Dreams Happen-
Only When You’re Sleeping
By M Shay
Copyright 2000 by m shay
To My Dream –
Somewhere between
heaven and earth
To my dad, John,
and his simple gentleness
And to Cheryl Raymond,
my spiritual guide,
thanks for being there –
no matter the distance
Here’s to believing – in dreams
Somewhere between heaven and earth
the mystical rise of dreams are born
quiet and unassuming
in their feeble beginnings
allured by love
defined by hardship and commitment
spark some of the greatest wonders…
In an ironic encounter with the
mysterious J T Stryde, life is forever
altered for Meri. Both are transformed
in their acceptance and commitment to
each other. Encouraging one another’s
personal and professional aspirations,
they ultimately learn –
Dreams can Happen
Chapter 1
“Meri. MeriBeth?”
“Huh?” I am standing in front of the copier, staring at the gray blue walls that are lined with multiple logos and ads that Bueller’s Advertising Agency has done for its clients. On the south wall is a large map of Boston that has every street and historic sight. When I first came here two years ago, this space, this office, this place seemed larger somehow. Lately, I feel like an emphysema patient, wheezing for air, filling the stale air into my diminishing life, longing for freedom in my duty bound existence.
“There you are.” Pam, the receptionist, sticks her head in. “WAKE UP. It’s almost quitin’ time. Your sister is on hold. Something about Ben.” Pam is twenty-five, with multi earrings, has never been known to be quiet like I am. Yet, in the two years I’ve worked at Bueller’s she’s one of the best co-workers to work with. Wearing a bright floral dress on this June day, Pam likes to be as expressive as she can in this fairly conservative office.
“O.K. Thanks.” I pick up the wall phone, press my extension.
“Meri? Lydia.” My sister greets me.
“Yeh? How’s Ben?” I ask about my six-year-old son. “What’s up?”
“He’s fine, out playing with Samantha. Look, I’ve got to run to the store before Mitchell comes home. I thought I would take the kids out to eat. We’ll be back when you get here.”
“Yeh O.K. Why don’t you drop Ben off with Mom? I have to run an errand and probably won’t get back until seven.”
Hanging up, I look at the clock: 3:30. I let out another wheezing sigh. Abnormal dilation of space it seems with the contraction of the walls and impairment of passion and action as I do what I am required to do. I have enough time to sort these cover letters and advertising packet, stuff them in the labeled envelopes and get them out in the mail by 4:30.
Not that I’m complaining. This job’s pretty good; I can be somewhat creative and use my brain. My day starts when I get up at six, out the door with my six-year old son by 7:30, and then a kiss goodbye at before school daycare. Then I drive to Quincy, squeeze on the train and get in to work by 8:30. At my job I run on a treadmill of accounts and perpetuate momentum by staying in the same spot. After five, I then hop off this work track, battle the claustrophobic crowds back on the train, get in my car to plow through more headache traffic, and swing by my sister’s to pick up Ben. We get home before seven, attempt some dinner, a bit of play time, a bath before putting Ben to bed, and me collapse on my bed shortly after that.. This is most people’s existence, I don’t complain, I maintain. And life spends itself with or without me.
I come out to the reception are with the stack, Catherine, and Pam are chatting. They are my co-workers in crime. Catherine and I are often on team projects together and Pam greets everyone with her goofy antics. She makes working here fun.
“Look at this guy. Ohh, he’s so gorgeous. I wish my Jimmy was some hot Hollywood hunk.” Pam flips through her latest entertainment magazine. She loves that movie star stuff.
“Then you’d have to swat off all his fans.” Catherine grins. “Any plans for the weekend, Meri?” Catherine looks over at me.
“Well, I have to go by and pick up those photos in Milton, so I had to drive in today. Thus I’ll start my weekend with nightmare traffic. That should be a wonderful headache.”
“That is a nightmare. I’m glad I live in Dorchester, right off the line.” Pam said. “Anything exciting?”
“I’m taking Ben to Plymouth Plantation tomorrow. That’ll be fun.” I place the tray on the table by the door next to the outgoing mail tray, and stack it neatly so that it won’t tip over. “Pam, can you see the mailman takes these?”
Pam nods. “You call that fun? You go there at least once a month, Meri.”
“Well, I like the history, and it’s educational for Ben. Plus, there’s this cute trail, that leads to an old fashion watermill. Ben loves to feed the geese there.”
“I flunked history. Hey, how’s it going with Dave, the guy you’re seeing? ” Pam has a cute way of inquiring about everyone’s personal life. We’re so opposite, but thankfully we get along.
“Dave who? I haven’t heard from him in three weeks.” I shrug. I am not going into details about what a mistake I made dating that shallow narcissist
“Three weeks? And you didn’t tell us? Meri. What is life without gossip, especially love lives? And he was a cutie, too.”
“Read about it in those Hollywood magazines, there’s plenty of useless gossip for ya. What about you and Jimmy?”
“Me and Jimmy? After four years? Yawn. You’re the only one single. What happened?”
“First he’s got no problem with Ben. But three weeks later, Mr. Fun doesn’t want a kid with the package. Now, I’m a ‘package.’ I’m done with dating. Guys are so fallacious.” I give her a detail to get out of explaining the whole thing.
The heavy wooden front door creaks open. I step over to help Sam, the delivery guy struggling to open the door and back in with the dollie. Sam’s a nice guy, but short, and kind of awkward.
“Thanks, Meri. How are you, ladies?” Sam greets us.
Catherine and Pam nod and say hi back. Sam removes two boxes and hands me the voucher to sign.
“Hey, Meri, did you finish Thoreau yet?” Sam asks me. He likes to read philosophy, like I do.
“Not yet. Only after Ben’s asleep.”
“Hey, Sam, Meri’s available. She dumped playboy Dave. Now you can ask her out.” Pam blurts out. She likes to embarrass you, all in jest though.
My eyes spark like flint on stone, as I toss her a look to kill. Some times I could strangle her. She’s always trying to fix me up. Glancing back at Sam, I cover with a polite grin, and hand him back his voucher.
