In Your Dreams Bobby Anderson Read online

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  “So, Mr. Judge, is it?” Bobby reached out to shake the man’s hand.

  “That’s right,” Judge said, not accepting the offer of a handshake. “Please don’t be offended, but I only shake a man’s hand after I get to know him.”

  “Um, no. That makes sense.” Bobby quickly withdrew his hand and tucked it safely back into his pocket where it came from. “No problem at all. So… you find people?”

  “That’s right. Why don’t you sit down and tell me what this is all about?”

  Bobby sat down on a rather uncomfortable battered office chair and felt as though he were in a rundown shrink’s office trying to get in touch with his inner needs―in this case, his need to find Susan.

  Why couldn’t this person just make it easy for him? It had been hard enough finding a detective. Well, actually not that hard; there are millions of them in L.A it turns out—well, not millions, if we’re going to be honest, but plenty in the online yellow pages. However, it hadn’t been easy for Bobby to choose. Probably the hardest part, though, was getting up the nerve to make the call. In retrospect, probably the hardest part was getting into the car and driving to the detective’s office, which was in an eyebrow-raising part of town.

  To top it off, his GPS kept telling him to turn left where there was a clear “No Entry” sign staring him straight in the face. Challenged by a woman’s voice that kept telling him to turn! turn! turn! and navigating streets he wasn’t familiar with, Bobby arrived in a state of simmering distress.

  But that should have been all right, shouldn’t it? Surely this was the equivalent to walking over hot coals for the one you love. He just wished he knew more about the one he loved: hence the detective, and we are back to where we started with the detective story.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Susan.” Yes. They were back on track. Mr. Judge knew what he was doing. It would be fine. Susan would soon be his.

  “Last name?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve asked, but she didn’t say.”

  “California?”

  “New York City.”

  “Address?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Okay, area?”

  “Maybe a hospital.”

  “Student?”

  “I think patient, but I’m really not sure. She could be fine.”

  Funny look now. “Picture?”

  Bobby smiled; this was easy, “Red hair, green eyes, slim, round face, little feet, maybe twenty years old.”

  “I mean do you have a picture?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “It doesn’t matter about the feet.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, no picture?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s see, Susan, New York City, red hair, pretty, twenty.”

  “Exactly! Can you find her? How long will it take?”

  The detective stared down at his pad of scribbles and frowned.

  Bobby did not want to see frowns. He was already thinking about all the other names he’d missed on the Yellow Pages detective listings. He’d skipped through A to I and settled on Judge because it sounded tough. Now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t want skepticism. He needed this Judge guy to be upbeat and positive about finding Susan, just in case he wasn’t.

  “It’s not much.”

  “If I had more I guess I could find her myself.”

  “I guess so.”

  There was a pause while Judge looked at his pad again, checking to see if he’d missed something. Bobby saw the doubt on the detectives face and worried that he would have to go back to his own list and find another detective in another weird part of town. The thought caused sweat to form on his palms.

  “All right, I’ll start with the hospitals like you said. Do you know what her illness is? That would help.”

  “Umm, I don’t even know if she is, you know, ‘ill’, but, umm, maybe mental?”

  The detective studied Bobby for a short while. He knew the actor, of course. The last he’d heard, Bobby Anderson had been found heavily drunk after having shaved off all of his hair. That kind of behavior usually signaled the beginning of bigger problems. Was this the bigger problem, or just a symptom of it?

  “You know, I’m obliged to ask you what you want from this person, just in case you want to harm her or stalk her.”

  “Really? They oblige you?”

  “Well, it’s sort of my own thing. I don’t want to end up regretting my work, if you get my drift.”

  “Yeah, sure. I get your drift. Well, Mr. Judge…” Bobby paused, hoping the detective would give him a first name to use. None came. “Well,” cough, “like I said, no, I’m not stalking her.”

  “Actually you didn’t say that.”

