Silver Screens and Broken Dreams (Echoes of Us #2)

2. “Love is something sent from heaven to worry the hell out of you.” — Dolly Parton

Austin

N ow that we had wrapped Season Three and I had nothing booked for the break, I'd planned on going back home for a few weeks. Catch up with some friends, and try to dodge the people from back home who wanted to take a selfie with me, just so that they could say to their friends that they'd grown up with a celebrity. Most of the time I had never met those people before in my life.

I'd been trying to avoid going home for as long as possible. The last time I had, things had not gone so well. The principal of the local high school had called my agent one sunny Friday afternoon during my break after Season Two. They had invited me back to talk to the kids at the high school about pushing yourself to thrive in the big city and never giving up, peddling out the same bullshit across high schools since forever. I'd taken Kyle along with me for moral support and also in the hope that an Abercrombie model might take some of the focus away from me. As an actor, I kind of lived for attention, but when that attention was coming from the people from your hometown, there was a level of cringe factor that could not be overstated.

“Did the studio arrange for all of this?” Kyle gestured around us at the plush seats of the black stretch limo, the fully stocked bar along one side of the car and a flat screen TV on the far wall behind the driver.

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “I guess they want to keep up this image of mega-stardom. I suppose it's an ' if you build it, they will come ' technique. If people see us doing megastar shit, then they will assume we are, in fact, megastars and maybe be more inclined to watch our show?”

“No way, does that work?” Kyle grabbed a beer from the silver fridge at the end of the row.

I reached forward, grabbing my drink from a small inlet on the small table in the center of the space. I’d asked the driver-cum-bartender to make me an Old Fashioned, and had been nursing it for the last hour. As the scenes outside the window started becoming familiar, I downed my drink quickly. “Hell if I know, but I'm not gonna turn down all this free shit.” I clinked my glass against his bottle.

“Amen, brother.” He saluted me with the beer bottle in his hand.

A short while later, we pulled into the same school car park where I'd used to park my car only a few years ago. Pulling up inside some luxury vehicle gave me the biggest feeling of imposter syndrome. As if I were still a student, and the moment I stepped outside the car, they were going to see me as the fraud I was, the scared senior who'd danced with the love of his life at the school prom and not an actor on one of the hottest shows in America. My heart raced as I peered up the small set of stairs that led to the front entrance of the school. A small army of students stood there excitedly, waiting for me to exit the car. I saw various heavily decorated poster boards with my name glitter-bombed across them.

“Wow, this is all very extra,” Kyle whistled, his face pressed against the two-way glass.

“Yeah, this is definitely different from when I was here last,” I grimaced. The car pulled up as I watched the principal trot down the stairs towards the car. My driver jumped quickly out of the vehicle and held a hand up against the burly man’s chest, blocking his way. I see the tell-tale redness spreading onto Mr. Babcock’s angular bearded face, which always meant he was moments away from blowing a gasket. I stepped swiftly out of the car, putting my hands on the driver’s shoulder. I nodded towards the now-fuming man in a suit in front of him and gestured back to the car. He took his hand off the principal's and returned to the car.

“Austin,” Mr. Babcock said, the smile returning to his cheeks, “how lovely to have you back with us.”

“Thank you, Mr. Babcock,” I smiled in return, shaking his hand. “This is a friend of mine, Kyle Richards.”

“Oh yes.” He looked across the bridge of his glasses as Kyle, like he was some kind of exotic specimen. “I think I have seen your picture on some billboards downtown.”

“Yeah, those underwear ads are quite revealing,” Kyle purred, extending his hand towards him.

“Well, erm, yes…” Mr. Babcock spluttered. “They are quite… what I mean to say is, yes.”

“It was such a shame they had to reduce the size of certain things to make it safe for public viewing.” Kyle winked.

“Kyle!” I elbowed him gently in the side.

“Oh, I'm sure Mr. Bab cock has heard much worse.” He leaned suggestively towards the principal, his tongue caressing the cock part of his name. I cringed awkwardly as I saw my old teacher’s pupils expand, and his breathing pick up.

“I’m sorry about him, sir.” I nodded my head towards the man who would soon become my ex-friend. “Shouldn’t take him out in public without a muzzle.”

Seemingly too flustered to speak, the principal gestured for us to follow him and we made our way into the school.

“Do you have to try and ride every cock you see?” I bit out through clenched teeth.