“Really, you two are both reliable, and both read philosophy. Ugh. How so un fun.”
“Ignore her. I got get back to work. See ya later.” I head back to my small office in the back.
Coming into my cube office, a step up from a cubical, I’m lucky. I close the door, it’s a large closet.
Sitting in my chair, I gaze with hidden longing at the two poster pictures I have of mountains hanging on the beige walls. A place I’d love to be right now, but can’t. Serene and majestic, the mountains always allure a special kind of freedom. I went to school in Denver and fell in love with it. I go back every vacation I can. There is also a framed picture of this quaint log cabin nestled in the conclave of trees, leaning slightly in the direct of the sun. When I close my eyes, I can almost feel the smooth knobby wood and the curves of each log along the deck. Then the walls, this room, expand, and I don’t have mental emphysema. I can breathe again.
Beside my PC is a picture of Ben and me taken last year. Next to that is a great picture of me and my dear friend Naomi and I at the top of Estes Park where we went hiking three years ago.
Pulling up the Ross account on my screen, I try to focus yet my mind drifts again to planning my life with mindless chores and time constraints. After I get to that photographer in Milton, maybe I can grab a few things at the store on the way to Lydia’s since she’s taking the kids out.
Oh, that reminds me. Giving a quick glance at my door, I pull out my personal blue folder of applications I’ve been carrying around with me for the last month. I spied another job posting from Denver, and wanted to get off a cover letter by tomorrow. I would so love to go back to live in Colorado. Who knows if anything will turn up, so I don’t mention it to anyone. But I keep looking. After it’s typed, I print it off and slide it on top of the pile in the blue folder. I’ll fax it from the library tomorrow.
I shove the blue folder in my large tote bag to take it home with me. At the stroke of 4:59, I grab my bag and rush out. Bye everyone. Have a good weekend.
You too, Meri.
I get on the elevator as five o’clock and head into Boston’s nightmare traffic.
I’m sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, muttering to myself. “I don’t know why they call it ‘rush’ hour, you’re not rushing anywhere. You’re barely even moving.” I inch the car forward, strumming my fingers on the wheel. “Just a few more feet. Now if this guy moves a bit more, I can slide on the curb and then hop on the freeway. Come on, come on!”
BANG! The rear side door flies open.
I jerk automatically. There is an abrupt thrust down the bottom of my seat, a roll of pressure on my lower spine. What the? Damn! Help me. I’m being car jacked! The guy has a gun on my back. Oh, help me!
“GO! Get out of here.” A gruff voice yells.
Jerking the wheel, I barely look behind me as I step on the gas and squeeze half on the sidewalk swerving around the car in front of me. The sudden momentum shuts the back door and my tote bag flies off the seat, spilling my stuff. I floor it and veer onto the ramp leading to the highway. We speed south down the highway.
“O.K. O.K!” I cry out. “We’re on the highway. Don’t shoot me. Please I have a small son. I’ll drive you anywhere. You can even have my car. I won’t look at you. I won’t tell the police anything. Please don’t hurt me!”
No reply. Driving like a speed freak on the highway, swerving in and out of traffic, I quickly glance at my rearview mirror. Yet all I can see is this butt wearing black pants, with legs scrunched on the back seat.
I focus back on driving, not knowing what else to do. After a minute, the traffic inches to a crawl, and I am forced to slow down. It’s a miracle I did get in an accident. What does this guy want? I’m still shaking.
There is a muffled groan and more pressure on the back of my seat. “Ugh. Let up! I don’t, have a gun. Pull, over.”
Still startled from him diving into my car I keep driving, afraid to stop. “O.K. but can you get whatever it is you have out of my back. Stop pushing it into my seat.”
There is no reply. More movements like a rolling yet the object remains pressed up against my back.
“Lady, ugh,” his voice is strained, pinched. “I can’t. Stop. I’m stuck.”
Turning to get a quick look, there are these long legs and butt sticking up on my back seat. But it’s worse. My throat is dry. My mouth drops open, aghast. His head is half jammed between the driver’s seat and back, with his face turned away. This guy dives in my car and gets his head stuck under the driver’s seat!
I turn my eyes back to driving. What am I going to do? He scared the crap out of me and now wants me to let him up. HA. He’s crazy if he thinks I’m going to stop right here on the highway. I have to be in some safe place before I even pull over. I keep driving.
He calls out again. “This kills. Stop!”
“NO! You scare the crap out of me. And then you expect me to stop in the middle of rush hour traffic to let you out. Forget it, you’ll just have to wait!” It serves him right.
“Let up! AW, my head. Move, seat.”
“What? And have you jump me?!”
“Oh, come on!” He groans louder.
I grimace. His tone sounds like he really is uncomfortable. Getting off the Milton exit, I drive to the nearest gas station and turn off. Taking a deep breath, I stop the car. Now I can get a good look. Twisting around, my eyes widen.
With his face half facing the floor, his head is half-wedged under the seat and his shoulders pinned in the small space between the driver’s seat and back seat. His hands are on the floor trying to push or find a more comfortable position.
I start laughing as I step out of the car and pull the seat forward. He lets out a great sigh of relief. Now I’m hysterically laughing. He slowly sits up, rubbing both sides of his head with a pinched confused look on his face. The dark sunglasses on his face are half tilted. Then he takes them off.
Letting out a screaming gasp, I can’t believe it. It that what’s his name? Naw. But it looks so much like him. This guy is gorgeous. He sits in the middle of the back seat, pressing on his head and neck looking kind of lost, bewildered.
Getting out of the car, he folds his sunglasses in his hand. Slowly he comes toward me as I hesitantly move back. No way can it be that teen idol actor. What would he be doing in Boston? Yet, I can’t stop laughing, at the whole thing, doubling over ready to piss my pants.
“I’m so sorry,” I burst out. “Are you all right? Man, but you scared me. How did I know you weren’t going to kill me? Diving in my car like that.”
He’s grinning now. “Sorry, but I was, sort of, uh. Then I saw your Chicago bumper sticker. I thought it was a safe place to duck into quick. I didn’t think I’d get stuck, though.”
