An Unforeseen Turn of Events

Chapter Seven

As soon as Ryan stepped into his agent's office, Phil's eyes were alight and he had a wide smile as he jumped out of his chair and declared, "I got you the role of a lifetime, baby! It's got Oscar written all over it."

His agent's enthusiasm was contagious. Ryan quickly forgot about all his other cares and worries as he took a seat. "What don't you tell me all about it, Phil? I'm still debating between those two offers you told me about."

Phil made a face and waved his hand. "Those two don't hold a candle to this one. Just listen to this: a compulsive womanizer becomes a hero, saving a woman in jeopardy. She's got two small kids and he rescues them from all sorts of henchmen, blackmailers, the mob, and even her crazy ex-husband. Women will be falling at their feet as they watch this cad make good and learn responsibility after years of spending his time on women, drink, and drugs. Men will love the action scenes. There's something in it for everyone. It's redemption by fire and edgy as hell!"

Ryan raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Let's go over it, Phil. I don't want anything full of stereotypes with a sappy ending."

Phil shook his small bald head vigorously. "No, no! I've been studying the script all night. Look at this," he held up his large cup of Nitro Cold Brew. "This is Starbuck's strongest stuff. My instincts say, 'Yes, yes, yes.' Read it over and see what you think."

Ryan gingerly took the script his agent handed him. "OK, I'll look at it, but I'm not making any promises. I have to listen to my own instincts."

"Ryan, of course. Take your time and read it over. You know I never push you to take on a role you don't feel good about. But I must say, I haven't felt this confident about a script since I saw Beguiled."

That touched a nerve. His role in Beguiled launched his career from a strong supporting actor into an international superstar.

"You want coffee?" Phil asked.

Ryan shook his head as he settled on to Phil's plush couch and began reading.

As he read, he realized the character would be a tantalizing challenge. Beginning with a drugged-out, dissolute lifestyle, it looked like the character was hopeless and headed for an early grave, neither to be mourned nor missed but rather ridding the world of a destructive human being.

Ryan nodded and rubbed his chin. "I definitely want to keep reading. Thanks, Phil. I'll let you know. It does sound like it has more potential than those other two roles."

He got up and shook his agent's hand.

"Be in touch. I'm always on the lookout for you," Phil assured him as he came around his desk in short, jerky movements and gripped Ryan's hand warmly.

"I know that, Phil. We'll talk."

As he left the building, Ryan felt in his bones this could be another hit for him. His movie role two years ago was highly praised and a big box office draw, but other actors had even stronger roles and ended up nabbing the Oscar nominations. Ryan's last role earned him a nomination but he isn't considered the favorite. A second Oscar would be a dream come true; it would firmly establish him as one of the great legends in Hollywood. He couldn't wait to tell his parents.

But not tonight. He wanted to keep the euphoria to himself until he felt more certain. He had studied the script so carefully that he needed to give his eyes a rest. He yearned to sit and relax in his mansion and mull it over. Megan had called. Other occasional girlfriends had also left messages. Sex wasn't what he needed tonight: making the effort to call his cook to warm up dinner and take out the wine of his choice was enough of an effort.

Mercifully, the drive home was only a few miles. He waved to the door attendant and quickly took the rushed up the steps of his front door. Ryan collapsed on a plush chair in his dining room, all Cassoni furniture imported from Italy. The cook promptly brought him his dinner. He relished the shrimp fettuccine alfredo and the chardonnay. In fact, Ryan now felt so energized that he considered calling Megan, but upon rising from his chair, the envelope fell out of his jacket.

Oh well, I'll look at this crap and tell my secretary tomorrow to type a polite rejection letter.

He opened it as he rested on his leather recliner in front of the 20-inch widescreen TV. His favorite team, the Lakers, were playing against the Boston Celtics. A commercial he must have seen dozens of times appeared on the screen, so he decided to open and peruse the letter. Ryan read it from start to finish. His jaw dropped. He read it a few more times, making sure his eyes were not deceiving him.

This must be some nasty joke.

But after reading it for a third time, his eyes bulged as its implications dawned on him. It couldn't be a joke. He placed his hand on his heart. Was he too young to get a heart attack? No, he heard of others in their forties all of a sudden dropping dead.

The Lakers were back on TV but he forgot all about them. He finally grabbed the remote and shut it off, closing his eyes tightly, hoping upon opening them, the letter would disappear from his reality. But no such luck. Closing his eyes again, his mind drifted as if he were in a trance, going back years ago and recalling events that he hadn't thought about in two decades. Memories flashed before him as a young man starting out in the movie business and wooing his first love.

"Goodnight, sir? Was everything satisfactory to you? ...Sir, Sir, are you all right?"

It took great effort to move from his paralyzed state to nod and wave. Ryan breathed in relief upon hearing the cook depart.

Ryan remained in his recliner as still as a corpse for the rest of the evening.