Exit Hollywood

By Chris James

Chapter Sixteen

Mitchell Cohen was a delightful character. It took Ted no time at all to figure out why Jim had maintained a relationship with this man for all these years. They were like two peas in a pod. Mitch was much like Jim, but with the volume turned down. Perhaps Mitch had taught Jim the value of being eccentric in a Hollywood that valued such things. The man was a gem.

He lived in a small bungalow off an alley on the north end of Venice Beach, not quite Ocean Park, but nearly so. The small rambling house was also home to several cats and a parrot that looked strong enough to defend itself from any feline intrusions. The bird only spoke with an English accent, and most of its language wouldn't be presentable in polite company.

Ted had arranged their first meeting for a late afternoon which would allow him to make a polite exit if necessary with excuses for a prior engagement. He brought Dennis along for the ride, and carried a copy of the story bound in a neat red notebook. Mitch would need the time to read the work and then they could arrange future meetings. Ted had no idea how Jim planned to pay Mr. Cohen for his services, but that was not his issue.

The elderly white-haired man who opened the door gave Ted, and then Dennis, a hearty handshake as they were introduced and then motioned them into the house. It was like stepping back in time as Ted sat in the proffered chair and gazed around at the antiques which adorned the living room.

"So, Jim has finally sent you to me," Mitch said. "I wondered when that would happen."

"Wondered what, Mr. Cohen?" Ted said.

Mitch waved his hand in dismissal, very much the same gesture Jim used on occasion. "Please, call me Mitch, everyone does."

The man appeared old enough to be Ted's grandfather, and that had a certain appeal. Eighty-two, Mitch finally admitted, but he was spry enough to be half that age.

"Last summer Jim dropped by and told me he was taking on two young men at his studio. One of them he was grooming to direct, and that must be you, Dennis. The other was a writer with great promise. But I'm sorry, Ted, I had no idea you would be so young...almost like one of my former students."

Ted smiled. "I have a friend who teaches a young man that has been writing film scripts since his elementary school days."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, age is no impediment to the achievement of great things. After all, I had Jim Curry as one of my students...and I survived the encounter." Mitch laughed at his remark and Ted knew that the experience had been a trial for both Jim and his teacher.

"Oh Bloody Hell," the parrot screamed out from his perch in the corner. Mitch turned his head and looked at the cat sitting on the floor gazing up at the bird.

"Miss Minerva, your last encounter with Lazlo was a disaster, or have you forgotten?"

The cat turned to look at him with distain, as if any human could control the thoughts of a cat. "Scoot, you silly beast," Mitch commanded. The cat stood up and stretched before walking calmly out of the room.

"Forgive me...the parrot was my sister's pet and the cats aren't quite used to him yet," Mitch said.

"A beautiful bird," Dennis said.

"Bugger off," Lazlo screeched.

"Perhaps a bit too colorful," Mitch replied. "He's only forty years of age, mid-life for a bird of that species. He seems to have learned all the words and phrases he desires to know, I certainly can't teach him anything. As you can see my sister taught him all the naughty little things to say that she found amusing before she sailed away."

"I'm sorry," Ted said.

"Oh she's not dead, well not quite I imagine. Doris was my step-sister, my mother's second marriage. Her father and my mother went to Valhalla together some years ago and left Doris quite a load of money.

"I had my little bungalow here but she insisted that this was inadequate and wanted me to move into the hills above Bel Air. I refused and so she took her millions, bought a yacht the size of the Queen Mary and sailed off into the sunset with a crew of attractive young men."

Mitch cleared his throat. "All she left behind was Lazlo...but enough about me, can I get you something to drink? I imagine it's just about tea time."

A clock on the mantle chimed four times and Mitch smiled. "Well so it is."

Dennis had spent his time gazing at the artwork on the walls and the collection of small items Mitch had amassed on just about every horizontal surface in the room. He rose when Ted did and they followed Mitch out to the kitchen. The short hallway was covered in old photographs, and one of them made Dennis pause.

"That's Betty Compton," Dennis said. "Did you know her?"

