When Alice Met Her Favorite Movie Star in an Elevator

By Annalisse Mayer

With When Alice Met Her Favorite Movie Star in an Elevator, Mayer invites you to curl up in your armchair and join her in her private escape: a fantasy life full of romance and personal fulfillment.

When Alice departs from the usual premise that romance only occurs between young people or that only young people are interesting to read about. Middle-aged people, too, have dreams and passions.

One of Annalisse Mayer's dreams is to meet and get to work with her favorite movie star. When Alice allows you to explore this dream with Mayer, following the working relationship into both an offbeat love affair-not at all for the prudish-and an insightful view of how a dream career can become chronic overwork.

This book was inspired by some of Annalisse Mayer's personal fantasies about a real movie star. Maybe, when you're reading this, you'll guess who he is; however, his name has been changed to emphasize that this could be any movie star, including your favorite.

Annalisse Mayer has an ongoing interest in disorders on the autistic spectrum, because of her own family experiences. True to her interest, she has added two characters in this novel who are on the spectrum. Learn more about such people, by enjoying their interactions with the heroine, Alice, and her movie star, Gem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 1, 2004
• ISBN: 9780595756315

Annalisse Mayer

Annalisse Mayer is a part time attorney, a full time mother of two children with learning disabilities, and the daughter of a woman with Alzheimer?s disease. Annalisse Mayer is also going through a divorce. She writes under a pseudonym to avoid having to discuss the racier parts of her writings with her conservative corporate legal clients.

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All Rights Reserved © 2004 by Annalisse Mayer

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by

any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the

publisher.

iUniverse, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse, Inc.

2021 Pine Lake Road, Suite 100

Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

While this book was inspired by the author’s fantasies about her favorite movie star,

in fact all of the people and events described here are fictional. Particularly the

Nushu religion described here is entirely fictional and is not intended to resemble

or be a commentary on any real religion.

ISBN: 0-595-75631-X

ISBN: 978-0-5957-5631-5 (e)

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

FOREWORD

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Acknowledgements

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With thanks to Gigi Lamprecht for her proofreading.

Foreword

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I had a hard time getting people to read my first book. The people who did read it mostly told me that they did not like having the characters have names that were variables. Actually, I first wrote this one with variable names, too; but, after hearing from several people that variables were a problem, i went and did some search/replaces on my text and gave them all normal names. I hope I got them all. If you find some A instead of Alice or A* instead of Andy you’ll know why.

There are some plot devices in this novel relating to terrorism, fires and power outages. I actually completed my first draft of this story in the early part of 2001, long before September 11. Then, of course, I did not feel like re-writing the whole thing just because of reality. After all, this is fiction. Any resemblance between recent events and events in this book is pure coincidence.

Of course, I hope no one will find any of the novel offensive, but that is too much to hope for. If you write a novel that’s several hundred pages long, it has to have something that’s offensive to someone.

I particularly hope that, if you happen to be the movie star who I was fantasizing about when I wrote this book and you recognize yourself, you will find it in your heart to be flattered by the attention rather than offended by what I fantasized. One person’s fantasies are of course not another person’s fantasies.

CHAPTER 1

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The Elevator

Alice Martin entered a smallish office building in Lower Manhattan. Her eyes passed over the shiny marble on the walls and floor, the brass accents, the Mahogany podium at which the security guard stood. It was all geared to convey an impression of extreme expense, trumpeting the financial success of the tenants who could afford to rent space in such a building.

Alice was painfully aware of her suit, which was at least fifteen years old. Since the advent of business casual, she had not had much need for suits and had not kept her wardrobe updated. But somehow, now that she had to come into Manhattan, entering the freeze frame of more traditional business attire, she had felt obliged to dig the old suit out of the closet. Manhattan was always as hyperconservative as to business dress as it was radical in its politics. She had remembered when she had worked in this same building and had heard a story from one of the partners in her firm of how they had finally rid themselves of the obligation to wear hats to work,—so she had felt obliged to wear a suit, but it still did not fit in, because it was not a new, spiffy suit.

It should not have mattered. She was going to visit her mother’s financial advisor. She was managing her mother’s affairs now that her mother had Alzheimer’s disease, so she was appearing in her mother’s stead. In this respect, she was the client, the representative of her mother’s rather substantial account. She told herself that she need not worry about her clothes, but found herself unable to convince herself. She would just HAVE to buy a new suit, and soon.

