Human Collateral

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4Having finished a complete draft of his essay before turning in, Ryan started his day relaxed and able to turn his attention to more mundane tasks. He treated himself to breakfast out at Sarabeth’s for eggs benedict and then off to Zabar’s for some groceries. After dropping off the groceries at his apartment, he headed to the dry cleaners to pick up his shirts and the suit he would wear to the party Friday night.

With his morning chores completed, he returned to his desk to transform his draft into a finished essay. No sooner had he switched on his computer than his cell phone rang. It was Rebecca.

“Hello, Ms. Bartoni. What can I do for you?”

“Well, Mr. Duffy. This is about what I can do for you.” Her reply was incredibly provocative. Easy for an actress of her experience, he thought.

“Okay. I’m in, whatever it is,” Ryan said, playing along.

“Turns out you won’t need to pick me up on Friday after all.”

“Are you canceling on me?” Ryan hoped he hadn’t had his suit cleaned for nothing.

“No, silly. My agent has splurged on a limo for us, so I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Obviously sounds like this party is going to be quite a celebration. Do all of his guests get the same VIP treatment?”

“Nope, just us. I guess I should have told you he’s throwing the party for me. He just signed me to a contract to star in a network TV series. The actress who was originally cast had to drop out for medical reasons. Rather than delay production, I was signed for the part. We start working on it right away.”

“That’s wonderful. Details!” Ryan demanded.

“I’ll fill you in when I see you on Friday. Got to go.” She hung up.

It was so like Rebecca to tell him about the party in such a matter-of-fact way. For a successful actress like her to have such a subdued ego was quite rare. Though, from what Ryan knew of her background, it seemed fitting. Her father worked in the hotel industry. Her mother was in the States as staff with the Argentinian delegation to the UN. They had met while he was the assistant manager at the UN Plaza Hotel where her delegation housed its visiting diplomats and where they had many of their events. One of her jobs was to interface with the hotel staff to arrange accommodations and the events. Her interface with Mr. Bartoni evolved into love and a forty-year marriage. Hardworking, down-to-earth parents molded a talented yet modest daughter. Ryan was captivated by her unique combination of “star power” and humility.

Ryan had used the rest of the day on Thursday to polish his essay. Just to needle Ted a little bit, he waited until five minutes before his Friday deadline to press Send on the email with the essay attached.

An hour later, his cell phone rang. As he expected, it was Ted calling to admonish Ryan for making him sweat.

Ryan decided to come clean. “Just having a little fun. Have you read it?”

“Yes.” Ted deadpanned. Now he was having some fun.

“And?” Ryan answered, knowing how this was to play out.

“Okay. Enough screwing around. It’s really well done. The writing is, as usual, extremely engaging and smart. The beauty of it, though, is how you laid out the positions of each faction in the conflict without bias and then offered a possible solution. Workable or not, you gave both sides some food for thought on how to resolve their differences with benefits for all. Ryan, this is the best piece you’ve ever done for us. I’d really like to nail down the next project now if we can.”

Ted was in full pitch mode. Ryan had dealt with pushing from Ted before and knew just how to handle it.

“Ted, as I told you when we last spoke, I will be in touch as soon as I return from my vacation. I promise not to commit to an assignment from anyone else before talking to you. Okay?”

“All right. Call me as soon as you get back.” Ryan’s message that Ted had pushed things as far as he could had obviously been received.

“Will do. Bye, Ted.” With that out of the way, Ryan was truly able to wind down for the party tonight, only to spend Saturday packing for his trip on Sunday morning. He’d spend the next two weeks in Lakeville, Wisconsin bumming around the Midwest with Miles.

His thoughts returned to preparations for his date with Rebecca. Should he shave or have that cool five-o’clock-shadow look? Did his shoes need shining? Should he change the bedsheets just in case? He chose “yes” on all three and added one more. After lunch, he’d go the grocery store on the corner and pick up a rose.

Ryan was showered and dressed by six thirty. He spent the next few minutes tidying up his place in case Rebecca would be stopping by after the party for a nightcap. Just before seven p.m., he received a text from her. Be there in 5 minutes. After a brief glance in the mirror to be sure his tie was straight, he checked his pockets. Phone, wallet, keys, all good. As he was about to head downstairs, he remembered the rose. He quickly grabbed it out of the glass of water it was resting in. Forgetting it was a rose, he was instantly reminded by the sting of one of its thorns. No blood, just another of life’s reminders to slow down and smell the roses.

When he walked out of the lobby onto the sidewalk, there was a large black town car parked outside. The rear passenger window opened slowly, and a woman’s arm appeared. Her index finger made a beckoning motion. Rebecca’s sense of the dramatic was on full display. As he approached the car, she opened the door and invited him to join her.

“For me?” she asked, looking at the rose.

“Actually, it’s for the driver,” Ryan teased. “I should have gotten one for you too, I guess.”

She gave him a light slap on the arm, then leaned in and gave him a huge kiss.

“So, tell me about this TV series you’re going to be in,” he said.

