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16
“So, you like that period piece the best?” Wes asked, scratching at his short strawberry-blond hair, his light eyes staring at Chris over Zoom.
“Yeah.” Chris shuffled some papers around on the dining room table, which had become a catchall for everything. “The writing is really great, and besides the historical aspect, I just really want to play a boxer, you know?” He laughed, and so did Wes.
“Have you talked to Tom about it yet?”
“Not yet. We have a phone call scheduled for tomorrow.”
Wes lifted his hand toward the screen. “How’s everything else? How are you doing?”
“Everything’s good.” Chris reclined in his chair. “I’ve been relaxing, spending a lot of time outside.”
“Yeah? Well, you look good. You’ve got that rugged mountain man thing happening. I think Pennsylvania suits you.”
Chris rubbed at his beard. “Yeah, maybe.”
“I got a text from Fitz. He said you’re fitting right in.” Chris snorted at that, but Wes didn’t laugh. “You got something happening with Bean?”
Chris sucked in air through his teeth. Wes was a good friend, probably his only real friend at this point, and Chris trusted him implicitly, but he wasn’t ready to talk about what he did or did not have going on with Bronte. He barely understood it himself, only that in the short time he’d known her, he’d fallen hard for her.
He didn’t know what his future held, and as much as he wanted to give Bronte the world, all he could give her right now were their moments together.
“Don’t hurt her,” Wes said. “She’s a sweet girl.” When Chris nodded, Wes raised his dubious single eyebrow, probably only half kidding when he said, “Way too good for you.”
“You’re telling me,” Chris huffed out, crossing his arms over his chest. He would never be good enough for her, even after a lifetime of trying.
“All right,” Wes said, shifting away from the screen. “I gotta get back to work. I’ve got some calls to make.” He pointed at Chris. “I’m glad you’re doing good over there in PA, and happy birthday, man. Enjoy it. I have a hunch this is going to be a good year for you.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Chris signed off, his mind all over the place. He was happy to talk to his buddy, but it still stung to not hear from his family. Despite the fact that he hadn’t talked to them in a few years, the hurt hadn’t completely gone away.
And it made him all the more desperate to see Bronte. She had parent-teacher conferences after school today, and even though they’d made plans to be together all weekend, he needed to talk to someone now. Last year for his birthday, he got drunk in Vegas and married a Bally’s showgirl named Sadie. Wes and Tom made quick work of the annulment, but still, it hadn’t been his best or brightest decision. Especially since it had been splashed all over every magazine, solidifying his position as Hollywood’s bad boy.
Since hitting rock bottom with his car accident and subsequent arrest, he’d dropped his bad habits—the drinking and partying, he’d even stopped racing cars—and that left him without a lot of his so-called pals. He didn’t miss the big parties and sycophants following him around for any crumb of attention. Those people were never his real friends. They never truly cared for him, only wanted everything that came along with his fame. But being alone on his birthday really sucked.
Needing to get out of the house, he headed next door. “Hey,” Chris said breathlessly when Pattie answered the door. “Can I talk? Do you have time to talk?”
She opened the door wider, concern in her eyes. “Yes, of course I have time. What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been making my own money since I was seventeen, starred in a dozen movies, one of which got me nominated for a bunch of awards, but I haven’t spoken to my parents in over three years, and it’s my birthday today. Normally I’d get drunk and throw a party, probably do something stupid, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be that person. I want…”
I want to be loved,he didn’t say.
Pattie was momentarily taken aback by his outburst, though she recovered smoothly. “You know, Fitz took Steven to physical therapy, so I’m all by myself tonight. How about we go get frozen yogurt?” She moved to grab her purse. “We’ve got to celebrate somehow. Come on, I’m buying.”
The frozen yogurt place was painted in neon colors, and Top 40 tunes played in the background. Groups of high school kids huddled in corners, and little ones climbed the walls as their parents tried to corral them.
Chris’s eyes swept the room, checking for a quiet place to sit. With his long hair and beard, plus the fact that the general public had no idea he was living in Allentown, he wasn’t worried about being recognized anymore. However, he still wanted a seat away from anyone who might be able to hear their conversation. Pattie pointed out a table next to an elderly couple, and they both enjoyed their yogurt for a while in silence.
When he couldn’t put it off any longer, Chris started from the beginning, describing his parents and his strict upbringing that made him want to rebel. After being “discovered” at bible camp when he was fourteen, playing in their end-of-summer concert, he got booked on a Christian teen show where they sang about their love for Jesus and acted out ridiculous scenes in which they said no to drugs and sex before marriage. Tom, his now-agent, somehow got hold of one of those stupid tapes and saw something in him, flying out to Indiana to convince him to give Los Angeles a shot. True to his word, Tom made Chris big with the Disney crowd, but that G-rated stuff only held Chris’s attention until the checks were cashed. After that, he wanted to move on, explore, learn. That was why he took the role of James Dean in the biopic, the one which didn’t shy away from the rumors and stories about Dean’s bisexuality.
When his parents saw it—those sex scenes with his male counterpart, and after he’d come out as bisexual in an interview—they shunned him for good. They’d said they could only take so much; the partying was one thing, but their son being with a man was where they drew the line in the sand. That was when Chris really let it go. If his parents thought he was a sinner, he was going to prove them right. In as many ways as possible.
Pattie didn’t flinch or judge him. Not even when he explained how he went on a weeklong bender after his last conversation with his mother and ended up getting papped completely naked—his bare ass covered magazines for weeks—or how he got into a fight with one of his costars on set.
She listened patiently while he rambled, and after he’d finally revealed every last skeleton in his closet, she smiled. “You’re a good person, Chris, worthy of every good thing that’s happened to you. I’m glad you’ve learned from your mistakes.” She reached out and covered his hand with hers, giving it a small squeeze. “I can’t wait to see what you do in the future.”
That one sentence was more than his own parents had ever said to him.
