Hello Friends,

I have already commented that I never write for the purpose of showing a role model or bring someone's spirit up. I write about regular people who often do things that are not exemplary or deserve reader's praise. I write about whoever comes to mind and don't expect some kind of moral in the end.

This story is about a person who wanted to get what he wanted easy.

The Bonus

After the premier of the "B" film, "Ghost in the Log Cabin" starring Andrea Salzberg, Jack Nace, her chauffeur, drove her to the fashionable night club "Foggy's Notion" for a customary post-opening celebration. While waiting in the car till the party ended, Jack dozed off.

Smiling red-haired angels dressed in black with orange polka-dots danced in his consciousness, hiding from Jack the pointer to the current moment, thus compelling him to search for it throughout his uneventful twenty-two-year-old life.

The angels danced Jack all the way back to the time when his older brother, Ted, used to let him ride on Ted's imaginary horseback.  Then there was a school, where Jack never really shined.  He completed his homework but didn't do one iota more.  He got along fine with other kids but never was a leader of either mischievous or righteous enterprise. His interests were also average - first toys, then computer games and movies.

Something changed, however, when he was in the ninth grade. Bill Matthew, a boy Jack secretly looked up to, argued with the history teacher regarding Alexander the Great.

His argument was that Alexander's greatness came from inventing the phalanx.  Should he have lived a hundred and fifty years later, when there had already been Roman legions, he'd end up beaten like his descendant Philip V at the Battle of Cynoscephalae.

Fascinated with this realization, Jack never doubted it.  He didn't hypothesize what would happen if Alexander really lived in Philip's time and went with Philip's army against the Romans.  Nor did he ever surmise whether Philip could have matched Alexander's deeds should he have lived in the place of the great conqueror.

Jack just accepted that a person becomes famous by the nature of opportunity - being in the right place at the right time.  Everybody needed to be discovered, including him.  His favorite movies were the ones with lots of action, fights, and shoot-outs.  His favorite parts of the movie were visual effects and stunts.  Jack thought he would be discovered first as a stuntman, like Burt Reynolds.

At this time he experienced a major growth spurt and was accepted to the junior varsity and, by eleventh grade, into the varsity football team.  He didn't become the school "star," per se, but was regarded as a reliable and sturdy player.  

Jack's face didn't surprise anyone with its expressiveness or intellect, but he was a tall, good-looking beach-boy type with chiseled abs and a set of white teeth that were nice to show in a smile.  He had his share of success with girls and was complicomplimented on his dimensions and stamina. But looking toward his expected future Hollywood success, Jack didn't want to tie himself down to an average girl.

After graduation, his Uncle Ben, who had worked as a manager in AAMCO, offered him a job as a car mechanic.  But Jack didn't want his hands to smell like machine oil.  More so he didn't want to be mixed up with the repairmen's guild.  Instead, he used his uncle's recommendation to work for a limousine company.  Here he felt, driving around Hollywood stars, there was an opportunity to be discovered.

Luck smiled upon him several years down the road from the lips of the marginally famous actress, Andrea Salsberg, when he picked her up drunk from a nightclub.  Andrea had just fired her previous chauffeur.  Jack did his best trying to be polite, charming and helpful. She took a shine to him and offered him a position.

Now Jack was working for Andrea for close to a year and had taken her to a couple of premieres like the one that happens tonight.  Their relationship was polite and somewhat friendly, especially when she was drunk, but never went further than that.

At three-fifteen A.M. his cell phone woke him up.  The smiling, red-haired angels disintegrated with sad whispers. Andrea told Jack to wait for her at the door. He stepped out, locked the car and walked toward the entrance.

As he stopped at the door, a security guard waved recognizing him. Andrea was a regular in this just like in a bunch of other nightclubs.

The door opened and Andrea grabbed Jack's hand. "Oh… here you are."

Andrea held herself upright, but by the way, she leaned on him Jack gathered that, even for her accustomed-to-drinking brain, the dose she had taken this time was way too much. This time, instead of his customary opening the door and offering his hand, he had to hold her underneath her armpits while seating her and, then, rotate her and arrange her legs into the car.

"Do you think," she gave Jack the name of a famous young actress and inviting him into a conversation, "she's beautiful?"

"Not as beautiful as you are, Ma'am," Jack answered with his usual politeness, looking around the intersection before making a left turn. The limo swam through the warm night, surfing on smooth shock absorbers.

"Not as beautiful, mi amigo, still assumes the presence of beauty. While in my opinion, she's not beautiful at all. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Some people find her beautiful."

