Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 3
This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets challenges, his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental.
The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story or move.
This work is copyrighted by Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2023
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Chapter 3--Decisions
Tom returned exhausted to New York on Monday, to stay for only three days. Chris was tied up in a fashion spread for Leo's Tramp Wear and working late each night. The fashion show put Leo on the map, and Chris was one of the faces along with Deidra and Boyd.
Thursday, Tom was back in L.A.. Tom called on Friday, late, since he had worked late too. He was laughing that they received three calls during the week for representation. The young actor they met at the restaurant was spreading the word. At this time, they were holding off signing new contracts until they had a handle on what they had. The finances were off and the existing contracts were in disarray. Helga was swearing like a sailor denied shore leave. Tom and Chris exchanged virtual kisses. Real kisses would need to wait for eight more long days, and then it was only one day.
It was good that Tom was off in L.A.. because Chris would be off to the Bahamas for two days, then Miami for three, Chicago for two days and then L.A. for three days and finishing in Hawaii for five days. After that he was not sure. Just the thought of all the travel exhausted him. But he packed one bag and an emergency carry-on and was off.
Tuesday he arrived in Chicago midmorning and was picked up by Dorn. "So how you holding up kid?" He was all smiles and evil grin. "You look like crap. You getting any sleep?" Chris mumbled something and looked out the window of the car as the city slipped by, a blur of color and activity. "I need to talk to Stu about your schedule. Can't have our highest demand talent get sick or collapse from exhaustion. Chris said he was doing fine, and it was just the testosterone starting to kick in. Chris knew that was a lie because the doctor said he would have more energy. He thought he did, and so he pushed himself more. This was his job.
Dorn took Chris to Dreamweavers-Central--the new name of the agency to meet with Stu and teleconference with Helga, Natalie, Tom and the new CFO, whose name Chris could not remember. There was discussion about what a shit hole mess the place was, how Helga and Tom would need to stay longer, and maybe Chris spend more time there too. Chris liked the idea of more time with Tom.
Late in the evening, Chris was finally back at the Aurora Hotel. Zack was still the bell boy on duty and brought supper to Chris. He was fun cheeky and awkward flirtatious, which made Chris laugh. The disappointment on Zack's face when Chris said that he and Tom were engage touched Chris enough to give him a consolation kiss on the lips. He promised Zack that he would look for him the perfect boyfriend. Chris collapsed into the bed by 9:30, missing Tom's call.
The wake-up call rang at 8:00 AM, and Chris was at Dreamweavers by 9:00. Missing breakfast, he pounced on the pastries that Miriam had on the conference table. Another long conference call with Cynthia and Adam in New York; Natalie, Helga and Tom in L.A. (7 AM there, so Tom sounded rough), and Miriam, Dorn and Stu with Chris in Chicago. Chris dozed off during the meeting until he heard his name. "Chris, Chris honey," it was Miriam, "need you alert for this part of the meeting." She had a gentle hand shaking his shoulder, smiling like a guardian angel. "We are worried about you and need to discuss your future with Dreamweavers." Chris sat up thinking he was to be fired.
"Chris, my boy," Stu took charge of the conversation, "you are one of our most valuable employees. You put every ounce of your energy into every assignment. You have a reputation in the business as the best person to work with not only because you are professional and kind to everybody but because you are one hell of a model. How you handled yourself on the runway at the recent fashion show has you in very high demand. We are giving you a substantial raise and want you to work the major fall fashion shows in New York, London, Paris, and Milan. This is big league with several major American and European houses vying for your services."
Chris was stunned but stayed calm. "Does that mean a new contract?"
Stu chuckled, "Yes."
"Before I sign it I want my future mother-in-law to review it." Stu chuckled again. "With my hormone treatment starting, I do not know how long I will have this look. Doctor says it may take six months to a year to see any significant changes." Chris looked around for push back. "Need to make the money while I have the face." Chris smiled seductively and patted his cheek.
"Chris," Dorn said as he pushed a manilla envelope toward Chris. Chris opened and looked at the picture. "I have a friend who does aging and identity reconstruction. He ran a computer simulation of what you might look like with more masculine features. Chris looked again at the picture. It was him but with heavier eyebrows a leaner face, more chiseled and sculptured. "Chris, you have great underlying structure but more than that you bring your soul to us in each photo and in each catwalk. What is in you will not change, but only will get better." Chris did not know what to say.
"Chris," It was Cynthia. "Even if you stop modeling, we want you as part of our team because you have a way with people that makes you a superb judge of character and talent without being belittling to those who do not have the talent. If Stu would agree, Adam and I have talked about it, we would love you to work with me as talent development."
