“Jesus!”
“Sorry. Anyway. I feel fine now, my trainer is getting me back up to, well, almost full strength.” His right side would need most of a year, he’d been told. Too much of the chest had been torn open.
“Don’t rush it,” Janis said. “You looked great dancing at the premiere but Geoffrey said Andy was watching you like a hawk.”
“He always does.”
“Are you seeing a counselor?”
“We both are. I know it’s helping. He’s angrier than I am.”
“Well, that asshole was trying to kill him, and ended up nearly killing you. I’d be fucking furious.”
Victor huffed out a laugh. “Human flamethrower. He’s still annoyed that he agreed to go to the Emmys and I wouldn’t let him back out.”
“Tough guy. I’ll bet he gave you every opportunity to say, you know what, we don’t have to do that.”
“Mm-hmm.” Victor heard Janis laugh. “Then his agent sent this thing about how if we didn’t go, there would be news trucks parked outside the house all day, and I could hear him thinking ‘oh the hell with it.’ He asked me if I wanted to go to any of the parties.”
“Which obviously you didn’t.”
“God, no, I could barely walk around the yard. I was such an idiot.” Janis laughed again. Victor was grinning. “But I got it done.”
“Yes you did. Feeling better?”
“Yes ma’am. I think I just needed to hear that we’re okay.”
“Of course you’re okay. But I’m not surprised you need to remind yourself from time to time. Now I am going back to the piano, and you probably have a P.A. hovering outside your door. Wrap that stupid shit up so you can go dance around the world.”
“That’s right. Take care and sing good, chica.”
“I always do,” she sang, and disconnected. Victor put his phone down,
got to his feet, and opened the door. Sure enough, a P.A. was hovering.
Meanwhile, “You would think all we ever do is fuck, the way I talk about him.” Andy was talking to his friend Dana. Victor was called to the set and he wasn’t, so he’d been enjoying a free day in his usual way: working on a half-dozen projects. At the moment, though, he was relaxing on a lounger in the backyard. The remains of his lunch were on a table beside him and Molly was dozing in the shade behind him.
“You’ve always been like that,” Dana said. She also had a free day, so she was on the neighboring lounger. “It’s surprisingly relaxing back here.”
“The tap tap tap of the shingle guy is kind of pleasant, isn’t it?” Dana laughed. Andy listened. He and Victor had acquired the storybook-style triplex property next door and were having it completely renovated. The shingle guy was doing what amounted to an art installation over there, with designs woven into the custom-cut shingles. “Anyway, I can vouch for complete recovery. I was a little worried that he wouldn’t be fully rehabbed for the tour, but he’s in great shape now.”
“Glad to hear it. Where’s your first stop?”
“Berlin. I cannot fucking wait. We were talking about going there anyway, and then when the movie sold and they said hey we want to send you on tour we were like, all aboard.” Andy glanced over at Dana. “They want us to dance.”
“Ya think?”
Andy snickered. “Yeah, okay. So we’re doing a couple of numbers. One of them has nothing to do with the movie. It started as a joke but then we were both like, hmm, and we talked to the promoter, and the people in Berlin said it was fine with them. I sure hope they understood what we were saying.”
She cut her eyes over at him, noting his tone of voice. “What is it and what’s making you nervous?”
“It’s ‘Mein Herr,’ and what’s making me nervous is it’s Mein Herr. Like Liza Minnelli Mein Herr.”
Dana sat up and looked at him for real. He did look nervous, but also excited. “Like your Velma Kelly?” He nodded. “You’re doing it in drag?” He made an ‘eek’ face and nodded again. Dana started laughing. “Are you going
to get video?”
“We will definitely try. I know people will post phone videos, we’re going to tell them – or we’ll have the interpreter tell them – to knock themselves out. But we want one for ourselves and obviously we won’t have someone there to tape it.”
“Ask the promoter,” Dana said patiently. “Why you always think you have to do everything yourself, I will never know. Well, actually I do know.”
Andy’s second career as a commercial photographer had been cut short by unexpected TV stardom, but while he was doing that he was, in fact, doing everything himself.
“I know. I should be a little more used to it by now. Vicky and Sharon were giving me shit a year ago. I was over there bumming a slice of cake and they were like you know that place would deliver for you, right? And it honestly never occurred to me. Same as with the on-set meals.”
“Rory told me she told you that and I thought, of course. But if it makes you feel any better I never thought of it either.” Dana glanced at her watch and wondered if she should be heading home.
“Well, you have Rory doing her Feed All The People All The Time routine.”
Dana laughed again. “Yeah, and it’s a constant battle for me with the food. Not like you. If the day ever comes when you look like you need to lose a pound, I will assume it’s the apocalypse.”
“Also, quit looking at your watch. You could stay all afternoon and I’d be happy.” Andy stretched, rolled his neck, and swung his legs off the lounger. He rested his elbows on his knees and gazed at his friend. “Victor was kind of asking me what I was going to do with myself after the tour.”
“And what’s the answer?”
“I’m going to print up more of the behind the scenes shit from ‘The Ghost of Carlos Gardel,’ including some pictures of
