I staked him out, and snagged a shot of him gobbling up an entire key lime pie inside his black BMW while parked under a tree on the side of the road. Next, he was seen scarfing on tubs of ice cream, a box of cupcakes, and a bag of chocolate chip muffins, all my shots too, before he finally admitted that food had gotten the better of him.
He checked himself into Waterfall Spa, and three months later checked himself out, a tanned, trimmed, toned and revitalized specimen of movie star primed for a comeback. He admitted his problem with food on the talk show circuit and spoke openly about his issues.
“I struggled, Sandy,” he said to the talk show host. “It’s not easy in this town. I was sixteen years old and having food delivered to me from those calorie-counting services, so I could stay in shape, and it was seriously hard. I couldn’t take it anymore, but rather than get a healthy grip on things, I let myself go all the way the other direction. I ballooned up. Those pictures in the tabloids were a wake-up call,” he admitted to Sandy. She nodded, patted his knee, and told him he was a talent at any size.
“Thank you. But I feel better now. I feel good about myself. I feel like I can have a healthy relationship with food, and hey, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”
As he said those words to Sandy, I’d wondered if I had a healthy relationship with food or if I was one key lime pie away from snapping. But I’d reasoned I was safe since I didn’t care for key lime pie. As for Nick, whatever he was doing now was working. He landed the role as the new sixth student in The Weekenders and was exercising in advance of the shoot that began in a few weeks. It was a plum role, and he’d vied with many other actors for that sixth slot, including the bleached blond with the broody brown eyes, Jenner Davies, who’d battled aliens in his last picture, then warred with front desk employees in a bout of life imitating art. Earlier this year, he’d punched a front desk clerk while on a press junket for the alien flick, and was caught on video, including the moment when he flexed his biceps in the lobby afterward, preening like a Mixed Martial Arts fighter as the clerk’s cracked lip bled.
My dad and I had watched that video together several times. It was one of those things you simply couldn’t look away from. The incident unfolded as a grainy shaky cam captured Jenner from across the hotel lobby asking the clerk in a faux-innocent tone, “I’m a little bit confused about something.”
“Okay, how can I help you, sir?”
“Is there a reason I don’t have a room with a view?”
“I’m so sorry, sir. We’re all booked,” said the clerk, who didn’t seem to recognize the actor.
“So that’s the reason? Because that just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me on the planet I live on. And that’s planet Earth, correct?”
“Um, yes,” the clerk answered, clearly confused with the line of questioning.
“And on this planet, I would get a room with a view.”
“I understand, and I would love to give you one but we’re all out,” the clerk replied.
“Perhaps you could rearrange some room assignments.”
The clerk then gave a gentle laugh as the cell phone camera holder zoomed in on the pair. “I’m sorry sir, we don’t do that.”
“Did you see Planet Patrol? Because I want to show you what happens on my planet when things don’t make sense.”
Then Jenner’s fist met the clerk’s face. Next, Jenner blew air on each bicep as if they were guns. It was a perfect reenactment of his character’s reaction after he’d slammed his knuckles into the alien that had slithered out of his co-star’s mouth in the climactic scene in Planet Patrol.
The cell phone videographer who’d caught the whole hotel lobby encounter would make a good paparazzo, because Jenner had no clue he’d been recorded until “I Want a Room With a View on my Planet” became a viral sensation the next day.
I suspected Jenner’s publicist pulled some crisis duty and crisis dollars because the requisite apology from the teen star poured forth less than twenty-four hours later. “I would like to extend my deepest apologies to Mr. Garcia at the front desk. Not only was I suffering from jet lag due to the promotional activities surrounding the film’s launch, I also had become so wrapped up in the role that I behaved as the character, rather than as Jenner Davies. I sincerely regret my actions yesterday. I hope to show the world who the real Jenner Davies is, and I have made a donation to a charity of Mr. Garcia’s choice.”
Ah, the charitable donation route. Hollywood’s version of absolution. Do something naughty, cruel, stupid, idiotic, or selfish in front of a lens, and earn forgiveness by becoming a charitable supporter. Many charities relied on the funds that came from this town’s sinners trying to wash away their bad deeds. Just recently, I’d seen a photo of Jenner picking up trash on the beach with a coastal cleanup charity—he was clearly trying to rehabilitate his tarnished image.
“Just trying to do my little part for the big world,” Jenner said when an entertainment news magazine interviewed him on that same beach as he delivered his canned response. His little part, though, wasn’t enough yet to win back the good graces of casting directors and studios–no one would touch him after the hotel lobby incident.
I closed the email, giving Nick Ballast a mental pat on the back. Good for Nick for beating out Hollywood’s #1 teenage douchebag for the coveted part, and for working out.
A new email arrived. Anaka’s cousin Kennedy had replied so I opened her note.