She walked onto the elevator. The building had only twelve floors, but the stairwell was not open, for security reasons, so she was forced to use this appliance—when she would have much rather taken the stairs, for the benefit of her body as well as of the environment. She thought about asking the security guard to unlock the stairs, but imagined that the stairs were unspeakably filthy not being often used, so thought the better of it. She supposed as well that the security guard would probably refuse. That was his job after all.

The elevator door closed.

There was one other person on the elevator with her, a fairly short man—about her own height.

Alice was a starer. She loved starting at people. She found others endlessly fascinating, the more so because she had so much trouble understanding them.

The man was looking away from her, toward the rear corner of the elevator, at the Mahogany-paneled wall. It was an odd thing to do. Normally, when one is in an elevator, one faces the front—but she was grateful for his position, as it allowed her to stare at him unobserved.

He cut a fine figure there. She noticed first how slender and flat his waist was, and the stark contrast with his broad shoulders. His hair did not appear to have thinned at all, and he wore it down to his shoulders. He obviously used a good conditioner, as the hair shown with improbable luster.

She could see one of his hands. She was a fairly quick judge of the age of people from either their hands or their face. She realized with a start, both from his hands and his carriage, that he was not such a VERY young man. He must be in his mid to late thirties at least, making his excellent appearance the more remarkable.

She thought of asking him what conditioner he was using, but then noticed the clothing. She was not a great judge of clothing, but she felt that surely these clothes must be quite expensive. They were not dressy, but there was something about them that seemed to say designer. She wondered whether this person might be too important for her to address. She decided not to say anything.

Then the elevator stopped short. The lights went out. Fortunately, there was dim emergency lighting that came on, so they were not in pitch blackness.

Seems to be a power failure, she said dismally.

He turned toward her.

She caught her breath in shock. It was Gemini Travesia, possibly the greatest star in Hollywood! She was stuck in an elevator with Gemini Travesia! Her heart raced and she felt vaguely dizzy.

Looks like it. He answered. He glowed. There was no other way to describe his unearthly beautiful visage, his luminous eyes, and his famous smile—even in the dim, red light.

She struggled with herself, trying not to get lost in those piercing eyes that looked steelgrey in this light. She told herself that he was a somewhat younger man and no taller than she. She need not be intimidated. She must try to think of him as a fellow human being, not a movie star. He would probably see her as a respectable-looking, older woman, with her stodgy suit and grey hair in a bun. She should try to be that—try to listen to him in the slightly indulgent fashion that one has toward those who are younger.

There’s a hatch in the ceiling. I could lift you up there. He suggested.

She cleared her throat, nervously. I weigh 175 lbs. I won’t have you injuring your back unnecessarily over me. Let’s wait.

How long would you wait?

How about half an hour? The power might come back on… wait there’s an emergency phone. She picked it up. Dead unfortunately, she reported after a few moments waiting.

The emergency light might go out.

I’m sure it must have enough power to last at least half an hour.

I suppose, but sitting around in an elevator for half an hour seems excruciatingly boring.

We could take advantage of the opportunity to do some quiet meditation.

Meditation? Uh… I don’t do that. He tried to sound polite, though the very idea of meditation struck him as a sort of torture. It certainly was not a practice he had any respect for. He was an action man. Do you?

Sometimes, but I don’t get around to it as often as I should.

We could talk, I suppose.

I suppose.

Only silence ensued.

What should we talk about? he asked finally.

Well, it’s sort of awkward for me. I hate to bore you with my prattling, and I hate to ask intrusive questions. I know that celebrities like you guard their privacy very zealously.

I suppose I could bore you with my prattling and ask YOU intrusive questions. He replied with a twinkle in his eye—and what a twinkle it was!

She took a deep breath. That sounds fine. Please proceed.

What is your name?

Alice Martin.

Tell me about you. He smiled beautifully, welcomingly. Of course, he was beautiful, but he also had done many, many interviews in his life, as he worked on his numerous movies. He knew how to meet people. His acting ability and experience stood him in good stead as he controlled the image he created with others.

I am married with two children, 7 and 10, both sons and both of whom have learning disabilities and are pretty demanding. My mother has Alzheimer’s disease. I’m here to talk to her financial advisor. I work part time at home as an attorney. Um, what else would you like to know?

Gem paused for a moment. She had certainly offered him opportunities to make sympathetic noises and inquire into her personal life. He elected not to do that. This was a fan. For him, in some sense, that made her a professional acquaintance. He decided to try to keep the conversation as professional as possible, in his own inimitable charismatic way. This was fairly typical for him. He did not ask about people’s personal lives and he did not talk about his own. Well, did you see my latest movie ‘Action Faction: The Sequel’?