"I am not interested in other people's opinions, Jack. Light it for me would you?" Andrea stretched her hand with a cigarette in between the seats and, after Jack flicked the lighter, took a deep drag. "Don't try to shift the topic. This might work with some bimbos; not with me. Do you think I am a bimbo?"

"No Ma'am."

"I know.  None of my husbands thought I was."  Then, after a pause that lasted long enough for an African elephant to shake his tail three times, "They thought I was a bitch, though…"

"Am I a bitch, Jack?"

"No Ma'am."

She continued as if not noticing his answer.

"Oh no, not right away.  At first, they all were charming, interested, and nice.  It's always then. 

It's that horrible inevitable THEN.  Why can't it be spring?  Aaaaaaaaaaalways spring…"

Andrea relaxed on the warm, soft leather seat, dropped her guard and, gradually, her conversation lost consistency and began jumping from one subject to another. She often stopped her thought in the middle only to start another one, the connection to the previous one lost somewhere in her intoxicated brain.

"So tell me your honest opinion, don't be afraid." She waved her hand with the cigarette in a gesture wide and theatrical. "Is she beautiful or not?"

The insistent siren of an ambulance interrupted her questioning. Jack stopped the car and waited until the ambulance passed.

"No Ma'am." he swallowed a sigh - deep down inside he found the actress that Andrea was inviting him to comment on, perfectly beautiful. And to him, this interrogation - with the rebuttal of an obvious fact - seemed useless, like an empty lot surrounded by barbed wire.

"They all are jealous of me," she continued, "this swarm of brainless, no talent bimbos."

"…but not today. Today was my day. Mine! They all came and sucked the grease off my shoes. These," Andrea lifted her legs up in the air and shook them, "See?" Jack turned around quickly and smiled. It was a good pair of legs, indeed." And it doesn't matter whether I played this stupid role in the log cabin, or I played Ophelia, or Juliet, or Wonder Woman - I'd still be better than them. A bunch of stupid, brainless freaks. All of them! The whole of Hollywood!" Jack saw her making a wide gesture, "YOU could've played better than them."

Jack's heart jumped in anticipation.

"You think so Ma'am?"

"Yeah." Andrea's mind seemed to drift high above Jack to where LA's crows slept on tree branches. "Some people think you have to have the talent to act.  Puh-leeze."

There was a short pause as if Andrea not completely lost her train of thought, but changed cars.

"You know what I had to go through to get here? Hell! Fucking Hell. Through all those greasy, horny bunches of pricks!" She opened the window and screamed into the night.

"You're all a bunch of priiiiicks!"

***

From this point on Andrea kept on screaming profanities periodically out the window all the way till the car approached her mansion and stopped.

"We are home, Miss Salsberg. Would you like me to walk you to your door?"

"You want to call it a night, huh?" her question contained a hidden answer like a false-bottomed suitcase contains cocaine.

Jack looked at her inquisitively, waiting for instructions.

"No, I don't think this night is over just yet," she continued. "I think something is missing." These words she said in a softer, dreamier tone of voice.

"Come over here, Jack." She tapped on the leather next to her. "Sit right by me." Jack came out of the driver seat, opened the passenger door, and sat by Andrea. "Let me look at you. Oh…nice and firm" she giggled while her hand slid down from his shoulder and squeezed his right biceps.

"What about here?" her hand went down his body and into his pants.  Jack reacted.

"Oh my God," she muttered to herself, "You're as big as a tree stump. You are not Jack! You are ‘LUMBER-Jack!'" she added with playful affection.

"Open the sun roof."

"Ma'am?"

"Open it!" As Jack was pressing the button to open the sunroof, she impatiently prepared herself for what was about to happen.

"Here, put this on," but almost instantly changed her mind. "No, wait. Better use these. They'll suit you better." Jack complied.

As she lowered herself down on him the first time and Jack tried to offer his support to prevent her from sinking too low, too fast, she almost snapped.  "Take your hands off, I'll control it myself." She grabbed the edges of the sunroof, established herself, and went to work.

As she was at the pinnacle of her movement, a strip of light from the street lantern fell on her neck and

Jack noticed two little white scars behind her ears. ‘Strange I never noticed them before. She must have had a recent plastic surgery.' When she slid down as far as she could, in the resulting sunroof opening, within a remote constellation, Jack noticed a bright star.

***

‘She said I was as big as a tree stump,' Jack recollected, lying in bed at his apartment, looking at the ceiling. To him, the whole situation seemed like a long awaited opportunity, the opening in the fence line revealing the cut grass of the golf field. A dreamy smile rolled around his lips. ‘I am not a tree stump, of course, but packing some good equipment, nonetheless.'

