s moving in?”

“Well, it simplifies matters in a lot of ways. They won’t need a separate crew for her dorm room. The university offered full access, but the hotel’s deal seemed better. And Moody says as far as school goes he only needs to show her walking into a classroom once in a while, just enough to remind people that she’s still a child.”

Once living expenses were covered, the deal didn’t seem so bad to Eddie. In any case, it was the only deal being offered. They moved on to the nondisclosure agreement.

“This is very important,” Alex said, “so I’m going to read all of it to you. Then we’ll discuss it to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Okay.”

“‘The parties enter into this agreement for the purposes of preventing the unauthorized disclosure of confidential information. For purposes of this agreement, “confidential information” shall include any information about the show’s production process not already publicly acknowledged or described by Moody Productions, as well as information about the show’s characters or story arcs that conflict with the depiction of said characters and story arcs on the show or in other works by Moody Production or with public claims made by Moody Productions. This agreement further bars the receiving party from publicly questioning the veracity of any element of the show in a way that will be detrimental to the show or to Moody Productions. If the receiving party is found to be in breach of this agreement, he shall be liable for a minimum of five million dollars in addition to any damages Moody Productions suffers as a result of the breach. Moody Productions does not need to prove any damages in order to enforce the terms of this agreement. The nondisclosure provisions of this agreement shall survive the termination of this agreement. Receiving party’s duty to hold confidential information in confidence shall remain in effect until Moody Productions sends the receiving party written notice of release from this agreement.’”

Alex looked up from his recitation.

“Do you understand any of that in English?”

Eddie nodded. “No spilling trade secrets.”

“It’s a bit more than that. What it means, basically, is that this story is your story. Not just now, or through the end of this season, or the end of the show, but for as long as Moody is doing business. To take an obvious example, say a few years from now you’re tired of having a reputation as a dog. So you go on TV to say you never touched Melissa, you just did it to get on the show. You never once cheated on your wife. Now they’re into you for five million bucks. Doesn’t matter if the show’s long gone and forgotten. You get it? As far as you’re concerned, whatever story this show tells is the truth, forever and ever, amen.”

“Did Susan sign one of these?”

“Of course Susan signed one. Everyone signs them. I had to sign one just to negotiate these contracts. Moody probably signed one himself. And he’d sue himself if he broke it.”

Two days later, Eddie met Brian Moody for the first time. Only when he saw the man in person did he realize that in all the time he’d been reading about Moody he’d never seen a photograph of him. Someone in the business of manufacturing celebrities had managed to keep his own image entirely under wraps. He was tall and thin, with shoulder-length blond hair and a long, creased face at once undeniably ugly and strangely compelling. Greeting Eddie, he smiled widely to reveal a gap between his two brown front teeth. He thrust a cigarette into his mouth, but it stayed unlit through the length of their conversation. He wore a cheap, ill-fitting business suit — not ill-fitting in a stylish way, but in the manner of a man who didn’t care how he looked. Eddie remembered what he’d read about Moody being a former priest. When Eddie extended a hand, Moody pressed into it a green rubber bracelet with “Justine Justice” printed along its edge.