"We worked together in my early years with the studio, a very fine lady and a wonderful dancer," Mitch said. "The threshold to the beyond comes closer for us all. Death holds no fear for those who know how to live." He blushed slightly. "Sorry, those were lines I wrote for one of her films."

"You wrote for films?" Ted asked.

Mitch sighed. "I did." And then he pushed through the door into the kitchen. Ted and Dennis followed, taking a seat at the table. Mitch filled a large pot with water and placed it over the burner to heat. He took a porcelain teapot down off the shelf and measured out spoonfuls of tea leaves.

"Did you say you'd have some tea?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Ted said.

That seemed to please Mitch, and he took down three cups and laid them on the counter before joining them at the table.

"I worked at MGM back in the forties and early fifties, that's where I met Betty. She always had her eye out for the little guys. All of us on the production staff just adored her. I was doing script treatments back then. It was always a matter of adjusting the words to suit the director, and more importantly, the stars.

"But then politics reared its ugly head and Senator Joe McCarthy began his hate filled campaign. In many ways it was a thinly disguised attack on the Jews while labeling many of us communists. My sister had joined the communist party in her college days, and while I despised politics I was given the same label they applied to her and driven from my job.

"So much talent was lost to the studios. It was a tragic and senseless time in our short history. I moved to St. Louis and took up teaching for about five years, but I missed California. By the time I returned McCarthy was gone. I took a job teaching high school and began to renew my film contacts. I was the ghostwriter for many film scripts, and as you see, I'm still at it."

Ted slid the notebook across the table and Mitch picked it up.

"Redemption...what a wonderful title for a film," Mitch said. "This is your work?"

"Mark Harrison and I wrote it together."

The water boiled and Mitch prepared the teapot, placing it on the table along with the cups. He removed a tin from the cabinet and sat that beside the pot. The steam rose as the tea leaves steeped. Mitch sat back down and picked up the notebook.

"Tell me something about your story...something you're proud of."

"It's the best thing I've ever written," Ted said. "But I couldn't have done it alone. This time Mark and I collaborated. He...we became the characters and laid them open with our words. It's the story of four lives in conflict and how they redeem themselves..."

Dennis and Mitch sat quietly listening to Ted speak about the story and how the characters influence one another. The excitement in Ted's voice seemed to draw Mitch in and Dennis realized the man was just as interested in the writer as the story they were hearing.

Ted finally became self conscious and stopped speaking. "I'm sorry...I still find myself living in the story."

"Yes...your passion is quite evident," Mitch said. "I will read it very carefully, have no fear. The best writers are the ones who invest themselves in the work. You must feel the emotions to convey them to a reader. But writing for a film audience is much different and for that you need to be trained. Is that why you have come to me?"

Ted nodded. "Yes...I really need to learn how it's done. Mark had a better feel for it than I did, which is why you will find the story caters to visual images rather than just becoming talking points. Mark wrote for television, he knows a lot more about it than I do."

Mitch poured the tea and splashed a bit of cream in his. "Sorry, that's a bad habit I picked up from my sister. She was raised in London."

"At least you don't curse like the parrot," Dennis said.

Mitch gave him a surprised look and then burst into laughter. "Oh yes, she could have taught me that...thank goodness she didn't.

"But to explain further...a script writer needs to think like an orchestra conductor. Have you ever seen the conductor's score of music? No, I suppose not. But it contains all the parts played by the instruments and the conductor has little time to absorb them all, but in many ways he must in order to fulfill his role.

"The script must address all the characters, a suggestion of the images a director needs to visualize the writer's intent, and often the motivation for the scene. A good director will embrace the script and use his own thoughts to image the scenes. But to maintain the continuity everyone must depend upon the writer for direction. It's one of the greatest skills needed to make a good film."

Mitch turned to Dennis. "In your role as a director the most important thing you will ever do is that first read through of the script. This is where your image is formed and your mind is tuned into the story you are asked to orchestrate."

