Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [32]
We were together for almost a year, and we had some good times. Jeff was a decent man, as well as one who shared and understood my vocation.
On the other hand, he was also the reason that I had decided never again to date an actor.
Now, while I waited for D30’s production office to speak to me, I could hear Jeff telling Max about some of the other roles he had played since the Moor of Venice.
Moving a little farther away from them, I muttered, “But enough about me. What do you think about me?”
Then, finally, someone picked up the phone at D30 and spoke to me. As soon as I gave my name, the woman at the other end of the line cried, “Oh, my God! There you are! I’ve phoned your apartment and your cell. Twice! Each. Where have you been?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m really sor—”
“We’ve been frantic to get a hold of you.”
“I can imagine. And I want to start by say—”
“We were getting so worried!”
“I know,” I said. “And I—”
“We are all so sorry about this, Esther!”
I blinked. “Pardon?”
“Have you seen the papers?”
“Uh, no, but—”
“Never mind. That’s okay.”
“Thank you. I mean—”
“As you may have heard—or maybe you didn’t—Mike’s gastric episode last night turned out to be a heart attack. A heart attack! So suddenly there were medics and doctors and ambulances and cops and hospitals and chaos and panic and—and—and! You know?”
“Um. Uh-huh.”
“So we were at the hospital all night. All night! We left a skeleton crew to pack up the location shoot. And we totally forgot—I mean forgot until, like, this morning—that some of the actors had gone off to get something to eat!”
“Oh?”
“But now I know what happened to you, Esther!”
That seemed unlikely. “You do?”
“You poor thing! We had no idea until this morning that the actors were wandering around Harlem in the middle of the night wondering where the show had gone, and that the few crew members who were still there weren’t very helpful. I can only imagine how scary that was for you!”
“I was pretty scared last night,” I said truthfully.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “We’re all so sorry.”
“Oh, these things happen,” I said kindly. “And I’m fine. So don’t give it another thought. Really.”
“You’re such a pro.”
I was very glad that someone on the staff of a successful television show thought so. “So tell me how Nolan is. Uh, Mike, I mean.”
“He’s, er, not very happy. But, well, I guess that’s to be expected.”
Based on my limited exposure to him, I doubted that he was ever happy.
She added, “He’d like it if you visited him. He’s at North General in Harlem. He wanted to go to Mount Sinai, but—”
“I can’t visit him,” I said. “I hardly know him.” Yes, we had simulated the act of sexual intercourse together in front of a TV camera, but we were scant acquaintances, at best.
“He wants visitors,” she said firmly.
“It’s probably not a good idea to tire him out with visits from casual acquain—”
“There’s a sign-up sheet. When shall I put you down for?”
I supposed that if the star of a successful television show told the producer that he wanted visitors, then he got visitors. Even if we had to be bullied into it.
Since I was in Harlem anyhow, I said with resignation, “I’ll go today.”
“Afternoon or evening?”
“I don’t know. I’m a little bus—”
“Pick one,” she snapped.
“Afternoon.”
She was in good cheer again. “He’ll be delighted to see you!”
That seemed doubtful. But I wanted to stay on good terms with D30, so I would do my duty and go visit their star. “How are his nurses coping?”
“Mike wants to get out of the hospital as soon as possible,” she said. “And the nurses are, uh, trying to help him with that.”
I’ll bet they are, I thought. “But he’s going to be all right?”
“We sure hope so. He’s been ignoring the warning symptoms for months, ignoring his doctor’s advice, and refusing to modify his lifestyle or change his habits. Personally, I think what happened was inevitable, and he’s lucky it wasn’t worse. So let’s all hope this incident is a wake-up call, and that he listens to it. Or we’re going to lose a fine actor and special human being.”
Whatever.
“So what are they going