"Not going to happen." Stu said with a chuckle, "Other plans for the boy." Stu looked at Chris, "If he wants it."
"I don't know what to say." Chris looked at the people who helped pull him, literally out of the gutter, and became his friends. "Thank you for your support and confidence. I will do my best to represent Dreamweavers and its clients to the best of my ability."
"That brings us to the second part of this meeting." Stu looked firmly at Chris, concern and love in his demeanor. "We have decided that you are working too hard. We are cutting back on your assignments. Next month you have a couple of shoots in New York, a few days in Dubai for a fashion show that we cannot cancel, and the rest of the time in L.A. helping vet talent for Dreamweavers there."
"I appreciate the concern, but you said that I was in high demand now. Shouldn't I be working more and not less?"
"No," Adam in New York said, "If you have something everyone wants, being rare makes you more valuable. We want you to be rested and in peak shape. Dorn told us how you looked yesterday when he picked you up at the airport. We are not going to kill the golden goose."
"But isn't out of sight out of mind."
Everybody at the conference laughed. "Hon," Helga's voice sounded tired. "You make the news just crossing the street. You have several reporters in New York that keep close tabs on what you are doing. You made the news in Chicago, and I don't doubt that within a week in L.A. you will be a celebrity. You have a fan page on Facebook and Instagram, which you need to follow. Make a note, Natalie, to find Chris a publicist. We have several offers for endorsements and exclusive contracts for you. You will not be out of sight. What do you think of a billboard on Time square?"
"I don't want to be a celebrity." Chris almost yelled the statement. "I just want to do my job and go home, maybe have a dog, raise a family. Be a normal suburbanite."
Miriam put her arm around Chris. "That is a wonderful life, but it is not you. You attract people with talent. You make people with talent better. It is your gift. You are no longer living under the bridge. You cannot hide yourself." Chris thought everything was rubbish but he would not argue.
"Lunch reservation in 30 minute," said the new receptionist. The conference call ended
Chris was famished and followed Stu, Miriam and Dorn to a nice restaurant around the corner from the offices. It was Stu's favorite place to take clients he wanted to impress. The host led them to a table set for six. "Who is joining us?" Chris asked.
"Just a couple of extra people we thought you need to see. I just received a text. They will be here shortly." The waiter passed out menus and the busboy poured water. Chris looked up from the menu to see the host seat his sister and mother. He ran over and kissed them both.
Stu, Miriam, and Dorn beamed at the surprise for Chris. Chris did not taste his food; he was so happy to see his mother, who looked at him with pride, who referred to him as her son. The conversation was not hesitant or guarded; it was his family at a table talking about their lives. Brittney was happy about the proposal, and Chris' mother, while uncertain because she did not know Tom, gave her blessing. It felt so normal.
"Sorry to break this up, but I need to take Chris to the airport. He has a flight to L.A. to meet his fiancé."
Chris stood and kissed and hugged his sister and then his mother, who was loath to release him. "You dad sends his love too." Chris's mother said, "he wants to see you the next time you are in Chicago. Just the two of you. He has so much guilty; it is still hard on him." Chris understood
The four-hour flight from Chicago to L.A. felt like ten hours, even though Chris was flying business class. An older lady, Helena, sitting next to him, in a tailored suit, helped the time move. She was well traveled, married to a studio executive (she did not give his name), had three children, one in the business, one a teacher, and one trying to find himself. Chris talked about his work and why he was going to L.A.. They parted at the baggage counter with Chris throwing himself into Tom's arms.
Leaving the airport, he noticed reporters watching the exits carefully for celebrities. He was thankful that he was not the object of attention. At the hotel they collapsed into each other, only moving from the bed to claim a delivery of pizza.
The next morning, they went with Helga to Dreamweavers-West. Chris and Natalie did final prep for the music video. The recording artist, Cecelie, a finalist on the Voice, was picked up by Dreamweavers for a recording contract. This was to be her first music video and first album. Chris heard the track several times and liked the quality of her voice, a cross between Janet Joplin and Pat Benatar, and the way she felt the lyrics. The song for the video was a gritty love song about lost love without regret. She wrote the lyrics and music herself; it felt personal and real. The next few days would be tying the audio to the visuals. Last would be the artist lip syncing the final product. Chris and Natalie felt that should be ready in two weeks. Friday was finding stills and clips to match the storyboard. That did not happen. They met with Cecelie, who wanted something simple. After discussion; it made sense. Saturday would be a rehearsal at Tom's parents.