Yes, actually, I did.

Did you like it?

Um She hesitated, trying to think what to say about a movie that had disappointed her.

Uh-oh.

Well, I liked watching you in it. She tried to sound positive. She had thought the movie was very poorly done, despite its rather phenomenal success—which was due in large part to Travesia’s enormous personal following. A lot of people would just go to anything he was in.

For a moment, she saw his jaw muscles tighten, and his mouth draw down to a line. Then he seemed to think the better of his mood, relaxed his shoulders and sighed. I suppose you’re one of those many people who think that I am very good-looking, and therefore fun to look at, but not possessed of any other good characteristics like acting ability. He tried to look folksy as he said this, hoping to achieve an aw-shucks effect, but he narrowly failed in this. His real insecurity and impatience with his image came through. He had not sufficiently rehearsed this scene. He cursed himself silently.

Um, actually, I haven’t seen enough of your movies to make a judgment on that. This spring, I rented a video tape of ‘The Wandering Husband.’ I liked that, so I decided to go see ‘Action Faction’; but really I’m not too into action movies. I should have rented one of your other movies instead.

You LIKED ‘The Wandering Husband’ better than ‘Action Faction’? He asked, astonished.

Yes.

‘The Wandering Husband’ was a flop. A lot of people hated it.

I’m not a lot of people. It was horrendously mis-marketed. The ads made it sound like a totally different movie from what it really was. The ads gave the impression that it was sort of soft porn, when really it was almost anti-erotic. This led the wrong kind of audience to come see it. If the right kind of audience had seen it, or if they had had the proper expectations, they would have liked it.

He looked at her piercingly. He began to suspect that she was an intelligent viewer, who thought creatively about the movies that she saw. He always valued that type of fan, one who might really give him important insights about his work.

What didn’t you like about ‘Action Faction?’

All the scenes that had fighting, shooting, or threatening people’s lives—and of course the volume. It was way, WAY too loud. I had to wear ear plugs.

About half the movie then. He put on a slightly hurt tone, with a bit of a smile around the edges. Actually, he was not hurt. He had been in this business long enough not to be offended if one person happened not to enjoy what had been one of the top 10 most successful movies in history.

I guess. She felt guilty, and searched for more positive things to say. Actually, I found the technical aspects of the movie fascinating.—particularly the fact that you did so many of your own stunts. It was interesting to watch that. Because you were doing the stunts they were able to zoom in on your face, while normally we only see these things from a distance. oddly, being able to see your face, which was completely calm, sometimes even smiling, seemed to remove most of the suspense from the stunt scenes. I never felt nervous or even any suspense at all.

Was that bad or good? He looked at her even more piercingly.

I don’t know. It was just interesting. What was your goal with these scenes? Were they supposed to be suspenseful?

Yes. Most people thought they were.

I guess it’s just me. I’m weird.

I guess liking ‘Wandering Husband’ and not liking ‘Action Faction’ does qualify you in the weird category, at least from my informal polling. I’m glad you liked ‘Wandering Husband’, though. Why did you like it?

It was very moralistic. I think I’d like my sons to see it when they’re about 16 or so. I think it would point out a lot of things to them about sexual morality.

You would WANT your kids to see all those nude scenes?!

Well, I’m one of those that would rather they watched nude scenes than violent ones. I think the whole movie rating system is totally screwed up. They assume that sex is worse than violence. I wonder if that is really even a majority point of view.

"I think nude scenes are worse than violence. I never intend to appear nude in a movie again, bare-chested, yes; nude, no. I did it once when I was very young and just starting out. It still makes me angry to think about it."

It’s funny how Hollywood seems to think that male nudity is so shocking, but female nudity is o.k. A lot of the women in ‘Wandering Husband’ had to appear nude, even though you never did.

Women’s most private parts are hidden in most positions. They aren’t as exposed.

That’s just a jaded perspective, based on seeing a lot of nude women in movies. Fifty years ago, if we were having this conversation, you wouldn’t be saying that. I think it’s just that men run things, so men get to choose not to expose themselves. It’s the same way with fashion. Men’s dress clothes always involve long pants, while women are expected to run around in little, short skirts that barely cover their butts,

Ahh, a feminist.

Sorry. I got into prattling, like I told you I didn’t want to do. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut.

That last statement doesn’t reflect a very feminist perspective, actually. Aren’t you supposed to be confident that it’s o.k. for you to talk?

It’s not because I’m a woman, but because you must get lots of people wanting to talk to you endlessly. It must be very tiresome.

