My Friend Leonard Page 26

  We walk into the lobby. The dogs are excited, Cassius tries to take a piss in a potted plant. I pull him away we walk up to the reception desk. An attractive woman in her early thirties smiles at us and speaks.

  Mr. Frey.

  Hi.

  We have your room ready for you.

  I laugh.

  Thank you.

  She hands me a small envelope with a keycard and mini-bar key.

  If we can do anything to make your stay more pleasurable, please let us know.

  Thank you.

  We turn around walk to the elevators, take an elevator up, find our room, go inside. It’s a small suite, with a bedroom and a sitting room with a couch and two chairs and a desk and a large bathroom with a marble tub and a shower and two sinks and soaps and lotions and big fat towels and thick robes. I let the dogs off their leashes they start running around smelling everything. I sit down on the couch, look at Allison, speak.

  You okay?

  She nods.

  Yeah.

  I look around the room.

  Not bad.

  She laughs.

  Yeah, not bad.

  I stand put my arms around her kiss her softly on the neck tell her I love her, she puts her arms around me tells me she loves me and we stand in the middle of the room silently holding each other.

  We spend the rest of the weekend relaxing eating room service sitting by the pool watching pay-per-view movies taking baths lounging around in the robes. I get the dogs steaks cut them into little pieces, I take them for walks in the underground parking garage. They sleep in the bed with us we sleep well, easily, without worry.

  Monday morning Allison and I have breakfast together, I drive her to work. I’m nervous as I go home start driving up the hill toward my house. I approach the man’s house. I see a moving van parked on the curb. Men are moving furniture from the house to the truck. The blue convertible is filled with boxes. The man is standing in the door he is speaking into a cell phone. He looks nervous, scared. He sees my truck he immediately turns and walks into the house.

  Two days later there is a For Sale sign in the front yard.

  I don’t see Leonard for two months. He calls me twice he doesn’t sound well I ask him if he’s okay he says yes, just busy, got some shit going on. I ask him if I can help in any way he says no.

  The movie I shot doesn’t sell we lose all of the investors’ money.

  Allison and I start fighting. We fight over everything. There’s no good reason for the fighting, and neither of us wants to fight, but we can’t seem to stop, and every day my heart breaks a little more, with each fight my heart breaks a little more.

  I take a job writing a script for a children’s movie. It’s an idiotic job and I only do it for the money. I don’t give a shit about it and after I turn in my first draft, I get fired.

  Cassius and Bella get in a fight and tear each other up. I have to take them both to the vet they both get stitched, they both get infections, they both end up on antibiotics, they both end up with scars. I have no idea why they started fighting, and five minutes after I break it up, they’re licking each other’s wounds. Aside from Leonard and Allison, they’re the best friends I’ve got, and when they hurt I hurt, and I can’t imagine living without them, and the entire incident scares the shit out of me.

  There’s a huge storm with huge winds a huge tree in my backyard falls it falls through my fucking roof. I’m sleeping when it happens, it sounds like a fucking bomb exploded in my living room. I jump out of bed run into the living room there are tree branches and sticks and leaves everywhere I look up and I can see a black, black sky. I stand there and I look up and it rains on me and I stare up at a black, black sky.

  Just before noon. I’m sitting in my living room. It took two weeks to fix the roof I stayed at Allison’s we fought the entire time. I’m sitting in front of the television. I’m smoking a cigarette I’m drinking a cola the dogs are on either side of me. We’re watching a talk show. Two sisters who are both married to their cousin, the same cousin, are fighting each other. They’re throwing punches, screaming, scratching, pulling each other’s hair. It’s sick, but I enjoy watching it. The phone rings I pick it up. Leonard speaks.

  My son.

  What’s up, Leonard?

  I need to see you.

  Okay.

  I need to see you right now.

  Where are you?

  At a diner in Hollywood.

  What are you doing there?

  Doesn’t matter, I just need to see you.

  Okay.

  Can you come now?

  Sure.

  He gives me the name of the diner I know where it is, I get in the truck drive down, park on the street, which is in a dangerous, rundown neighborhood. I walk into the diner see Leonard sitting in a corner facing the door. He stands as I walk toward him. He looks nervous, anxious.

  He speaks.

  Thanks for coming.

  Of course.

  He steps around the table, gives me a hug. We separate. I speak.

  What’s wrong?

  Let’s sit.

  We sit down. He speaks.

  Do you want anything?

  No.

  Everything okay with you?

  Yeah.

  Allison?

  She’s fine.

  The dogs?

  They’re fine.

  Work?

  It’s fine, Leonard, everything’s fine.

  Good.

  What’s wrong?

  What makes you think something is wrong?

  You’ve been away, I haven’t heard from you. We’re sitting in this shithole diner in a shithole neighborhood. You look nervous and you seem anxious and I can see your hand is shaking, which is something I’ve never seen before.

  He nods.

  You’re good, my son, real good.

  I laugh.

  What’s wrong, Leonard? Are you doing coke?

  Fuck no. Never. You should know I’m done with that.

  Then what’s wrong?

  I’m going away for a while.

  Where you going?