Cecelie came with Natalie to Tom's parents. Cecelie came looking young and hip: her lithe form in black skinny jeans and black tank top and wild black hair--rock star qualities. They decided to run through the song on the piano. "Torch song," exclaimed Chris as she finished. "This is a modern torch song. Cecelie rather than the black sequin dress and gloves against a piano. Dress like you do now."
" With a leather jacket," added Natalie. "And a huge full moon background."
Cecelie sat back looking at Natalie and Chris. "What is a torch song?" Chris brough of videos of Lena Horne, Billie Holiday and Hazel Scott. "Don't know. They sound so old fashion and way to slow."
"You are right, Cecelie, but I think we do the first verse slow, true torch song, as the anger in the song builds, your range comes in and we change the key and tempo. The final verse can be slower again as you move on."
"I like being able to use my vocal range. You set the tempo and I will follow." Chris played. Tom and Helga stepped into the family room to listen, then did Tracey.
"Fuck, that slaps," Tracey said when she finished. "It is so dope. I want the album."
"What do you think," Chris asked Cecelie. "We can add strings or maybe a saxophone."
Cecelie sat on the bench next to Chris. "I've only heard the song with my guitar and then later at the recording studio with strings. I always felt it was missing something--depth. But the way you played it made me see the song differently. Which is good. Let's do it with you playing the piano and a bass and drums. A real trio. Yeah I can see it." She leaned over and kissed Chris. "Thanks."
Natalie hugged Chris. "That was brilliant. Not just how you developed the video but how you played the song. It truly showcased her talent. She can be a true star." Tom and Helga looked at each other and smiled. Quent joined them. "I have it recorded; with a little cleanup, it should be a take."
That night Tom took Chris, his family, Helga and Natalie out to supper to celebrate Chris's promotion. Natalie sat next to Linc. Chris winked at Tom.
Sunday, Tom helped Chris finish packing for Hawaii. Chris did not pack much because he was told he would take the clothes he models home with him. There was a knock at the room door. Tom, still in his underwear answered the door thinking it was room service, opened the door wide. Natalie followed by Helga entered with barely a glance at Tom. "Not even twenty-four hours and you make the paper." Helga was laughing behind her sparkling eyes. She handed Chris a local tabloid open to a back page. Headline: HOT SUPERMODEL CHRIS WENTWORTH GREETS FIANCE AT LAX. A picture of Chris with his legs around Tom's hips was under the caption with a short blurb about the marriage proposal and his role in Dreamweavers-West acquiring Rising Star.
Tom looked at the photo and fell on the bed in hysterics. "Only you Chris could do this. I love you so much." Tom said as he pulled the still stunned Chris onto the bed with him.
Natalie looked at Helga. "More work for us. This publicity will have people lining out our door."
"When you get back from Hawaii, Chris, we will have you work out of L.A. for a while. You are now the face of Dreamweavers-West." Tom went into the bathroom to dress. Natalie took them to a Sunday brunch, and then Chris needed to catch his plane.
The five-hour flight to Hawaii was uneventful. Although Chris was sure that several paparazzi noticed him leaving. Hawaii itself was beautiful, but hardly relaxing because he worked 12 hours a day. He missed Tom. On his return, Jacob met Chris at the airport because Tom was tied up in a meeting with Stu. Tom had texted Chris that both were free for the weekend and Tom had plans: a B & B on the ocean at San Simeon and then tour the Hearst Castle.
Chris was not certain which impressed him more, the elephant seals or the castle. The size and opulence of the castle was Chris's first brush with the super-rich and he could not grasp the extravagance. He was more than happy with his place in Brooklyn. The whole trip to San Simeon, Tom went on about how beautiful California was, how perfect the weather was, and how nice it was being close to his parents and family. Chris was not sure where this excessive loyalty to his birth state was coming from since he never complained about being in New York. Chris chalked it up to trying to give Chris an enjoyable stay. Chris was already looking forward to seeing Tom's parents--his parents--again. He liked them.
