The One That I Want (4 page)

Before I could flip to those key events, though, I came across a hard, flat piece of smooth plastic, like a library card but bright yellow and with the words “DANE TYLER FAN CLUB * Official Member” in black lettering across the top. I ran my fingers across my printed name and my special membership number: 49202. I’d mailed in my application for this card, not telling anyone else that I’d done it (not even my parents, my big sister, my friends, or Kristopher). And, when it arrived, I protected it like a valued possession. After all, it had Dane’s signature on it. Copied from the original and printed about fifty thousand times, but still—

My cell phone rang. A number I didn’t immediately recognize.

“Hello?”

“Uh, Jules?”

Kristopher. Ah, speak of the devil.

I greeted him and mumbled the usual “Hey, how are you?” chitchat. I already knew why he was calling.

“So, you said Wednesday afternoons might be good for you to meet for coffee. How’s this week?” he asked. “Day after tomorrow?”

Too soon!
I wanted to shout, but of course I didn’t.

“I’ve already made some plans for the time when Analise is in her dance class,” I told him, which was true. I’d planned to sit somewhere very quiet for that free hour on Wednesday afternoon and hyperventilate about the weirdness of suddenly having Ben Saintsbury, Kristopher Karlsen, and Dane Tyler reappear in my life. I would also probably eat about three double-chocolate brownies. By myself. Like an addict who was trying to hide her secret vice.

“How about next week instead?” I countered. “Besides, I think we’ll get to see each other this week in any case. On Thursday night. You’re still planning to go to the play at the Knightsbridge, aren’t you?”

I heard him clear his throat on the other end of the line and chuckle. Sort of. “Yeah. I was always second to Dane Tyler when it came to you, wasn’t I?” he said, but I wasn’t sure if he was genuinely laughing. “So, wow. Your favorite actor is coming back to Chicago. First time seeing him in person?”

“It is,” I admitted.

“Have you kept up with his career?”

“Not really.” I fingered my official Dane Tyler Fan Club card.
Although, maybe a little more than your average person.

“Well, it’ll be interesting to see if he’s any good onstage,” Kristopher said, a surprising edge to his voice. “I was never quite the fan of his films that you were.”

“Who was?”

He laughed, for real this time. “True.” Then, after a beat, “But I still hope he can act in front of a live audience. Otherwise, it’s gonna be a helluva long two and a half hours.”

Chapter Four

The Knightsbridge Theater was a small but well-known venue on the north side of Chicago. It was, in my opinion, a magical place located less than forty minutes from my house. I’d enjoyed every show I’d ever seen there, and it had been host to a rotating cast of big stars, many who’d originally hailed from the Windy City and were hankering for a short-run theatrical stint back home and without the pressure or time commitment of Broadway.

Plus, the city got to welcome back one of its own and shower the actors involved with praise and admiration, which was a drug more powerful to some than heroin.

The fact that so many famous stars had been in town for lead performances over the years, combined with my own life’s personal distractions, was the only excuse I could give for not knowing Dane Tyler was in the area.

Elsie’s friend Rosemary—who, it turned out, was the stage manager for the production—stood at the door to the auditorium and ushered everyone into the building. Aside from those of us in the Quest group, there were a few classes of local university theater students, one cluster of lively senior citizens, and at least a dozen members of the press. For a dress rehearsal, we had nearly a full house.

Sharlene, who was sitting to my left with Elsie beside her, squeezed both of our hands in excitement. “Dane Tyler!” she half whispered, half squealed.

Kristopher was directly to my right with Bill next to him on the aisle. They seemed interested but far less enthusiastic. A college student handed Bill a stack of play programs, which he dutifully passed down the row. Written on the front in scripted gold lettering were the words:
The Knightsbridge Theater Presents
“The Bachelor Pad”
—a comedy in two acts by P.K. Lewis
. Inside, along with a list of scenes, a brief synopsis of the play, and information on a variety of cast and crew members was a lengthy profile on their Star in Residence.

From his start on the Chicago stage as a teen playing Willy Loman in “Death of a Salesman” to his Oscar nomination for his supporting role as Edward Bryant in
The Journey: Crossing the Peaks
(ReelMax Pictures), Dane Tyler is a star who continues to rise…

Well, I wasn’t sure I’d say that.

Yes, Dane had been THE actor for a time, but that time was no longer. While he still got roles in some A-List projects, they were rarely as leads anymore. More often, he played well-drawn secondary characters or made a cameo appearance on one of the bigger flicks. And more time elapsed between completed projects. I’d Googled him last night and realized that his most recent film (a B-Lister, by the way, called
Midnight Alliance
), came out two years ago and had been a commercial bomb. There were no current projects slated as being in “post-production” either.

“So,” Kristopher said, interrupting my thoughts, “are you nervous? Excited?”

“Curious,” I replied.

Rosemary stepped onstage and waved at the lighting guy in the back of the theater. Suddenly, the house lights dimmed and the exuberant chattering in the audience dissolved to a reverent hum.

“I can’t tell you how thrilled we are to host ‘The Bachelor Pad’ here at the Knightsbridge, to have such a spectacular director, cast, and crew, and to welcome back to Chicago our very own Dane Tyler!”

She said a few more words, probably more than a few, but I tuned her out. My mind was fixating on the only important part of that sentence for me, especially when the curtain opened to reveal the cast in their starting positions onstage…and there he was at last. Dane Tyler.

I’d lied to Kristopher, maybe even to myself. I’d been waiting over twenty years for this experience. I was more than “curious.”

