Date: Mon, 21 Jun 2010 06:15:30 EDT
From: BertMcK@aol.com
Subject: Dancing on the Tundra, 22

DANCING ON THE TUNDRA
by Bert McKenzie
Copyright 2010

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any real
person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.

CHAPTER XXII

     "I want to do a musical.  Can't you understand.  I'm a
dancer.  I want to dance."  He was tired of arguing.  Terry just
couldn't understand the way the system worked.  He was supposed
to be the star, but he always heard that stars got their way.
People were supposed to cater to stars.  And yet in his real life
it seemed that he never got his way.  Pete was always telling him
what to do, what jobs to take, where to go, who to see.

     "Okay," the man on the other end of the phone said.  "How
about this?  You do this film and I'll see what I can find for
you in the way of a musical opening in L.A."

     "It's a war picture.  How many times do I have to tell you I
don't do war pictures."

     "It's not a war picture.  It's a rescue movie with a darn
good love story.  So you wear a uniform and fly a plane.  No big
deal.  That's not where the interest is."

     Terry stretched out on the couch and sighed.  "And I suppose
the bombing run on Cambodia and the big battle scene where I kill
all those Vietnamese is no big deal either."

     "It's action.  Your fans love you in these action films.
You never objected to killing people before.  What about those
drug smugglers in 'The Baja Connection'?  That never bothered
you."

     Terry was at a loss to explain the difference.  "They were
the bad guys," he said weakly.

     "Well so are the Viet Cong in this script."

     "You just don't understand.  They're only bad from our
perspective because they're on the other side in a war.  It's not
like they've really done anything to me personally."

     "Terry, don't you want to work?  It seems like we have this
same argument before every project and quite frankly, I'm sick of
it.  You make up your mind and call me back."  Pete banged the
receiver down in his ear.  Terry slid the antennae back down on
his cordless phone and dropped it on the table next to him.  A
deep depression began to settle in.  Pete was the closest thing
he had to a friend.  Unfortunately, Pete was only driven by his
lust for money.  He didn't seem to take into account Terry's
feelings, as long as it was good for the image.  Terry often
wondered who he really was.  The image that Pete had built in his
careful selection of movie scripts was definitely not the real
person.  But who knew this.  Even his mother seemed to confuse
him with his film persona, suggesting that he hire a bodyguard in
case the Columbian drug lords would try to have him killed.

     The phone rang again and Terry debated whether he should
pick it up.  After the third ring he grabbed it and pulled up the
antennae.  "Pete, I'm sorry," he apologized.

     "Terry?" a vaguely familiar voice asked.

     "Yes?"

     "Terry, its Paula."

     "I'm sorry, I thought you were my manager."  Then suddenly
it hit him what the voice said.  He sat up, instantly alert.
"Paula?  My God . . ."

     "I got your number from your mother.  I hope you don't
mind."

     "Mind?  No, it's great to hear you.  Are you in
Springfield?"

     "No, I'm still in Dallas, but I was thinking of coming out
to California.  I just thought I'd give you a call and see if you
might be willing to have a visit from an old friend."

     "Hell yes!  That'd be great!  When are you coming?  Do you
need a place to stay?  I've got plenty of room.  Are you bringing
the wife and kids?"

     "No, it's just me and a friend.  It's really a long story
and I can't afford this phone call.  Give me your address and
I'll write you the details."  He quickly relayed his address and
she hung up.  Terry jumped up from the couch with a whoop.  He
suddenly felt alive again.  He could hardly wait to have company,
someone to help end the loneliness of this big house.  He'd be on
his best behavior and try not to say what he thought of her
spouse.  He felt so good he immediately called Pete and told him
he would do the film.

     The next day Pete called back to tell him he was off the war
picture.  The company decided they wanted Chuck Norris instead.
Terry didn't look rugged enough for them.  He then asked Terry if
he would be interested in doing a weekly comedy series.  The
actor said he would definitely consider it.  At least it was
comedy and that might be fun, but he again put in a request for a
musical.