Monday morning Chris, Tom and Helga went into Dreamweavers. Chris saw he had several appointments to meet with potential clients with a conference call at 11:00. Before his first appointment, Helga met with Chris. "Chris, I know that you are uncomfortable doing talent interviews, but you have a good sense of people. We moved a piano into an office for those who sing and several scripts for actors. Sometimes the person will have little talent but good skills, other times they will have underdeveloped skills and raw talent. Skills can be taught, but talent is innate. We want Dreamweavers-West to be known for the best in a community of gushing want-to-bes." She handed Chris a paper. "Here is a cheat sheet to make notes, but use it only as a guide." She grabbed Chris's hand. "Now let's show you your office." It was a large room with a desk, file cabinets, table and chairs, upright piano, and a performance area. It was nice but cold. "You can video each interview if you like for later review. You have three people today. One this morning and two this afternoon. If you have any questions, see me, Natalie or Tom. She smiled at Chris and left the office. Chris sat at the desk uncomfortable with the formality. It would make people nervous. Nervous people did not perform well. But it was not his office. He would do this for a week until they hire someone. "Mr. Wentworth," the receptionist said over the phone. Ms. Paddopolis is here." Chris acknowledged the call. Looked at himself in the one wall of mirrors, gritted his teeth and went to the lobby
Ms. Paddopolis, Dahlia, was a nervous 20-year-old with magenta hair and a goth look. She was an aspiring singer. Chris talked to her about her dreams, experience, and training. She was self-taught but was always the lead in her high school musical in Buffalo, New York. He asked what she would like to sing. She said "Bring in the Clowns" and handed Chris the sheet music, which he did not need. "What key?" She said what is on the sheet music. Chris did a quick look and started. She sang with great enthusiasm and volume but little technique or feeling. It was the wrong song for her. He stopped her and asked what plays she did in high school. As Chris figured Music Man was one of them. "Do you remember the lyrics to "`Till There Was You." She was sure she did. Again, she sang with great enthusiasm and great volume, but no feeling for the words. Chris stopped her after the first stanza, asked her to sit down. He sat in the chair next to her. "Dahlia, what do the words mean? What is the song about?" She had no clue. "I am sorry Dahlia. While you have a strong voice, you do not have a feel for the lyrics. Have you ever listened to a song and cried?" Dahlia said yes. "Why did you cry? Was it because of the music or the words?"
She looked at Chris. "Can you do better? You're just a kid like me." Her tone was belligerent and defensive. Chris sat at the piano and sang the song to her. His full attention with the words was a love song to her. Chris finished. "See the words are important. The music is the skeleton; the words are the flesh and blood." He stood and took her hand to help her rise and led her to the door. "I appreciate you coming in and spending time with me. I do not think singing is your profession, but do not stop singing." She thanked Chris and he walked her to the front lobby and watched her leave.
"It is always hard to break someone's dreams," Lydia, the receptionist said, "But it is better that than offer false hope." Chris sighed knowing that she was right. It was time for the conference call, Lydia reminded him. Chris sighed again and went to the conference room.
"How did your first interview go?" Helga asked as Chris sat heavily in the chair.
"Outside of telling her she was not a singer, I walked away in one piece. This is so not me. I am glad this is only temporary." Helga did not say anything, just frowned.
Once all parties were present, Stu started the meeting. "Glad everyone is present and hope all of you had a good weekend because this week will be a bear." He paused while people shuffled in their seats, uncomfortably. "Adam can you do an update on your end?" Adam talked about new contracts, existing projects, and short and long term goals. Chris smiled as he was mentioned for doing a Dubai fashion show. "Natalie, how are you progressing on the West Coast. I know you have not had much time so just where things are now."
"Stu, we have most of the financials sorted out with receivables and payables ready to run this week. The new CFO will start in two weeks along with a payroll and HR person. We are still sorting through contracts, finding which are current, expired, or incomplete. Far too many are incomplete. The new contract manager starts next week. Today we are starting to interview new talent to add to our portfolio. The little blurb in the paper has driven a fair number of new clients our way. Chris is helping out this week with interviews."
"That is definitely greater progress than I expected. Kudos to you and your team. Now for some other business. Some personnel changes." Chris noticed Tom and Helga looking at him. "The management team would like Chris to be permanently based in L.A. with Dreamweavers-West."
"No way in hell." blurted Chris. "I have a home in New York that I just moved into. I can't just leave. Besides, I have assignments to do."
"I do understand Chris, and ultimately the decision is yours. But you can be based anywhere and still do assignments. That will not stop. However, your particular social skills would augment the West Coast team."
"I am not moving and leaving Tom in New York. We just got engaged and I'm not doing long distance."
"Of course, we want you and Tom together. Tom would move to L.A. too."
"I am not sure that I have any social skills that are particular to L.A. rather than New York, where I already have a reputation."
Stu laughed loud and long, "My boy, you do underestimate yourself. Natalie would you like to tell Chris?"