  “Right. Well, I’m definitely not stalking her. I met her once and I really want to meet her again, that’s all.”

  “I’m sure she follows your tweets. Why don’t you just put a tweet out for her and let her contact you?”

  “Good point.” Pause. “I guess I don’t think she’s looking at twitter.”

  “It’s going to take time.”

  “I can pay you.”

  “I know.”

  “About, time…”

  “Problem?”

  “I don’t mind paying you double to put all your efforts into this case…because I don’t think I have that much time.”

  “Because she’s sick?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I don’t have any other cases at the moment. I can give it all my attention.”

  “Why don’t y—”

  “Slow month. But I’m good.”

  Of course he was good. He could read Bobby’s mind like a pro.

  “Okay, when can you start?”

  “I’ll fly over there tomorrow—morning flight. I’ll call you each evening at seven, even if I don’t have news. If I find her or if I have a lead I’ll call you right away.”

  “Sounds like a plan. How much do I pay you upfront?”

  “Two thousand should cover immediate expenses. Plus an extra three thousand in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  “Just in case. You get it back if I don’t need it.”

  Oh, all right.”

  “You sure you’re not into any funny business?”

  “I’m sure. Look, I just like her. I’m not some sort of nut.”

  The detective didn’t look so sure, but he also didn’t look like he cared all that much either. He’d judge the situation if and when he found the girl. That’s why he was called Judge: he didn’t jump to conclusions until he’d seen all the evidence. “Good bye,” he said, taking Bobby’s check with one hand while offering the other.

  “Yeah, man. Good luck.” Bobby shook Judge’s hand and gratefully left the building.

  CHAPTER 20

  The next few days went by with a steady case of nothing happening, except for a phone call from his mother saying she would remain in France until the end of the month, since she was having a “ball” and she and Lily were vineyard hopping. She’d even picked up an acquaintance, Monsieur Bernard Blanc, who was desperately trying to impress them with the fact that he was French.

  Under normal circumstances, Bobby would have thrown a fit—Monsieur Bernard Blanc indeed!—and taken the next flight out to Paris.

  But as it was, Bobby was busy with his own drama. He decided to ignore all appointments, he didn’t go out, he didn’t have any guests over, and he didn’t pick up the phone to anyone other than Mr. Judge and his mother. He was totally focused, like the time he had to play the character of Mr. Penny, a dark handsome serial killer. It was Bobby’s first-ever lead role. The title, Penny For Your Thoughts, was a groaner, but he had been excited all the same.

  Bobby had spent about a week preparing for the role. He’d dressed in gothic clothes, eaten only meat, and listened to heavy metal music day and night. His reasoning behind all this was to make himself the opposite of what he believed “normal” people
were. A serial killer wasn’t a normal person, so the mix of the three elements: dark clothing, strange music, and heavy food, he felt, pointed him in the right direction to unraveling the character. Looking around afterwards, he’d realized he’d actually embodied the typical teenager. However, his acting had been convincing, which is all that really mattered at the end of the day. The movie only got a B rating, but it was a start. A slow start, but a start nonetheless.

  Now Bobby was preparing again. Preparing for life with Susan. But all this preparation wasn’t mounting to all that much. The calls from Mr. Judge all came in negative, and worse yet, Susan obviously wasn’t thinking about him again. He didn’t feel like going out, but it seemed he would have to do something crazy once more in order to grab her attention. But what? He’d already been warned by Patrick that he’d better steer clear of the booze. His latest escapade had earned him low grades with the producers, who were all edgy about where their dollars went. They wouldn’t want to invest in dangerous goods.

  Something else…

  The phone rang and Bobby jumped. It was four o’clock in the afternoon, too soon for Mr. Judge to call him—unless there had been a breakthrough.

  But it wasn’t Judge. It was Amanda’s husband, Jerry Cross, interviewer for Yes Magazine. “Bobby!”