Sometimes, but then it’s better than staring at a closed elevator door in the dark. I want to get out of here.

I’m going to call my husband on my cell phone. She proceeded to do so, and learned that he was sitting in darkness in his office a good twenty blocks away. The rumors circulating in his office were that it was a very extensive blackout, possibly due to terrorist activities. She asked her husband to call the fire department to rescue her from the elevator, but he pointed out that there must be a lot of people stuck in elevators and it would probably be a while, though he said he would call. She told him that she and her fellow passenger were going to try to escape. She did not mention who was with her. She thought the star would rather not have people know where he was. Her phone had a small battery, so she had to cut the conversation short.

Well, it looks like a pretty big blackout. I guess we are going to have to try to climb out of here, but first we should try screaming and banging. Alice ventured.

Please don’t do that. I don’t like to draw attention to myself.

I’ll try calling the person that I’m trying to visit

Good idea.

She called, but got a voice mail message indicating that his office had evacuated the building due to a large scale electrical disruption. She thought that odd. It seemed awfully quick to have evacuated. They’ve already evacuated, she said.

We’re going to have to climb out.

Well, I saw you doing some pretty tricky climbing in ‘Action Faction.’ That hatch should be nothing for you.

But it’s too high. I can’t reach it. I can’t fly, you know.

Can’t you jump?

He tried to jump several times. The hatch pushed up slightly when he pushed on it, but fell back in place. The elevator shook menacingly when he landed back on the floor.

I’m afraid you’re going to make us fall. She worried.

I doubt that, but I can’t get the hatch open by jumping and butting against it. I need to have a place to stand to push it up and lift it aside.

I think we’re supposed to try to force the doors open.

He turned to the doors. He did manage, with some straining, to force them open, but this only revealed a blank concrete wall. She looked at his broad shoulders and wondered how strong he was.

Look, you’re going to have to try to climb up on my back.

She gave him a look of stark terror. I’m not you, you know. My balance is poor, I’d wobble all over the place climbing up you, and probably hurt you badly in the process or at least knock us both over.

You want me to climb up on you?

I have a bad back. You’d do me in. Besides, I’m not Tina Tiny. She referred to his tiny co-star in ‘Action Faction.’ You can’t pull me up with one arm and I can’t pull myself up.

Look, I know I’m a small guy, but really I work out A LOT. I can bench press 250 lbs. It’s never hurt my back. I’ve done gymnastics where I had people standing on my shoulders—people not much smaller than you. I really don’t think I would get hurt if you climb on me.

Yeah, but those people didn’t wobble. They knew what they were doing.

That’s not true. When we rehearsed, we wobbled. After we knew how to do it, we were o.k., but at first we looked awful.

And how many years ago was this?

Are you saying I’m getting old? He retorted in mock anger

Well…

Uh-oh. He gave her a mischievous grin.

Your body is so valuable. Injuring it would open me up to bankrupting liability.

I’m not going to sue you for Christ’s sake! I only do that when people insult me, not if we try a stunt that doesn’t work.

She looked down at her feet, embarrassed. I’m not wearing underpants. Do you promise not to look up my dress?

But you’re wearing stockings, right?

Only knee-highs.

He smirked slightly, but quickly regained his composure and tried to sound non-threatening. Didn’t your mother ever tell you always to go out with nice underwear on, in case you ended up in an ambulance and some paramedic got to see it? Mine always did.

No, but actually, my mother always did have me wear underwear. It was only recently—when I decided that underwear was giving me urinary tract and yeast infections—that I decided not to wear it. I feel a lot more comfortable without it.

I promise—absolutely promise—that I will not look.

How do I know I can trust you?

Do you have very nice thighs?

No, not so great. That’s part of what I don’t want you to see.

Well, then I don’t need to look, do I?

Maybe not. I guess I should take off my shoes and knee-highs.

I’ll hand them up to you.

O.K.

He braced himself, with his hands on his thighs. She looked at the muscles of his legs bulging through his pants and thought she wouldn’t at all mind getting a closer look at them, not that she would have dared to mention such a thing.

She started to reach for his shoulders and then drew back. Oh, one more thing.

Yes?

It’s kind of embarrassing.

What now?

I have mild stress incontinence. If I exert myself a lot, trying to pull myself through that hatch—something I’m not at all sure I can do, by the way—I might pee on your head.

Travesia squeezed his eyes tightly trying to fight off the disgusting image. Then he smiled, knowingly. You’re making this up just to prevent me from looking up your skirt. He accused.