"Chris, your name is magic right now in L.A.. You are this hot new commodity that everyone wants to meet. You think the picture of you and Tom in the paper was an accident. You were stalked and then you delivered a memorable event. You need to pay more attention to social media. You met with two of Tracey's friends; teenagers gossip, and if there were posters you would be in thousands of teen bedrooms. Your performances at Jazzabel's are viral, and the recording that you did of classical music at your father-in-law's is a prized secret. That is why you will have a publicist, do public appearances, continue to do high profile assignments, and review talent. You rejected Dahlia this morning. She is already boasting how talented you are and how kind. And utterly dreamy." Natalie looked at Chris waiting for a response.
"This is Hollywood. I'm a flash in the pan. Within a week I'll be old news."
"Yes, that is Hollywood. And normally I would agree. But you keep surprising people. I have been doing talent since I was a teenager. You are first rate handsome; you can sing; I've heard you can dance. Your assistance on the music video was insightful and productive. Your meeting with Dahlia was on point. I am constantly amazed by what hidden talents sneak out. I want you here to help build Dreamweavers-West."
"So do I and Stu," Helga added.
"I am the one objecting," Adam broke in. "because I hate to lose you in New York. But for the good of the whole company, I am willing to let you move to L.A. and do work here when needed."
"What do you say Chris?" Stu asked.
Chris felt he was being railroaded into a major decision. He did not like being pressured. "I will let you know Monday. I need the weekend to consider my options."
"That is acceptable," Stu said.
"Good. I am going to lunch by myself. I will be back for my 2 o'clock appointment." Chris rose and left the room. Jacob was sitting in the lobby. "Jacob, can you drive me to a botanical garden. I need some fresh air to think." He drove Chris to Mathias Botanical Garden on the UCLA campus. Jacob parked and walked with Chris until he found a bench by the stream garden. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Jacob sat quietly beside him. After a half hour Chris stirred. "Let's get something to eat." Jacob drove Chris to his favorite burger place, where he earned a few whispered stares from a quarrel of teenage girls. Lunch with Jacob was refreshing because it was not work: it was school, music, and video games. In the car Jacob said, "Those girls recognized you but were too polite to interrupt. If you stay in L.A., you can expect this. I hope you stay." Chris did not know how to respond. Chris met with two people in the afternoon; one of which might have a future with Dreamweavers.
Chris did not say much as they ate supper with Helga and Natalie. He did not say much as he and Tom went to bed. Only, "We'll talk about it tomorrow when we visit your parents." Tom snuggled close to Chris, kissed him on the cheek and said, "Fine."
"Mom, Dad," Chris said as he found his future in-laws in the family room. "We need to talk." Chris's serious tone put both on edge. "How would you feel if Tom and I moved to L.A.?"
Anda's fear was replaced with giddy joy. "Oh Chris, honey. That would be marvelous. We would love to have you closer."
"That is a big move Chris. You just bought a place in New York and are settling in. L.A. is very different from New York. Why the question?"
"Dreamweavers wants me to be part of the West Coast team to help build the brand here. For some reason, they think I will be a positive influence." Chris slumped in a chair head down, totally torn apart.
"Chris has the Greenwood gene," Tom said. Both parents' eyes went wide. "Not sure where but he has the ability to match people. You know how I somehow end up in a place where I am needed. Chris is a catalyst. He is a seed that turns a liquid solid, rain to snow, chaos to order." Chris looked at Tom like he was dishing hippie shit. "The first night I met him, my lack of focus changed to hawk eyes. He is everything to me because of who he is. He met a waiter at a friend's party, finagled Cedrick to meet him and now the man is training to take over some of Cedrick's properties. Half of our single friends are now with their soul mates because of Chris introducing them. He told me that Linc and Natalie should be a couple. They are on the way to doing that. They have a date tonight. It makes perfect sense that he should be here." Tom sat on the sofa next to Chris. "You are the most amazing person I have ever met. I feel so special that you will share your life with me."
Chris wanted to deny everything that Tom said except the last. "Tom, I feel the same way about you, but the whole bit about being a catalyst is, and I love you, a bunch of crap. It didn't help when my parents threw me out of the house. It didn't help that I lived three years on the streets of Chicago. I only have a GED, I am uneducated, unsophisticated, and naive. You saved me. I don't know why you did, but I am so grateful."
"Chris. Your parents did a cruel thing, but Hank and Dion were there to protect you. You had a librarian who insisted that you learn, learn everything. You moved out on me within 24 hours and found a loving family, Stan and Stella, to give you shelter. You have Millie, who will rip apart a dozen tigers to protect you. Look at all the people you know in New York who want to be around you. You saved Boyd from a loveless marriage to be with Chaz. You do not know how many lives you have made better in such a short time."