“Austin!” he gasped, his hand pressed to his heart. “Like I’d have to try.” He gave me a salacious wink before striding ahead to follow his new target. I followed behind them begrudgingly.

“So I’m going to take you straight through to the auditorium Austin,” Mr Babcock spoke over his shoulder. “The AV department can get you miked up and take you straight to the stage.”

“Sounds good.” I nodded, picking up the pace.

“I’m just so happy to have our ex-students back with us. This will be really great for the kids to see what they can make of themselves if they just put in the effort like you boys did.” Alarm bells rang in my ears that I was almost sure weren’t coming from the sirens on the walls dotted throughout the high school's hallways.

“Sorry sir, did you say boys? As in plural?” My heart pounded as I knew, in my heart and head, what he was about to say before he even turned around.

“Yes Austin,” he smiled. “I assumed you knew. This afternoon’s session is about working within TV and film. The speakers are yourself and Dylan Cooper.”

A few minutes later, the excessive knocking continued on the door of the bathroom stall to which I had escaped moments after one name brought my entire world crashing down around me.

“Austin, you can’t stay in there all day,” Kyle sang through the door.

“What’s happening?” Mr. Babcock's worried voice sounded from the other side of the pale pink wood. Shit, have I come into the girls’ bathroom?

“Oh nothing, just tale as old as time. Boy meets boy, boys move to New York. Boy gets job as a big shot actor and moves to California and dumps other boy. Boy hasn’t seen boy in nearly two years and now has a run-in with him at old high school,” Kyle whispered loudly.

“That's a tale as old as time?”

“Sure it is.” I wanted to punch a hole through the door and strangle Kyle.

“I’m very sorry Austin,” Mr. Babcock called out through the thin wood. “I knew you and Dylan were together in high school. I mean, everyone did after the prom. But I wasn’t aware you had broken up.” The mention of prom gave me a swooping feeling in my stomach. That had been the start of the happiest period in my life. Am I happy now? I was definitely satisfied with my career. I loved my job. But was I happy? I didn’t want to answer or think too hard about that question.

Just a few hundred feet away was the love of my life. The man who could make me smile, make me feel warm, safe. Sexy and amazing, all at the same time. A few hundred feet away was a man whom I'd left, so that I could achieve a dream I’d had ever since I could remember. A few hundred feet away was the only man who could make me feel alive. I had tried to find that feeling again, but had so far been unsuccessful. I needed to get my shit together. By now he obviously knew that I was going to be here as well and he'd chosen to be professional and stay for the kids. I had to do the same.

“It’s fine, Mr. Babcock.” I pulled some tissue paper out of the dispenser and wiped the sweat from my brow. “I just needed a minute, that’s all.”

A moment later, we were passing rows of gray lockers with red doors down the long hallway leading towards the yellow double doors of the auditorium at the end. “Just breathe, okay?” I heard Kyle whisper in my ear.

“I am breathing,” I mumbled indignantly.

“You’re quietly gasping,” he hissed back.

My Babcock pulled open the doors and stood back, holding one of them open for me. I wasn’t able to tell whether the racing heart, sweaty palms and butterflies in my stomach were a good or bad sign. I didn’t have long to figure it out either, as I was pushed quickly through the door. My foot tripped over the thin metal plate at the base of the door separating the rooms. I put my hands out quickly in front of me as the patterned wooden floor came up to meet me.

I heard a chorus of oooh s, as my hands slammed onto the ground. I squeezed my eyes together, hoping that this was all just a bad dream that I would wake up from at any minute. “Wow, that was quite the fall,” Kyle’s voice whispered in my ear, his voice brimming with held back laughter. No such luck. I quickly pushed myself to my knees and climbed to my feet. The auditorium was filled with rows and rows of chairs, each one filled by a student that was currently watching my one man show with bemusement. My gaze jumped from startled face to startled face. I reluctantly drew my gaze up to the stage. There, standing front and center, was Dylan.

I don’t know what I was expecting, really. Did I think he was going to jump off the stage Baby Houseman style and run into my arms, where I could pick him up over my head to a rapturous applause from the student body and faculty? I stopped for a moment to wonder if I'd hit my head after all. A quick sweep of my fingers across my brow and through my hair confirmed I had not sustained a head injury.