No, it’s true. It’s mild, though, usually only a few drops. A lot of women who have had kids have it, you know, especially when they’re over 40, like me.

Gem paused for a moment, then collected his customary graciousness. I am washable. Let’s go ahead.

So she decided to try. She climbed up uncertainly, in bare feet, first stepping up on his thighs, while holding his shoulders, then putting her knees on his shoulders.

He was rock solid. He really did have a great deal of circus type training, not to mention weight lifting. He knew what he was doing and he was very strong. He steadied her as she rose to her knees on his shoulders. From that point, she could just reach the hatch with her arms partially extended.

Fortunately it opened easily, and she was able to lay it up on top of the elevator. Then she was able to use the edges of the hatch for balance to stand up. He never wavered. She was pleased to see that the edge of the hatch was at chest level. With some difficulty she was able to swing her leg up through the opening. She found herself on the top of the elevator before she knew it.

Well, did you pee? he asked.

Only a bit. She answered. It didn’t have time to run all the way down to my feet before I got up here. I don’t think I got any on you.

He shuddered slightly, but forced on his best smile. Here are your shoes and knee-highs.

She reached down, and with much stretching and hanging down precariously managed to take them from him when he jumped.

Now just give me an arm down.

She winced at the thought. I’m not as strong as you are. You might dislocate my shoulder.

You’re just going to leave me here?

No, I’ll give you my arm. It’s just that if I scream in pain, don’t let go. Keep coming up. If my shoulder is dislocated, you won’t get a second chance.

He looked at her. He found her anxiety a bit exaggerated. He doubted that he would actually dislocate her shoulder. Still he had to respect the grim courage he saw in her face as she said this.

Do you have a purse? he asked, looking around for one.

Yes. It’s on my back. She answered. It’s small, backpack style.

Oh, good. He answered.

She looked around the top of the elevator. There was enough light filtering down from the dirty skylight atop the elevator shaft that she could see fairly clearly. She decided to hook her knees around the cable at the center of the elevator and then lie on her side toward the hatch. She hoped this would prevent him from pulling her back down on the floor as he came up. She looked at her hands as she wiggled around on the top of the elevator. She was rapidly becoming black with the accumulated grime where she lay. The air in New York city is laden with such grime. Even a single day out in the city will leave visible filth on a person’s face. She had no idea how long the dirt had been accumulating on this elevator, but it might have been years, even decades. Well, she had been planning on getting a new suit.

She played over in her mind what angle he might pull at and whether it would pull her over the edge. She was happy to see that the distance from the cable to the hatch was just perfect in order to minimize the danger of this.

She maneuvered into position, then slid her head and shoulder over the edge. She tested her knees’ grip on the cable and fastening. I hope you don’t pull me back down, she said.

Do you have something to grip up there?

I’ve got my knees around the cable but I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough.

He could see that she was really afraid. He wondered if he were asking too much of her. I’ll try to be quick.

She reached down her left arm. She figured that since she was right-handed she’d rather injure her left shoulder.

He jumped, managed to reach her wrist, and pulled himself gracefully to the top. He was through the hatch in an instant and pulling her back from the edge, before she knew if she were falling or not. She felt quite a bit of urine escape this time, from the exertion. She comforted herself with the thought that the skirt was dark and now so filthy that no one would probably see anything.

Shoulder dislocated? He asked, wondering if he should really be concerned.

It hurts. I don’t know. I’ll try not to move it. I think the cable fastening cut the backs of my legs as well.

Let me see, he said. He looked at the filthy cuts. The real problem is the dirt. We’re going to have to try to get this cleaned up as soon as possible.

Well, there’s the door, she said, pointing. It was conveniently placed from their current position.

He forced it open and held it for her as she darted through—then she held the door for him.

They found themselves in utter blackness, as the doors slammed shut behind them.

This must violate some kind of fire code, not having emergency lights, she said

Why don’t you call the fire department and report it? he replied, with a hint of sarcasm.

I guess they’re probably busy with bigger things.

Slightly.

When my cell phone opens, it lights up. Maybe we could use that as a sort of flashlight.

Mine lights up a bit on ‘power on’ as well. Maybe the two of them together would help us to see.

I don’t have much in the way of batteries, so we’ll have to be quick.

They powered up their cell phones and were able to see dimly in the darkness that they were in a lobby with a couple of doors leading out.

They tried the doors and found them locked. They pounded and shouted, but got no response. The occupants of that floor must already have evacuated.

Well, Mr. Travesia, said Alice, you’re a movie star. You should be able to kick down a door.

Call me Gem, he said, I just hope they’re not steel doors.