"What about Toby?"
"Toby's soul is too dark. You help people who are lost find their way. Toby is not lost. He is intentionally evil." Anda glanced at her husband in surprise at Tom's vitrial over Toby, and was glad.
"All the friends that we have in New York is another reason not to move. I have a condo there. What about that. I hate to sell it. I mean what will happen to Beach?"
That cracked Tom up. "Beach is a virtual butler." Tom explained to his parents. "The algorithm for him is truly amazing. He is like a real person, a snarky person." Tom faced Chris. "We pack him on a thumb drive and bring him with us." Chris looked uncertain, ready to dissolve in a puddle of conflict. "Ultimately Chris, it is your choice. As long as you are in our bed, I do not care where the bed is."
"When do you need to make a decision?" Quent asked.
Chris lightly chuckled, throwing back his head. "Yesterday."
"Sounds about normal for business deals here in L.A.."
"Chris," Anda took up the conversation, "let's look at the pros and cons objectively. Why don't you and I sit in the office and make a decision, attorney to client, without the Greenwood interference." She glared at her husband and Tom to challenge her.
Chris liked that the office did not feel like a lawyer's office. Although it was tastefully professional, it was also home, with children's art framed on the wall, her kids. Soft over-sized pillows on a sofa, no desk, just a table with a laptop, file cabinets and office equipment behind doors that matched the large floral wallpaper: it was friendly. "Chris," Anda said softly as she sat on the sofa with Chris. "I think you have already made up your mind, but are afraid because of what it means to your life." Chris stared at his hands wondering why they were so delicate. "You are a very strong person Chris. You can manage change. You can be its master. Quent and I will be here to help you."
"Thanks," Chris said softly looking up from his hands to her face. "You are right. Yesterday, after they made the offer, I went to a garden at UCLA. I do my best thinking in gardens, where things grow. I was amazed by the variety and by the different places that plants came from. They were thriving and healthy. I knew then that I would thrive here too." Chris reached out and put both Anda's hands between his. "This is where I need to be. I don't know why, but it is." Chris paused to look in Anda's face. "I want Tom, and I to be near you and your family. I love my parents, but they will never be warm and comfortable with who I am becoming. You and Quent and your kids have opened your hearts without reservation. You are what is missing in my life."
Anda blinked away tears. "Chris, you are our son. Not because Tom is marrying you, but because you are marrying Tom. I can think of no one I would want Tom with more than you. I have never seen him so happy, so focused on life, so devoted to anyone. You complete him and that makes me the happiest woman in the world." She pulled Chris into a hug, which lasted longer than many might deem appropriate, but it was the perfect length for both of them.
"We need to go house hunting." Chris giggled at the thought of him and Anda inspecting kitchens. "Will you still be working in New York?" Chris said that he would be there often. "Keep the place there. You will not need to live in a hotel room." They spent the next hour reviewing finances, a new contract with some heft bonuses, and looking at Zillow. The intercom buzzed with Quent saying they had reservations for dinner in forty-five minutes.
Before dinner Chris pulled Tom aside and told him that he would like to live in L.A.. Tom tried to play devil's advocate, but Chris knew that Tom was excited about the prospect. Tom made the official announcement at dinner. Tracey went supernova at having Tom and Chris nearby. After supper Tom called Helga and let her know the plans; she sounded relieved. Tom and Chris spent the night with his, no, their parents. Chris was pounding his head against Tom's chest. "Why the fucking shit are we doing this. We don't need the stress. And our friends. There's so much to do. We don't have time. I need new doctors. Do you want a house, condo or apartment? Can we afford to live here? " Tom let Chris pound away sure that he would have bruises in the morning. He kept rubbing Chris's hair repeating over and over that it will be OK.
Sunday Linc and Natalie swung by the parents, ostensibly to look at the recording studio, but they stood a little too close to each other. Chris nudged Tom. "It's your freaky magic," Tom japed back. Maybe Tom is right, Chris thought, but chemistry is chemistry, fate arranged the meeting, not him. Tom caught Linc's eyes; Tom rolled his eyes back and forth between Nat and Linc. Linc offered back a stupid dumb ass grin. Yup, Linc was hooked. Tom needed to pull Linc away later to get the dirt.
"Here," Nat handed Chris a reused plastic grocery bag. "What do you think?" Chris pulled out a well-worn black leather jacket. The elbows were faded and wrinkled for long use. He looked at Nat confused. "For the music video, for her to wear."
Chris held it out and inspected it. "It is too big."