Dylan just stood there at the microphone, waiting patiently for me to get my shit together and join him on stage. He didn’t seem flustered or out of breath. Without the luxury of a stethoscope on hand, I couldn’t check, but I was pretty damn sure that his heart wasn't beating out of his chest like mine was and the way he was holding the microphone, I could tell his palms weren't sweaty either. So why the hell were mine? And most important of all, why did he look as if nothing fazed him?

“Everybody put your hands together for FilmFlix star, Austin Ridge!” Dylan exclaimed pleasantly, gesturing towards me. A sea of applause went up around me, the kids at the end of the rows reaching out to shake my hand or pat me on the arm. Nothing could tear my attention away from the man on the stage. I walked confidently towards him, hoping that I could see some crack in his armour. Some piece of him that clearly still yearned for me, the same way I did for him. Either he had become the world’s best actor or he was truly over me.

“Hey Austin.” He smiled at me. He fucking smiled at me as if he were greeting an old friend. I looked at him, mouth agape for a split second, before I looked down to see the hand he had stretched outwards towards me. He wants to shake my fucking hand!

He stood behind a wooden lectern embossed with the school insignia and some motto that I'd never learned when I went here and had no interest in learning now. Not when there were much more interesting bits of information to learn, such as why he wasn’t as shaken as I was? A giant zap of electricity hit me as I took his hand in mine. My breath caught in my throat as my heart almost broke free of the confines of my ribcage, sweat collecting at the base of my spine as an urge to take almost overwhelmed me. I moved my gaze up slowly from where our hands connected to his own confused stare.

“Austin, are you okay?”

Fucking twilight zone, gremlin on the wing of the plane, nightmare at 20,000 feet craziness. I turned around to look at the rest of the students in the audience, who were also giving us the same confused stare. What was wrong with everyone? Did no one realise how truly momentous this was? This was the love of my life standing in front of me. I hadn’t realised I hadn’t been breathing for the last two years until I took his hand in mine, then life rushed back into my veins. Did no one see? Why could no one see?

“Austin?” he tried again.

“Yes, I’m Austin.” Smooth, Austin. A wide, maniacal grin broke out on my face as I tried desperately to hide the chaos simmering just under my skin.

“Yes, I know you’re Austin.” He smiled. “I’ve completed my bit before you got here. Are you okay to do your speech now?”

“Speech?”

“Yes, you know?” He gestured around the room. “The reason we’re here?”

“Oh speech! Yes, of course.” I was not ready to give a speech. My brain went into standby mode as Dylan approached the lectern and once again introduced me. A more subdued applause broke out as I took his place in front of the microphone. I looked out into the sea of expectant faces and began.

“Uh, hey, everyone,” I began, my voice slightly shaky. “It’s great to be back here at my alma mater , and thank you for having me. So, uh, you all want to know how to make it in the movie industry, huh?”

I scanned the faces in the audience, trying to ignore the pounding in my chest. Suddenly, my eyes locked on Kyle’s smiling face. Mischief danced in his eyes as he tried to hold back laughter.

“Oh, um, I guess I should start with, uh, perseverance,” I continued, trying to regain my composure. “The entertainment industry can be tough, and you have to be, uh, persistent in pursuing your dreams. Even when your dreams try to elude you, keep fighting for them.”

As I spoke, my mind kept wandering back to Dylan. Memories of our time together and our painful breakup flooded my thoughts, making it difficult for me to focus.

“And, uh, oh, networking! Networking is, uh, essential,” I stammered, attempting to avoid looking in Dylan’s direction. “You never know who you might meet or, uh, how they could help you in your career. But it’s important not to have sex with any producers or casting directors!” I heard what sounded like Mr. Babcock choking on his own tongue off to the edge of the stage.

The audience was attentive, hanging on to my every word, but I felt like I was stumbling over my own sentences. I knew I needed to keep going, to offer valuable advice, but my emotions were getting the best of me.

“Also, um, being versatile is, uh, important, heh, versatile.” I actually fucking chuckled at my own gay sex joke before moving swiftly on. “You might start with, uh, smaller roles, but don’t be afraid to, uh, explore different genres and characters.”

The sight of Dylan standing off to the edge of the stage, looking so effortlessly put together, made me feel even more flustered. I found myself fidgeting with the microphone, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“And, uh, of course, it’s crucial to, um, believe in yourself and your abilities,” I said, the nerves evident in my voice. “There will be times when, uh, you face rejection, but you have to, uh, keep going and stay true to your passion.”