  “Jerry!” Bobby wasn’t sure why he’d picked up. He should have let Rosa take it and make the usual excuses.

  “I need to do a piece on you. You’re one of the most interesting celebrities we have going. How do you do it?”

  It was meant to sound like a compliment, but they both knew it was more of a farce. People were talking about Bobby’s future, and it wasn’t good. It also wasn’t fair! He had made a great movie, the producers were sure of it. Opening night would be in three months after the editors got finished with their hacking and chopping, but he already knew it was going to be great. And he’d made dozens of other movies, always giving his best, always performing up to par; and now that he was actually in love and trying his best to get the girl, just like in his own movies, he was failing in the eyes of the public. If only they knew the truth.

  But, his fans did not know and they were not behind him. Drinking and breaking up with Lola, that was what mattered most to them. He’d become famous because of his acting, and now he was going to fail because of his personal life.

  “I can talk today, this evening. How about six?” Bobby said.

  “Six is perfect.”

  Bobby knew that six would have been perfect even if Jerry’s son was having his Bar Mitzvah. Maybe an interview with Jerry was just what he needed to strengthen his ties with the public and get Susan thinking of him again. But what could he say? What would make the difference?

  He decided to turn to his gym room for inspiration. He felt that he hadn’t worked out for a while and he missed the sweat that came with all that focused effort. He was just in the middle of a fifty-pound weight squat when the idea occurred to him. It was brilliant. Well…brilliant by his standards, anyway.

  When Jerry arrived at six, Bobby was ready for him.

  “Your guest is here. You want I bring him in?” Rosa waited protectively in the entrance of the living room for his orders.

  “Where’s Lester?”

  “Lester? He go see his mother. He ask you last week. You need Lester?” Rosa looked disappointed.

  “No. I don’t need Lester. Thank you, Rosa. Please show my guest in.”

  Rosa hurried off, dedicated to her new role of Bobby’s substitute mother.

  It didn’t take Rosa long to return with Jerry close at her heels. She told him to sit and he did. While she disappeared to make drinks, Jerry shifted in his seat and organized his papers. Bobby worried when he saw all of Jerry’s scribbles. What was he planning, an ambush?

  When Jerry finally settled himself and his papers down, Whisky Coke in hand, he leaned forward in his chair and set his hungry eyes on Bobby. It was show time.

  “I want to get closer to my public,” Bobby said, before Jerry could get his first question in.

  Jerry coughed and raised his eyebrows. “Closer? How?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Um, enlighten me.”

  Bobby sighed and fell back into the sofa. So much conniving. Why couldn’t Judge just find the girl already? Why couldn’t they meet in a bar somewhere, date, get tired of each other, and eventually split up like regular couples? That was the lifecycle he was used to. Why all the extra complications? It just wasn’t fair not being average sometimes.

  “I want to do Broadway, just while I’m in-between movies.”

  “So, you want to go to New York City?”

  “Yes!” Bobby snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” By Bobby’s enthusiasm it would have been easy for Jerrry to believe he had come up with the idea himself.

  “Any shows in mind?”

  “Actually, I was already approached for a new, and I think, exciting show at the Broadhurst Theatre, but I’m not totally committed yet.”

  Bobby wasn’t committed at all. He’d been sent the play script, Marionettes, two weeks ago and had dumped it in a drawer. It was quite amazing he hadn’t dumped it in the trashcan, and equally amazing that he remembered the script at all when the crazy idea came to him.

  Jerry scratched his ear (an annoying habit, according to his wife) and took a leisurely bite of his pencil. “What does this mean for you?” Jerry let his tongue examine the woody taste of the pencil in his mouth. “I thought you were going to start a new movie in less than four months.”

  “Well, Jerry, that was never certain. I guess some people might make what they want of my new interest, but I loved theatre when I was young and I miss that connection you get with the public.”