Alice knocked on one of the doors with her good hand. This certainly sounds like wood to me.

It sounds like wood to me, too. I’ll try.

He gave his best jump and ‘Action Faction’ kicks against the door. Sure enough, the door collapsed away from his feet. Hey, it worked! he exclaimed, lightly landing on his feet in perfect balance. He had never tried this stunt even in a movie, though he had certainly seen other actors do it. It was sort of a revelation to him that he had actually brought a real door down.

Yep, she said, admiringly.

Once the door was open they found themselves in a corridor with windowed offices on one side. Since most of the office doors were open, and since it was a bright, sunny morning outside, they could see moderately well. They called out, but no one answered.

It looks like no one is here. Alice commented.

I wonder why. You would think they would wait it out for a bit. It’s not so bad in here with the windows.

There’s a toilet. Could you hold the door to let in some light while I go in and use the facilities and wash up?

Hmm. I thought you were so worried about your modesty.

If you don’t hold the door open, the bathroom will be pitch black.

I’ll hold it for you, if you hold it for me afterwards.

Deal.

Don’t forget to wash those cuts on the backs of your knees. Those could lead to a nasty infection.

Right, thanks. She flashed him a big smile.

He marveled briefly at how straight her teeth were. His teeth were almost straight, but ever so slightly crooked. His mother had been too poor to afford braces when he was a child. You have really straight teeth. You must have had a good orthodontist.

No. They just came that way—one of my few good features.

She felt a bit self-conscious as she used the toilet, but it had gotten pretty urgent with all the stress. She supposed he had heard women doing this before.

She had trouble washing her hands and face with her sore shoulder, but she managed.

Her knees stung as she tried to wash them and she found them hard to reach.

Let me help you with that, he said. His tone of voice was genuinely concerned.

But you have to hold the door.

Let me get a chair to brace it open. He let the door close briefly, then found a chair and came in to help her.

This is weird having you wash my cuts.

I’m a dad. I do this kind of thing all the time with my kids. Don’t worry.

She had to admit that he was thorough and gentle.

I don’t think they’re very deep, he said, after he had her walk out into the corridor, so he could look more closely. I think we got them clean, too. I just hope they don’t get infected on you.

I’ll take a complete shower when I get home, she said.

While Gem used the bathroom, she used a phone on a desk and tried to call her husband. His voice mail indicated that he had evacuated as well. She left a message saying that she had escaped from the elevator. She wondered why everyone had been so quick to leave the building. She looked out the window at the clear blue sky. It was a wonderful late spring day out, about 75 and almost cloudless. She smiled. Obviously, everyone had jumped at the excuse to bolt and go out and enjoy the weather.

Then she looked down at the streets. The scene did not look pretty. The sidewalks were jammed. She saw people fighting over taxis and wondered if there were looting anywhere. People looked panicky. She supposed the subways were not working.

This doesn’t look good, she said to Gem.

He came over and looked out the window, No, it doesn’t.

It’s over 25 miles to my house. I’m not looking forward to walking it.

Well don’t you just have to walk to the train station? That can’t be 25 miles.

Most of the trains are electric. The few that are diesel are going to be totally jammed. I could take a bus up to the Bronx, and then take a suburban bus from there.

Why don’t you take a taxi?

Oh, yeah—like I’m going to get a taxi in this. She gestured at the frantic crowds below.

Ahh, but I’m with you. The taxis will take ME.

True, but maybe they’ll kick me out if you don’t come with me.

Where are you going?

Into the northern suburbs.

I think I’ll go with you. It looks like a good idea to get out of this. Do you mind?

Not at all, but aren’t you afraid to go out in this crowd? You could be attacked.

I think it’ll be o.k. Truthfully, he was quite worried, but he hid it. He always tried to project confidence and enthusiasm. He had found over and over again that, if he did that, the people around him performed better. As he had become more and more successful, and thus more and more the boss of his pictures, rather than merely an actor, he had had to develop management theories. A warm smile, a strong handshake, and enthusiasm, enthusiasm, enthusiasm—that was his technique—what always carried him through. People loved to work with him. The more experienced he got, the more effusive his colleagues got in praise of him. Gem was a man who learned from experience, and learned well. He knew how to handle people.

CHAPTER 2

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Escape from the City

Once on the street, they found themselves being battered by the swirling mob. The bumping hurt Alice’s shoulder rather badly.

Gem grabbed her and put his arm around her from her good side. He maneuvered them into the street, where they gradually started walking north along Broadway. He seemed to be good at getting them through. She was a bit foggy from the pain.

