Sociopath? (33 page)

“So whatever made you think of me?”

“One of our girls saw your video on YouTube,
the one that went viral.”

“I have a video on YouTube?”

“You don’t know about it?” Grib asked in
disbelief.

“No, probably my fan club president, Jeri,
did it.”

“Well, you might want to take a look, Rafe.
Over a million other people have.”

“No shit?”

“No, shit, Rafe. Anyway, Ashley sent me an
e-mail message with the link and a note that said, ‘I think I’ve
found your perfect Kelan McCrea.’ After I saw it, I agreed and I
forwarded it on to a bunch of other people and all of them were
excited about the possibility of getting you to do it. You have
just the look we need for this character. The story is set in
Ireland during the worst of the Irish conflict. Press is a British
Captain, Rhiannon is his wife and your guy is the I.R.A. terrorist.
You end up kidnapping and raping her to get back at him. It’s going
to be a great film, Rafe. It has adventure and intrigue and sex and
magnificent Irish landscapes.”

“What makes you think I can do it?”

“You weren’t even in any school plays or
Drama Club or anything?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you don’t have to be perfect at
acting. We can coach you enough to get you through.” Grib assured
him. “It’s, like I said, that particular look is what we’re
seeking. In your video, you come across as sort of a dashing outlaw
type.”

He gave Rafe’s darkly handsome face some
professional scrutiny. They were seated in an out-of-the way table
in the hotel’s luxuriously appointed dining room. A beautiful view
of Baltimore’s harbor, acres of white linen tablecloths. Usually
Grib liked to hold forth from the most visible table in any public
room, demanded on the strength of his Hollywood credentials, but
he’d asked for a private location for this particular discussion.
Still, he noticed that Rafe was one of those people who drew
others, especially women, to look at him even if they had to go out
of their way to do it. It didn’t escape his notice either that Rafe
was aware of the attention he received and to acknowledging it with
a flashing smile and that he didn’t reserve it just for the
beautiful ones. The pudgy little woman over in the corner had
turned beet red when that quick grin came her way. To Grib, that
democratic quality was a very good sign in a would-be movie star
because after all, it didn’t matter what people looked like when
they lined up at the queue at the box office to buy their
ticket.

“So, are you’re saying you’ll settle for
mediocrity?”

Grib was reluctant to accept that
characterization. “I wouldn’t say mediocrity, maybe more like
willing to work around inexperience.”

“I don’t think that would satisfy me though,
Grib. I’m used to doing whatever I do very well. I don’t think I’d
be happy with so-so.”

“That’s why we want you to come to Los
Angeles for a screen test. We’ll do a run-through. We can look at
the results and so can you. Everyone can make their decision after
that. So, Rafe, can you make a trip to sunny California later this
week? Like tomorrow? I went ahead and got you a ticket on my flight
in case you said yes. It leaves Baltimore at 2:00.”

“You are hot for this, aren’t you?”

Everything about making a movie is dicey. So
many things can go wrong. You have to move quickly when all systems
are go or it can all fall apart. You’re all this film is waiting
for.”

“Okay, I’ll have my sister bring me in and
take us to the airport.”

*

He called Denis that night. He could hear the
kids laughing in the background.

“So how goes it with being parents,
Denis?”

“It’s great, Rafe. I think they’re adjusting
pretty well considering what they went through.” He laughed a
little. “And I think we’re adjusting too despite how drastically
our lives have changed. I never thought I’d be worrying about
researching pre-schools or choosing the perfect pediatrician or
trying to get cough medicine down a three-year-old or braiding a
little girl’s hair but it’s fine, really fine.”

“That’s good, Denis. Hey, can I talk to Jeff
a minute if he’s there?”

“Sure, hang on.”

When Jeff picked up the phone, he explained
about the movie and asked for a short tutorial on actors’
contracts, assuming they offered him one. He thought being in a
movie sounded interesting but it wouldn’t be huge disappointment if
it didn’t pan out. Still, he didn’t want to wander in like a babe
in the woods and get totally shafted out of ignorance. Rafe
believed in always being prepared.