     Three days later a very brief note arrived from Paula.  She
said she would be in L.A. in a week and was looking forward to
seeing him again.  She said she was driving in and would call for
direction when she got in town.  Terry quickly scanned the
envelope and letter.  There was no return address, just a Dallas
post mark.  He was dying of curiosity.  She didn't say anything
about her friend who was coming along.  She didn't mention the
reason for the trip.  She didn't reveal why she chose now after
all these years to make contact.  It all seemed rather
mysterious, but then that was only looking at things from his
point of view.  He tried to be objective.  Paula was probably
coming on business.  She was aware of his success and thought
she'd look him up.  Her friend was probably a business associate
traveling with her.  He would just have to wait and see.

     Ten days later Terry was on pins and needles.  He had
Conchita in to thoroughly clean his house from top to bottom.  He
cleared his calendar and double checked with Pete's secretary to
make sure no one was expecting him anywhere.  He then curled up
with a trashy romance novel and planted himself next to the
phone.  Every time it rang his heart stopped in anticipation.
Finally at 10:30 in the morning the call came through.  "Terry?"

     "Yes, where are you?" he asked.  "I've been expecting you
for three days."

     "Sorry.  We had car trouble in the desert.  I'm at a Howard
Johnson's on South Sunset Boulevard."  Terry thought for a
moment, then gave her instructions to find his beach house.
"Great," she replied.  "I'll see you soon."

     Soon turned out to be two o'clock in the afternoon.  Terry
was ready to explode from the anticipation when he finally heard
the bell ring.  He ran to the door, then stopped to check himself
in the hall mirror.  He brushed back his blond hair and took a
deep breath, composing himself so he didn't look as nervous and
anxious as he felt.  Terry gripped the knob and pulled the door
open.  He wasn't expecting what he saw.

     Standing in the doorway was an attractive woman.  Her
permed, raven hair was long and curled down, framing her thin
face half hidden by large sun glasses.  Her figure was
proportionally curved and attractive, set off by the tube top and
tight fitting jeans.  Terry was disappointed, having expected his
friend.  "Terry," the familiar voice said.  "I guess you don't
recognize me."

     "Paula?"  He was stunned.  She was the right height and hair
color, but that was the only thing that fit besides her voice.

     "Aren't paybacks a bitch?  Now you know how I felt when I
saw you in Dallas and you dyed your hair and were using that dark
makeup."  He just continued to stare, his mouth hanging open.
"Well don't I get to come inside and see your mansion?"

     "Y-yes.  Come in.  My gosh you look . . ."

     "Different?"

     "You can say that again."

     "Do I at least get a hug?"  He reached out and grabbed her,
crushing her to him as if his life depended on it.  He could feel
tears welling up in his eyes, and he fought hard to force them
back, then he realized that she was crying as well, and he had to
join her.  Finally she pushed him back.  "Let's go inside before
the National Enquirer gets a photo of you holding me and runs a
story about the girl you left behind."  He laughed at her joke
and escorted her in.

     He gave her a quick tour of the house at her insistence,
then they settled on the terrace with a couple of lemonades and
looked at each other.  "When I said a mansion, I thought I was
only joking," she said to break the ice.

     "It's just a typical Malibu beach house," Terry replied,
embarrassed by the opulence of his one Hollywood extravagance.

     "Just a typical house with a swimming pool.  My God, Terry,
what do you need a pool for when you've got the ocean in your
backyard?"

     "Didn't you ever see 'Jaws'?" he retorted.  "But enough
about my house.  What happened to you?"

     "Cosmetic surgery," she replied.  "It made my face more
feminine."

     "But why?"

     Paula began to relate her story.  She had become more and
more discontent with her life.  She and Virgy began fighting over
every little thing.  So finally one day, she went to a bar where
a bunch of her truckers hung out.  They all knew her from work.
The only thing was, she went dressed as a woman.  Needless to
say, they thought she was a transvestite and being the intolerant
group that they were, several of them decided to rearrange her
pretty face.  When she was rushed to the hospital it became all
too apparent that she wasn't a transvestite.  She had to have the
cosmetic surgery to repair the damage the men had done in the
bar.