Alice pointed out that the street immediately to the west was likely to be less busy, at least that had been her experience in the past, so they tried that.

The next street was indeed a bit better and they began walking north. When they got to Canal Street, they saw a few cabs. All of them were occupied, but one of them stopped anyway.

It turned out that the passenger and driver both wanted to share a cab with Gemini Travesia.

Alice climbed in gratefully after Gem, who sat in the middle.

The other passenger, a successful-looking business man in a very nice looking suit, was only going to the Upper East Side. Gem and Alice would be able to take the cab, once he was dropped off.

Gem promised the driver an extra $100 if he would take them out of the city.

Getting to the Upper East Side was not as easy a proposition as it might have been normally, not that driving around Manhattan is ever easy on a business day, but now the streets were jammed. Moving was very slow. They had a long time to talk.

You guys look pretty filthy, said the other man.

We got stuck in an elevator. Explained Gem. We climbed out the top. It was disgusting up there.

Just like one of your movies.

Gem smiled. My movies are disgusting?

No, I mean they’re full of suspense and escapes.

Yeah, it was a bit like that.

But without the pretty girl. Alice chimed in.

None of the men said anything in response.

The driver, anxious for a tip, finally piped up Hey, you’re not so bad.

Not exactly movie star material, though. She smiled

Who is? Present company excepted of course.

The other passenger, Don Blamacaccio, was a big fan of Gem’s. He introduced himself and then spoke enthusiastically about many of the films he had seen starring Gem—and Gem seemed to appreciate the attention.

Alice listened quietly. She had not seen most of these films. She preferred to lean against the back of the seat and not move too much, in the hopes that her shoulder would not hurt.

The driver had the window between the front and back seats open, something New York City cabbies are usually reluctant to do and was participating eagerly in the conversation, asking questions, opining on all the various stars that Gem knew, and so forth. Alice was suspicious that the driver might be being a touch less aggressive than a normal cab driver, trying to prolong the ride.

After about an hour, during which Alice said almost nothing, they seemed to run out of steam talking about Gem’s movies. The businessman decided to bring up the subject of Gem’s religion.

Gem was a Nushu. The Nushus were a rather controversial cult. Their founder was Vidalia Onion. That had not been her birth name, but she had changed it, because she said that that vegetable had been a particular spiritual inspiration for her.

The early adherents had always been found wearing or carrying raw, peeled onions. They had, at that time, been known to perform strange rituals with onions, rubbing them on their skin, and possibly more, thus raising a huge stench that made them undesirable company. Most of the tenets of the religion were too boring or obscure for most people to bother to learn about, so the onions had become the focus of public attention, and revulsion.

Many countries had persecuted the onion-users, but still the religion kept growing.

More recently, Ms. Onion had authorized people to wear jewelry with pictures or little models of onions, rather than the actual, smelly vegetables. Gem had sometimes been photographed with a gold chain with a small, gold onion hanging from it, about his neck.

The name of the religion had been inspired by the fact that the founder had been the youngest of several children in a poor family. She had always been forced to wear hand-me-down shoes that were in poor condition. Somehow the thought had remained with her that new shoes were the essence of paradise. Accordingly, she had named her religion new shoe, with a romanticized spelling.

Blamacaccio had a fairly stereotyped, negative opinion of the Nushus, and once they got into this subject he fairly lit into Gem.

Gem had been through this before. He remained poised and charming, answering the rude remarks humorously and often cleverly, but still Alice could feel, sitting next to him, that his muscles seemed tense, especially when Don asked if Gem and his wife rubbed raw onions on each other in bed.

Alice had heard enough. What is YOUR religion? she asked Blamacaccio.

Roman Catholic.

Tell me what you think about the doctrine of papal infallibility. She demanded

Uh, well, the holy father, well you know I think a lot of him.

What do you think of the millions of malnourished children in third world countries who don’t have enough food because of his attempts to restrict access to contraceptives? She was angry about this subject, and it showed as she asked this.

I don’t actually share the pope’s opinions of contraceptives.

Well, why do you support the organization that he runs, allegedly infallibly? Her voice was tense, angry, confrontational.

Gem put his hand gently on Alice’s forearm. She could tell that he wanted her to calm down. He was reminding her of her husband, who also never liked to see her get angry.

What is your religion? asked Gem. He was secretly hoping she was going to say that she was a Nushu.

I am a Unitarian, she said.

Ahh, said Blamacaccio. The religion where no one believes anything, but they like to sit in church and face forward even so.

