Maybe the Moon

cheerfully, “time to boogie, huh?”
    “You bet.”
    “Looks like it’s cleared up out there.”
    “Mmm. It does.”
    “Maybe we can stop for ice cream or something.”
    I told him Renee was expecting me back at the house.
    “OK…well…whatever.”
    So we headed out—the three of us—father and son taking the lead and waiting for me at the van. Neil lifted me into the back seat with more chipper talk about the suddenness of that thunderstorm and how clean the air had become overnight. Then, on the way back to my house, he told his son what a fine singer I was and how I’d played Mr. Woods in the movie and how I’d dropped by his apartment that morning, eager for an early start, to begin rehearsing our new act.
    Danny just sat there, saying nothing.

21
    A DAY LATER, THANK G OD .
    Neil called this morning, apologizing for Danny’s behavior. “That wasn’t like him at all,” he said.
    “That’s OK.”
    “All I can think is that Linda may have told him something.”
    “About us, you mean?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Have you told her about us?” I asked. I felt certain he hadn’t told Danny—and probably never would tell him—but I still wasn’t clear about how much he’d conveyed to his ex.
    “She knows we’re friends.”
    “That’s not what I asked.”
    “Well…no. Not that.”
    “Then how could she tell Danny?”
    “I dunno,” he said. “She could’ve guessed.”
    “And that bothers you?”
    “No.”
    “Bullshit, Neil. If you’re worried about the kid finding out…”
    “I’m not worried about anything. I’m just trying to explain why he acted that way.”
    “I thought he was fine,” I said. “He did the best he could with what he’d been given.”
    Neil caught my meaning, I’m sure, but chose not to address it. He took the manly way out and changed the subject. “I called Arnie Green yesterday,” he said.
    “Oh, yeah? What about?”
    “You know. Riccarton and Roth.”
    “Oh.”
    “He thinks he can book us, Cady. He thinks it’s a great idea.”
    “Yeah, well, he thinks dancing poodles is a great idea.”
    Silence.
    “Let’s just forget it,” I added. “OK?”
    “Cady, look…if you wanna try another agency…”
    “No. I just don’t wanna do it.”
    “OK, then.” His voice was as small as I’ve ever heard it.
    “I’ve got some other ideas,” I said. “I’d rather not blow them on somebody as small-time as Arnie Green.” Since it was Arnie who’d brought me to Neil in the first place, I knew this would sting, but I didn’t care. I wanted it to sting. I wanted him to feel at least a fraction of the pain I felt.
    “Well,” he said meekly, “if you need any help…”
    “No. Thanks.”
    “You wanna do a movie this week? Or dinner somewhere?”
    “Not really, no.”
    “Cady, if I said anything…”
    “Just drop it, OK?”
    “But I don’t want you to…”
    “Look, Neil, I haven’t got the energy for forgiveness. I really don’t. Work it out on your own. I’ve got better things to do.”
    I hung up on him—or rather pushed the little button on my cordless receiver—banishing him from my life with a single petty, melodramatic act. Almost instantly I burst into tears, crumpling into a lump on the floor. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore, until my eyes were an angry red mess. When it became perfectly clear hewasn’t calling back, I pulled myself together and marched into the kitchen to boil some eggs.

    When the phone finally did ring, just before noon, it was Jeff. It seems I unleashed the furies when I told Leonard about Callum and Jeff and their meeting in Griffith Park. Jeff said Callum had called him in a snit, because Leonard had called him, Callum, in an all-out rage, accusing him of “totally uncool behavior at an extremely ticklish time.” The times are ticklish, apparently, because GLAAD has mounted an all-out media campaign against Gut Reaction , citing it as a prime example of homophobic filmmaking. Leonard told Callum that activists have threatened to disrupt a crucial scene to be shot on location next week.
    As you might imagine, Leonard is beside himself. What if the tabloids—or, worse yet, some activist—had discovered the virile young star of said movie wagging wienie at the local meat rack? According to Jeff, who’s enjoying the flap no end, Callum had to assure Leonard repeatedly that he had not frolicked in the bushes more than once or twice tops and had given it up completely after he’d met Jeff. Though