“Well, you scared the crap out of me. Uh, what were you running from, there?” I find his story a bit unreal. Although he’s got the most amazing smile. I look down at his hands, holding very expensive sunglasses. The kind stars wear.
“Uh, it’s funny thing, actually. Well, sort of.” He’s kind of hesitant to answer. He switches those sunglasses from his right hand to his left. He’s got a nice tan.
“From what? Yeah, guys dive into backseats of cars all the time around here. You’re not from around here, are you?
“Uh, no. I’m Jay Stryde.”
“Really? That J.T. Stryde? The teen idol actor, from that, uh, that quirky hero movie, Rebel uh?” I don’t go out to the movies very much. And it’s mostly for Ben.
He chuckles. “It was Renegade, not rebel,” He corrects my faux pas. “Nice to me you, uh-”
“Oh. I’m Meri. Sorry, I’m not a movie-goer.” I introduce myself, feeling kind of embarrassed about my lack of cinematic knowledge. We shake hands. He has a firm handshake, and gazes at me. I’m momentarily taken back, for he has the most beautiful chestnut eyes that sparkle.
“You can call me Jay,” he says, continuing to shake my hand, a little longer than usual. “JT’s my stage name. Thanks for letting me up.” He lets go of my hand and points his thumb back to the car, grinning. “That really pinched my head.”
“Ah, sorry. How’s your head?”
He rubs it with a sheepish grin. “Dented. I didn’t think I’d get stuck.”
“Uh, I think when the car jerked forward, it got you stuck. Can I give you a ride back to your hotel? It’s the least I can do.” I move toward the car, beginning to feel self-conscious standing there. “Where are you staying?”
“O.K. thanks. As long as I don’t have to sit in the back.” He follows. “I’m at the Copley.”
I nod, trying not to look too embarrassed. We get in the car. There is my tote bag, on the passenger floor with papers, my book, a design journal, and pens all over the place. I bend over to scoop them up. This Hollywood guy extends to help, picking up the papers I missed.
“Denver? You going to Colorado?” He looks at the cover letter I had written longer than a usual glance.
“Oh, yeah.” I about snatch it out of his hand, uncomfortable, and shove them in my tote bag. “I’m applying for jobs there.” I put my messy tote bag in the backseat. I’ll sort the stuff later.
He’s polite enough of a stranger not to make any comment as he gets in the front seat this time.
We head back onto the highway. Though I’m not a real fan, he’s even better looking in person. I bite my lip and focus on driving. I’ve never really been this close to any celebrity. I know they’re human, but always seemed unattainable in a lot of ways. Just drive, I tell myself.
He’s in Boston on business, meeting with this producer or someone like that. He had stepped out of the meeting when some crazy reporter spotted him. He wasn’t in the mood to get cornered. He spotted my car, that’s why he dove in the way he did. Sorry to have startled me.
“Yeah, that must be annoying. That happen to you often?”
“No, luckily. He’s hard up for a story, I guess.” He smirks then asks what I do. It is a typical opening question.
“Nothing as exciting as what you do. I’m a designer, at a poster ad agency where we make pretty pictures and catchy sayings.”
“Sounds interesting,” he politely replies. “Which one?”
“Bueller’s Agency.”
“Oh. Is that B-e w? Bewler’s?”
“Yes. It’s spelled B-u-e-l-l-e-r.”
“Uh, you have a son? You, did say that.”
Giving him a courteous grin, I nod self-consciously and comb my fingers through my shoulder-length golden blonde hair. Scrunching up my pug nose, I give a glance in the rearview mirror as I switch lanes.
We get off the highway, maneuver through the traffic and I find the Copley. It’s nice, fancy, ritzy. I’ve never stayed there. He’s saying he likes Boston as I drive up to the entrance.
“I don’t. I hate cities. Well, here you are, Mr. Stryde. I hope you have a better evening. And those pesky reporters don’t find you.”
“Naw, I know how to stay out of sight, when I want to. You can call me Jay. Uh, hey, I’m going to one of those business dinners, wine ‘em, dine ‘em thing, would you like to join me?” he asks, lightheartedly.
I almost give a double take. This movie star is asking me to dinner? Especially after he almost dents his head under my seat. “That’s O.K. I’m late picking up my son. Thanks for asking, anyway. Uh, good luck in Boston.”
“Not even for a dinner, uh? It’s the least I could do, for saving me from that pesky reporter. It seems kind of funny, the way we met. It must be fate or something. What if I call you?”
“Maybe. Or just a strange quirk. Yeah, being tagged for some pictures is far worst than getting your head jammed behind the driver’s seat for ten minutes.” I’m being sardonic. What does he want with me?
“Well, that depends on who lets you up first. But I’m sure glad we met. You have a business card? Let’s stay in touch.” He turns slightly toward me; one hand holding his ritzy sunglasses, the other palm resting on the top of my seat, as he casually waits to take my information. I guess he’s not leaving until I give him my number.
I shake my head. “All out.” He’s probably asking out of courtesy. No way is he really going to call back.
It’s another uncomfortable minute sitting there, but he finally gets the hint. “Welll, I see that went well. Perhaps, we’ll meet again, under better circumstances. Meri Tannan. I hope so.”
“Yeah, sure. Next time dive in the front seat. That way I can see your face, first.”
Still grinning, he puts on his fancy dark sunglasses and gets out of the car. With a dashing smile, he gives a short friendly wave.
I politely grin back, then drive away. I shake my head, forget it. It was just a fluke. Yeah, go to dinner with Mr. Adonis movie star. Woe, what a face!
Rushing over to the photographers in Milton, 45 minutes late, but he’s still there. By the time I get home, they already had dinner, and my sister is helping my mom. I tell them I’m late because of an accident. Luckily, she isn’t totally in a bad mood, just a little stressed. She goes on about her day. How was my day? I shrug. No one would have believed me if I told them. It sounds like a far fetched story: J.T. Stryde, that teen idol actor, dives in my car escaping a crazed reporter and gets his head stuck in the back of the seat. Yeah, right. Besides, I’ll probably never see him again.
