Coe Review

person, and while I'm still in their background, I know I'm just a phone call
away from doing the scene instead of being the scenery.
"So what's Al Pacino like?" Ryan says.
"He's short."
"I know that. But what's he like? Was he cool? I mean, did he talk to
you, or was he stuck up?"
"We did a reading together," I say. "He had to talk to me."
"I mean for real. Did he talk to you when you were just hanging out?"
"He said hello. We didn't go out for drinks afterwards or anything. My
part wasn't that big."
"Well that's still cool," Ryan says. "That's real cool. You're still giving
acting a shot."
"I still am," I say, but Ryan's eyes are back on Jenny's tits.
If I took the long-shot view, if I focused the movie camera on myself
from some omniscient angle, I'd look like a definite loser. A literal loser. I
was losing. I had taken a gamble in life and, so far, I'd lost. I knew that Ryan
had pegged me for years. And he'd pegged me right. Right out of college,
potential wasn't an ugly word. At twenty-two years old, the dream of making
it was possible. I had as much of a shot as the next guy and Hollywood loved
to discover the next big thing. At twenty-five making it was still possible,
especially for a man. The women were over the hill by then, but leading men
were coming into their prime. At thirty it was a little less possible, especially
when you hadn't done much, or at least not enough. At thirty-nine, well, it
could seem impossible, at least from the long shot. But I still look pretty up
close, prettier than all my peers. Ryan and his potbelly and his private law
firm and his new Lexus convertible he's telling Jenny about can kiss my firm
ass. I've stayed with it. I'm staying with it. If you stay with it long enough,
eventually you get the call. That's what the common wisdom is. I have a
theory about common wisdom, but not when it comes to my life, my shot,
my need to make it.
"And it looks great when the top goes down," Ryan says. "It slides open
so smoothly I just sit back and watch the show. And it makes driving an
adventure. I feel like I'm on the Autobahn every time I pull that baby out
of the garage."
I excuse myself to get a drink.
The bartender mixes me a gin and tonic and I force myself not to look too
closely at his set up. I work as a cater-waiter to make money and sometimes
it's hard to be on the other side, a servee and not a server. When I make it,
I wonder how long it will take to stop noticing the movements of waiters
in the background. When I make it, I wonder how long it will take to stop
noticing the extras.
Adam Berlin 69