  I can’t tell you.

  Why?

  I just can’t.

  Is this why I haven’t seen you, and why when I’ve spoken to you, you’ve seemed fucking weird?

  Yes.

  Where you going?

  I can’t tell you.

  Is someone trying to kill you?

  No.

  Are you going to jail?

  No.

  What the fuck, Leonard.

  I’m sorry.

  I don’t understand this.

  At some point you will.

  When?

  When I can, and I don’t know when that will be, I’ll get in touch with you.

  And that’s it?

  Trust that I have to do what I’m doing, and that when I can, I will be in touch with you.

  I look away, shake my head, bite my lip. I’m confused and angry and hurt I don’t understand what’s happening. I’m scared because Leonard is scared, nervous because he’s nervous. I’ve never seen him scared or nervous before something bad is happening, something bad is happening. He speaks.

  Do you trust me?

  Of course I do.

  I’ve got to go.

  I don’t want you to get killed, Leonard. And if you’re locked up I want to come see you.

  You said you trusted me.

  I do.

  Then trust that’s not what’s happening, and trust that I’ll be in touch.

  I look at him, nod. He stands.

  Give me a hug, my son.

  I stand, give him a hug. I don’t want to cry I force myself not to cry. We separate, he steps away, speaks.

  Don’t be a dumbfuck.

  I laugh.

  No drinking, no drugs, no stupid bullshit.

  I laugh again.

  Okay.

  Give Allison a kiss for me, and give those damn doggies some nice pats on the head.

&n
bsp; I will.

  Goodbye, my son.

  He turns and walks out of the diner.

  First month second month I pretend he’s away on one of his trips, that he’s busy, that our conversation at the diner didn’t take place. That life is as it has been for the last three years, that he’s going to call or start banging on my door or just appear in my living room. I pretend that life is as it has been.

  I fail upward, only in Hollywood is failure rewarded. Often the bigger the failure, the bigger the reward. In my case, I wrote an awful movie made worse by a lame television star and his dumbass director best friend that was produced by a big studio and released in several thousand theaters all over America to resoundingly awful reviews and huge numbers of empty seats. I wrote, produced and directed a second movie that was so bad that it was deemed unreleasable by every distributor in America. I wrote a children’s movie for a studio and the first draft was so awful that it immediately got me fired. Somehow, I keep getting work, and I keep getting work that pays me more and more money.

  I re-write a thriller script. The script is terrible when I start, and is only slightly less terrible when I finish. I get fired again.

  Danny meets an incredibly wealthy guy about the same age as us he’s from an incredibly wealthy family. The guy wants to get into the movie business. Danny convinces him to fund a company for us. We open an office, hire a staff. I laugh every time I walk through the front door.

  Three months nothing, four months nothing. I wonder where he is what he’s doing, if he’s running from someone, if he’s in jail, if he’s alive. I wonder if he’s happy and laughing I doubt it, if he’s pissed maybe, if he’s scared yes, I think he’s scared. I wonder if he’s safe I don’t know, I doubt it. Part of me clings to the notion that this is some sort of joke, that he’s going to come through my door in a minute and yell my son, My Son, MY SON, that we’ll laugh and laugh and laugh about how he fooled me. Part of me knows it’s a defense mechanism, that I lost Lilly and though I’ve moved on, I’ve never recovered from it, and may never recover from it. I don’t want to lose my friend Leonard. I don’t want to lose him.

  I decide to buy a house I want to live near the ocean. My mom comes to town to help me look for a house, Allison helps me look for a house. We find an old bungalow in Venice half a block from the beach. I take Cassius and Bella out to see the house they approve, Cassius asks if he can take surfing lessons, Bella wants a bikini. I buy the house move in. I hardly have any furniture so the house is almost entirely empty.

  Allison and I keep fighting every fucking day there’s a new fucking fight. She’s mad at me because she wants to move into my house and I want her to move into my house but her parents won’t approve of her moving in until we’re engaged and I’m not ready to be engaged. All we do is fucking fight. I hate the fights. Hate myself for engaging in them. I try to stop, try to get her to stop, and for whatever reason, we can’t stop.

  Cassius and Bella have two more altercations. They hurt each other badly each time. I have their vet help me, I hire a trainer to help me, I hire an animal behavior specialist to help me. I love my dogs and I want them to be happy, I do everything I can to try to solve the problem. I talk to everyone I can who might be able to help me.

  Five six seven eight. Nine months. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I check my mail nothing, voicemails nothing. I drive down to his house in Laguna someone else is living there. I call the customer service number on the back of one of his phonecards. I ask if he’s available or if there is a contact number, they say they’ve never heard of him, I speak to a supervisor, they say they’ve never heard of him. I have no way of reaching Snapper. I know his first name is Dominic, I don’t know his last name. I have no way of reaching Olivia, I know she works at a casino, I don’t know which casino. I go to the steakhouse where we used to eat lunch, the Maitre d’ greets me, says hello I haven’t seen you in a while, I ask him if he’s seen Leonard, he says no.