Chapter 2
Monday morning, I get to work on time. Pam is just setting her coffee down on the counter.
“Hey, how was your weekend, Meri?”
“O.K. I took Ben to Plymouth, fed the ducks, and then went to the museum.”
“About as exciting as mine. Jimmy got tickets to the game, but took his brother. That stinker. I went over my folks. We both should go out and have a girls’ night after the Fourth.”
“After the Fourth sounds like a plan.” I pick up a note from Mr. Bueller. I have now acquired Chris’ account, he was supposed to have finished last week. “Ugh, if I don’t have enough work, now I’m saddled
with finishing the Delaney account, too.” I groan.
“Mr. B. thinks you can do a better job than Chris. And everyone knows it.” Pam gives me that look as she takes a sip of her coffee.
“Yeah, and everyone knows I stink at presenting. Chris is better.” I shake my head. “I have to talk to him.” I gather up my stuff.
The phone rings. Pam shrugs, turns to get the call. This is how my day starts.
I’m in the middle of the Willis account when the phone rings. Picking it up on the second ring, I give the company introduction.
“Meri, get your ass up here.” It’s Pam. She’s whispering.
“What? What stunt did you pull now?” I have to chuckling. She loves to play jokes.
Hanging up the phone, I brush down my knee-length navy blue dress and head toward the front. It sounds like Mr. Bueller is there with some clients. What does Pam want me to see?
“Pam, can you get our guests, Mr. Asher and Mr. Stryde something to drink,” Mr. Bueller says. “This way, gentlemen.”
HOLY CRAP. No way! I freeze in my tracks, my mouth drops. What is he doing here?
Pam comes around the corner and rushes up to me, leaning against the wall.
“Meri, what are just standing there for? Do you know who just walked into the office? JT Stryde. God, he is to die for! Did you see Renegade? That hunk movie he was in? Oh, and he looks even better in person. Damn, what a way to start a Monday. I’ve got to get his picture and autograph.”
“Isn’t that movie like five years old? I thought you were in love with Brad Pitt. Jimmy not exciting enough?”
“Boyfriends are not the same as Hollywood hunks. Forget Brad. JT Stryde in the flesh, right here in the office, is so much better.”
I turn back toward my small and quaint office.
“Where are you going? You have to see this guy. I’m telling you he’s gorgeous, with these incredibly intense brown eyes and this smile that’s makes your knees weak.”
“Back to my work.” I didn’t tell anyone about Friday’s fiasco. I hope the guy has the decency not to say anything.
“Pam?” Mr. Bueller is calling. “Have Meri come to my office.”
I grimace. Yikes. I’m glad Pam didn’t see the expression on my face.
“Right away, Mr. Bueller.” She calls back as she about grabs my shoulder and quarter turns me to her. “Ohmygod! You get to meet him. Lucky ass stiff. Give me your job, so I can go in there.”
I roll my eyes. Oh brother. “I just might.”
With a polite knock, I enter and close the door. Mr. Bueller is at his desk. Two large and tall leather chairs are planted directly in front of his immense desk. My boss is in his late fifties, born and raised in Boston, worked his way up the advertising latter, until he branched off with a partner and started this agency ten years ago.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Bueller?” I step up.
All three men rise from their seats.
“Oh, Meri, I’d like you to meet Mr. Asher, and Mr. JT Stryde. This is Ms. Tannan you asked for, Mr. Asher.”
“Nice to meet you, gentlemen.”
A distinguished gentleman in a polished blue business suit to my left, asked for me? Never saw this Mr. Asher before. I shake his extended hand courteously. And I can’t forget the unforgettable JT Stryde in jeans and a dark green tee-shirt, looking very unprofessional, to my right. Mr. Stryde has his hand out. Leaving my hands to my side, I grant him a refrained, annoyed grin instead. He just smiles back at me. Glancing to Mr. Asher’s seat, he extends his hand.
“Have a seat right here, Ms. Tannan.”
I nod, give him another odd grin, but politely sit down. Mr. Asher remains standing beside me on my left.
“Mr. Asher saw your work,” Mr. Bueller says. “And was looking for representation for his client, Mr. Stryde for a small promotional poster. He asked that you design the layout.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Asher.” I glance up at the nice gentleman standing beside the seat he was supposed to be sitting in.
“I liked your work too.” Mr. Stryde taps the arm of my chair, draw my attention to him, of which I am trying to avoid.
“I bet you do.” I mutter under my breath, but give him a courteous grin.
“We’re looking for a fresh new look, for Mr. Stryde’s fan base.” Mr. Asher is looking past me, and seems kind of distracted.
I give a quick glance to my right at Mr. Stryde, who casually has his elbow on the back of his chair, and smoothly glides his palm along the side of his head, as if to brush his short hair back. Instantly he starts scratching his head. He flashes me a quick grin and drops his hand to his lap.
Mr. Asher clears his throat. “Oh, excuse me, Mr. Bueller, could you direct me to the men’s room? We could discuss the contract, while they brainstorm some ideas.”
“Certainly, right this way.” Mr. Bueller takes Mr. Asher out of the room.
I sit there looking straight ahead. Now what. I’m still embarrassed for holding the guy down.
Jay turns more in his chair and grins at me. “Small world.”
I start to stand up. “Yeah, and getting smaller.” I don’t know what he’s up to.
“Uh, we started off on a bad foot. More like a bad header.” He points to his head and grins. “Please sit down, I just want to apologize if I came off offensively.”
My eyes widened. O.K. I take a deep breath and sit down.
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you up. I uh, thought I was being car jacked.”
“Well, I did scare you. I’ve never jumped in the back seat quite like that.” He smirks. “Oh, I wanted to let you know that my head returned to its original shape and that there isn’t any permanent brain damage. At least not anymore than before.” He smirks, rubbing the side of his head.
I wonder about that. “Well, that’s good, Mr. Stryde. I certainly don’t want to have to pay for your MRI.”
He leans closer. “You can call me Jay.”
O.K. If he insists.
There is a rapid knock on the door and it swings open. It makes me jolt. It’s Pam with a tray of drinks.