“Lord, Rafe, sounds like a strong part,
supporting two stars the caliber of Press Buckley and Rhiannon.
Hope it happens. We’ll be able to say we knew you when.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for your help, Jeff. I’ll
let you know.”

“Do that, Rafe.”

“You know what’ll happen, don’t you, Jeff?”
Denis said when Jeff told him about the conversation.

“What?”

“He’ll make the movie and become a huge star
without even trying because that’s the way it always is with
him.”

“Well, cracking Hollywood may not be so easy,
even for Rafe.”

“You don’t know him like I do, Jeff.
Hollywood will be child’s play for Rafe. They’ll love him precisely
because he won’t care.”

*

On the plane, Grib gave Rafe a bound
manuscript. He flipped to a highlighted section.

“This is the whole script but all you really
need to read right now is this part. That’s what we’ll use for the
screen test. You won’t remember it all it but this way, you’ll be
familiar with what to expect.” Of course, Baltimore to Los Angeles
is a long flight. Before they landed, Rafe had read the entire
script and memorized the highlighted area.

He liked the character, Kelan McCrea, and
thought they had enough in common that he’d feel comfortable being
him. He sort of had the same code of vengeance Rafe himself had
although he didn’t put it in the same words. Rafe figured he’d
probably turn out to be a pretty good actor because, after all,
he’d been acting all his life.

*

The test was over. They’d just watched it on
the screen.

“Wow,” said Sylvia, the assistant director.
“Just, wow.”

She’d been a dubious at first, not quite
convinced that pulling some kid, good looking as he might be, off
the street was going to work. After all, she had to deal closely
with these people to try to get them to come through on the screen
and she preferred working with professionals who knew the ins and
outs of acting, not some newbie who had to learn the ropes from
scratch. But it hadn’t been her decision to make. She was only the
assistant director.

Sylvia was 38 and hoping to be the executive
director the next time out and maybe this film would do it. She had
her fingers crossed. Sylvia was sleek, from top to bottom. Sleek
slender shape in black silk slacks and a red knit sweater. Sleek
cap of black hair, washed with raspberry highlights, sleek
porcelain-perfect face with jade green eyes and narrow, determined
mouth. She’d worked hard to get where she was and she wanted
everything perfect.

The scene was between the British Captain,
Andrew Stewart, and Kel McCrea. A stand-in was playing Press
Buckley’s part. He’d just finished telling Kel that the British
would crush the Irish rebellion because they had unlimited money
and material and manpower and could go on forever. Kel was supposed
to shout back that the Captain might be right but the British would
pay a huge price for their victory.

“I don’t really see this guy as a shouter and
I’m not a shouter myself. Will you humor me and let me try it my
way first? Then if you still want me to read it as it’s written, I
will.”

“Go ahead,” Syvia had told him impatiently, a
little irritated that this novice thought he knew more than the
professionals.

Instead of loud and threatening, Rafe played
him softly menacing, with a dead on Irish brogue. (One of his team
mates on the Princeton football team had been from Ireland and he
could recall the guy’s phrasing and lilting speech from
memory.)

*

“Aye, Captain Stewart, I have no doubt ‘tis
true that before it’s over, ye’ll get me. ‘Tis an end I’m prepared
for. But I promise you, Captain, by all I hold holy, yer victory
drink will be harsh and bitter in yer mouth and ye’ll get no bit of
satisfaction from it.”

Hugely magnified on the screen, Rafe’s
twisted smile, the lock of black hair fallen to his forehead and
the chilling midnight eyes were riveting.

Sylvia gave him his head after that,
acknowledging that Rafe’s interpretation of Kel was hugely more
attractive than their own view of who the character was.

Everyone who saw it agreed - this kid was
born to play the part.

*

He flew back to Maryland with a contract in
his pocket. He’d got them to agree to fly him back and forth so he
wouldn’t miss any races. The first scenes to be shot would be the
ones they could do in California. Then they’d be leaving to go on
location in Ireland for the scenery scenes. They were doing some
things first with Press and Rhiannon. He didn’t have to return to
Los Angeles for a couple of weeks.

