Countess
12-05-2005, 06:45 PM
Have at it - critiquing, I mean.
****************************
Tom did not take the news that his station had been virtually “fired” by Vercini very well. It angered him that he would sacrifice so much for Jules only to have the producer withdraw from the agreement at the very last moment, leaving the president with an empty prime time hour. Competition was brutal between stations, and a vacant slot was a considerable problem, although Tom managed to finally fill it with a new situational comedy. Still, the injury left him bitter at Jules’ betrayal and, being a rather spiteful man, he could not forgive such a grievance. Therefore, at the earliest opportunity, he hired a private investigator to inquire into the producer’s past. What he found so pleased the station president that he sent the information anonymously to the tabloids. Jules would pay for his insult to him, and he would pay with a scandal so appalling it would surely bury the producer for life.
The news hit the internet and the gossip columns on a Friday in mid-September, the same date Jules and Ana arrived for filming in West Virginia. The timing of their trip was deliberate, representing the ten-year anniversary of the brutal murders that had forever altered the course of their lives. As they drove to the hotel Ana recognized the beautiful fall foliage that was “Nature’s Tapestry”, but found the sight unsettling due to the painful memories associated with it. To avoid the view she closed her eyes while Jules instinctively drew her close, wrapping his arms around her protectively. Though neither said a word, both felt the tragedy of the moment: that nature, dressed in her glorious array, had become a source of torment for them rather than pleasure.
No sooner had Jules pulled up to the hotel than his cell phone rang. It was Stephen calling to tell him his father would be contacting him shortly and that it was imperative that Jules should take the call. Although the anxiety detectable in his mentor’s voice caused him some alarm he was much too tired to sustain it, and so after checking into his hotel room, he flung his suitcase and then himself languidly on the bed, and rubbed his tired eyes as he awaited his phone to ring.
The call came soon enough.
"This is Jules."
“Julian, have you perchance seen the day's paper, or listened to the news?” his father asked.
“No,” he grumbled into the receiver. “I got off the plane an hour ago, we checked into the hotel just now and I literally haven’t even opened my luggage yet. I’m jetlagged, tired and dehydrated and besides that, I look like Hell worn over – several times. Why do you ask? What is so important that it overrides sleep? I’ve got promo to do in the next few days and I can’t afford to look less-than-beautiful.”
“Well, you may not wish to do PR work after what I tell you,” his father cautioned. “Apparently a video tape with you has emerged.”
At these words Jules suddenly sat upright. “What kind of video?” he asked suspiciously, although in his heart he already knew the answer.
“A perverted one,” his father muttered under his breath.
Both men fell silent.
"How perverted?" Jules swallowed hard.
"I would think you would know, son. How can you not know?"
"Well I don't remember everything, dad," he whispered apprehensively. "I've had blackouts, memory lapses…there are blocks of time I can't recall when I was younger."
"Well you can reminisce on the internet," Mr. Cromwell said in a sarcastic tone. "There are currently several sites hosting a free preview of my son engaged in shameful acts."
Jules felt his face flush hot with embarrassment. “Who do I have to pay and how much do they want to make this go away?”
He heard his father sigh on the other end of the line. “Jules, some things in life cannot be bought; they have to be paid for in other ways. This, I fear, is one of those things over which we have no control, and which, unfortunately, you’re going to have to pay for in terms most public.”
Suddenly the full weight of his own disgrace and his father’s humiliation bore down on Jules, and he gasped as he fought back tears. "It’s Tom; he’s revenging himself on me for canceling at the last moment, and now you and mother have to suffer. I’ll wear my Scarlet Letter because I earned it, but you and mother have done nothing but be supportive of me, and I am so very sorry for embarrassing you. How can I make it up to you? How can I make things right again?”
Mr. Cromwell sat taciturn on the phone for a moment, and then he spoke. “You cannot fix this situation, son. It’s something we’re all going to have to live with, or live down at least. I’m sending you a link– you should watch the video because you’re going to have to answer for it at some point. I’ll call you later on this evening and we’ll discuss how to handle this matter. I will talk to you then.”
Jules heard a click on the other end of the line and knew his father had hung up the phone on him. In the solitude that ensued, the producer felt an utter loneliness and vulnerability he had not previously experienced before in his life. Here there was no drug or drink to chase away the pain, no woman or man with whom he could amuse and distract himself. No, here there was only himself, and as Jules stared, petrified, into the abyss of his own soul, the overwhelming emptiness threatened to engulf him and he started to cry. He wondered with morbid curiosity about the razor blades in his luggage and about the bottle of sleeping pills he kept stored for a rainy day, but then he remembered Ana, Ana who had never once abandoned him but whom he had abandoned, Ana, who would love him always despite his vices. She was only next door in the adjoining room. All he had to do was unlock the deadbolt that separated them from one another, and let her in...such a simple matter...
...and so, running to the door, he unlatched it and flung it open, collapsing almost at once into the open arms that seemed to be awaiting his arrival on the other side. For the first time in his life, he felt the peace that attends unconditional love, and he cried no longer for himself, but for the joy of knowing nothing could break their bond, and no one could divide her for him.