He turned back to Ted. "But you already know that the key to production is collaboration, you proved that by writing this with Mark. Your job is to bring all the minds in the room to bear on the task. The director uses your imaging and your words to paint the picture an audience sees. It requires a good deal of positive chemistry."

Mitch opened the tin and proffered it to Ted. "Cookie?"

The meeting lasted for two hours, and then Dennis and Ted took their leave. Mitch was left with the story to read and he promised to call Ted the minute he was finished. Then they could begin the transition. Dennis drove them home since Ted seemed in a daze of thought.

"He's very impressive," Dennis said, hoping to prod Ted into a response.

"He's just what I need," Ted said. "Do you believe in the hand of fate?"

"You mean good fortune?"

"I feel like Betty has reached out from beyond the grave and brought me to Mitch."

"Ted, Jim Curry arranged this, not Betty."

"But once again we have crossed paths with her," Ted said.

"What are you taking about?"

"The principal at Cabot, your friend, Dr. Lynch. He knew Betty much like Mitch did. And Jim, we didn't know him very well until Betty made sure he became focused on us. I see her hand in everything we've begun to accomplish."

"I suppose I can believe in some of that," Dennis said. "The bequest we received from her will certainly set us up to succeed."

Dennis went back into the editing room with Barry and Mickey for the rest of the week. Ted found himself at odds once again with little to do until Steve and Mark came into the studio for some pre-production workups. And then four days later Mitch called.

Ted went alone this time, toting his laptop and a small recorder. If Mitch was going to try and re-write the story by hand it would take considerable time. Ted would try and make the changes to the document in his laptop as they went along without disturbing the flow.

Mitch had invited him over for breakfast and so Ted stopped at the Boys Market down by Marina Del Rey and bought a quart of strawberries, and then as an afterthought he bought what the man behind the bakery counter said were real English scones.

Ted was loaded down with bags as he rang the bell and waited for the answer. Mitch was delighted with the fruit and cooed over the scones.

"I haven't had these for eons of time. When I was a boy we used to take tea at Claridges, that grand hotel in Mayfair across from Hyde Park in London. My mother and aunt put great store in being seen there at least once a week. My sister caught that debutante fever quite young and it did her no damn good to hold her nose in the air. But I was just a little man, still in short pants...but I digress once again."

Ted smiled. "That's just fine with me. I enjoy hearing your stories."

Mitch laughed. "These were just events in my life...you have yet to read any of my stories."

Mitch pulled a colander from the cabinet beside the stove and dumped the strawberries into it to be cleaned. Ted noticed a strange contraption sitting on the counter and tried to puzzle out its function.

"It's a waffle iron, belonged to my mother," Mitch said. "Once you break them in they last forever. Now you may have strawberries on your waffles and I will whip us up some cream."

"You mentioned ghostwriting...did you ever have any scripts produced under your own name?" Ted asked.

"Ah...no, I did not," Mitch said. "The commie scare pushed me out before I had the chance to sell anything. But after we work together on your story perhaps you'll recognize my fingerprints on some of the films you've seen."

Mitch stopped there and smiled. He could see the question in Ted's eyes, but he was waiting for it to be spoken aloud.

"Did you like the story?" Ted asked.

Mitch nodded. "Yes...I liked it very much. I've read it twice and made some notes to remind myself of things that should be in your script. I can see that two minds built this work, but that did nothing to detract from the results."

Mitch began to clean the strawberries and paused to continue his thoughts. "This could have been a very melodramatic story, but it isn't. The elements were presented in a proper fashion, and I enjoyed the characterization very much."

He seemed to sense Ted's impatience and so he dropped the paring knife and turned off the faucet. "Sit," Mitch said. "I had best tell you everything to calm your nerves."

Ted sat at the table and Mitch poured them both a coffee before he sat down. He seemed pleased to see that Ted drank his black.

"So...for first time writers what you young men have conjured up is nothing short of spectacular. A first class drama that you and I will, in time, use to create a major film script.

"I know Jim and Hank's work in various roles over the years. I also saw Mark Harrison in the cowboy film with Hank, but that was comedy and doesn't allow me to forecast his ability as a dramatic actor. The young man Steven Biddle is unfamiliar to me.