*

Grib had told Rafe that Rhiannon was
originally from Ireland and that’s one reason she was so looking
forward to going there for the shoot.

~ ~ ~

When he got back, Sylvia told him they were
going to just jump right into the rape scene, one of the most
powerful in the movie.

“We think it might set up a more compelling
sexual tension if you and Rhiannon actually are strangers when you
come together,” Sylvia told him, “she’s on her way to the set
now.”

*

She entered the space like a queen, wearing a
long shimmering silver robe, lowcut and slit to the thigh. As Rafe
was taking note of the swell of her creamy breasts, sable hair like
a crown piled on top of her head, storm gray eyes and full,
sensuous mouth, she saw a lean, brown body, black hair with a
unruly swatch almost falling into one eye, pitch dark eyes and a
gleaming smile that crossed his face and disappeared, leaving you
waiting for its return.

*

When he took her hand to shake it, both of
them were instantly cast into foreign territory, a place neither
had even been aware existed, where love and lust and recognition
competed for attention. It was like finding like. They were tigers,
having been raised with housecats, thinking there was was not
another like them, and suddenly being stunningly confronted with
another of their own species.

“Bloody hell,” thought Rafe, “I think I just
met my match.”

“Holy shit,” thought Rhiannon, “I think I
just found my mate.”

*

“Hello, Ree,” he said.

“I don’t allow anyone to call me Ree,” she
informed him haughtily.

“Well, is that right now…Ree?” He
grinned.

She smiled back, that gloriously inviting
smile that had been the target of so many camera lenses. “Except
you, that is.”

“Yes, I thought that’s what you meant to
say.”

*

“Okay, you two, do ya’ think you can quit
holding hands now so we can get on with it?”

*

The way the scene was set up, Kel had already
plotted her capture and sent his men to bring her back. She’d been
confined in this small, bare room, stone walls, dirt floor (not
really dirt, of course, because dirt would be too, well, dirty.
This was movie studio stuff, meant to look like dirt but clean).
The room contained nothing but a single cot. The silver gown was
what she’d been wearing when they kidnapped her from a party. The
plan was for him to throw her on the bed and rip it open before
proceeding onto the rape itself.

“I think we ought to do it naked,” Rafe told
them.

Reynard Fusco, the head director, said, “no
way, can’t be done.”

“Why not? You’re allowed to show tits and
ass, aren’t you? My ass, her tits. It would make it more real.”

“Besides, Rhiannon would never agree to
that!” sputtered Sylvia.

“But I do agree,” Rhiannon backed Rafe
up.

“But you’ve never allowed…..”

“That was then and this is now.”

“Hmmm,” said Reynard, “if word gets out, and
it will, that Rhiannon’s bare breasts will be seen in this film,
that’s probably good for another million tickets. The publicity
would be immense.”

He told the camera people what they needed to
do, how they needed to film it so neither Rhiannon’s mound or
Rafe’s cock were ever revealed. They could edge right up to it with
the swell of her hip or the sweep of his flank, barely kissing the
line between an R or X rating.

*

So they showed him from behind as he tore off
her robe and then pushed her onto the cot, just his strong
shoulders and back, his taut butt and long legs, and from behind
him, her ravishingly beautiful but furious face and one luscious
golden breast. He quickly climbed on top of her, holding her in
place with muscular thighs.

“Tis pleased to meet ye, I am, Missus Captain
Stewart,” he said mockingly.

“Crack!” they heard as her hand slapped his
cheek with all her strength.

“That’s not in the script!” said Reynard.

“Crack!” He slapped her back equally as
hard.

“Neither is that!” exclaimed Sylvia.

Reynard tossed his marked copy on the floor.
“I think a script is going to be beside the point with these
two.”

He quickly captured her hands with one of his
own strong ones and pinned them above her head. He ran his other
hand through sable hair, sending pins flying, so that it cascaded
down to the pillow and framed her face.

The camera showed his gleaming smile and the
audio heard his low voice.

“Bitch,” he said before lowering his head to
kiss her.