"Now you're getting it. It is his jacket. The song is about lost love and moving on. She has his jacket as a memory. It is so Ghosts. A variation on `all I got was this fucking T-shirt.'"
"Yeah, I like it."
"I want you to play the piano in the video. Do you have any leather?" Tom stifled a chuckle. Nat looked at Tom. "I take that as a yes." Tom pulled out his phone and scrolled to a picture. "Damn, fucking shit that is hot." She handed the phone back to Chris. "I want you in the background, washed out, like a ghost or a memory." Chris was enjoying Nat thinking through the video. It was very different than what was planned but he liked the direction. "I'm not sure of the location. I at first thought of an elegant piano bar but that is not the song. The song is too gritty for elegant."
"What about a junkyard," offered Tom
"Been done," Nat shot back. "It needs to be unique, fit the mood of the song, and knock peoples' socks off. I want people to cry at the end."
"Amusement park?" Chris suggested.
"Been done."
"The song mentions being held in the arms of the moon. What about in the desert, at night with a full moon. Could we jack the moon to oversize, Nat?"
Natalie twisted her upper lip at Chris and, looking at Tom, and said, "Not only looks but brains."
"I have not yet found the bottom to the well that is Chris." Tom hugged Chris; Chris melted into him.
"I can now guess who tops whom." Linc laughed at his own comment. "Must be very special bottoming for Chris since he ain't got no dick."
Chris stood and faced Linc, Linc's face a foot away from Chris's crotch. "Want to compare and see who is bigger. Mine may be plastic but it lasts longer than five seconds." Nat howled in delight as Chris sat, cuddling into Tom.
Linc's face was a delicious shade of raspberry, his eyes bulged and his tongue lolled to one corner of his mouth, like a dog's. Once he composed himself. "Fuck Tom, you have yourself a pistol there. In both meanings of the word. I am so glad he is your boyfriend and not mine. I'd be afraid he could beat me into submission if I pissed him off." Tom snickered, pulling out his phone. He showed Linc and Nat Chris taking on the goliath at the Back Door bar. Linc looked at Chris. "Fuck Chris, for a guy who does not have balls, you sure have balls. big balls." Linc's tone and face was full of mirth.
Chris was not sure how to react, it did not feel like it was a put down, more of a jab between bros. Chris took a half step back. Linc saw him as male, and although he did not have the male appendages, that was purely happenstance. "Got that right bro, so don't piss me off." Both of Linc's hands covered his crotch as he rolled on the sofa with laughter. Natalie looked from Linc to Chris and back at Linc like two foolish adolescents.
"Back to the video." Natalie pulled things back into control. This video was a first step in proving her worth to the new company. "When is the full moon. and we will need a location and then permits."
"Location is Death Valley." Tom continued, "At night it is transcendental and the location, astute watchers will recognize as symbolism."
"We would be better to shoot during a new moon, we can photoshop the size moon we want."
"Good point Chris." Natalie was all business, making notes on her phone. "I will start on this first thing Monday. Linc, you need to take me home."
Linc stood, put an arm around Natalie's shoulders. "Your wish is my command. Can we stop for a meal on the way." Natalie said fine. "Nat, rather than eating out, how about we grab groceries and I cook." She agreed. Guiding her toward the door, Linc turned his head and mouthed an enthusiastic, "Yes."
Monday Chris perused his office. "This will not do. It is not me and it is unfriendly." Chris marched off to Helga's office. "I need to redo my office if I am to stay in L.A.." He did not mean it to sound like a threat, but he had ideas. "It is too much like an office. I want to get rid of the desk and institutional chairs."
Helga looked up from her paperwork. "Ok, you know what you want. Jacob can help you with ordering. Just choose something in stock." Chris left her office frustrated. He wanted to fight for his vision; on the other hand, the level of confidence in him was humbling. Chris found Jacob and together, Jacob had a fashion sense, Chris ordered two love seats in dark brown, two pringle wingback chairs upholstered in a fern pattern, a round table with four chairs, end tables, a coffee table, large earth tone abstract rug, and bright throw pillows. At Jacob's suggestion, the printer, file cabinets, and a coffee bar were inside a heavy Spanish armoire. The best part was next day delivery. The office had a narrow rectangular window at the top of one wall that gave a little natural light. Chris needed more light for his mental health, but until he could decide what to do, lamps and live plants would need to suffice.
Natalie and Chris were rearranging his new furniture for the third time--something was missing in the room. "Mr. Wentworth." Lydia's soft voice interrupted an animated discussion on whether or not the red pillow should go on a chair or a sofa. "I have a very strange message that you might help me decipher." Natalie and Chris sat in one of the love seats, they were comfortable. "A Mrs. Powell's sectetary called to invite you and a guest to their home on Saturday the 15th. What was odd was that she did not know your last name and only that you worked here."
