Biggest Fan

BIGGEST FAN

Another deep breath in through the nostrils; hold it for a moment, then exhale freely. The heavy scent of seventies upholstery, all beige and cracked, worn and weathered. That dried plastic scent , mingled with a hint of mildew; it stuck with me. I could almost taste it, as the old molecules lingered at the back of my tongue.
My thoughts drifted off for a moment. I wondered if there were a bottled odor that could effectively replicate this heavenly aroma. “Old car scent,” they could call it. And if it hasn’t been invented, packaged, marketed, and sold to the highest bidder - well then sign me right up. I’ll be the first in line at the Patent Office, paper clipped manila folder under my arm, concealing my ingenious outline for the “Old Car Scent” invention. A would be hit with the more nostalgic types. Maybe even a slight alteration in the name for packaging in foreign countries. Something like, “Old American Car Scent.” They love classic Americana in Europe, don’t they? It’s ketch for Europeans to entertain our penchant for the extreme and over done.
I figured that we could increase our product line by different vehicle makes. “Old Oldsmobile” would have that tangy, left the windows cracked during a summer rain, feel. While “Old Cadillac” would contain stronger notes of moth balls, denture creams, and Picadilly Cafeteria Sunday afternoon lunch.
“Best parfaits ever, I‘ve heard…” I muttered out loud, waking myself out of the daydream.

I turned my attention again to the most pressing of matters at hand. I was out here to perform some serious business, and perform it I would. I really didn’t have a choice in the matter. I attempted to focus on the building in front of me. A fairly plain looking office building, on the corner lot of a five building complex. It had taken me days to find the right door. I sat out here I don’t know how many times, waiting and waiting. Peering through to see if I could catch a glimpse of her entering or exiting; perhaps popping out for a smoke.
Alas, her expected predictability failed me. Not just in one instance, mind you, oh no. It failed me over and over again. Day after day, I would venture to the most remote corner of the this parking lot, and wait underneath the fading oak tree. The leaves would take turns gracefully diving to their deaths, twisting in the air, rocking back and forth in mid sub-sky on their way down. Finally resting on the hood or windshield of my old, brown Buick. Their dried, earthy smell would never compete with the old car scent that permeated the interior. I tried desperately to shut out the world around me while I was here. This
was a sensitive task, that required my full attention to the most minute detail.

Finally the day arrived that I spotted her hurrying towards one of the side doors. It was obscure, located near the air conditioning units in the back; covered in the same mirrored glass as the rest of the facility. It was almost nearly impossible to tell that a door was there at all. But it was there, and oh my my my, I found it! Hot damn! Now on to Phase Two.
I just needed to get her alone for a moment. Once I found her current mode of transportation, I was so many more steps closer to victory; to achieving my ultimate reward. Oh the tension of the mystery, the waiting. It was as if I almost didn’t want it all to end. It was as if I were somehow fulfilled with this duty, it fed some hidden need that I cared nothing at all to look at or examine further.

But there it was; the door. That was step one. Next all I needed was to patiently wait out the day and find her by herself long enough for me to approach her. I must admit, I was nervous. She was a celebrity, and me? Hardly a sought after beauty like she was, let me tell you! How would she respond to me? I wondered this so often, and played out so many scenarios in my mind, that completely absurd thoughts would being to take over. I imagined her embracing my touch; exclaiming that she’d been anxiously awaiting this day. I imagined her recoiling away from me in disgust and horror; wishing that she’d never come into contact with me. And of course every thought in between. How I wrestled with these internal minions and lost over and over again!

And just as easily as before, my thoughts drifted away from me; slipping slowly out of my conscious reality like slick oil spilled from a shattered bottle.

I remember when we first met. She was all smiles and hellos, beaming from ear to ear. The excitement that night was palpable. The smallest, thinnest hairs on everyone’s arms were poised at attention, rising up from skin that bristled in the fast moving atmosphere of that night. Flashes of light popped and sputtered as the paparazzi drew down their targets and fired with accuracy and harnessed precision. They were filling memory cards with images, the way nurse practitioners fill vials with drawn blood.