Jack crossed his hands behind his head and his smile became more pronounced. He thought that now, after what happened between them, he'd become Andrea's lover. At first, it'd be a big secret. It'd be her escape, her fantasy, her ‘kink.' He'd become this fantasy, her big, strong, "lumberjack." Why not - if that's what she wanted. But, after a while, she'd grow dependent on him - she'd want him every night. She'd eventually get tired of doing it in the car and she'd invite him into the mansion. They'd do it in her bed and in the Jacuzzi and on the kitchen table. Hell, wherever she wanted it. Then she'd like to have breakfast together and they'd have lots of fun doing… whatever the hell rich folks do. Play polo and go to parties.

‘I'll help her study her roles.  I'll become a familiar face on all her movie sets. I'll become noticed, myself. Hell, we'll do another "Graduate" together if that what it would take.'  Jack didn't care for that movie and, like Burt Reynolds, considered the main character, Ben, a wimp.

***

The next day, getting ready for work, Jack gave special attention to the details of his attire. Taciturn by nature, he'd always let them speak that mood. He even put on cuff links made of jasper - the most expensive accessory in his wardrobe, and wore "unmistakably masculine Old Spice."

As Jack met Andrea, he gave her a tacit smile. She responded with a smile of her own, but a forced one stretched thin on top of the iceberg of a frown.

There was a silence long enough for the Norwegian fisherman in the fjord off the North Sea to release the lock on the net and watch with the smile how all the catch of Silver Herring splattered on the deck of his boat.

Andrea coughed, clearing her throat, and started rather dry, as if she was handling a task, unpleasant but necessary, like putting the trash containers out on a Friday morning street.

"Ok, Jack. I think I owe you an explanation. You are my driver and so far I was pretty happy with your performance. You are always freshly shaved, appropriately dressed, and use co…" she wanted to pronounce the word cologne, but pondered again as if something changed her mind.  "And you are a good, solid..., "she giggled nervously searching for a word, "...'performer.' I should give you that."

Jack walked silently behind her, opened the door of the limo, let her sit down and took his spot at the driver's seat.

"Having said that..." Andrea opened her purse, pulled her lipstick, touched up her lips and rolled them two times to distribute the lipstick evenly. This movement, enforced with the successive look in the mirror, gave her a burst of confidence and she continued in a calmer tone. "Having said that, I'd like you to see what happened last night in the proper light. I am a movie star... and you are a driver. Am I being perfectly clear?" she smiled with almost maternal kindness. "What happened," she added to the utmost clarity, "was not a benefit of your job, but a one-time bonus. You understand?"

"Ok," she added after a pause, "maybe an occasional bonus." And she giggled amicably, clearly very happy with herself.

Jack inhaled, turned around and looked in Andrea's eyes.  He didn't like the role she allocated to him.  He had different plans.  It was a "now or never" moment, he surmised.  He had to do something.

"But I love you, Andrea," Jack spoke these words with conviction – at this moment she was everything to him.

There was another pause long enough for a dancer at the Cabaret "Voltaire" to lift her left leg to the level of her ears.

"Come again?"

Jack's heart sank.  Not that he knew exactly what response he'd encounter, but its vicinity wasn't exactly a nice neighborhood.  Jack dropped his head and in the remaining absence of eye contact, repeated his declaration.

"I love you, Andrea." his voice now followed his soul down to his heels and trembled.

"Love? Let me tell you something about love, amigo.  You think you can come barging into my life, swing your dick in front of me and I'll drool all over you? I bet you thought you've had it made, huh?  Well, let me let you in on a little secret, buddy.  I've figured you out and it's "NOT TO BE!" Ever heard of this phrase?  I don't like when my chauffeurs get too familiar with me.  Comprende? "

She looked at her wristwatch. It was thirty-two minutes past ten. 
"I'll be late.  Drive."

Jack started the car and drove.

"Oh, yeah…and since we are on the topic, don't wear this cheap-ass toilet water any more.  You stink up the whole car."

Although he was dressed in a suit and tie with cufflinks made of jasper, Jack felt much more undressed than he was the night before.  And it seemed that somewhere far away red haired angels in orange and black polka-dots laughed at him.

***

On his way home that evening Jack stopped at a nearby bar, boozed himself up and got into a fight. As he walked home, bruised and black-eyed, that star from the remote constellation looked down at him, steady and cold.