"I speak of these actors because your story's characters are built with certain traits that will have to be deemed credible by an audience. I see no major flaws in the storyline. You wrote what you did for a reason and I may ask what they are to help clarify something in the script."

Mitch nodded. "I think you should know, the story would make a fine book."

Although the waffles were very good with strawberries and cream, Ted might have preferred maple syrup. They each gave something to the conversation about their personal lives and then washed up the breakfast dishes. Spending time with Mitch seemed effortless, at least until they settled into the dining room where Ted figured they would do most of the writing.

"So let's begin at the beginning, your opening scene," Mitch said. "As you say, this is all a very visual introduction to Danny's character, and that of his father. I assume that Steve sings well or Jim would never have chosen him."

"He's very good...good enough to sell the pop star image," Ted replied.

"Excellent. Your first spoken lines occur in the dressing room, setting up the conflict between father and son. But what follows sketches out Danny's life before the singing career and this is where we'll have to give the story a good deal of thought. Do you feel it must be done in a flashback or can we adjust that?"

"Mark and I agreed it would be difficult to step backwards in time, but the images are so compelling," Ted said.

"Yes they are...so let's think about it like this and build some words to express the transition to Danny's childhood..."

By the time Ted felt hungry again he was convinced that Mitch was a pure genius. It was only noon but they had six pages of the script written. Mitch had led him through the initial scenes, writing his copy longhand on a yellow pad while Ted formatted his on the laptop.

ProScript was a nice little program that Curry used, and all Ted had to do was fill in the lines. Once he had typed in the list of characters the software prompted him with a selection of names to use and asked him for scene and location information. Mitch thought it was useful, but continued to write by hand.

They ate bacon, tomato and avocado sandwiches on toasted bread at lunch before resuming the work. Mitch had suggested they work every other day until it was done which would allow some time for the thoughts to sink in. By tea time they had ten pages written, and Mitch called a halt.

"We're making fine progress...are you sure you've never done this before?" Mitch asked.

Ted smiled. "I've never even tried."

Mitch poured the tea and chuckled. "This has been a real pleasure, but I think enough for now. I need time to absorb what we've done and think ahead. How is Dennis doing?"

"They're all stuck in editing, but it seems to be going well," Ted said.

Mitch smiled. "He's a handsome young man."

"He's my partner for life."

Mitch nodded. "You are both very lucky. I never found myself on the receiving end of another man's affections, and then when I started teaching...it would have scared me. But there were a few times when I allowed myself to let go with both men and women."

"Jim is going to throw a party when the Come Next Tuesday film is finished," Ted said. "Do you think I could talk you into attending?"

"I don't really go anywhere except for my walk up to the market," Mitch said.

"I'll drive you there," Ted said. "Besides, it will be a chance for you to meet Mark and Steve."

"Oh...well, in that case, how could I resist? Just let me know when I have to be ready."

It took them three weeks to devise a script from the story, and then they decided to review it one more time. Jim announced that the film was in final form and scheduled a party for the cast and crew at his home to celebrate. It would be a grand affair, and not just because he could now push the film off to the distributors. Ted had not told a soul, but the script for Redemption was finished as well.

He had printed off five un-official copies because legally the script belonged to Jim. Mitch would retain a copy, as would Ted, but he had to give one to Mark just to reward all that hard work they had done together.

"You didn't? This is it...the final?" Mark asked.

"I sure hope so, I'm exhausted," Ted replied.

They were once again sitting on the patio at the Wilshire Hotel. It had taken Ted an hour that morning to track Mark down only to be invited to lunch with 'the boys.' Mark had his usual table under the awning with Brian, Steve and Tim in attendance. They had left two open places for Ted and Dennis, and the waiter began to hover the moment they arrived.

"Perhaps we should order," Mark said. "We've been here goofing off for an hour already."

The lunch order taken, Ted slid a hand down into his backpack and pulled out a copy of the script. He stood up and leaned across the table, handing it to Mark.

