Maybe the Moon

all but promised as much when he’d asked me to perform.
    Since then our contact has been strictly professional and always initiated by me. Leonard’s star has risen dramatically in recent years, judging from the caliber of his clients. I see his name in the trades all the time, or in the local social columns in the company of serious power brokers like Barry Diller, Sandy Gallin, and David Geffen. I’m happy for him, I guess, but so far his success hasn’t exactly rubbed off on me.
    I didn’t grill him about the radio stuff. Leonard just gets crankywhen you force him to lie. “So,” I said instead, “nothing new, huh?”
    He heaved a sigh on my behalf. “’Fraid not, doll.”
    “I wouldn’t bug you like this, but things are getting pretty tight.”
    “I know.”
    I considered several approaches, then said: “It might be a long shot, but I’ve been thinking about Twin Peaks .”
    “No way.”
    “Hear me out, OK? I don’t know what they’re doing next season, but Lynch has used little people before and—”
    “It’s toast, Cady.”
    “What?”
    “ Twin Peaks is toast. It’s had it. It won’t make it another season.”
    “ Toast ?”
    He chuckled.
    “People say this? Where do you pick this shit up?”
    “C’mon,” he said with amused disbelief. “Where have you been?”
    “In the Valley, Leonard.” I spoke as sternly as I knew how without sounding angry. “This is what I’m trying to tell you. If you don’t get me out of here soon, I won’t know what anybody’s talking about.”
    “That’ll be the day,” he said. “You never miss a trick.” He was flattering me now, I realized, a very bad sign indeed, since Leonard resorts to that only when there are no other cards up his sleeve. A small rodent in my stomach warned me to prepare for the worst.
    “Look,” he said, “I think I know a guy who can help you.”
    “What do you mean?” I was holding my breath now, hoping to hell it wasn’t so.
    “His name is Arnie Green. He’s a helluva good guy, an old-timer. He runs an agency in—”
    “I know who Arnie Green is, Leonard.”
    “Well…”
    “He books specialty acts. I’m not a specialty act. I’m an actress.”
    “Of course you are, but—”
    “He does clowns and sword swallowers, for God’s sake!”
    “Cady, look, I’m trying to help you out here.”
    Yeah , I thought. Out of his life. I’ve finally grown into a nuisance, and he’s putting an end to it once and for all .
    “The thing is,” he added in the gentlest voice I’ve ever heard from him, “you need regular employment, Cady. What’s the point in being so proud? You’re doing phone work, for Christ’s sake. Arnie Green might not be the movies, but at least he would keep you in the public eye.”
    “In a dwarf-throwing contest.”
    Leonard sighed. “It’s more than that.”
    “So you’re dumping me?”
    “Did I say that?”
    “You never say anything, Leonard.”
    “I don’t know why you’re so angry at me. I’m just trying to help.”
    “I know.” I tried to sound contrite.
    “You’ve gotta appreciate…” He cut himself off, obviously avoiding some sort of thin ice.
    “What?”
    No response.
    “What, Leonard? What do I gotta appreciate.”
    “That the market just doesn’t call for it. I won’t lie to you, Cady. They’re not writing roles for little people. I don’t like it any more than you do.”
    “I don’t want a role written for me. I just want a role. Why does my size have to be an issue? This is the real world, Leonard. Little people can turn up anywhere, just like redheads and queers.”
    This was a pretty speech, but a big mistake. Most of my gay friends revel in calling themselves queer now, but Leonard is obviously not among them. It took him a decade just to get to the “gay” stage. I could tell by the long, clammy silence that followed that I’d offended him.
    “The thing is,” I said, slogging ahead, “I’m not trying to beJulia Roberts. They can use me wherever they use a character actress. I can play anything Bette Midler can play. Or Whoopi Goldberg. I could’ve been that psychic in Ghost .”
    Leonard grunted.
    “Why not?”
    “Too Zelda Rubinstein.”
    He’d brought up her name, I’m sure, just to get back at me for using the Q-word. It was his mean way of telling me that not all little people are failures, but I refused to let it get my goat. “You see the point, though,” I said. “It’s just a question of creative