     Virgy decided she couldn't handle the fact that Paula was no
longer Paul.  The woman took the two kids, who were very
confused, and fled back to Minnesota.  Her lawyers straightened
out the custody and arranged the annulment.  Meanwhile, Paula
decided that she was happier being herself for a change.  Of
course she lost her job with the freight lines, but she managed
to grab hold of an opportunity with a rival company.  She was
only a dispatcher, but she was a lot happier now than she had
been in a long time.  Meanwhile she was saving up to buy her own
rig so she could go back to trucking.

     "A female truck driver.  I love it," Terry said
encouragingly.

     "It's no longer just a man's field," she said with a smile.
"And I just don't care what people think anymore.  So I'm going
to be a female truck driver.  So what?"

     "You know, there's lots of opportunities out here in the
film industry," Terry suggested.  "I bet if I ask around I could
get you a job.  Maybe you could even move in here.  I've got
plenty of room and . . ."

     "Stop, time out," she said waving her arms.  "I didn't come
out here looking for a hand out for me.  I came out here to see
my oldest and dearest friend . . .  And I want you to meet
someone, a very special friend."

     "You came all the way out here to have me meet your friend?"
Terry laughed at the uncomfortable look on her face.  "I'd love
to meet your new girlfriend.  Where is she?"

     "It's a guy, not a girl."  Terry slowly set down his glass.
"He's back at the motel.  He didn't exactly know about all this,
and well I think he's getting cold feet about meeting you."

     "Well, when you go in for a change you really do the whole
thing," Terry said.  "Cold feet about meeting me?  Give me a
break.  I made a couple of movies, big deal.  I'm still a human
being.  I wish people would get over this celebrity worship
crap."  He stood up and reached out for her hand.  "Come on.
Let's go get your boyfriend.  You don't need a motel.  I've got
room here for both of you."

     Paula stood up and smiled.  "No.  He's not my boyfriend.
I'm still a lesbian.  Things like that just don't change.  But he
is a very good friend, someone I care a lot about.  He's a
writer.  And no, we can't go get him.  He's too nervous about
meeting you as it is.  Can you just stay here and I'll go get
him.  I'll do my best to convince him to come back with me."

     Terry shrugged.  "Fine.  But bring your luggage.  This place
has three bedrooms.  I'll take you both out to dinner.  Oh, and
be sure to tell him I won't bite."

     "I've got a better idea," she said with a smirk.  "I want
you guys to get to know each other, but not in a crowded
restaurant.  Can you maybe have a pizza delivered?"

     Terry laughed.  "Pizza it is."  She gave him a quick hug and
laughed a little giggle as she ran out to her car and drove away.
Terry shook his head and gave up trying to understand her
actions.  He went to check the two guest rooms, then came back
out to set the table in the kitchen.  As he put out plates and
glasses he suddenly thought about Paula's very odd behavior.  He
was happy that she now seemed so content.  He was likewise happy
that she was no longer saddled with Virginia.  He never really
liked the woman.  But why would she come all the way to see him
just to introduce him to a friend of hers.  Suddenly he had an
uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.  This couldn't
possibly be a set up.  Surely, Paula wouldn't walk back into his
life after eleven years only to play matchmaker for some guy she
just met.  But then she said the man was a writer.  Maybe he had
engineered the whole trip just to take advantage of Terry, hoping
to get a connection in the film industry.  Well if that was the
plot, Terry would be ready.  He closed his eyes and focused on
the cold, inner whiteness of the tundra.

     Some time later the pizza arrived.  Terry paid the delivery
man and took it out to the kitchen to toss it in the oven and
keep it warm.  He then selected a bottle of wine and placed it on
the table.  He had just put out the napkins when the bell rang.

     Terry walked slowly through the house and to the front door.
He looked out the carefully disguised peep hole to see Paula
standing next to a tall, muscular looking man with dark curly
hair.  Terry couldn't make out much more as the man was looking
off to the north and his face was in shadow.  Taking a deep
breath to center himself, he pulled open the door.

     "Hi," Paula said with a mischievous smile.  "I convinced him
to come back with me, against his will, I might add.  Terry, I'd
like you to meet my friend, Dan Beaumont."