"I don't know anyone by the name Powell?" Chris turned to Natalie, "Do you, Nat?" Natalie said nothing.
"Mr. Wentworth, she sounded like she had met you and knew you. When you met her, she may not have given you her last name."
Natalie was playing with her phone. "Is this her?" She showed Chris a picture.
"Oh, yes. That is Helena. She sat next to me on the flight from New York to L.A.. Sweet woman. Her husband is some sort of movie executive, but we mostly talked about her children."
"Her husband is one of the most powerful producers in L.A.." She looked at Chris who did not see the big deal. "People murder to spend five minutes with him. Women sell their children to have brunch with her at a charity event. And you, my poor ignorant rube, casually spend five hours with her, alone with her. And then get an invite to dinner." Natalie shook her head at Chris. "Tom is right you are charmed, a charmed idiot. This invite has moved you and Dreamweavers-West to near the top of the L.A. food chain."
With a wicked twinkle in his eye he asked, "Do you think I should go? Don't want an idiot rube representing Dreamweavers-West." Natalie slugged Chris in the shoulder just as Tom walked in the door.
"I've been wanting to do that forever," he said to Natalie, "but don't want to be sued for spousal abuse." Tom kissed Chris on the lips. "What did you do to deserve physical assault?'
Natalie was almost standing when she loudly said, "Your future husband just received a dinner invitation to Mr. and Mrs. William Powell's home."
"Yes, I am not surprised. That is just Chris." Tom found one of the chairs. "Oh, this is comfortable. I may need two for my office. I like what you have done here Chris. It needs art work and maybe a sculpture in that corner."
"You are right about the sculpture. I knew the room was missing something. Maybe Slim has something, or we can go to an art festival. You know how I like to shop."
"Don't know of any festivals in L.A. in the near future, but I know of a few galleries. And if you want to wait, we can go to San Diego in November for their big art festival."
Natalie was hyperventilating. "You two are talking sculpture when there is an invitation to the Powell's, THE POWELL's," Natalie added for emphasis. "This is far more important than some cheap copy of David, that every gay man insists to have."
"I take umbrage at that remark," Chris chided. "I do not do copies."
"Fuck you." Natalie took a deep breath. "You need to RSVP immediately, and find yourself a tuxedo, brush up on who's who in Hollywood."
Chris placed three fingers over Natalie's mouth. "I have three tuxedos, custom made for me, and can have a dozen more by next week. We do not know the attire. And as for who's who, I like to go in ignorant. It deflates the pompous asses and endures those who are genuine. It is the latter we want to do business with. Trust me, Nat. I did not grow up eating with my fingers, gnawing bones plucked from my hair, and farting at the table. Just chill. I will call Helena either later today or tomorrow. She is asking me. I am her secret surprise, so I do not want to be too anxious. Let her worry--a little."
"Chris," Natalie was more composed. "I will leave you to your job," As Natalie left Chris heard her mumble, "The fucking Powells, the fucking Powells." Both Tom and Chris had a good chuckle after she left.
"Chris, the Powells are very big league here. My parents have met them at a couple of their large parties. It was attended by Malvia Strickland, Clint Eastwood, and Kurt Douglas and twenty other A-listers." Tom's explanation reinforced the importance, but did not impress Chris.
"I am not accustomed to living in a place where status was so important. Yes, the Powells know people who are mega stars, and, yes, Mr. Powell controls who might work on a movie, but I do not see why any of that is important to me. Nor any reason I would be invited. I am not Hollywood."
"No Chris, you are not Hollywood, not yet. But Mrs. Powell liked you; you impressed her."
"I mostly listened as she spoke of her kids."
"You are a great listener Chris. You pay attention and empathize, and offer insights. Maybe that was all it took. You did not ask for anything. You did not trot out your accomplishments, recite your resume, bust into a song or a Shakespearean monologue. You were just you. In Hollywood, particularly in the `business' of show business, that is rare."
"I am not sure now that moving here is such a great idea. I hate hypocrisy."
"Might it be considered hypocrisy to dress like a man. Some might think you are hiding."
Chris's eyes tensed; his jaws tightened. "Tom, that is the most vile thing to say. To think my dressing like a man is a show, a sham, an attention getter is the lowest comment anyone has ever made to me." Chris stood right against Tom, his face inches from Tom. Tom took two steps back as Chris threw the promise ring in his face and stormed out of the room.