Mainstream

Convincing

Eddie spent a leisurely morning in his Bel Air home, avoiding phone calls. Helen and her entourage departed early that morning for a day of spinning, beauty treatments, and shopping. Eddie wouldn't miss all the fuss once their relationship dissolved. He put on a white tank and comfy pants before wandering down to his sizable home gym.

Sweating was a sure way to clear Eddie's mind, and he needed it cleared. Razed. Devoid of all thought.

Sleep proved elusive the night before, thanks to Mainstream. The script was solid. And Jeremy had a point about the kid. His look was perfect, and he could bring an authenticity to the role even seasoned actors would struggle to portray. As long as he could half way splutter out his lines, Eddie could manage the emotional heavy lifting of the performance. He could give the amateur a strong enough support that it would be difficult to fail. And the novelty of having a pornstar act out a role about a pornstar? Well, sometimes Jer had good points. The marketing would write itself.

Still. Eddie had been uneasy enough when he considered playing a pornstar turned actor. The idea of playing the sleazy agent who discovered the pornstar in a filthy strip club was too much.

Eddie sweated away the morning and well into the afternoon, before a chime sounded through the house. Mrs. Shields, his matronly property manager, found him in the gym walking on a treadmill.

"Mr. Gluskin?" asked Mrs. Shields, adjusting the broach on her yellow cardigan. "There's someone here to visit you. He claims to be an actor working with you on your next film."

"What the hell," said Eddie, stopping the machine, and stalking down the hall to the foyer. He didn't bother toweling off or changing from his workout clothes, hair sweaty and disheveled.

"Eddie," said Waylon, his voice thick with something akin to reverence. "Gah, were you just...you're so sweaty..."

"How did you get this address? Why did security let you through?" asked Eddie.

"Oh, Jeremy sent a limo, and it drove me here," said Waylon, smiling. He wore a tight red shirt with a v-neck, and dark jeans. A skinny white laptop was tucked under his arm. "Your house is dope."

"Dope?" asked Eddie.

"I loooooooove this place," said Waylon, walking further into the house, without being invited. He looked around, a huge grin plastered on his face. Past the formal entrance area was a large living room with tall windows and a view of the backyard. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

"No," said Eddie.

"Oh, well, still great taste, whoever did it," said Waylon. "Hoe-lee-shit, is that an infinity pool?"

Eddie followed, his face practically twisted in confusion.

"Dude, so cool, I've never swam in a pool that nice, I bet you feel guilty when you pee in it," said Waylon, turning to grin at Eddie. The deep frown on Eddie's face caused Waylon to stutter and continue, "and, uh, I mean, not that I would ever..." Waylon inserted a long bout of obviously fake laughter, "...ever, do that. I mean. The ocean, maybe, but..."

"Remind me to never swim with you."

"Don't get the wrong idea, here," said Waylon, adjusting the grip on his computer as he used his other hand to gesture at himself, "I don't do water sports. I'm not that kinda pornstar."

Eddie crossed his arms across his chest.

"Anymore."

Eddie cocked an eyebrow.

"Just that, like, one time. Two."

Eddie sighs and shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the ground.