"I don't have to tell you not to show that to anyone, but I knew you would want to see what we've done with our story," Ted said.

"Oh My God, you finished it?" Steve said.

"Ninety-nine percent sure, but Jim hasn't even seen it yet," Ted replied.

Mark looked a little stunned, and then held Ted's gaze with a smile. "Good going...looks like we're in business. Thank you."

"I've invited Mitch to the wrap-up party, he'd like to meet you...the both of you," Ted said. "He seems to think the script might need to get tweaked a bit to fit your acting style. He says the best scripts never fit the characters exactly until the actors have read through the lines."

"Do I get one?" Steve asked.

"You will, just let me get Jim's approval. He does own it and Mitch says he needs to approve the distribution."

"Did you have to change a lot?" Mark asked.

"No changes...we just improved the delivery," Ted said.

Mark turned to Brian. "We better call Todd about dinner tonight. I'm not going anywhere until I have read this."

Brian nodded. "I figured as much."

The wrap-up party was held on a Saturday at Jim's house, and Nina once again proved her worth as an able assistant. From the crew of parking valets, to the waiters, cooks, and bartenders, there was little for Jim to do except greet his guests and enjoy himself.

Ted and Dennis had picked Mitch up at three knowing there would be hours of socializing before dinner was served. What they would all be waiting to see was the final cut of the film which would be shown at seven-thirty.

Ted encountered the line of cars parked along the street even before he reached the gates, and as expected there was a security man standing there with a clipboard.

"Name, please," The guard said.

"Cavanaugh and King," Ted said.

A valet stood by to take the car and park it but the guard smiled. "They have a reserved space for you inside. Please drive on up."

"Oh wow," Dennis said as they hit the top of the driveway. There were already a dozen cars on the gravel in front of the house, including Tim's Ferrari. Ted swung in beside it and a valet was there to open his door.

"Thank you," Ted said.

The young man nodded and pointed to the front door where Nina stood greeting the guests. She gave Dennis a hug and shook hands with Ted and Mitch.

"Right on through to the sun room," Nina said. "You know where it is."

The large open room was set up with chairs facing a blank movie screen and all the couches, chairs and tables had been moved out onto the patio under the shade of the trees. The effect of an outdoor living room was impressive, especially since it was already filled with people.

Jim made his way through the crowd and immediately honed in on Mitch. They hugged with a good deal of affection as only old friends can do, and Jim led them to a group of empty chairs beside the pool. A waiter took their drink order after they sat down, and for once Mitch ordered a glass of wine.

One by one, Mark, Steve and Hank joined the circle and Ted knew what was coming, or at least hoped he did.

"We've all read the script," Jim said. "Speaking for myself I have to say that what you two gentlemen have written is just so outstanding that we're going into production at the end of May. That means you need to take some vacation time and you better make arrangements to do it soon. I'm going someplace, I think we all should."

He looked around the circle of faces and smiled. "This is a first for Curry Studios since we've never done an original work like this before. It's going to bring a media focus down on each of us and that's going to be a lot of pressure. But then the rewards are going to be greater, and with that much buzz you know this will be an Oscar contender next year.

"I also want to tell you that I've hired an agent for Ted...a publishing agent. If Redemption promises to be a great film then I know everyone will want to read the book. I know Ted had a lot of help with this, and I expect he will give credit where it is due. But Mark and I agree, it was his story to tell and he did it with great style."

Jim rubbed his hands together. "Let's enjoy this little celebration while we can, for tomorrow the work begins anew. A long time ago I had a teacher who told me that productivity of the mind is what holds the body together. You were so right, Mitch. I don't think any of us is happier then when we're engaged in creating something new and exciting for an audience."

There was little else that touched Ted that afternoon and evening. The things Jim had said and the events that had been put into motion would rule his thoughts for days. It was good to share the confidence of men such as Jim and Hank. This was the beginning Ted had been waiting for, and now his writing had been validated.

The production staffers from Curry who circulated that afternoon had a nod and a smile for Ted. Everyone seemed to know that he was part of their future and their paycheck. His rise from a lowly production assistant to the author of their next screenplay gave Ted a different level of respect.

