Aphrodite Rising

Chapter #9 - Sylvia - Life Changing

One night, I was out to dinner with Gerard, Angela and Arthur when we were approached by a man. He was young, around my age, with dark hair that had been shorn on the sides, slightly longer on top and slicked back. He had blue eyes that flicked with a brief spark of recognition as he glanced in my direction. Since "Grace," I was used to strangers looking at me that way. He had his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, the sleeves of his suit jacket hiding them barely. "Excuse me," he addressed us, his voice deep with a British accent. "Are you Mr. Arthur Lambright?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I am, my boy." He peered speculatively at the man over his glasses. "May I help you?"

"Well," he answered nervously, "My name is James Hampton. I'm recently over from London, where I've been in theatre and I am looking to begin a career in film. Word has it, you are the man to see."

As he spoke, his eyes made their way around our table, coming to rest on me. Angela kicked me under the table and I responded with a quiet, "Ow!" I glared over the table at her and sheepishly apologized to my companions. "I'm sorry." In an attempt to be coy, she rolled her eyes from me to the newcomer and back. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I stood from the table. Everyone else followed suit. "Excuse me," I announced, "I need to go freshen up." As I nodded at the men and began to walk away, Angela followed me.

When we were out of earshot, she giggled, "Oh, he couldn't stop looking at you!"

I immediately knew who she was speaking of, but I played it off. "Who?"

"That man, that James Hampton," she answered, taking on a regal persona and exaggerating his accent.

"Well," I said nonchalantly, "I get that look a lot. He probably saw me in 'A World of Grace." I didn't want to let on that, not only was he handsome in his own right, but that something about him seemed vaguely familiar. I surmised since he had been in theatre that perhaps I had seen or met with him when I had visited New York. I had met so many people there, both on and off Broadway. I hoped for a second look when we returned from the ladies' room, but, by the time we returned, he was gone and Gerard and Arthur were chatting amiably about industry business.

They stood as we approached, leaving their glasses of cognac and doing the gentlemanly thing by pulling our chairs out for us. "He seemed nice," I commented to Arthur. "Were you able to do anything for him?"

As he sat down, Arthur cleared his throat. "I set him up with Gerard, here. He's going to be getting me his head shots and a resume and then we'll see." I knew this all too well. I had seen it before. When Arthur Lambright asked for a resume, it usually meant that he didn't think the person he wanted it from was talented enough for more than a bit part or perhaps some commercial work.

"That's too bad," I commented, "He seemed rather likable." I relegated our interaction with James Hampton to the back of my mind, expecting I would most-likely never cross paths with him again. I was more intrigued by the fireworks that flew between Angela and Gerard. They had been flirting with each other the entire night, starting out subtly, casually bumping elbows, exchanging glances. It escalated to blatantly flirting as the night moved on. They had only met once before, a day Gerard had stopped by the apartment to drop off another script for me, but she seemed uninterested in him, other than the offhand comment that she thought he was handsome. Perhaps it was the wine that night that went to their heads.

Angela had called many men "handsome" before. She wasn't what you would call a "loose" woman at that time, but she was having fun, dating, not willing to settle down. She seemed to date a different man each week. I knew what she would do to Gerard. She would come on to him furiously, drawing him in with her charms, get him to buy things for her like jewelry, clothing, trips to Lake Tahoe, and, once she had what she wanted, she would discard him. I wouldn't call her a gold-digger, but she definitely survived off those men. It was just how she operated. As we left the restaurant, I pulled her aside. "I don't want you doing this," I hissed.