  “I see…”

  “And it won’t be for long. The show will only run for three months, but I’m not even sure if I’ll be there until the end. I might just run with it for a month. It’s not set yet.”

  “I see…”

  “So, I will definitely be in New York City. I’ll be living there for a while. As a matter of fact, I’m searching for an apartment right now.”

  “That must be fun.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  Jerry sighed. He’d had a list of questions for Bobby, but it all seemed irrelevant. The drinking and Lola and the movie were all second news now. But doing theatre still wasn’t much of a story. Not a juicy one, anyway. He decided to just go for it. “Bobby, could you tell me what it’s like now, um, without Lola?”

  “Lola?” If he had to be perfectly honest, he felt he’d broken up with Lola years ago. Why were people still talking about her?

  “Yes. She’s been quoted as saying that you have a drinking problem.”

  “Really?” this was news to Bobby. Maybe he should read more.

  “Yes. She had lunch with my wife, Bobby, and she said that about you. It hasn’t gone public yet, but it will.”

  “Are you printing that?”

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t do that. No one wants to hear bad things about you, Bobby, but, um, do you have something more interesting for me? Something I could publish instead?”

  Bobby felt a chill. Was it true? Had Lola said he was some kind of a drunk? But even if she had, so what? He didn’t have a drinking problem, and if she went to the papers with lies he’d sue her. He’d seen plenty of public figures sue and come out on top. He would sue. “I’m not falling for this, Jerry. Sorry. If Lola says anything that is an out-right lie about me, and if it jeopardizes my career, I’ll take her to court and anyone who backs her up by publishing such material. You get what I’m saying.”

  Jerry nodded and smiled. At least Bobby had learnt a thing or two. It didn’t mean there wouldn’t be a story soon enough, though. Lola was angry, and female; anything was possible. At least Bobby was pulling out his cards early. “But there must be something you have for me,” Jerry persisted. “A show on Broadway is fun, but not a page-turner. Come on. For me. You’ve got to have something
else.”

  Bobby leaned forward again, ready for this interview to be over and done with. “I do have something for you, but stick with that and leave Lola out of my commentary. She and I are through.”

  “Okay, okay, you got it. Just tell me before I wet my pants.” Chuckle, chuckle. “Just kidding.”

  “Sure, whatever. Just listen. I stopped seeing Lola because I am in love with someone else. She lives in New York City and I want to spend more time with her. That’s why I’m going there.”

  “Wow! Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Jerry hurriedly jotted down Bobby’s precious words and grinned. “So, when does the public meet her? What’s her name?”

  Luckily, Bobby had thought of this too. The gym was a great place for preparing for interviews it turned out. “She’s not in the acting world,” he said. “And she wants to keep a low profile. I’m sorry that I won’t be giving out her name just yet, or bringing her out in public either.”

  “Fair enough,” Jerry laughed. He had enough for the front page of Yes, and that was all he needed for now. He’d be back for more in a few days. Christ, he’d even follow Bobby to New York if he had to. Amanda wouldn’t mind. She loved Manhattan. She also liked being in L.A. by herself; either way, it wouldn’t be an issue.

  Relieved that that the interview was finally over, Bobby led Jerry down the hall to the front door.

  “Let me know when you leave.” Jerry held out his hand for a shake.

  Bobby accepted the hand offering and realized that he was moving to New York City. He was actually going to do it. Would he really leave Tillie all alone? Well, she’d gone off to France, hadn’t she? She would be fine. Wow. He was going.

  “Bobby?” Jerry stared at him.

  “Yeah?”

  “So, you’ll let me know?”

  “Oh, sure. As soon as I go.” Of course he wouldn’t tell Jerry. Let the man work for his money.

  “Bye, Bobby.”

  “Bye.”

  Phew. He was alone at last. Bobby knew this would get Susan thinking of him. Tomorrow she would read the article and he would see her again. He hadn’t been this excited to go to bed since he was a little kid on Christmas Eve.