The Actor

By A.J. Llewellyn

As a writer, some weeks I'm flush, other times, I'm prostrate with worry about bills, so I take on part-time gigs when I can. Frankly, the experiences often end up in my books (The Vendetta, and Cops and Rubbers, for example) and it's all good.

My experience last week working for The Actor will also wind up in a book somewhere, somehow. For now, I'll keep it to this blog.

He called me out of the blue. He's such a big name I thought it was a joke until I heard how upset he was. He'd put some valuable books into storage and some guy firebombed the storage facility. The fire department hosed the joint down and The Actor's belongings were all badly water-damaged.

His call came as a referral from a literary agent friend and I started to realize it really was The Actor calling me. He sounded so distraught I agreed to meet him at his Hollywood Hills home and begin the process of cataloguing the books that needed to be replaced and pricing out replacements.

A fantastic job for me, the book lover.

I arrived bright and early the next day with my laptop and signed the confidentiality agreement. I was not to disclose who he was to anyone, I was not to post pictures anyplace of his home etc. etc.

His said residence is so high up in the Hollywood Hills he'd warned me to bring my lunch and coffee with me. I was kind of ecstatic to see he'd provided me with a bottle of spring water and a desk with a comfortable swivel chair.

I was good to go, except it all felt eerily quiet. And empty.

Other than the room we worked in, the rest of the house showed no signs of life. He'd been back east making a movie until the storage facility called him. He'd raced back for a few days to deal with the insurance company and all those books.

We started sorting through boxes and I began to feel worse and worse for him as I saw the valuable tomes damaged beyond repair.

A serious collector of art, he's a big Salvador Dali fan and had several irreplaceable hand-written books by the artist. Even a cookbook.

As each book came out of the wet boxes, he shared stories of how he came by them. I will, for the rest of my life value those little excursions down memory lane. I have never had such an enjoyable job. I like this man more than I can say. He's got a poet's soul, in spite of his mega-buck career.

I think I helped The Actor rediscover his treasures. He kept asking, "Why me? Why did this happen to me?" We realized replacing some of these volumes would be almost impossible.

I told him I thought it happened so he would spend time with those books again.

He gave me a long look and said, "Somebody else told me that this morning."

We powered through a long day and I never took a break, eating my sandwich as we worked. He was exhausted and fell asleep on the floor late in the evening.

I figured it was time to call it a day.

When I returned the next day, he'd arranged coffee and water for me and I thought that was sweet. We began working and he casually asked me, "I hear you're a writer. What kind of books do you write?"

I blew the subject off. He let it slide for about ten minutes then pulled a fold-out chair towards me and sat, fingers templed under his chin. He asked me again.

Again, I dithered.

Now he was intrigued. In a town where most writers can't wait to pitch their pet project to the first celebrity they see, I was being unusually reserved.

He pushed and pushed until I said, "I write romance novels. Gay erotic romance novels."

"Get outta here!" he said, nudging me. "What do you really write?"

I repeated what I'd said and he rushed to his own laptop to Google me.

"Jesus Christ!" he exploded. "Is this really you?"

"Yes," I said. I wondered if I was now out of a job.

"But I have to buy one of your books. Which one should I buy for my Kindle, A.J.?"

I was so surprised and so tickled, I suggested Fawnskin, since my partner, D.J. Manly co-wrote it. I couldn't wait to tell D.J. this story.

The actor bought and downloaded Fawnskin. He spent some time noodling around my website and seemed agog at my output.

Stealing Rain, another book written with D.J. had just been released as an audio book on Total-e-Bound that day.

"Do you know about the text to speech function on Kindle, A.J.?" he asked.

I shook my head, no.

"Here. I'll show you." He fiddled for a bit and next thing I heard was a man's robotic voice saying, "And then I sucked his cock."

"Oh, my God!" The actor looked shocked. The scene got raunchier. I wanted to die as he hurriedly tried to turn off the dialogue function.

"I can't believe you wrote that," he said.

"I can't believe you bought it," I shot back.

He kept staring at my books online on his laptop as I kept hunting through antiquarian booksellers for comparison prices for his books on my laptop.

The Actor kept asking me questions.

"I should play you in a movie," he said. "Say…I should play you and D.J. I could play you as twins. I've always wanted to play twins. Wait until I tell my wife about you!"

I laughed. He was so goofy and fun.

We opened a gigantic book he had of the artist H.R. Giger's Alien movie monster art to check on the damage and our afternoon got even more weird. Of all the books he had with mold and other water damage, this one had mounds of mold growing on its pages with little creatures running around.

"Eeew," he screamed, dropping it on the floor.

We got a good laugh out of that moment.

I had a small job for a few days, right out of a Hollywood movie with a man I will never forget. A man I will always remember with a smile.

A man who bought one of my books. And he told me via email, is actually reading and enjoying.

I'm sorry I had to finish that job, not that I wish him more damaged books, but this was a gift, the few days I spent with him. And sometimes, just sometimes, gifts happen.

Aloha oe,

A.J.