I bounce up and help her.
“Oh, where would you like these?” She starts to put them on the desk I am sort of clearing a space for.
“Oh, my, you must be JT Stryde. Oh, I just loved your movies.” She pushes the tray toward me, forgetting about it and turns to Jay stands by his chair. “Though, I didn’t see the last one. Jimmy, my boyfriend, he wanted to go to that Spider flick, oh, what do they call it when you’re petrified, horrified of insects? Shit, it was scary. Opps, sorry, Mr. JT Stryde, oh, it’s really nice to meet you.”
She has that Renegade DVD, but hasn’t seen him in anything as long as I’ve known her.
Jay stands there grinning and nods.
“Arachnophobia.”
“That’s it. Gad, Meri, is just so smart, she has a Masters degree. That’s it. That movie scared the crap out me. I hate spiders. So, what brings you to Boston, JT Stryde?” Pam is smarter than appears. But when she’s excited, she babbles.
“Pam almost finished college, ask her anything about sports, she’s a whiz.” I interject.
Jay draws his hands behind his back. “I’m a hockey fan myself.”
“Wow! That’s cool. Everyone loves Gretzky, with his 800 something goals, but I like Lemieux.”
“He plays for Pittsburgh. I like Lindros, too.”
“And what team you like, Meri?”
I stand there caught off guard. I’m not much of a sports watcher either. I read a lot, when I’m not after Ben. “Bruins.”
The door opens.
“Meri is very creative and a history buff, too.” Mr. Bueller says as they walk into the room.
“Oh Pam, thank you. That will be all.”
“O.K. Mr. Bueller. It was soo nice to meet you, JT. Uh, Mr. JT Stryde.”
“You too, Pam.” Jay grins courteously.
Pam heads to the door. I glance over at her. She is motioning with her hand, like she is writing. Get his autograph, she mouths. Hot, she fans herself as she leaves. I refrain from smirk. She’s too funny.
“Excuse me, Meri. Would you be so kind as to show Mr. Asher and Mr. Stryde around Boston? ”
“Oh, I, uh, I have to graciously decline.” I glance at Jay grinning at me. “I have those two accounts I don’t even have a layout on yet. Willis is due, and you just transferred Chris’ to me as well. Pam is much more knowledgeable about Boston than I am.” I look back at my boss. Now is not the time to discuss why he gave me Chris’ account.
He’s not buying it. Mr. Bueller is a great guy to work for. As long as you get your work done, and you keep up appearances, he’s cool with having some fun or going for longer lunches.
“I’ll give them to Catherine to start. She was supposed to have those set up anyway. Our new clients are only here for two days. As one I can always rely on, I’m sure you can think up some poses while showing these gentlemen a little history as well.”
“Yes, Mr. Bueller. I’m sure the Freedom trail would excite, Mr. Stryde.”
“I can’t wait.” Jay nods.
That went well. I leave the office with Mr. Asher and Mr. JT Stryde with Pam’s mouth just about hanging open.
We get on the elevator and head out to tour Boston. This ought to be fun.
Coming out on to the sidewalk, the rush of muggy, hot city air stings my nose, and the noise from the street, the traffic and commotion rises to its necessary level of excitement. Every day, I step on the ground our fore-fathers paced to create a new nation, and all I’m thinking about is, will I get to work on time, and how much I have to do to finish on time and do a good job in the process. I love history, the feel of the earth, the pulse of a time go by, but on this day in mid June, it’s stale stories of prior events that have no bearing on my present.
Mr. Asher walks straight ahead. Jay is beside me. I look over and there is a limo waiting at the curb, with a driver standing by the door. Mr. Asher bee-hives for it. The driver opens the door and Mr. Asher disappears inside.
I pause a few feet from the long vehicle. O.K. This guy’s rich. So. I’ve ridden in a limo, what twice in my life, both to family weddings.
Mr. Stryde pauses, looks at me staring with mistrust at the fancy means of transportation. Do I comply and get in this foreign vehicle and act impressed, when I’m irked I’m wasting time? Is he going to brag about how popular and successful he is, not by saying so, but with all those perks of champagne, loaded wet bar and leather seats? All that still doesn’t reduce my workload.
He puts up one finger, then turns and sticks his head in the limo. He reemerges a minute late, nods to the driver, telling him to go on. Odd. Is he paying that close attention to my expression of disinterest? But why?
He gives me a kind grin as he steps over to me. “We’ll walk. No better way to get the flavor of a city than on foot. It’s a beautiful day, anyway.” He puts on those fancy dark sunglasses.
I nod. “What would you like to see, Mr. Stryde?”
“You can call me Jay, like I said. Anything you’d like to show me. I like adventure.”
“How about the Aquarium on Long’s Wharf? They have a restaurant on a boat, if you’d like to have lunch there?”
“Sounds great.”
We walk along for a while without saying much. It’s busy enough, no one seems to recognize him. I steer him down less trodden streets, mostly because I hate crowds. They make me nervous.
“Uh, I am sorry, I kept you stuck, Mr. Stryde, Jay. I never had anyone do that before.”
“Well, that was a first for me too. Ms. Tannan, uh, Meri.”
“I really felt bad afterwards.”
“Really?” He teases.
“No, really. But it was funny, kind of ironic.”
“Yeah, it was.” I’m glad he has a sense of humor. “I’m glad we can laugh about it now.”
I nod. “Uh, would you mind not telling anyone?”
“Oh?”
“Well, it was strange. No one would have believed me. So, I haven’t told anyone.”
“No one? Really?” He looks at me pleasantly surprises. “I told my sister. But she’s sworn to secrecy.” He gives me a wink.
We have a pleasant lunch on the Wharf. The high shrill of the seagulls scavengering for food is intermittently beaconed out. Outside the Aquarium is a large cement area, we take our sandwiches and just chat about Boston, old cities, sports, nothing personal. He seems like a nice guy for the most part. Cordial and professional, perfect combo for a stranger, he knows how to exchange small talk without prying, yet courteous enough not to touch on anything personal. And I do the same. I have no interest in asking him about his famous lifestyle. I vaguely remember Renegade, the teens, and guys, liked it when it came out. My dad had passed away that year, and going to movies isn’t my thing. I saw it on VHS a year or so later. It was cute. And he was very much a Hollywood hunk. I did see him in some movie last year and it stunk, but I don’t mention it. I don’t want to be abrasive.
