"An Unexpected Chance"
"Mrs. Dorris!" No answer. "Mrs. Dorris!! I am BEGGING you! Please turn off your vacuum! It's 5 o'clock in the morning!" Chrissy bellowed at the floor above her. "Mrs. Dorris!"
Ugh, she thought, you'd think that after 5 years...
Chrissy rolled out of bed, plopped on the floor, and army crawled her way to the bathroom. She was NOT a morning person.
"Well, this day has started off greeeaaat." she stopped, staring at herself in the mirror. ". AND I look like shit. Way to top it off there Chrissy," she groaned to herself.
Though Chrissy may have seen a hideous face staring back at her that morning, even after a restless night no one could argue that she was not beautiful. Though this morning her hair frizzed up to gravity-defying heights, it generally lay smooth and silky, blonde in the sunlight. Her dark blue eyes were slightly slanted giving her what SHE thought was the look of a cat. But in truth, her eyes only accented that gorgeous smile that even she couldn't fault. Her teeth were set perfectly and her lips were full and bright. Yet, for all this beauty, and all of her kindness, she could never keep a man.
Across town, on a not-too-awful New York morning, another person was awake, but he, unlike some people, rarely slept past 3. He sat on his bed, staring with unblinking eyes out of the window on the dew-soaked morning. Thought it had been years, and even after countless hours of therapy, he could not stop thinking of all those he had lost. Every morning he woke up, and every morning the same thought crossed his mind: Great, another day that I'm here, and they're not.
Some mornings he cried, others he simply stared. It was better when he cried. To get through a day with so many pent-up emotions was like keeping the animal inside a tiger.
Though this is what went on behind the mask he kept, to everyone else but himself and his therapist, he was an immensely polite, with a slightly reserved exterior, kind and giving, gorgeous man. Most people attributed his reserve to his nature, but in reality he was quite outgoing, that is, until a few years ago.
He even dated. Only a few girls, and he never got close, but he dated nonetheless. It was generally the women who came to him, as opposed to the other way around. It wasn't that he didn't like the women, just that he never felt a connection.
The phone rang.
He snapped out of his reverie and put on his exterior personality.
"Hello?" he said groggily, as if he had just woken up.
"Jeremy? Hey man! It's me, Raymond. Hey listen! I got you a spot on a contest show with some fans! I think it could really boost your image!"
"Hello Raymond." Jeremy inwardly groaned. Every conversation with his agent was to listen to ass-kissing for the whole conversation. The man never understood that Jeremy didn't need an image. Though immeasurably modest, Jeremy knew he was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood. "Hi Raymond. I understand that you always want to boost my image, but I'd really rather take today off if that's OK."
"Oh Jeremy, come oooooooon," Raymond practically groveled in what he clearly thought was a convincing tone, "Some press with the fans can't hurt!"
Cleary not in the mood to take more ass-kissing from his agen, Jeremy consented. "Fine, I'll do it. When, where, and what do I have to do?"
"That's the spirit m' boy!"
m'boy? The man is younger than I am! Jeremy thought
Raymond continued, "It's at Studio C, Higland St. and Mordstrom, 9:00 A.M. All you have to do is spend a day with the fan who knows the most about you. Easy right?"
"Yes Raymond that's fine. I'll see you there"
"Later man!"
"Shit! Not AGAIN!" Chrissy squealed as she saw that the clock read 8:36. She had fallen asleep again.
She sprinted to the closet, grabbed the nearest jeans and long-sleeve shirt, and ran to the bathroom. She gracefully hopped into the sink and applied her eyeliner. She ran a brush through hair and hopped down. The clock now read 8:45. "No! Slow down, slow down!" she shouted at it.
She dashed to the coat rack, grabbed up the pea-coat that her father had given to her that Christmas, slipped on her new black heeled boots, and scampered out the door and down the hall.
As she emerged from her building she raised her arm and hailed a cab.
"Late Again Ms. Silverman?" the doorman chuckled to her.
She laughed, "As always Marty. Have a great day!" She turned and flashed him her smile.
He chuckled and waved goodbye.
She climbed into the cab. "Highland St. and Mordstrom please."
"Will do" replied the cab driver, a man of middle-age with a very bald head.
"Thanks"
Jeremy returned from his shower and walked to his closet. Bearing his "image" in mind, he picked out a blue/black fitted T-shirt and black pants. He put on his shoes, and stood up, leather jacket in tow.
"Well, here we go." He said to himself as he applied his outward appearance.
He walked outside to his black motorcycle, stopped, looked at it, glanced back at the street, and began to walk towards the corner. He called for a cab and got in. Let's go pedestrian today, he thought.
Chrissy practically threw her money at the cab driver, shouted a quick "thank you!" and began sprinting to the law firm on the corner.
"Wait!" she heard someone yell out of the corner of her left ear. As she turned, someone grabbed her arm and began pulling her towards a door bearing the name STUDIO C.
"Hey! What's this about!" Chrissy, asked, peeved at the sudden impediment.
"I'm sorry, lady, but I'm BEGGING you, please come be on the show! Our third fan just cancelled on us and we start in 5 minutes!"
Chrissy could not help feeling sorry for the woman, a girl in her mid- twenties with a name tag labeling her as an assistant to the director. But she was still annoyed.
"What show? Please, lady, I need to get to work, I'm already late."
"I'll pay you! Just please come inside!" The woman said as a last ditch effort.
This is the most bizarre...
Thinking of no other excuse, and dying from curiousity, Chrissy finally said yes and allowed herself to be herded into the studio.
