The Fault

Chapter 1Los Angeles, California Micah Dumas stared out the window at the line of late-morning street traffic that appeared longer than the line in which he had been standing since the doors of Binham and Associates Talent Agency opened at six o’clock. There were still over a hundred people ahead of him. Catching the eye of the person in front of him, he saw a woman who was around fifty years old with platinum hair and a tight-fitting black dress. Micah thought that she might have gone out the night before and hadn’t been home yet to change clothes. He tried speaking to her to pass the time. “I hope that this is more than just dropping off your head shot and stats and out the door. I went to three agencies yesterday, and that’s all that happened.” Micah hoped that he didn’t sound like a defeatist. The woman stared out from under her false eyelashes for a second and then replied. “Sweetie, let’s see your resume,” she said in a seductive whisper. Micah removed the glossy eight by ten from the leather portfolio, a graduation gift from his parents in Chicago, and handed it over. The picture was a year and a half old now, but he still looked the same. She looked at it for several moments, making sounds that Micah couldn’t identify as sounds of pleasure or the opposite. She handed it back to him. He copied the same smile he had held in the picture while he waited for her input. “You haven’t been in LA long, have you, sweetheart?” “No, only six weeks, and I’ve been to nearly every agency in Hollywood and the Valley,” Micah informed her, while visions of plain white painted offices with the same green carpeting flashed through his brain. She pursed her red lips and leaned in toward him, making him feel as if she were about to share some important secret meant only for his ears. “You need to get a new photo taken. This is too wholesome-farm-boy. What the studios out here want is handsome and sexy. Cut that hair and put on a tighter shirt, and look at the camera like you want to leap out at the studio execs and make love to them…and bringing treats to these calls doesn’t hurt either.” She opened the large bag at her feet. She took out a plastic container and lifted a corner, revealing homemade oatmeal raisin cookies. She put them away without offering him any. * * * * “Next!” A voice called, and Micah stepped up to the small desk. The young man didn’t look up from his tablet. “Name? Age? Height and Weight?” He sounded like a parrot, and Micah rattled off the facts he had repeated a dozen times before at other agencies. “Micah Dumas, twenty-three, five feet nine, and one hundred and forty.” “Leave your resume, and we’ll be in contact. Next!” Micah backed away from the desk and turned to leave, casting only a quick glance back at the person seated there. The guy behind the desk repeated the same words to a middle-aged man wearing a black Star Wars T-shirt, but he didn’t wait around to hear what the man had to say. In front of the building, Micah stood with his face lifted to the warm California sunshine, remembering what his mother had told him last night when she called. “Just be lucky you aren’t in Illinois right now. It’s been raining and cold three days straight. How’s the acting going, and when are we invited to the premier?” “I got a job in a pretzel commercial, but I don’t have a speaking part. I just take a bite of one,” Micah had told her, but he didn’t tell her that the hours he had spent chewing stale snacks for a camera were cut from the final edit. Lowering his head to walk to the rental car, he removed his photos from the folio, tossed the stack into the closest trashcan, and headed to the parking space. He paused and looked back at the trashcan. I came all the way out here to act only to find myself standing in endless lines and reciting my height, weight, and age like a parrot. I’m told, “We’ll call if we’re interested. Next person please,” by some intern who doesn’t even look up at me. Maybe I should give this up and go home. Micah was about to turn the key in the ignition, when his cell phone rang. He thought about letting it go to voice mail, but it was from his friend Forrest, so he answered. * * * * Micah was sitting with his coffee and croissant on the patio of Starbucks on Santa Monica Boulevard when he saw Forrest turn the corner. Forrest’s walk was unmistakable. He took long strides that signaled to whoever may be walking his direction to get out of the way or be run down. He was at the table in seconds, throwing an arm around Micah’s shoulders. “Darling, it’s wonderful to see you again,” he said, pulling out a chair and dropping into the seat. “You saw me at dinner last night, Forrest. Would you like a coffee or something?” Micah asked, preparing to take out his wallet. Forrest waved his manicured fingers for him to put his money away. “I’m just having coffee because I’m dieting and staying away from the somethings.” Forrest got up again. He disappeared inside and returned a few minutes later with a mug in one hand and a large cookie on a plate in the other. Micah wanted to bust out laughing, but he held himself. At last Forrest was settled, and he was serious when he began to speak again. “All right, Micah, so tell me what happened today. Did any of these agents see you?” “I saw their front office clerks at least. Who knows if or when they’ll even see my headshots?” “Not to burst your bubble, dear, but are you sure you want to get into this whole acting thing? I mean, just look around you. Everyone sitting here probably wants the same thing. Trace really likes you, and he wouldn’t mind if you gave up this whole thing, or he could help you with your