I followed her into the venue. The carpet was colored deep red, a cherry lollipop sucked on until the coating wore down and the richness of the red dye surfaced through. The chandeliers hung overhead and blazed in their full glory; each light beam refracting off of another prism of crystal, before rocketing across the room to meet the next. I saw her, so caught up in it all. Holding the arm of her agent and most likely her secret lover, Dominick - whatever his name was. She was so enamored of him. As if he could even compare to me in any way. Was she the slightest bit aware of what I was capable of? To me he was simply a hustler who snuck in the back door and made some wise decisions. Latching on to new stars is the easiest way into the business these days. I hated that he cheapened her like that. Staring at him made me so disgusted. I initially started to reach out for him, but then withdrew, thinking better of it. If I did, I would not only be in strict disobedience to my orders, but I would also possibly ruin my chances at getting this close to her again any time soon. Who knows what kind of chaos would erupt, unless I maneuvered deftly through this mass of hurried bodies.

I carefully sought to press my way through the small crowd that surrounded her. Inching past flashing camera jockeys, around ball gown clad onlookers, muscling past agents and family members and my hand almost through the mass of them… Reaching, stretching, leaning out for her, my fingertip grazed the fringe of her sleeve. One more mighty thrust sideways, one more lean into the midst of them, and I would have a hold around her arm; a completely firm grasp. One which she would be keenly aware of.

And then it happened. Just like that, her hero - Dominick, saves the day. He spotted the gun. Before anyone had a chance to exhale the breath that they had freshly drawn, Dominick was pulling her to the cherry colored carpet. It looked more like a sea of blood now; blanketing both of them in a red haze of safety. Hoping for a chance at last minute victory, I clung to a final shred of opportunity. The pop of the gun going off was loud enough to scatter the enveloping crowd. My gaze darted around, trying to determine who was struck by the fiery slug. I could tell that she was unharmed, as was Dominick. He was doting over her, checking her for bullet entries, touching about her to find traces of life’s blood leaking out. But there was none.

Someone was praying for this woman, I thought to myself. Oh but don’t you worry Dominick, you and I will have our day.

That was just meeting number one! We have had so many brief encounters, she and I. One time, I swear she looked and stared me right in the eyes. I did my best to appear nonplussed but let me tell you, it was no easy task. I felt as if she could see right into me, easily determining my true intentions. I was unnerved, you could say, by the familiarity with which she gazed at me. I wondered that time, and one other beside it, Did she recognize me? Has she been able to pick me out of the crowd at times past? The lingering masses are always the heaviest cloak wherewith to hide the poisoned dagger. However it was becoming apparent that she might be catching on to all of this. My game, my little charade. How I allowed it to linger on a bit too long. I think I enjoyed this way too much, and it would end up costing me dearly in the end, if I allowed things to continue on this way. Torn by conflicting ideals, I resolved what my next step would be.

I knew that she kept an office in this completely non-descript office park. I wondered to myself, What do actors need an office for, exactly? Does an office make someone feel more “official” in their capacity? I supposed that actors needed only to scurry off to auditions and readings; frequent their agents office once in a great while. Perhaps they had to… That’s it! Agent. It was Dominick! I bet that my little starlet didn’t have an office here at all. She was just coming up here to see him, that wretched Dominick!
I wondered at the goings on behind that shiny glass exterior. What sickening things was he doing with her beneath that clean, polished mirrored glass? I could imagine him holding her, touching her warm skin. His hands being satisfied with coming into contact with an angel such as this. He was so undeserving of her, and I was determined to put a stop to it once and for all.

It took every amount of strength I could muster, to force away the thoughts of her and Dominick. Small, ancillary objects would pop into my view; creating a brand new canvas with which my mind would instantly paint the most detailed picture of what was occurring behind that closed door. Two leaves falling to their fate together this time. Leaping away from the last hinges of comfort from the oak tree; and falling gracefully as one unit, to their seasonal demise. This reminded me of the two of them. Always joined together at the hip, like some twisted fucking circus freak show. The only time she was away from him is when she was walking into this building here. Which made me believe all the more that she was coming here every day just to see him. Him!? Why him when she could be spending time with - me??