     The man beside her turned to look at Terry.  He was older,
more mature, but he still had the same devil-may-care smile that
seemed to light up his whole face.  "Hi, Michaelson.  Long time
no see.  How's it going?" he said.  Terry stood rooted to the
spot while the room and the whole planet seemed to spin around
him.  "You're right," Dan said as he glanced down at Paula.  "He
isn't at all like his characters in the movies.  They talk."

     Terry closed his mouth and tried to swallow the big lump
that had formed in his throat.  Memories of his first college
play came flooding back.  He could still see Dan dressed as a
guard in 'Antigone.'  "It . . . it's really you?"

     "None other," the man replied.

     "Terry Michaels, this is your life," Paula said with a
laugh.  "Well go on.  Aren't you going to at least hug each
other, or something?"  Dan opened his arms and Terry gave him an
awkward hug, fighting to control the conflicting emotions that
were coursing through him.

     "The National Enquirer," Paula said as she observed how
uncomfortable the two men looked.

     "What?" Terry asked in a daze.

     "The National Enquirer," she repeated.  "They're just across
the street taking pictures.  You want to invite us in?"

     Terry glanced nervously across the street before realizing
that she was joking.  "Yeah, come on in."  He lead his two
friends inside.  "I've got pizza in the kitchen."

     "Shit!" Paula suddenly exclaimed.

     "What?" both men asked together.

     "In our hurry I left the suitcases sitting in the parking
lot of the Howard Johnson's."  She turned to head back out the
door.

     "We can call them," Terry offered.

     "All my money and clothes are in there, not to mention Dan's
stuff.  I've got to go back and get them."

     "Paula, it's okay," Terry said as he chased after her.

     "You guys start without me.  I'll be back later."  She
jumped in her car and raced off.  Terry stood in his front
doorway and had the sudden realization that he had been out-
maneuvered.

     He turned slowly to see Dan standing in the hall behind him,
hands folded on his still muscular chest.  "I think we've been
set up," the man said with a grin.  "Sorry."

     "That's okay," Terry replied with a nervous laugh.  "Come
on.  We might as well have dinner."  The two returned to the
kitchen and Dan sat at the table while Terry retrieved the food.

     As they ate Dan related his side of the story.  After he
dropped out of school he went to work for his father, but that
didn't last.  Eventually the older man begged Dan to return to
school and insisted on paying everything.  Pride can only go so
far, so Dan agreed and finally, after changing majors seven
times, he graduated with a BA in English.  A year later he
returned to grad school to obtain an MA.  "You've got a Masters?"
Terry asked.  "In what?"

     "English Lit.  Pretty good for a dumb jock, hunh?"

     After grad school Dan tried several occupations from
teaching high school to being a traffic cop.  But nothing ever
seemed to click.  He moved around a lot, hoping to see the
country, and eventually ended up in Dallas working as a male
secretary in a government office.

     "Paula said you were a writer," Terry told him.

     "Yeah, I do that on the side.  I sold two books, just pulp
romance novels, but it was fun."  He bit into a second piece of
pizza.  "You know, this stuff is really awful," he finally
admitted.

     Terry laughed.  "It is pretty bad."  He put the remaining
food back in the box and poured each of them more wine.  "Hey,
I've got an idea.  Let's . . ."

     "Save the rest for Paula," both men said together as Dan
flipped the lid shut on the box.  Laughing, Terry took the pizza
and stuck it in the refrigerator.

     Dan glanced inside at its empty expanse.  "You still don't
keep food in the 'fridge?"

     "I eat out a lot," Terry explained.

     "And Riunite," Dan said as he downed his wine.  "A nice
flavor, but not as expensive as I might expect from a movie
star."

     "Oh, please," Terry groaned.  They took their drinks out
onto the terrace and watched the sun setting in the ocean as they
sat beside the pool.  "So tell me how you met Paula."

     They ran into one another in Dallas, literally.  He was late
for work and ran a red light, broad siding her car.  After
exchanging insurance information, Paula recognized him and when
she described herself in college and mentioned Terry, he
remembered their one meeting.  He took her out for a drink.  She
apologized for being a bitch nineteen years earlier and they
became friends.  The rest Terry knew.