Well, it’s not true that no one believes ANYTHING. She answered. She was calmer now, actually looking forward to explaining her beliefs. She didn’t mind defending her own religion. She was just sick of Blamacaccio attacking Gem.

At this point they FINALLY arrived at the Upper East Side apartment.

Don got out.

Gem moved over into the newly vacant seat. Alice was relieved not to have him pressing against her bad shoulder. She sighed with relief, even though she was also a bit disappointed not to be touching him any more.

Glad not to have me so close? asked Gem. Not the usual response from my fans. It was not clear whether he was amused or slightly hurt.

It’s just that my shoulder hurts.

I’m sorry. He really sounded it, too.

The traffic situation was not helped by the traffic lights being out. Apparently the power failure extended up this far. All of the intersections were in gridlock. There were cops at some of the intersections, which helped somewhat, but they could not all direct traffic. Some of them had to attend to the people fighting over taxis, and starting to loot stores.

After Don left, they locked up the car again.

Sorry about that, said the driver. I don’t like to hear people criticizing other people’s religions.

Don’t worry about it, said Gem. I’m used to it.

Well, should we try the FDR drive, or should we stay on the local streets?

I’m not sure, said Alice

The radio is saying everything is jammed, said the driver. I wonder how they’re managing to broadcast. I guess they must have a backup generator.

Let’s flip a coin, said Alice

O.K. heads FDR, tails local.

O.K, said Alice I’ll do the coin. You keep driving.

She pulled out and tossed the coin. It was heads. FDR she said.

O.K, said the driver.

When we get to your house, I’ll take you to the doctor. Gem said.

I can drive. I have one car with an automatic transmission.

I’ll drive you.

Are you a safe driver? I heard Don saying that you were driving pretty recklessly in your movies, and I saw you do some weird stunts on a motorcycle.

I’ll drive just like a little old lady. Gem said with mock solemnity.

Hmm, in what respect? Little old ladies sometimes do some pretty crazy things.

Slowly, carefully.

Are you sure? She vaguely remembered reading something about him doing dangerous stunts in his private plane and being a scary driver.

Yes. Look, I’m not going to let you drive like this. If you had an accident, I would never forgive myself

Alice thought Gem seemed like a pretty nice person. She had read that of him in the gossip magazines and she was glad to have it confirmed.

Why don’t you pull out your cell phone and make an appointment? Gem asked.

I don’t have to. I go to DOCS. If they’re open, you just show up and wait. It’s usually about two hours, all told, but then it’s usually about that elsewhere even if you have an appointment.

Not where I live.

Yeah, but you’re a movie star. Nobody is going to make YOU wait two hours.

Doctors don’t respect that. It’s just I think that people are somehow better organized in California.

Maybe.

I could take you straight to the doctor, said the taxi driver.

No I’d rather go home, get cleaned up, and take my own car. Thanks, though.

Things were moving very slowly on the FDR drive, but they were moving, which was something. It seemed a bit less stressful than the streets. At least there were not as many frantic pedestrians.

I’m really sorry about your shoulder. Gem sounded very contrite and very worried.

I’m not. I’m glad to be out of that elevator. The shoulder will heal.

It was nice of you to try to defend me, he said.

He was really getting on my nerves.

He was a fan. I always try to be nice to fans. They’re the ones who come to see my movies.

Well, he doesn’t see my movies. Alice replied, still angry at Blamacaccio.

Do you make movies?

No.

Then how could he see them?

He couldn’t. That’s why I don’t care about being so nice to him.

It’s still better to be nice.

I suppose. I get even more short-tempered than usual when I’m not feeling so well.

I’m really sorry. It’s all my fault you got hurt

She looked at him again, not that she hadn’t done so quite a bit already, even though it hurt her shoulder when she turned toward him. His face was overwhelming, especially with the remorse and concern painted over it and his piercing gaze focused upon her.

They crawled along the Major Deegan. This was not a good neighborhood. Alice wondered if crowds would swirl up from the south Bronx onto the expressway. She remembered that a few years before someone had been shot by a sniper along this stretch of road.

This neighborhood makes me nervous, said the driver.

Me, too, said Alice

Is it a bad one? asked Gem, not knowing the city as well.

Yes, said the driver and Alice simultaneously.

It’s considered the worst in the city, despite Yankee Stadium being here. Alice continued.

Great.

But the local streets would have gone through here too, said Alice

Well, we could have gone through Riverdale, said the driver.

No use rehashing it now, though. We’re here, said Alice

They were mostly surrounded by warehouses, still there seemed to be a