  Allison and I break up. It isn’t her fault and it isn’t my fault. We still love each other but we can’t get along and we’re tired of fighting and we’re tired of hurting each other and we need to be apart. I miss her. I miss everything about her. My life my heart my house my bed is empty without her, I’m empty without her. I cry myself to sleep at night. She’s on the other side of town it might as well be the other side of the earth. I cry myself to sleep at night.

  Ten months, eleven months, a year I haven’t heard from him. I start to wonder if I ever will. I start to wonder if he’s dead. If he is, I assume someone killed him. If someone killed him, I hope they did it quickly.

  I want to get out of Los Angeles. I think it will be good for me to get out of town, get away from my memories of Allison and Leonard, away from my unhappiness, away from my emptiness. Danny and I decide to make a movie in Seattle. After my previous failures as a writer and a director, I decide that on this movie I’ll function only as a producer. I move up there, bring the doggies with me, we live in a hotel.

  Two days after we arrive it starts raining. It rains for sixty-three straight days. I hate it. The dogs hate it. We walk outside it’s cold and gray we’re immediately wet it fucking sucks. I made a mistake coming up here. I shouldn’t have run away from my loss, I should have known it would run with me. If I could, I would go back. Go back to Los Angeles to Venice to my house to my life to whatever else I have and have to deal with, be it good, be it bad. I have to stay here for this movie there is too much of someone else’s money involved to leave, I have to stay here for five or six months.

  The movie is an absolute disaster. The actors are difficult, the crew hates each other, one of the cameramen gets hit by a truck and breaks his arm, leg, jaw and cheekbone, one of our RV’s gets stolen, we total a Seattle City Police cruiser, and, after a week, we’re over-budget and behind-schedule.

  Thirteen fourteen, fifteen sixteen. I assume he’s gone, not coming back, dead, killed by someone for something in his past. I would have heard something by now. I would have heard something.

  Cassius and Bella get in another fight. It’s in the hotel room there’s no rhyme or reason for it they just start fighting. Bella gets her throat torn I get my finger bitten. Bella ends up in the vet hospital my fingers swell they look like sausages I end up in the human hospital. When I get out I take Cassius to another vet who is also a behavioral specialist and a pitbull breeder. I just want my little boy, my mister big man, my best buddy to be better and to be happy.

  The vet asks me about Cassius’ history, his breeding, his life. He examines Cassius, takes him to his home for two days, brings him back, we meet in his office.

  Cassius is three years old. He tells me that three is the age where male dogs reach full maturity. Cassius, the Son of Cholo, comes from a gene line of fighting dogs. Not all pitbulls are fighting dogs but Cassius is absolutely a fighting dog. He is genetically pre-programmed to be aggressive, to want to fight, to seek out fights. He will not change, and there is no way to change him, and the older he gets, the more aggressive he will become. Cassius has grown to be almost one hundred pounds. He is all muscle, he is incredibly strong. The vet tells me I can try to micromanage his life, and keep him in the situations where he will not have outlets for his aggression, but that he will be unhappy and frustrated because he will not be allowed to do what his instincts are telling him he should do. I look at Cassius, who is sitting at my feet wagging his tail looking up at me.

  I ask the vet what he thinks I should do, he tells me that he thinks I should put Cassius down, that it will be best for him, for me, for Bella. I don’t want to accept the vet’s opinion, but I know he’s right. I look down at Cassius he’s still sitting at my feet, I start to cry. He senses something is wrong he wants to make me feel better he jumps up starts licking my face. I put my arms around him and I cry and I tell him I love him, I love him so much, I tell him I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.

  The vet tells me it will be painless, that I can be with him. We walk into an op
erating room Cassius jumps up on a steel table. The vet prepares the needle. I hold Cassius and I tell him over and over that I love him and that I’m sorry and that I’ll miss him and he kisses me, kisses me, kisses me, he tries to make me feel better he has no idea. The vet inserts the needle, depresses the plunger. Cassius yelps like a little puppy, my big tough pitbull feels the sting, I hold him as his blood courses through his veins I hold him as he stumbles, as he falls, I hold him as he dies. I look into his eyes and I tell him I love him and I’ll miss him and I’m so so so sorry. He dies in my arms and I hold him and I cry, I cry, I cry.

  I am lonely and I am lost and I hate what I’m doing and I hate my life. I miss Lilly I still miss her. I miss Leonard I’m allowing myself to mourn him. I miss Allison I wish it could have worked with her I still love her. I miss Cassius and I hate myself for what happened with him. I am lonely and I am lost and I want to go home. I’ve spent my whole life moving, running, trying to escape, it doesn’t fucking work. I want to go back to Los Angeles, I want to go home.

  We finish shooting the movie. I have a week or two of work before I can leave, we have to shut everything down, return all of the equipment, clear the payroll, clear the bills. At the end of another long, shitty day I go back to the hotel to go to sleep. Bella and I walk in there’s a stack of mail, most of it forwarded to me from Los Angeles. I start going through it bill, offer for a credit card, bill, another offer for another credit card. There’s a postcard. It’s a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. I look at it, I don’t know anyone in San Francisco who would be sending me this postcard, I look at it.