Let me just put the magnitude of this moment into context, shall I? I took my every teen breath with Dane Tyler. I watched him with moony eyes as he kissed CoverGirl Amy Coleridge in
Center Ice Draw
, MTV darling Kendra Leigh in
Dorm
Daze
, and that gorgeous Asian-American actress, Rumi Sakurai, who was the runner-up for Miss World one year, in
Chasing the Dragon.

I tacked his poster to the wall above my bed, tilting it at a daring angle so he’d look even edgier than usual.

I kept his “Star Profile” from
Teen Explosion
magazine folded up and safely zipped in the secret compartment of my strappy teal purse for years.

I also memorized it.

I could recite it on command even now.

Name
: Dane Tyler

Birthday
: August 1st

Hair
: Wavy dark blond

Eyes
: Light blue

Height
: 6’1”

Hometown
: Chicago, Illinois

Acting Start
: Spotted by an agent onstage at age 14 in a community theater production, etc., etc.

And, of course, I also joined the Official Dane Tyler Fan Club.

I wasn’t merely curious about him. He wasn’t part of some “adolescent phase” I had once gone through. No. He’d been my lifelong obsession.

Even Kristopher, who was surrealistically sitting next to me right now and who had been my prom date almost two decades ago, had to pledge back then to skip the midnight breakfast at Perkins so we could go to a late showing of Dane’s just-released film,
Time Jumpers
, which also starred a model/actress from Ontario named Serena Bilogian. I remembered Dane’s costars as well as my own extended family members.

But the guy who stood onstage before me now, nearly twenty years later, was no nineteen-year-old heartthrob. Our seats were close enough that I could see the expression etched on his still very handsome face, and it was one of exhaustion and world weariness. In those short seconds after Rosemary departed the stage to thunderous clapping for the players and before the action of the production began, I got the distinct sensation that my long-time movie-star idol didn’t want to be back in the Windy City. That he didn’t want to be up onstage or, indeed, anywhere near other people at all.

Huh.

All of that changed, however, the second the director pointed at the actors from his position stage left and, then, marched to the back of the theater to watch the dress rehearsal, clipboard in hand. Dane and the rest of the cast sprang into action, and the serious, intense, displeased-looking man transformed himself instantly into the charming, light-hearted bachelor who was the lead in this play.

I knew his work well—perhaps too well. I could pick out facets of his performance from films I’d seen years before. The way he delivered a humorous line to his acting pal, asking the other guy to keep one girlfriend busy while he dealt with another, reminded me of the way he’d handled a similar scene in
Dorm Daze
. And, oh, the short moment of sad introspection at the midpoint of the play called to mind immediately a poignant scene near the end of
Warriors of Warrenville High
. The words were different, of course, but I could track the facial expressions back to other performances. Was that simply his acting style? Or was it more deliberate? Maybe, on a subconscious level, he wanted his audience to make the connection. Wanted us to link his performance tonight to the familiarity of his glory days.

After the final curtain fell, the audience—me included—jumped to our feet to give the actors a standing ovation. The cast came forward, the house lights were turned back on, and the director strode to the middle of the stage. He spoke briefly with the actors, commenting on details involving a couple of scenes. Then he turned his attention to the audience and opened up the floor to questions.

“This is for Mr. Tyler,” one of the male university students said. “Do you have any advice for aspiring actors?”

Dane smiled and cocked one eyebrow. “Consider changing your major to business.”

The crowd laughed.

“Seriously,” Dane continued. “If you want a long-lasting career in theater and film, you need to not only study the art of acting but the business of the stage and screen world. Plus, it helps to have some backup skills beside waiting tables, just in case it takes a while to land that first big role.”

These seemed like reasonably wise words, if served, perhaps, with a side dish of bitterness.

A young woman stood up and asked if Dane had ever been a struggling actor.

“Well, I started pretty young,” he replied. “My mom didn’t expect me to support myself when I was still in high school, so any income I earned from acting was a bonus. She set up a special saving account for me. But, yeah, even so, as an adult I’ve had some leaner years.”

“So, about how much money do you make on your films?” a college guy sitting next to the young woman asked Dane.

My mouth fell open in shock. How rude!

I expected someone to tell the student that he was out of line or to let Dane know that he didn’t have to answer that, but no one said anything. The crowd just waited expectantly for him to respond.

He seemed unfazed, as if he’d grown used to such inappropriateness and had been asked questions like these countless times. “A lot,” Dane said simply and laughed in a way that dismissed the guy.

At this point, one of the members of the press stood up. An older gentleman. “Your role in this farce was that of a playboy who was stringing along multiple girlfriends. Being both a confirmed bachelor in real life, as well as a man who’s known to be quite popular with the ladies, have you ever found yourself in a similar situation?”

Wow. I couldn’t believe how personal some of these questions were getting. But, even though I was surprised, Dane didn’t seem to be.

“You’re asking if I’m actually an unfaithful, commitment-phobic manwhore?” Dane grinned and pulled out his smart phone. “Hmm. Not sure I can be objective. Just let me put out a quick poll on Twitter,” he said, miming scrolling through a bunch of tweets and thumb-typing the question to his gazillion fans and followers. “I can get back to you with the results in fifteen minutes. Twenty tops.”

The reporter had the good sense to sit down with an embarrassed chuckle and let the subject drop.

A few of the acting students finally asked some respectful and relevant questions, but there were a couple members of the press who had a knack for being particularly invasive.

One lady reporter behind me called out to him, demanding to know about his long-term relationship with actress Emily Brennan. “Are the two of you still an item, or are the reports true that she left you for Jonathan Richie, the CEO of AlphaSig Technologies?”

For the first time, the laugh lines on either side of Dane’s mouth seemed to tighten, and he stared hard in our direction. Not only at the press lady but, also, at everyone in our section. His gaze caught mine, and he looked at me for a long moment. Did he mistakenly think
I’d
asked that question?