Well the questions were about to be answered at long last. It was time to encroach upon the next stage in our journey.

In almost slow motion, the glass covered door to the office building pushed open. From behind it she emerged. First her hair started to billow out as she strode away from the building. She placed sunglasses on her face and stopped to stare for a moment up at the sky. She let go of the door and allowed it to swing shut and re-conceal the opening to this glass encased structure.
I paused for a moment, waiting for him to appear behind her, next to her, walking up to her. But he wasn’t there. Dominick was nowhere in sight! At long last, my opportunity may have come to be alone with her, to finally take hold of that alabaster ornament that she called an arm. Hand in hand, we would journey from this place to places far beyond imagination.

After all, I was her biggest fan. I had been everywhere that this woman had been for months now! I was the one who deserved to be nearest to her!!

My breath quickened as I pulled the door handle to the old Buick. One last whiff of old car scent, and then I was standing out in the crisp, fall air. I shut the car door as quietly as I could, rusty hinges and all, creaking as it swung closed.

I tried to pace myself with her. As I saw her feet move swiftly, my stride became faster. It was advantageous for me that she decided to park far away from the building. I moved closer and closer to her; taking special care not to step on the collected piles of dried leaves. No sound, no alert, no warning. My fingers rubbed together in anticipation. I pushed back the heavy breaths that wanted to rocket out of my lungs and exhale in a scream of triumph! Fast and faster now; controlling each step to avoid the appearance or sound of running. Faster and faster. Closer to her. Close enough to begin to reach out my hand. The faint breeze blew over her and into my face. I caught a bit of the honeysuckle scent from her hair. Closer, closer.. Hand outstretched. She was facing the car window, fumbling with the keychain. Just as I neared and drew up over her shoulder, I heard the click of the locks opening.

And then I saw him. Son of a bitch, it was Dominick.

As I stared into the reflection of her car door window, these are the things that my eyes saw that day… I saw her face, standing at the car door, staring back at me with a look of complete shock and horror. I saw her lips form the words, “Oh God!” I saw myself come up close behind her. I saw the nothing that I was, and the everything that everyone made me out to be. Then I saw Dominick come up behind me. I saw him reach his hand out, and pull mine back away from her. Possessive bastard. He held onto me and wouldn’t let me go until she was safe and sound.

She dove into the car and quickly locked the doors. I saw her hands shaking, fumbling for her cell phone so that she could call the police.
The man who had approached her was lying on the ground, holding onto his leg and crying. It seems as if he shot himself while reaching for his gun. I always find the biggest idiots to do my work. Those simpleton, stalker types are actually the least effective around. A mistake that I now sorely regret.

Dominick finally released me after a few moments. I suppose he realized that I was giving up on doing her any harm for today. So I ambled away from the scene, glancing back at them for good measure.

Those guys are such optimists, I thought to myself. They never give up; smarmy agents.

I shot Dominick one last look, to let him know that I would be back again. Yes, it would take some time. I had some other folks to visit in the meanwhile. But I would be back to see her again very soon. One thing that Dominick and I both understood very well, is that I could wait as long as it took to get this job done. I would wait for her as long as it would take.

I climbed back into my Buick, with the delicious old car scent. I sat for a moment, enjoying the musty aroma. The dash had a crack in it from being weathered by the sun. I could see the foamy cushioning popping out of the gash. I glanced at the radio with it’s huge, silver dials. The great big black push buttons to navigate to a pre-set channel. I thought of how old this car was, how old life is. How old I was becoming. I thought about what I had been and had become. Seems now like an endless stream of waiting for something, or someone. Always just sitting here, soaking up the old smell and pondering the time away.

Waiting and waiting, sometimes for days on end. Sometimes for weeks and months. Sometimes years. I chuckled to myself at the thought of the old saying, “Death waits for no one.”

Not true my friends. Not true at all.

2009 Sam Friedman