When we get back to the office, Jay thanks me. The limo has returned to pick him up. He’ll see me tomorrow afternoon. He hops in like its natural and is gone.
Pam pesters me when I get back, I shrug. She found out I was chosen to do his account. I assure her he’s coming in tomorrow, so she can put her foot in her mouth then. For now, I’m behind in my work.
Tuesday, Pam, Catherine and I go out for our Tuesday lunch. Catherine and Pam order roast beef and French Fries. I have an oriental salad.
“Well, Ms. Celebrity. What happened yesterday? God, to go out with JT Stryde. You have to learn to gossip more, Meri.”
I shake my head. “I did not ‘go out’ with him. I got contracted out as a tour guide by our boss. I was being the good employee, keeping my job. I pointed out some sites, and he acted as if he was interested. We had lunch outside the Aquarium. That’s it.”
“Wow. You’re kidding! How’d you get picked as lead designer for this contract? Oh, you lucky stiff.” Pam takes a big bite of her sandwich.
“That’s something, Meri.” Catherine adds.
I nod, but focus on eating my salad. “He said he likes the Bruins.”
“He didn’t say that, did he? Wow. I’d never peg him for a Flyers fan, either.” Pam’s the sports nut.
“He’s not. He likes, uh, the Nortexs, mostly.”
“Nordiques, Meri. In Quebec. Figures, he’s from there. Or was.”
I shrug. I profess my ignorance in sports.
“He hasn’t been in anything decent since Renegade, has he?” Catherine asked.
I nod. “A date took me to one of his bad movies last year.”
“How’d that go?” Catherine asks.
“Bad, remember? The guy never called me back. And the movie stunk, actually. It was really stupid. I can’t even remember the name.”
“Well, who cares, JT’s gorgeous. And you’re still a lucky stiff to get his account,” Pam states, with her mouth full.
“It’s just a small poster with a caption on it. But, now I’m twice as far behind my other work. Ugh, I need a new life, I’m drowning in obligations. Uh, Catherine did you get that font set on Andrews? It’s due on Thursday.”
“Meri, all work and no play. If I wasn’t married, I’d be drooling.” Catherine agrees with Pam.
“Oh, Pleeze. Whatever you two are imagining, it doesn’t exist. I’m an average person. Mr. Hollywood is just visiting until Wednesday. Appearances aren’t everything.”
“What planet are you from? That’s what makes an actor great.” Pam gushes.
“The ability to act makes an actor great. Not just his looks.” I correct her. “Besides what’s so great about being an actor? Most of them are great imposters who get paid way too much money for ultimate phoniness, inflated egos, and convenient helplessness. This society seems so obsessed with such facades.”
“Well, some of us need our fantasies and heroes. People to look up to.” Pam gives her reasoning.
“There aren’t any real heroes anymore, just images and pretty pictures appearing to look like heroes. It’s an illusion.” I let out a sigh, sitting back. “There has to be something more.”
“Oh, pity you, Meri.” Pam razzes me. “We all can’t have your golden hair, those sky blue eyes, and your figure. You never have to watch what you eat. And you’re so, ugh, smart.”
“I am not a model, give me a break. I got a pug nose, my eyes are not big, I’m flat chested, and my nails always break if I even try to make them grow. Plus, I stink at presenting. I get so nervous, I freeze up. I hate it. I can’t believe Mr. B gave me that Delaney account. It’s mostly presentation. I’m going to bomb it. Besides, Pam, you don’t need to go on those fad diets, if you just cut out the junk food. Jimmy loves you just as you are.”
“So Ms. Practical, what more do you want in a man? Dave didn’t seem to have it,” Catherine asks.
“He wanted his freedom and his cake too, forget that. Mr. Fun didn’t want a kid in the picture. Oh, umm, I guess I’d like someone who’s courteous, honest, not afraid to be real, sincere from his heart, with soul. And a good sense of humor.”
“Hey, there’s always Sam. Mr. reliable delivery man.” Pam laughs.
I shake my head. “Ah, who am I kidding? I’ll only find my dream man in my dreams.”
Jay comes in after two. I show him the layouts I picked out. We discuss which ones he likes. He picks out six or so designs. I’ll have them set up for him tomorrow. As he’s leaving Pam rattles on about hockey. He chats for a few minutes, but he has another appointment. He thanks us and is gone.
Pam rushes up to me, tugging on my arm like a little kid. He’s from L.A.
Yeah, I know that.
His parents met at college at UCLA. His mom’s from Quebec, his dad was from Chicago, but he took off. She divorced him and moved back to Quebec when JT was four and his sister was a baby. They moved around Canada where she remarried, but that didn’t work out. She married another guy, when JT was in middle school and they moved back to L.A. where JT got into acting when he was in high school. And he’s been there ever since. His mother now lives in Tokyo doing some international export trade or something. His sister, Katie, she’s some herbalist, organic gardener, with farm animals, or something. He lives with her, on a ranch, when he’s not working, which he always is. He does a lot of smaller roles and supporting parts.
Thanks for his bio, Pam. I head back to work.
Chapter 3
Wednesday, Jay is already at the office when I get in after nine. He and Pam are chatting. I get my things and we head into the conference room. I lay out a dozen or so pictures, with different layouts and colored captions.
“I like your work, Meri. You’re talented, as well as very smart.” He’s being too polite.
“Thanks.”
“Oh, I thought you might be interested. I came across a job in Boulder.”
“Really?”
“You are looking to move to Colorado, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” I take the folded paper. Why would he do that? “Uh, could you please not say anything? No one knows.”
“I won’t.” He lowers his voice, leaning into me. “The guy is David Wilson, a freelance ad man from Universal. He lives in Boulder and is looking for an assistant.”
“What are the qualifications?” I whisper back. Nothing like talking about looking for another job while I’m at work.