***
****************************
Tom did not take the news that his station had been virtually “fired” by Vercini very well. It angered him that he would sacrifice so much for Jules only to have the producer withdraw from the agreement at the very last moment, leaving the president with an empty prime time hour. Competition was brutal between stations, and a vacant slot was a considerable problem, although Tom managed to finally fill it with a new situational comedy. Still, the injury left him bitter at Jules’ betrayal and, being a rather spiteful man, he could not forgive such a grievance. Therefore, at the earliest opportunity, he hired a private investigator to inquire into the producer’s past. What he found so pleased the station president that he sent the information anonymously to the tabloids. Jules would pay for his insult to him, and he would pay with a scandal so appalling it would surely bury the producer for life.
The news hit the internet and the gossip columns on a Friday in mid-September, the same date Jules and Ana arrived for filming in West Virginia. The timing of their trip was deliberate, representing the ten-year anniversary of the brutal murders that had forever altered the course of their lives. As they drove to the hotel Ana recognized the beautiful fall foliage that was “Nature’s Tapestry”, but found the sight unsettling due to the painful memories associated with it. To avoid the view she closed her eyes while Jules instinctively drew her close, wrapping his arms around her protectively. Though neither said a word, both felt the tragedy of the moment: that nature, dressed in her glorious array, had become a source of torment for them rather than pleasure.
No sooner had Jules pulled up to the hotel than his cell phone rang. It was Stephen calling to tell him his father would be contacting him shortly and that it was imperative that Jules should take the call. Although the anxiety detectable in his mentor’s voice caused him some alarm he was much too tired to sustain it, and so after checking into his hotel room, he flung his suitcase and then himself languidly on the bed, and rubbed his tired eyes as he awaited his phone to ring.
The call came soon enough.
"This is Jules."
“Julian, have you perchance seen the day's paper, or listened to the news?” his father asked.
“No,” he grumbled into the receiver. “I got off the plane an hour ago, we checked into the hotel just now and I literally haven’t even opened my luggage yet. I’m jetlagged, tired and dehydrated and besides that, I look like Hell worn over – several times. Why do you ask? What is so important that it overrides sleep? I’ve got promo to do in the next few days and I can’t afford to look less-than-beautiful.”
“Well, you may not wish to do PR work after what I tell you,” his father cautioned. “Apparently a video tape with you has emerged.”
At these words Jules suddenly sat upright. “What kind of video?” he asked suspiciously, although in his heart he already knew the answer.
“A perverted one,” his father muttered under his breath.
Both men fell silent.
"How perverted?" Jules swallowed hard.
"I would think you would know, son. How can you not know?"
"Well I don't remember everything, dad," he whispered apprehensively. "I've had blackouts, memory lapses…there are blocks of time I can't recall when I was younger."
"Well you can reminisce on the internet," Mr. Cromwell said in a sarcastic tone. "There are currently several sites hosting a free preview of my son engaged in shameful acts."
Jules felt his face flush hot with embarrassment. “Who do I have to pay and how much do they want to make this go away?”
He heard his father sigh on the other end of the line. “Jules, some things in life cannot be bought; they have to be paid for in other ways. This, I fear, is one of those things over which we have no control, and which, unfortunately, you’re going to have to pay for in terms most public.”
Suddenly the full weight of his own disgrace and his father’s humiliation bore down on Jules, and he gasped as he fought back tears. "It’s Tom; he’s revenging himself on me for canceling at the last moment, and now you and mother have to suffer. I’ll wear my Scarlet Letter because I earned it, but you and mother have done nothing but be supportive of me, and I am so very sorry for embarrassing you. How can I make it up to you? How can I make things right again?”
Mr. Cromwell sat taciturn on the phone for a moment, and then he spoke. “You cannot fix this situation, son. It’s something we’re all going to have to live with, or live down at least. I’m sending you a link– you should watch the video because you’re going to have to answer for it at some point. I’ll call you later on this evening and we’ll discuss how to handle this matter. I will talk to you then.”
Jules heard a click on the other end of the line and knew his father had hung up the phone on him. In the solitude that ensued, the producer felt an utter loneliness and vulnerability he had not previously experienced before in his life. Here there was no drug or drink to chase away the pain, no woman or man with whom he could amuse and distract himself. No, here there was only himself, and as Jules stared, petrified, into the abyss of his own soul, the overwhelming emptiness threatened to engulf him and he started to cry. He wondered with morbid curiosity about the razor blades in his luggage and about the bottle of sleeping pills he kept stored for a rainy day, but then he remembered Ana, Ana who had never once abandoned him but whom he had abandoned, Ana, who would love him always despite his vices. She was only next door in the adjoining room. All he had to do was unlock the deadbolt that separated them from one another, and let her in...such a simple matter...
...and so, running to the door, he unlatched it and flung it open, collapsing almost at once into the open arms that seemed to be awaiting his arrival on the other side. For the first time in his life, he felt the peace that attends unconditional love, and he cried no longer for himself, but for the joy of knowing nothing could break their bond, and no one could divide her for him.
***