I smile at my brother.

“I envy your life, Bo. No, I envy your ability to love it. To let it settle you. ”

“You’re not at peace are you?”

“No. But I’m getting there. I honestly am.”

And I start to tell him about the spider web, but I stop myself. I don’t think I could bear him not getting it.

Chapter 21

 

Rex saves the day ~ looking fabulous ~ picks up Kara ~ quells her fear ~ on the Red Carpet ~ talks with Entertainment Magazine ~ Harvey Wallison ~ The Action ~ the scene that made Jim cry

At 4:30, I realize I haven’t called the limousine service. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Stars don’t step out onto the Red Carpet from their Hondas. In my BlackBerry, there’s a number for Rex Smothers with “limo” in parentheses beside the name. I call up Rex and tell him I’d forgotten to call him, but that I’m attending the premier of Richard Haneline’s new movie at the El Capitan Theatre tonight and would give him any amount of money if he could pick me up at my place in one hour.

Sure he can. Rex is a hell of a guy.

I don’t go the traditional tuxedo route (we’ll save that for the Oscars). Several years ago, I wore this slick gray Armani to the premier of Under the Sea. I find that very suit hanging on a row of two dozen Armanis, and it puts a smile on my face like you wouldn’t believe.

I shave, style my hair, and put on a touch of eyeliner. Honestly, I’ve never looked so good. It’s frightening. There’s a change now in my eyes, too. A calm, blue confidence.

Kara’s waiting in the lobby of her apartment building when Rex pulls up in the black limo. I step out and hold the door for her. Man, she’s beautiful. I tell her so. She’s wearing a chiffon evening dress, which is such a deep shade of green it could be black.

We climb in and we’re off. Rex looks back and tells us we’ll be at the theatre in ten minutes. He’s a small, black man. You can hardly see him over the steering wheel.

“It’s so good to see you,” I tell Kara.

“I’m scared, Jim.”

I pull her close to me and take a whiff of her hair. I stroke her bare shoulder.

“Are people going to ask who I am?”

“They might.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Look at me.” She looks at me. “I’ve done this so many times it’s boring. You’re with me tonight. No one’s going to bother you. If a reporter happens to ask you something inappropriate, I’ll be right there beside you. Besides, all the questions will probably come at me anyway.” I kiss her forehead. “Just smile and enjoy it. You’re going to be famous tonight, Kara.”

“I don’t want to be famous, Jim. I just want to be with you.”

Richard Haneline’s new movie is called The Action, and from the previews I’ve seen, I have to say it actually looks halfway decent. It’s apparently about this degenerate gambler who takes out a second mortgage on his house, cashes in his kids’ college savings, and sneaks off to Vegas. It’s good to see Rich starring in a character-driven movie. If I have to watch him blow up one more thing, I’m seriously not going to be his friend anymore.

The clock on the dashboard reads 6:40 when Rex stops the limousine at the Red Carpet and opens his door. As he walks around to open the door for us, I look at Kara and kiss her on the lips.

She squeezes my hand.

“If you move more than two feet away from me at any time this evening, I’ll kill you, Jim.”

Beyond the tinted glass, I see swarms of people. I put on my deep dark shades.

Rex opens our door. My heart throbs like a migraine, but I smile through it and step out of the limousine onto the blood-Red Carpet. These are the things I will always remember:

-The brilliant evening sun.

-The roar of fans screaming from the bleachers.

-The van-size dice hanging above the theatre entrance.

-Flashbulbs going off like machinegun fire.

-A wave of weightlessness, as though I’m on the verge of floating up into the sky.

-Kara’s sweaty hand gripping mine as she steps out of the limo.

“Are we going, Jim? Why aren’t we moving?” I hear her, but I’m not ready to move yet. I’m looking down at the ground, at that beautiful Red Carpet beneath my mirror-black shoes. Have you ever stood on Red Carpet that’s been rolled out exclusively for you? It means you’re too important to walk on the pavement. Normal people can walk on pavement but not you. You’re better. You’re special. That’s the implication, and it feels so good.

No one can ever take this moment away from me.

I look up into the bleachers. Fans are waving and shouting my name. I smile the smuggest, coolest smile you’ve ever seen and wave back at them.

We begin to walk. The carpet ahead of us is crowded with Stars and normal people involved in the production of The Action.

“James, please! I love you!” This girl literally screams. She’s on the front row behind the metal railing, holding out a notepad. I walk toward her, and the crowd squeezes in, crushing her up against the bars.

“Could I have an autograph, Mr. Jansen?”

“Of course you can.” I release Kara’s hand and take the pen and pad. “What’s your name?”

“Bethany.”

I scribble down, “To Bethany, Love, James Jansen.”

“Can I have a kiss on the cheek, too? I could die happy.”

She’s probably twenty or twenty-one. She’s not a knockout or anything, but I’m feeling pretty generous, so I plant one on her cheek. She and everyone around her commence screaming. I wave up to the crowd above their heads, shout, “I love you!” and then Kara and I walk on.

“You’re very good at this, Jim,” she whispers, as we approach a woman with a microphone standing in front of a camera. “You should feel my heart. It’s just racing.”

The woman with the microphone spins around as we pass by.

She’s one of the anchors for Hollywood Starz!. She wears a highly glittery dress.

“Look who it is,” she tells the camera, “Oscar-winner James Jansen.”

I stop walking and stand beside the reporter. I think her name is Marcy Meyers, but I’m not certain. When you’re a Star, you have to talk to the reporters. It’s sort of a rule.

“How are you doing tonight, Jim? You look fabulous!” She puts her hand on my shoulder.

“So do you.” Always complement the female reporters. It’s easy with Marcy, because she honestly looks exceedingly hot.

“So are you guys looking forward to seeing the movie?” No, I think it’s going to be a steaming pile. Ever notice how reporters, for the most part, ask blazingly stupid questions?

“Oh absolutely. I think Rich has worked some magic in this film.”

“That’s certainly the buzz, isn’t it? And you look beautiful, too,” Marcy tells Kara. I squeeze Kara’s hand, and she smiles gracefully.

“Thank you.”

I can see in Marcy’s eyes that she wants to ask Kara something, but she backs off.

“So, Jim, when are we going to be standing at your premier? Not too much longer I hope.”

Right, like I’m going to tell you first. You have to be very careful how you answer that sort of question, because if you say the wrong thing, or even the right thing with less than perfect ambiguity, you’ll wind up in the tabloids.

“Things are in the works, Marcy, and that’s all I can say at this point.”

“Oh, come on, Jim! You’re teasing us!”

I smile that winning, this-conversation-is-over smile.

“Well, thanks for stopping by to chat with us. You guys enjoy the movie.”

As we walk away, I wonder if two people are sitting in Huntersville, North Carolina at this moment, on an old, stinky couch, in a house that smells like cabbage. The man is soused up pretty good on cheap gin, the woman thinking about Jesus, and neither of them realize who just strolled across their television screen.