“Oh, general office stuff. All the things you already do, I assume. It can’t hurt to check it out. I won’t tell your boss.” He winks, leaning back. “Uh, my number’s on there if you want to call me.”
“O.K. I will. Thanks for the tip.” I nod and tuck the paper in my folder. I am touched. A total stranger, abate, a fairly famous and good-looking one, offering me assistance. It is kind of nice to be liked or to have drawn his attention. He didn’t hold a grudge for squishing his head. And, thankfully, he hasn’t mentioned it to anyone. Au, forget it. He’s just being polite.
“As a reference or just to talk. Oh, I snuck a look at your office earlier. Pam was excited enough to show me around before you came in. What’s that picture of the cabin, in the mountains?”
“Oh, that’s my dream home. I’d love to live in a log cabin with a patio on the second floor and a kitchen on the East or South side. So it’s nice and open and sunny, a happy pleasant place to be. Maybe a fireplace in the middle. Something simple and rustic. There’s nothing like waking up to nature right there.” I let down my guard a little. “I just love Colorado.”
“It sounds beautiful.”
“What about you? What’s your dream? You already have a house, I assume.”
He shakes his head. “I’m never in one place long enough. I had one a few years ago, but it got broken into several times, since I wasn’t there much, so I sold it. My home is the road now. I stay with my sister when I’m not on location. I guess, my dream is to live free. I’m mostly a wanderer. Which is great about being an actor, I go wherever the role takes me.”
“That’s sounds nice.” I nod. We are completely opposite.
“So you really want to move to Colorado?” He changes the subject back to me. “Are you from there?” He leans a little closer, his hands slips next to mine.
“I went to college there. And stayed the summers. It’s just beautiful in the mountains.” I look down at our hands side my side, almost touching. Does this guy like me? No way. He probably just likes to flirt.
Suddenly there is a rapid knock and the door flies open.
I jolt and snatch up the closest picture to me. “So, this is the one you like, Mr. Stryde?”
“Oh, excuse me for interrupting.” Pam rushes in. “Your agent is on the phone, JT, uh, Mr. JT. Stryde. Uh, he said he couldn’t get a hold of you on your phone.”
Jay pulls out his cell phone. “I turned it off. Can I take the call on that phone?” He points to the conference phone in the corner.
Pam rapidly nods. “Oh, yeah, just press line two. Do you want me to show you, JT? I can.”
“No, thanks. I think I got it. Excuse me, Meri.” He moves over to the phone.
Pam tugs on my wrist and beacons me out to the hall area. The minute the door is shut she about is jumping up and down. “Is he to die for. Hot!” She frantically fans herself with her open hands. “Hot. Did he ask for your number? Did he?”
I shake my head, mouth no, and look at her in her crazed fan hysteria. I swat at her dramatic gestures.
Suddenly Jay comes out of the conference room.
Pam’s eyes pop open and she freezes.
I look like a fool, waving my hand in the air. “Pesty fly.” I cover with a grin, pretending I am swatting an insect. Yeah, right.
“I apologize. I have to get back to L.A. tonight. I wish I didn’t.”
“Oh, so soon?” Pam looks disappointed. The highlight of her entertaining week is leaving. “Oh, we sure did enjoy your company, JT. And I love your movies.”
I give her that look, motion to my neck for her to cut it out. ‘You do not,’ I mouth without him seeing me. She’s full of it, with the movie thing. Jimmy likes horror flicks, and she likes romantic chick flicks like me. She just like Renegade five years ago. And I’ve known her for two years now.
Jay is looking at her. “Thanks for the tour of the office, Pam.” Then he looks at me. “Would you like to grab a bite to eat? It’s about noon. I have enough time before I have to leave.”
My eyes widen. Before I can answer, Pam jumps right in.
“I’d love to. Oh, thanks JT. Let me just grab my purse. I’ll be right back.”
I don’t know why she ran to get her purse, the exit is out front as well.
Jay smirks, eyes her scuttling back to the reception area. He steps over to me. “I meant you.”
Wow. I am flattered. But I’m not into flash and having to be on guard all the time.
“You’ll have a fun lunch with Pam. Uh, have a good flight back, Mr. Stryde.” I extend my hand, keeping everything formal and polite. It’s better that way. “I wish you the best of luck.”
This time, Jay gives me the eye over. He does not shake my hand, but draws his hands behind his back, as he leans almost upon my shoulder.
“Um, at least, can I get your number? I hope you call me.”
I blush and have to look away, holding back my grin. Does he like me? He’s sweet, or at least acts like it.
Thankfully, Pam comes rushing back, flipping her bright floral bag on her shoulder, with one strap always falling down. She fixes it again as she bounces up to us.
“I’m ready. Linda’s going to watch the desk. You ready, Meri?”
I stare at her. Oh, no.
Jay tilts his head, with a pleasant twist of a grin on his face. “Sure she is. Right?
We enter an Italian restaurant on the North End. Jay had driven by yesterday and it looks so quaint, he wanted to try it out. Thankfully we took a taxi over. Pam is chatting, to Jay who nods politely. I move over to the side with my hands by my side. I brush down my new pale blue dress I bought at Filene’s last month. It’s fairly pretty. Jay approaches the hostess. Pam tags along. She is just so infatuated with the guy. It’s too silly. The hostess takes their name. Pam just has to point and announces who JT is. The hostess smiles courteous. I roll my eyes. But we don’t have to wait but two minutes and our table is ready
Jay motions for me to go ahead. He is about to step behind me, but Pam bops right in front of him and almost steps on the back of my heel. I turn my head and give her a look. She shrugs. Getting to our table, I start to pull out my chair. But Jay is right there and pulls it out for me. I thank him and sit down, smoothing out my new dress.
“You look very spring like today, Meri. I like that dress.” He is being too polite.
I nod, thank you. I’m glad he notices.
“And I like how you put your hair back.” He starts to sit down across from me.
Pam clears her throat standing beside her chair, next to his.
Oh. Jay straightens up and pulls out her chair as well.