Nina might have planned and coordinated the party, but the menu for dinner was strictly a Jim Curry phenomenon. A sushi chef worked one end of the buffet next to a cook behind a large flaming stove for Chinese stir-fry. There was Beef Wellington and Alaskan salmon, along with a dozen hot and cold vegetable dishes. Jim didn't just throw a party, he created one.

Dennis settled in next to Ted on the chairs of the impromptu theater for the showing. They agreed, this was the most unusual audience that would ever view this film. The kids sat as a group, with Beverly and Steve chattering away with Miguel, Leonard and Bobby. They had each worked to make this film a reality and would soon receive their due.

Most of the production staff was there, as were some of the union crew people. Jim was one boss who believed that everyone who did his bidding was equally important and should share in the rewards. This was a chance to take a deep breath before the next film went into production.

Everyone knew the film in pieces, but it was wonderful to see it as a whole. And like a bunch of unruly kids, they applauded, laughed and booed as the story spun out before them. Jim was the biggest kid in the room, laughing at the boos his character garnished from the staffers as he played Arty D. Perhaps a theater audience would react like this, but Ted didn't think so.

There was a long and sincere minute of applause and the final credits for Come Next Tuesday rolled across the screen. Barry Neil was given credit as the second unit director, and following his name was Dennis King as assistant to the director. Ted saw his name appear twice, once as scripting assistant, and again with Dennis under production staff.

"Two credits apiece for our first ever feature length film. Not bad for a couple of teenagers," Dennis laughed, and Ted could only agree.

"So...what are we going to do for our mandatory vacation?" Ted asked.

"We have to go home, at least for a few days," Dennis said. "After that we should go goof off someplace."

"I wouldn't mind a side trip, we could try San Francisco," Ted said.

Dennis nodded. "That sounds good, but only if we go first class. I'd love to walk down the Castro holding your hand."

"I'll make all the arrangements. About time we spent some of that money we've been making the past seven months."

How true. They had been living in Jim's condo and only paying for their food. Otherwise their weekly paycheck had been accumulating with nothing to spend it on. San Francisco was the center of the California gay scene so it shouldn't be hard to find something to do there for a few days.

Mitch was tired by the time they drove him home from the party, but he'd had a wonderful time. It had been important for him to meet Mark and Steve, and it only confirmed his thoughts about how well they would play the new characters. All these youngsters would soon take over the Hollywood industry, and now he knew Jim was very aware of what that future would bring.

He had enjoyed watching the film, and not just because Jim had given another stellar performance. The young people in it had revealed their flexible nature as actors, and Mitch had been enthralled with Steve's performance. This film would bring Jim and his cast a lot of rewards, but the next one, Redemption, would win accolades from the industry.

It had been a delight to work with Ted, and perhaps they could collaborate again. Mitch knew the young man was writing something, or at least entertaining the thoughts for a new work. How different his life would have been fifty years ago if there had been just a small spark of courage to write something grand. Ted took his abilities for granted and had no idea how hard it could be. Yes, perhaps they would work together again...he sure hoped so.

The offices were quiet the following week and Jim would only be there two days before he left for parts unknown. The first production meeting for Redemption was scheduled in about ten days and there Dennis and Ted would get the chance to talk with Mike Kane, the director.

Ted booked them a room for three days at the Grand Hyatt off Union Square in San Francisco. A first class hotel as requested. It better be, it was costing them a thousand bucks. But first they would head home to Sacramento and enjoy a little family life before immersing themselves in gay culture.

Despite being in a gay relationship, Ted had little first hand knowledge of the larger gay community. If he was going to write a story about gay people then perhaps personal observation of the scene was necessary. To that end, Ted packed his laptop and promised himself to sit down each evening while they were in the city and jot down his thoughts and ideas.

The drive north took the required seven hours, but they were going home so it seemed much shorter. Two days with family would be about enough Dennis figured. The kids were still in school, his father at work every day, and that would leave nothing but 'mother' time. Yeah, two days of that would be just about right.