"Mrs. Dorris!" No answer. "Mrs. Dorris!! I am BEGGING you! Please turn off your vacuum! It's 5 o'clock in the morning!" Chrissy bellowed at the floor above her. "Mrs. Dorris!"
Ugh, she thought, you'd think that after 5 years...
Chrissy rolled out of bed, plopped on the floor, and army crawled her way to the bathroom. She was NOT a morning person.
"Well, this day has started off greeeaaat." she stopped, staring at herself in the mirror. ". AND I look like shit. Way to top it off there Chrissy," she groaned to herself.
Though Chrissy may have seen a hideous face staring back at her that morning, even after a restless night no one could argue that she was not beautiful. Though this morning her hair frizzed up to gravity-defying heights, it generally lay smooth and silky, blonde in the sunlight. Her dark blue eyes were slightly slanted giving her what SHE thought was the look of a cat. But in truth, her eyes only accented that gorgeous smile that even she couldn't fault. Her teeth were set perfectly and her lips were full and bright. Yet, for all this beauty, and all of her kindness, she could never keep a man.
Across town, on a not-too-awful New York morning, another person was awake, but he, unlike some people, rarely slept past 3. He sat on his bed, staring with unblinking eyes out of the window on the dew-soaked morning. Thought it had been years, and even after countless hours of therapy, he could not stop thinking of all those he had lost. Every morning he woke up, and every morning the same thought crossed his mind: Great, another day that I'm here, and they're not.
Some mornings he cried, others he simply stared. It was better when he cried. To get through a day with so many pent-up emotions was like keeping the animal inside a tiger.
Though this is what went on behind the mask he kept, to everyone else but himself and his therapist, he was an immensely polite, with a slightly reserved exterior, kind and giving, gorgeous man. Most people attributed his reserve to his nature, but in reality he was quite outgoing, that is, until a few years ago.
He even dated. Only a few girls, and he never got close, but he dated nonetheless. It was generally the women who came to him, as opposed to the other way around. It wasn't that he didn't like the women, just that he never felt a connection.
The phone rang.
He snapped out of his reverie and put on his exterior personality.
"Hello?" he said groggily, as if he had just woken up.
"Jeremy? Hey man! It's me, Raymond. Hey listen! I got you a spot on a contest show with some fans! I think it could really boost your image!"
"Hello Raymond." Jeremy inwardly groaned. Every conversation with his agent was to listen to ass-kissing for the whole conversation. The man never understood that Jeremy didn't need an image. Though immeasurably modest, Jeremy knew he was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood. "Hi Raymond. I understand that you always want to boost my image, but I'd really rather take today off if that's OK."
"Oh Jeremy, come oooooooon," Raymond practically groveled in what he clearly thought was a convincing tone, "Some press with the fans can't hurt!"
Cleary not in the mood to take more ass-kissing from his agen, Jeremy consented. "Fine, I'll do it. When, where, and what do I have to do?"
"That's the spirit m' boy!"
m'boy? The man is younger than I am! Jeremy thought
Raymond continued, "It's at Studio C, Higland St. and Mordstrom, 9:00 A.M. All you have to do is spend a day with the fan who knows the most about you. Easy right?"
"Yes Raymond that's fine. I'll see you there"
"Later man!"
"Shit! Not AGAIN!" Chrissy squealed as she saw that the clock read 8:36. She had fallen asleep again.
She sprinted to the closet, grabbed the nearest jeans and long-sleeve shirt, and ran to the bathroom. She gracefully hopped into the sink and applied her eyeliner. She ran a brush through hair and hopped down. The clock now read 8:45. "No! Slow down, slow down!" she shouted at it.
She dashed to the coat rack, grabbed up the pea-coat that her father had given to her that Christmas, slipped on her new black heeled boots, and scampered out the door and down the hall.
As she emerged from her building she raised her arm and hailed a cab.
"Late Again Ms. Silverman?" the doorman chuckled to her.
She laughed, "As always Marty. Have a great day!" She turned and flashed him her smile.
He chuckled and waved goodbye.
She climbed into the cab. "Highland St. and Mordstrom please."
"Will do" replied the cab driver, a man of middle-age with a very bald head.
"Thanks"
Jeremy returned from his shower and walked to his closet. Bearing his "image" in mind, he picked out a blue/black fitted T-shirt and black pants. He put on his shoes, and stood up, leather jacket in tow.
"Well, here we go." He said to himself as he applied his outward appearance.
He walked outside to his black motorcycle, stopped, looked at it, glanced back at the street, and began to walk towards the corner. He called for a cab and got in. Let's go pedestrian today, he thought.
Chrissy practically threw her money at the cab driver, shouted a quick "thank you!" and began sprinting to the law firm on the corner.
"Wait!" she heard someone yell out of the corner of her left ear. As she turned, someone grabbed her arm and began pulling her towards a door bearing the name STUDIO C.
"Hey! What's this about!" Chrissy, asked, peeved at the sudden impediment.
"I'm sorry, lady, but I'm BEGGING you, please come be on the show! Our third fan just cancelled on us and we start in 5 minutes!"
Chrissy could not help feeling sorry for the woman, a girl in her mid- twenties with a name tag labeling her as an assistant to the director. But she was still annoyed.
"What show? Please, lady, I need to get to work, I'm already late."
"I'll pay you! Just please come inside!" The woman said as a last ditch effort.
This is the most bizarre...
Thinking of no other excuse, and dying from curiousity, Chrissy finally said yes and allowed herself to be herded into the studio.