“Oh, thank you so much, JT. Boy, I knew you were a gentleman. Every since I saw Renegade. I just loved how you saved that girl. Oh, it was so heroic. I wish my Jimmy was like that. He’s only saved a cat once. It got in the car and he pulled it out before the fan belt chewed it up. Its fur was a little cropped though.”
“Jimmy is Pam’s boyfriend. He’s a mechanic in Dorchester.” I explain.
Jay nods, glances at Pam on his right.
The waiter comes up to us.
Pam has to point out just who we are having lunch with to this young waiter. I shake my head, motion my fingers across my neck to tell her to cut it out. She shrugs.
Jay would like to order wine, as a complimentary thank you. I don’t know much about wine, but he asks what I like. Pam doesn’t know much either, but acts like she does, says Blanche. I shake my head. That’s white. Red wine goes with Italian. Jay shows me the wine list. Pam leans over the table, pointing at the list upside down. I hand it back to Jay. Something light, not to dry, you decide, I say to him as he takes back the list. He easily picks one and pronounces it properly. I’m impressed. The waiter goes off.
Jay chats about the nice atmosphere. He likes Boston, he leans slightly toward me. I demurely keep my hands on my lap and nod. Pam leans in and makes herself apart of the apparent conversation. She tells us about her growing up in Southie, how her parents divorced when she was in high school, so she had to get a job right away. She tried to go to night school but it didn’t work out, but she met Jimmy when her car broke down, and they’ve been together for four years now, living together for the last three. This is all old news to me, she’s got it down to a nutshell. Pam’s six years younger than I am.
Jay nods politely. And what about you, Meri?
Thankfully the wine arrives. The waiter opens it at the table. Jay takes the cork and sniffs it.
“Oh, can I do that?” Pam has her hand right up to his face. “Jimmy’s a beer drinker.”
Jay hands her the cork. The waiter pours three glasses of wine. Jay hands me my glass. I nod. Pam pauses a second and takes the glass placed in front of her by the waiter. She takes a sip.
“Woo Wee. Drinking at noon on Wednesday. Don’t tell Mr. Bueller O.K? Auh, hell, it’s a special occasion. Not every day, we eat lunch with a famous movie star, drinking red wine. Thanks JT. Let’s make a toast.” Pam lifts her wine glass.
Jay and I follow suit and slightly raise our glasses up.
Pam clears her throat. She’s going to go off on her spiel. Oh no. Standing up, she lifts her glass straight up in front of her.
I roll my eyes. Her gumption amazes me. “Sit down.” I quietly say.
She umms me. “To a great week. To JT Stryde landing an account at Bueller’s and gracing us with his presence.” She glances at the table behind us. “Hey, hey there. Do you know who this is we’re eating with. It’s JT Stryde, Renegade in the flesh.”
I grimace. “Shhhh. Will you sit down? You don’t have to announce it to the whole restaurant. You’re embarrassing, Mr. Stryde.” I glance at him, looking at her befuddled. “I’m sorry, she’s a little outgoing.”
Jay looks at me, then back at Pam. “Uh, Pam. Meri’s right. I’m not here for show. I would really like to stay out of sight.”
Pam looks at me and then Jay, bewildered. Finally she sits down and takes a gulp of her wine. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought all famous people liked attention.”
Jay shakes his head to Pam, but looks at me. “I tolerate it.”
“But what about all those movie premieres? You got a lot a people taking your picture.”
“It’s like your job. It’s part of the presentation. It’s usually in the contract that I have to go.”
“Oh, hey, don’t mind me. I’m just a big mouth. You should see me when I have a few. God, let’s get drunk and skip work, Meri.” She raises her glass again, and finishes off the wine. She taps to Jay to refill it. She’s going to have fun and enjoy herself. I just hope she doesn’t get up and make anymore speeches.
I shake her head, and take my first sip. It’s good wine. Rather expensive, I’m sure. I grin politely to Jay. He starts to lean forward to say something. Pam starts to lean forward to be included. He leans back, raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip.
The owner comes up to the table, and introduces himself to us. Yes, he nods to Pam he knows who JT is, thank you. They chat. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
I take deep breathes. It’s been a nice day. Pam is so nervous, she’s being extra boisterous. Jay is being way to polite. If I was him, I’d tell her to tone it down. Maybe I should pull her aside and do that.
When I come out of the bathroom, I look over and the table is surrounded by half a dozen people. Pam is just chatting away, happy as a lark, pointing out JT to everyone. Two young ladies are hanging right around him. Jay grins, he sort of looks amused, or tolerating Pam, I can’t tell. Not much phases the guy, I can say that much about him. Always composed looking.
I bite my lip, hesitant. I know I have to go over to the table, to the crowd, but I pause.
A piece of paper is thrust at him. Jay nods and takes the pen. Pam about leans over his shoulder to watch him write his autograph. He smiles and hands it back. Looking over, Jay sees me. I can’t look away, now that he’s spotted me. He tilts his head, motioning for me to come. I nod, cover with a grin. Taking a breath, I move toward the table.
Jay nods to everyone. “Excuse us, we need to eat now. Nice to meet you all. Bye.”
The dozen or so people move away. Jay stands up to help me with her seat, but I brush off his gesture and sit down. I smooth out my dress, covering my legs, ladylike.
The salads are on the table.
Jay leans toward me, lowering his voice. “We should have gone to some place quieter. I liked the lunch by the wharf, no one bothered us. You have any suggestions?”
I can’t say I do or don’t. Pam leans right, chewing her salad. “Um, yeah, I know quite a few places around here. Cozy and quaint. Jim takes me out once in a while. We should double date. What do you think, Meri?”
My eyes widen. Jay leans back, holds back his grin and nods to Pam. “Thanks, Pam.” He takes a sip of wine and glances at me again. “So we never heard about you Meri. Where are you from?”
“She was born here. She has a sister, Lydia, and two brothers, Peter and Phillip.” Pam tells him. I don’t need to talk. I already have a spokesperson. “But she’s been all over the country. She went to college in Colorado, which she loves and takes every vacation back there. She was going to stay there, but she moved back, cuz of Ben and-”