career.” “If I didn’t act, then what would I do? Sit around the condo all day like a piece of furniture, or take parts that only he approves because his dad is a studio big shot? No, thanks,” Micah said, slapping his palm on the tabletop. “What’s wrong with that? I would kind of like the idea of doing nothing all day instead of working on Rodeo Drive showing off tasteless jewelry to the wives of those studio executives and their rich friends,” Forrest said. Micah stared at him for a second, and then leaning slightly forward, he spoke. “I’ll trade places with you, but I would like to know, has Trace said anything to you about me?” “Do you need to ask? He only talks about you every time I see him, and you know his parents are rich and influential.” “I know, but if that’s the case, then why haven’t you gone after him yourself?” Micah asked, curious. Forrest picked up his cup, swirled the liquid around once or twice, took a sip and set it down. “God knows I’ve tried. I dated his brother a few years back, you know. Trace and I remained friends, but then a month ago you came to one of my dinner parties, he saw you across the room, and he wanted to meet you. This could be the big break you’re looking for, dude. It helps to have powerful friends in LA.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ll keep that mind. Though if it makes you happy, I’ll talk to him and listen to whatever advice he may have.” “Excellent idea. Now you’re seeing some reason.” * * * * Micah remembered that night clearly. He had been at Forrest’s apartment for two weeks when they had a dinner party. There were two couples and two single men who arrived separately. Air kisses were exchanged with Forrest, who led everyone into the room toward the small bar he had set up on the kitchen counter. They had only advanced a few feet when a guy of medium height, muscular and tan with a wide smile showing bright, white teeth saw him, and his eyelids lowered. Micah only nodded and smiled back before his friend steered him into the dining room, because the caterer was ready to announce dinner. Micah glanced over his shoulder briefly to see the stranger watching him. He wanted to ask Forrest who he was, but his host had moved away and was rounding up the other guests to come in and dine. They were seated at opposite ends of the table, and it wasn’t until the end of the evening when he came over and introduced himself. “I’m Trace Nelson, and you are?” Trace said, holding out his hand. “Micah…Micah Dumas. I’m Forrest’s new roommate.” Micah had remembered stammering, and then Trace said something that completely floored him. He moved in closer and whispered. “Would you believe me if I told you that I think I’m in love?” “I don’t believe it. Do you say that to every guy you don’t know?” “Just the hot ones,” Trace said. He burped, and Micah caught a whiff of alcohol and food. He couldn’t recall what he said to Trace, but Trace told him more. “My father is a producer and executive for one of Hollywood’s top studios, and Forrest tells me you have acting ambitions.” Trace moved closer, and Micah backed away, just out of reach of Trace’s hand. Nearby on the buffet there was a vase of flowers, a combination of daisies, roses, and carnations. Trace pulled a yellow daisy out of the container and handed it to Micah with a sweeping gesture. He was grateful that a couple of men came over to speak to Trace so that he could get a drink. There was another episode when they were alone in the kitchen clearing up after dinner, when Micah had to place a chair between them in order to keep Trace at a distance. He thought at the time that the flower was a romantic gesture, and Trace seemed like a nice guy, but he seemed a little too eager to impress. Trace caught him later while everyone was preparing to leave, and kissed him. The kiss tasted like alcohol and was cold, and there was no feeling behind it. * * * * Micah saw his friend waving a hand in front of his eyes. He shook his head and smiled. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something. What were you saying?” “Yeah, dude, I was telling you to be careful with Trace. He can be a friend or an enemy, especially if he doesn’t get his way. He wouldn’t do anything right away. He would bide his time, just like a cat playing with a mouse,” Forrest said. Micah didn’t respond, and his friend across the table cleared his throat and spoke. “When’s the last time you got laid, dude?” “There was a guy in my drama class at Northwestern University. He looked like Brad Pitt, and every time he walked onstage, I would forget my lines.” Micah smiled at the memory of his friend, Kenny, with his green eyes and killer grin, and with the ability to attract both men and women. They had never made love, and he doubted that Kenny even knew how he felt about him. The last Micah had heard of him was through a friend who told him that he was living in New York and working for a bank on Wall Street. “When I meet someone and fall in love with them, then I’ll know, but until then, I’ll be fine just like I am.” “Ha, you’re one of those guys that’s looking for something special, like a guy with black hair, or one who works out seven days a week, maybe even the rocket scientist type of guy who always has his nose buried in books, and you’ll be lucky to have s*x once a week maybe, and then fall asleep afterwards.” Forrest burst out laughing out loud, causing people at other tables to look around. “I’ve only been here for a month and two weeks, and I haven’t been out much yet. Give me a chance, all right?” Micah sighed. Forrest nodded and alternately looked at the screen on his phone and sipped his coffee.