Rebecca explained that the show was about a Hispanic doctor, played by her, who runs an inner city clinic for the underserved in the neighborhood. People came in with problems that went way beyond their medical issues. Her character enlisted the aid of friends and other do-gooders to help. Her eyes lit up as she described the premise.

Ryan listened intently and realized how perfectly she had been cast in the role.

Rebecca seemed particularly pleased that the stories would shine a spotlight on a wide range of the real-life dramas people are confronted with and possibly provide some impetus for change.

Ryan was quickly on board. “I love the altruistic side of the show. Can’t wait to see it. By the way, you look stunning!” He couldn’t take his eyes off her in that figure-hugging sapphire blue evening gown. She looked fully prepared for a red carpet entrance.

“Why, thank you, sir. You look pretty dashing yourself.” She gave him a wink as the limo pulled up to Tom Crowley’s swanky East Side apartment building. It was a beautiful older building with an elevator and rooftop deck. A rare find in Manhattan.

Rebecca grabbed her handbag and the rose, then took Ryan’s hand as she exited the limo. Then she slipped her hand through his arm and the two of them headed inside where there was a group of party guests waiting for the elevator. Rebecca greeted one of the couples, a director she had worked with and his wife. She then introduced the couple to Ryan.

With that, the elevator door opened, and the group ascended to Tom’s penthouse apartment. Inside the door to the penthouse was an unattended table full of ladies’ designer handbags. Only in the residences of the New York elite would they find such a display. Rebecca added hers to the pile, and they headed inside to find their host.

When they found Tom, he was holding court next to his baby grand piano. After Rebecca introduced Ryan, Tom politely swept her away to make the rounds. Ryan retreated to the bar set up in the corner. Frankly, he was just fine with simply standing off to the side, drink in hand, observing the crowd. He was sure he recognized a couple of actors, although he couldn’t put names to the faces. There were a few others he recognized—a former Congressman, a news anchor, and a retired coach of the New York Knicks. It was likely that all were, or had been, clients of Tom’s. It struck Ryan how much the scene reminded him of a classic Hollywood movie.

The sound of a spoon clinking a wine glass quieted the room. Tom held up his glass and proposed a toast. “To Rebecca Bartoni. The star of the new TV series, Compassion Clinic.”

A “Here! Here!” was followed by Rebecca’s polite bow and waves to each side of the room. After that very brief ceremony, she made her way back to Ryan at the bar.

“Buy a girl a drink?” she proposed.

“Sure, ma’am. What’ll you have?”

“Three fingers of bourbon.” She stared seriously at Ryan. “Rocks please,” she said, turning to the bartender. Returning her gaze to Ryan, she said somewhat apologetically, “I’m not usually a bourbon drinker but it sometimes helps me relax.”

“Rebecca, the formal portion of the evening is over. I would think you’d already be relaxed.”

She picked up her glass that the bartender had poured. “The festivities are nothing. It’s the weight of the task ahead of me that’s got me on edge. Carrying a network series is quite a responsibility.” She punctuated her point with a healthy gulp of the bourbon.

The buzz in the room was replaced by someone playing the piano. Undoubtably one of Tom’s musically talented clients. Suddenly, a medley of Broadway showtunes followed. A number of the guests joined in forming a chorus. Rebecca chose to stay with Ryan by the bar. She had obviously had enough of the spotlight for one evening. They took a time out from their drinks to sample some of the fancy hors d’oeuvres. A sound strategy to balance the 80 proof bourbon.

They stayed in the corner for another hour and then called for the limo to pick them up. Rebecca retrieved her handbag and the rose as they left the penthouse and boarded the elevator. Once they reached the first floor, Rebecca hurried out of the elevator, her spike heels clicking on the marble lobby floor as they made their way out to the street. They hopped into the limo that was already waiting there.

“Back to my place,” she commanded both the driver and Ryan. She took his hand, leaned on his shoulder, and let out an audible sigh of relief. Ryan hoped she’d continue doing that when they arrived at her apartment.

Her apartment’s decor was a reflection of her personality: tasteful but elegant. Unlike Ryan’s place, everything was neat and tidy.

“Something to drink?” she asked.

“Just water, thanks. I think I’ve had enough alcohol for one night,” Ryan conceded as he loosened his tie and took his customary seat on the sofa.

“Same for me.” She conceded as she disappeared into the kitchen.

She returned quickly with two glasses of ice water and joined him on the couch.

Ryan noted the look of concern on her face. “You seem troubled.”

“It’s this new role. Besides the weight of the show on my shoulders, properly representing my Hispanic heritage is critical to me.” She seemed uncharacteristically overwhelmed. Her eyes looked straight at the ceiling, clearly revealing her trepidation.

“You can be yourself. Your mother has given you that gift, hasn’t she?”

“Yes, as far as my DNA goes, but I grew up in white America without ties to my Argentinian roots in any way. I don’t even speak fluent Spanish.” Her voice was a mixture of frustration and sadness.

“Do what you’ve trained to do. Take what you know, study what you don’t know, and then create the character. In short, be an actor!”

“You should be a director.” A smile had finally come to her face. “Let’s see how well you can direct a love scene.” She took his hand and led him into the bedroom.