In an attempt to wrap up the speech, I quickly summarised, “So, uh, believe in yourself, be persistent, and, uh, seize every opportunity. And, um, don’t let past heartaches, uh, hold you back.”

As I concluded, the audience erupted into applause, seemingly impressed by my generic, bullshit insights. I stepped away from the podium, feeling a mix of relief that it was over and disappointment in myself for not delivering the speech I had envisioned.

As the students approached me for questions and pictures, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Dylan. I could see him packing up his stuff into a brown leather satchel he had over his shoulder. He was shaking hands with the principal.

Fuck, is he about to leave? I politely excused myself from the crowd and made my way quickly across the stage. “Hey Dylan.”

He turned his attention from Principal Babcock to me, a smile etched on his features.

“I thought we could catch up. You aren’t leaving, are you?”

“Hi, yes sorry, I have to get back to the city.” He gestured over his shoulder towards the exit where a man in a dark suit and glasses waved over. And who the fuck is that? “Sorry, my driver is telling me we need to make tracks. I am ten minutes late but I wanted to wait till the end of your speech.”

“But you just got here!” I knew I sounded like an insolent child, but he couldn’t just leave. Didn’t he realise what this meant?

“Actually, I got in two nights ago,” he smiled. “I spent some time with my dad and Jessica, whom I no longer want to throw in front of traffic."

“But…” I heard Kyle cough quietly behind me, but I wasn’t about to lose any moments I could steal with Dylan.

“Listen Austin, I really have to go.” He smiled sadly. “I just wanted to say I am so proud of you. You got everything you ever wanted and I couldn’t be happier for you. You figured out what you wanted, and you went for it. I’m so glad I had time to see you again, to tell you that.”

I heard his driver call his name once more. He leaned across and pressed a small kiss to my cheek. I closed my eyes. His lips were like hot irons branding my skin. I wanted to grab him and never let him go. I wanted to turn my head and take his lips with my own. I wanted him to be mine again. But his kiss was fleeting. By the time I’d opened my eyes, he was halfway across the room. I wanted to call out to him to stop, to wait for me, but my mouth wouldn’t speak the words. With one last turn of his head and a wave he was gone, and my world fell to pieces.

“Are you okay?” Kyle whispered softly, next to me.

“No, I’m really not.”

That was the first and last time I had seen or spoken to Dylan since. I returned to California, resigned to the fact that whatever was next in store for me, I wouldn’t love like that again.

***

As we wrapped Season Three of the show, I sat in my Wegner swivel chair and watched as Teddy polished off his second beer in two minutes.

“Let us go to club, yes?” Teddy belched loudly, his eyes opening wide as if he was also surprised how loudly he’d burped. “Dear god.”

“Gross.” I wrinkled my nose.

“But yes, we go out. We find you nice man to make fun with for one night.”

I’m really not in the mood, Teddy,” I sighed, thoughts of Jason and Dylan doing nothing but to bring down any elation I had from filming the final scenes.

“I am not taking no for answer, my friend.” He reached across and slapped my knee. “I am going to make myself look handsome. You do same and I will meet you at front of studio in twenty minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, I waited outside the gates of the studio after telling my driver to take the night off and that I’d catch an Uber home. I surveyed the street, watching as people meandered up and down the wide sidewalks. The late afternoon sun beat down on the white stone of the floor, radiating heat upwards and warming my face. I knew I would wait more than the twenty minutes for Teddy from prior experience.

I cast my gaze across the street to Val’s Diner on the other side. Heavy purple wisteria blossoms hung from the trees that lined the opposite side of the street. A group of six young men sat outside around the small tables and chairs that Val and her husband set up outside early every morning. I'd been known to frequent there as soon as their doors opened, to grab one of her legendary pistachio lattes before heading onto the set.

One man at the table caught my eye. I pulled myself up from leaning against the white walls of the studio to get a better look. It can’t be him. Life isn’t that kind.

Pedestrians on the other side of the street passed by Val’s, blocking my view. I got more and more agitated as I worked my way closer. The man threw back his head and laughed, only his slender neck on display. Please let it be him.

Traffic horns blared as I walked blindly into the street, my eyes never breaking from their target. Another man reached over and stroked his fingers delicately across the back of the man’s head. My stomach rolled. Oh, please let it be him.

I stepped up onto the sidewalk and reached the barrier of the café.

“Dylan?”

The man turned round. A stranger’s face greeted me in the awkward silence.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.” I turned quickly and made my way back across the road.

It’s never him.