     "But I don't," Terry protested.  "Why did you come out
here?"

     "It was Paula's idea.  She said she felt responsible for our
breaking up years ago.  So she wanted to at least get us to meet
and make peace."

     "There's no peace to make," Terry said as he chugged his
wine.  "I mean, we were just a couple of kids, not ready for a
commitment."  They both looked out at the golden waves.  "So how
long can you stay?" Terry asked.

     "Not very long.  I've only got two weeks vacation and we
used several days just getting here."

     "Well, while you're here, you're my guest."

     "Just like old times," Dan said with a smile.

     "Not quite," Terry replied wistfully.  He told his friend
about Wayne's death.

     "That's a shame," Dan said, his voice tight with emotion.
"I've lost so many friends over the years."

     "Me too," Terry added sadly.  They sat in silence, each lost
in his own memories.  Terry thought about Wesley, and then
repeated the dead actor's words.  "You know, there's a lot of
incentive to stay out here."

     Dan looked up, staring curiously at Terry.  "Such as?"

     "Such as the climate.  You can go swimming all year long.
How about it?"  He stood up and began to pull off his shirt and
kick off his shoes.

     Dan laughed at the impetuousness.  "But Paula hasn't gotten
back with the luggage and I don't have any swimming trunks."

     Terry slipped his jeans off, revealing his nude body.
"That's okay.  I'm not wearing any either."  He dived into the
water, deliberately making a big splash and aiming it at Dan
still standing on the side.  The big man began to follow suit,
stripping to the buff and jumping in after Terry.  They splashed
and played, racing around the pool, and finally ended up at the
side, both gasping for breath.

     "You know, I was really nervous about this," Dan said,
brushing back his hair.  "You being a big success and all, I was
afraid you'd probably turn the dogs out on me."

     Terry looked deeply into the man's eyes, the eyes he
remembered so well from the past.  "I can't believe you're really
here.  There were so many times when I wanted to talk to you,
tell you . . . things.  Why didn't you ever answer any of my
letters?"

     "My stupid pride, I guess.  And then when I realized what a
jerk I had been, you stopped writing.  I followed your career,
even seen you on TV the night you won the Tony.  What would a big
star want to say to a nobody like me?"

     "In the first place, you aren't a nobody," Terry said as he
reached out and gripped Dan's wet shoulder.  "And in the second
place, I wanted to tell you how much I loved you.  Only, back
then I was too stupid to know it."

     "You can tell me now," Dan said as he reached out and
embraced Terry.  "That is, if it's not too late."

     "I don't think it's too late."  They pulled together,
pressing their lips in a passionate kiss.

     In a moment, Dan broke free.  "Maybe we better continue this
on dry land," he said.  "I'd sure hate to drown just as all my
fantasies are about to come true."

                            *   *   *

     They had just drifted off to sleep when the phone rang.
Terry rolled over and picked it up.  "Terry Michaels?" a man's
voice said.

     "Yes," Terry replied as he tried to rouse himself.

     "Mr. Michaels, this is the police department.  I'm awfully
sorry to bother you at this time of night, but our patrolman
picked up a woman in a late model Toyota parked in your
neighborhood.  She says her name is Paula Brown and that she's a
friend of yours.  She was just sitting in her car and it looked
awfully suspicious."

     "Thanks," Terry said.  "But she is a friend.  We . . . we
had kind of an argument and she was just waiting for me to cool
down.  I'd be very grateful if you'd let her go and tell her
she's welcome to come back.  I'm really sorry for the trouble."

     "No trouble at all," the man said.  "We just didn't want to
bother you if it was some crackpot fan or something.  We'll send
your girlfriend right over."

     "Where are you going?" Dan asked sleepily as Terry got out
of bed and looked for a robe.

     "To let Paula in," he said.  This seemed to satisfy the big
man who instantly rolled over and began to snore softly.  "I sure
don't remember him snoring in college," Terry mused as he left
the room and headed downstairs.