The Power Trip

Bonar was his stand-in on Fast Times on the Fast Track, and they’d remained close ever since. They were the same age, both creeping close to fifty. Only Bonar had a wife and three kids, while all Cliff had was an amazing career.

He didn’t mind. He had no desire to be trapped in an institution called marriage, a soulless place from which there was no escape unless you were prepared to part with half of your hard-earned assets.

Cliff liked knowing that basically he was a free man who could go wherever he wanted, do anything he cared to do, and that there was no one around to stop him. Only his agent and his manager could tell him what to do, and usually he didn’t listen.

Cliff considered most of his male friends totally pussy-whipped, or if not whipped, then miserable divorced fathers paying alimony and only getting to see their kids every other weekend.

He was well aware that they all envied him. They should envy him. In their eyes, he was the one living the life.

Over the years he’d had a series of live-in girlfriends, and he’d learned exactly when it was time to move them out. There was always that moment in time when they started becoming overly clingy and needy — he knew the signs only too well. Suddenly they started talking marriage, and marriage was strictly not on his agenda. It never had been.

So far, Lori had lasted longer than the others. She was a fun girl and he was quite fond of her. Plus she gave the best head ever. He often thought that she must’ve studied at the famed ‘Academy of Deep Throat’ — if there was such a place. And if there wasn’t, there should be.

The truth was, he couldn’t get enough of Lori’s expert oral skills.

Usually he counted on professionals to do the things his girlfriends baulked at, but since Lori, the midnight call-girl visits were getting fewer and fewer, and Internet porn failed to grab him.

Lori, it seemed, was up for anything.

* * *

Lori had a thing about running, and not through the staid streets of Beverly Hills. No, she liked exploring the hills, finding a hiking trail, and hitting it hard.

There were no paparazzi where she went. No spying eyes with cameras affixed to them.

Sometimes she took the dogs, sometimes she didn’t.

Today she was on her own, high up in the mountains running like a crazy woman, ear-buds and iPod in place, Drake and Pitbull keeping her well entertained.

Then it happened. She went flying over a log and hit the ground with a sharp thud.

She sat there, stunned, feeling like a fool, finally realizing that fortunately there was no one around to witness her embarrassment.

After a few moments of pure dizziness she attempted to stand. Her ankle immediately gave way and she fell back down with a yelp of pain.

Now what was she supposed to do? Call her movie-star boyfriend to rush to her rescue? He wouldn’t come — he was currently on the set filming, which meant he’d send people. One of them might tip off the paps, then she’d be trapped not looking her best. Wouldn’t want that.

Her eyes filled with tears. Why was this happening to her?

She fished out her cell phone from her shorts pocket, and just as she was about to call for help, she saw it and froze. ‘It’ was a raggedy coyote emerging slyly from the bushes, standing stock-still and staring at her with haunted red eyes.

She met the animal’s malevolent stare right on and felt fear course through her body. Recently she’d read about a pack of coyotes savaging a couple of German Shepherds. If they couldn’t defend themselves, how could she?

Then a second coyote came loping out of the bushes, and she knew for sure that she was done for.

* * *

After rehearsing his upcoming scene, Cliff returned to his trailer where Enid had made herself quite comfortable stretched out on his couch, shoes off, TV on, soap opera in full swing.

‘Make yourself at home,’ Cliff said caustically. ‘Can I get you anything? Coffee? A drink?’

Unphased, Enid sat up, slipped on her Nurse Ratched shoes and said, ‘It took you long enough. I almost fell asleep.’

‘So sorry my rehearsal kept you waiting,’ Cliff said, full of sarcasm.

‘I’ve got to get back to the office,’ Enid said, thrusting a sheaf of papers at him. ‘Sign these.’

‘What am I signing?’

‘For God’s sake, if you want me to explain I’ll be here all day. Your business manager sent them over. They’re for your recent real-estate acquisitions.’

Cliff knew he could trust Enid, she would never try to put anything past him.

‘If I sign, will you give me my couch back?’

‘My pleasure,’ Enid snorted. ‘This trailer smells like feet.’

‘You’re not supposed to speak to movie stars like that. Our feet do not stink. Besides, you’re the one who had her shoes off.’

‘Oh, please!’ Enid said, waving an invitation at Cliff. ‘What do you want me to do about this?’

Cliff took the elaborate invitation and scanned it quickly. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t miss it. Go ahead and accept.’

‘Just for you?’

‘Put your bitch back in the bag, Enid,’ he said. ‘Answer for me and Lori, she’ll get a kick out of a trip like this.’

Enid sighed. This one was lasting longer than the others. Lori must have hidden talents that only Cliff knew about.

‘Whatever pleases my lord and master.’

Cliff chuckled. ‘Get the fuck outta here before I kick your crusty old ass to the curb.’

Enid packed up her papers and left.

After a few minutes Cliff put his head outside his trailer to see who was around. Sometimes he was able to pull together a bunch of the guys and they used their downtime playing softball.

Today there was nobody around. Except… who was that approaching?

Oh shit, it was his co-star in the movie. Billy Melina, a hot young movie star with naked ambition eating away at him. A ready-to-rock stud at the top of his game. Exactly like I used to be, Cliff thought wryly.

They’d only had a few scenes together, so they were hardly friends.

Cliff watched Billy approach. He couldn’t help wondering if Billy was headed for an almost thirty-year career like his. He doubted it. Everything was different today. The paparazzi ruled. The magazines printed anything they felt like. There were no studio heads and powerful managers around to protect their clients. TMZ ran riot on any star who left the sanctuary of their home.

No. In ten years when Billy hit forty he’d be long forgotten, while Cliff would still be in the game, for he had no plans to retire. He was an up and at ’em kind of guy. Like Redford and De Niro he had no intention of ever quitting; he was in the race until the end.

‘Hey,’ Billy said, all bronzed hard body and dirty-blond surfer hair. ‘Wassup?’

‘Nothing much,’ Cliff responded. ‘You?’

‘Same old crap,’ Billy said, flexing his muscles. ‘Just tryin’ t’stay outta the rags.’

‘Yeah,’ Cliff said, thinking that Billy Melina was one handsome son of a bitch. ‘I know the feeling.’ He hesitated for a moment. Should he invite the younger actor into his trailer to shoot the shit, or should he let it go?

Let it go, his inner voice warned him. Do you really want to hear all about Billy’s divorce from the very famous Venus? Or the Vegas murder scandal the kid had been vaguely involved in?

No. He had better things to do.

‘See you on the set,’ he said, retreating back into his trailer.

‘Yeah, man,’ Billy said. ‘Later.’