It meant Dennis endured endless conversations about what he was doing and the people involved, especially the people. His mother's well known desire for all the latest Hollywood gossip left Dennis in a daze, and when the school bus arrived every afternoon he was thrilled to run away to be with his brother and sisters. Jillian and Molly were filled with entertaining thoughts about their experiences in elementary school and Dennis enjoyed hearing about all that childhood drama.

Mike was firmly entrenched in high school and just as puzzled about it as most tenth graders. Unlike their mother, the boy was interested in the details Dennis had encountered in working to produce a movie. The little brother days were gone and Mike was more of an equal in the family. Dennis was fine with that and he enjoyed the independent personality his brother now presented.

The boy had his provisional license and so on the second afternoon Dennis rode with him up to the store to watch how his little brother drove that old Volkswagen. Perhaps he should have known the question was coming. It was a guy thing after all.

"So are you dating any starlets?" Mike asked.

"Starlets?" Dennis laughed. "I'm afraid I don't even know any. Within the production staff I'm probably the youngest guy there except for Ted."

A moment of silence fell between them. "Ted's gay, isn't he? Does that mean you're gay?" Mike asked. "I mean if you are that's okay with me...it probably isn't any of my business."

Dennis sighed. "I am gay and Ted is my partner. We've been together for three years."

"I figured something like that," Mike said, and then he grinned. "Just means when you get rich and famous you can introduce me to all the good looking girls you know."

Dennis laughed. "Okay, I'll do that."

"Mom suspects, Dad doesn't care. Are you going to tell them?"

"Are you going to tell them the first time you get some in the back seat of this car?" Dennis asked.

"Oh hell no," Mike said.

"See, talking about any kind of sexual stuff with the parents is not something I look forward to doing," Dennis said.

"Point taken," Mike said. "I have some gay friends. One of them is on the football team."

"Gay doesn't mean weak."

"I know that, Frank is a killer when he's in uniform. There's a gay/straight club at school, think I ought to join?"

"If you feel confident enough in your own sexual feelings then go for it," Dennis said. "I think I would be very proud of you."

"Cool," Mike said. "I might learn about the kind of bullshit you guys are going through."

"There's no pressure on me at work because I'm gay," Dennis said.

"I thought about going to Cabot, but they don't have football. I'm not that good at sports so we're not talking a career thing. But I don't really know what I want to do."

"Just get good grades and wait until college to decide, that's what most guys do," Dennis said.

"You sure didn't wait, you're up to your neck already," Mike laughed.

"At least I know how to swim."

Dennis told his parents about Margaret Black and the need to schedule a meeting about what the university had to offer. It was the right thing to say in front of his parents, he knew they had concerns.

Ted spent two days with his father, even riding in the truck to visit the farm clients just so they could talk. It was a time to share all the good things that had happened recently and Dale expressed his happiness that things were working out. The second night they went to the club for dinner with Janice who was still Mrs. Matthews to Ted.

There was little doubt in the way his father reacted to the woman that something good was happening here. Perhaps they would marry, but Ted wasn't concerned, only his father's happiness mattered. Janice was just as star struck as Dennis' mother and so Ted fed her slices of the latest gossip in Hollywood.

Dennis looked relieved to see him when Ted drove over on the morning they were due to head into San Francisco. The family visits had been good for them both, and just long enough for them to realize how important their independent lives were.

After two hours of travel in light traffic they were heading across the Bay Bridge from Oakland into the city. It had been some years since Dennis had been here, the same could be said for Ted. But they had both been children back then and dragged along by their parents. Now they were adults and could deal with the city on their own terms.

They checked into the hotel and went up to their room, or perhaps it should have been called a suite. The bathroom looked huge and so they took a shower. The bed was large and comfortable so they shared some wonderful moments of passion, and then took another shower.

Union Square, a block from the hotel, was in the heart of the city. Dennis thought they could probably walk about town, or ride the cable cars. But it was spring, with cloudy mornings and still a bit chilly. In a town surrounded by water, the breeze off the bay made them wear jackets.

A few blocks down Stockton Street, and once past all the high-end designer stores, they came to Market Street and took a bus towards The Castro. Walking up one of these hills would exhaust them much too quickly, it was better to ride.

They had a tourist map but didn't need it to discover the city's gay district. The rainbow flags said it all. It was early afternoon and a Wednesday, which meant the sidewalks were lightly populated. The streets were lined with trendy boutiques and normal commercial outlets, something for everyone's needs, a community.

Dennis stopped at a store window and smiled. "Would you like some underwear like that?"

"That little yellow thing seems hardly big enough to cover a squirrel's nuts," Ted replied.

"You'd look sexy," Dennis said.

The clerk in the store was all smiles when Dennis explained what he wanted. Ted tried very hard to stare at something else while the purchase was transacted.

"Thank you, Dennis," The clerk said.

"Uh...yeah, how did you know my name?"

"It's written right there on your jacket, if that is your jacket."

Neither of them had thought anything of wearing the Come Next Tuesday production jackets. Their names and Curry Studios were printed on the left breast.

"Yeah, it's mine," Dennis said. "We work for Curry as production assistants."

"Sweet," The guy said. "What a dream job."

"I'd forgotten we were wearing these things," Dennis said as they walked back out on the sidewalk. Jim had handed the blue satin jackets out to all the production staff weeks before, and everyone had been wearing them around the office.

"He's right you know, we do have dream jobs," Ted said. "Dream or not, it's still a lot of pressure." Dennis began to laugh and Ted raised an eyebrow. "What did I say?" He asked.

"A year ago we were too ignorant to know what we were walking into, and yet we were scared of not doing it right," Dennis said. "Now we understand what it takes and we're still scared but for different reasons."

"Scared doesn't seen to fit anymore. Look what we've accomplished."

Dennis nodded. "I'm proud of you, Mr. Cavanaugh. You've written a script that's going into production."

"I'm not in this alone, you know. You're going to be the directing assistant. You'll be making important decisions."

"I will...I can. But I suppose that means I better read the story," Dennis said.

They walked around for a while and watched the clouds building up. There would be more rain so they boarded a bus once again. By the time they reached Stockton the rain drops were beginning to fall so they ran for it.

The doorman at the Hyatt smiled as they hustled in under the awning. They turned to watch the rain come slanting down in sheets.

"So much for Chinatown," Dennis said. "I guess we can just eat dinner here in the hotel."

"The rain may let up," Ted said. A flash of lightning was quickly followed by the rumble of thunder. "Or it may not."

By six o'clock the rain was still coming down so they dressed for dinner and went up the elevator to the restaurant. Ted had this silly grin in his face because of the tiny yellow thong he wore beneath his dressy pants. Dennis had admired the tight fit and then said he would take them off later, with his teeth. Yes, Ted felt sexy.

The Grandviews Restaurant was aptly named, and the view from the thirty-sixth floor of the hotel would have been grand if not for the rain. Still, the view through the window allowed them to see the Golden Gate Bridge and the bay all wrapped in shades of gray in the early evening light.

"This is so romantic," Dennis said. "Almost like a honeymoon."

Ted smiled. "Our day will come."

"I want to read the Redemption story," Dennis said.

"The story...not the script?" Ted asked.

"I have the script. Reading that seems like work, I'd rather read the original story."

"I have that with me. You can have it anytime you want."

"I want," Dennis said. "Something tells me I ought to read the story first. A script just doesn't carry the same emotions, actors add that. I'm sure they're quite different, they almost have to be."

"I'm very proud of that story," Ted said. "Mark and I did a wonderful thing."

After a delightful dinner they returned to the room and took off their coats and ties. Ted dropped his pants which made Dennis grin. At the same time Ted dug in his bag and pulled out the red notebook with the Redemption story. He held it in one hand and struck a pose.

"Here you are," Ted said. "You may have one now and the other later."

Dennis took the notebook and smiled, dropping it on the floor. "I have my priorities straight, the story can wait." And he pulled Ted down on the bed.