Unbroken: Jolie Brings Compelling Story to Big Screen

UnbrokenLouis Zamperini passed away at the age of 97 last week, and nobody deserves peace more than him. Sadly, he will not be around to see the story of his life as told through the film adaptation of the Lauren Hillenbrand biography, Unbroken. Director Angeline Jolie became close with Zamperini during the filming of the movie, and she undoubtedly was able to show him some footage before he passed away. Zamperini’s story of survival is almost too unbelievable to be true, but it was recounted with incredibly accuracy.

Read Who They Cast To Play The Bird

Zamperini was a star athlete as a young man growing up in Torrance, CA., and at the University of Southern California. Known for his finishing kick, he set the national high school record in the mile, setting a 4-minute, 21.2-second mark that stood for 20 years, at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum in 1934. In the 5,000-meter Olympic trials two years later, he qualified by finishing in a dead heat with the world-record holder, Don Lash. With the 1940 Olympics in Tokyo canceled, war intervened on his athletic career and his experiences in the Pacific, as described in Hillenbrand’s book, were harrowing.

unbroken3 He enlisted in the Army before Pearl Harbor and was a bombardier on a U.S. Army Air Forces bomber that crashed into the ocean. He and another survivor drifted on a raft in shark-infested waters for 47 days, only to captured by the Japanese. He was tortured as a prison of war for more than two years. Although he sank into alcoholism after the war, he turned his life around with a religious reawakening at a Billy Graham revival. When he met his war-time tormenters decades later, he hugged them.

The first trailer for the film, which is set for a Christmas 2014 release, is shown below.

It’s a Wrap (Party) for True Blood

true blood guyFor True Blood fans, it’s hard to believe that Season 7 (which premiered on June 22) is the final neck-biting saga of Sookie, Bill, Eric, Tara, Lafayette, Sam, Jason and baby vamp Jessica. Bon Temps and television will never be the same. Last Saturday night, cast members and more than 200 invited guests gathered to celebrate vampire love with a wrap party at Hollywood’s trendy nightclub Boulevard3. Stars Anna Paquin and Stephen Moyer arrived in style along with other cast and crew members who enjoyed a special performance by Cirque du Soleil acrobats performed to the True Blood theme song. Topher Grace and Lamar Odom were among the celebrity guests who attended the affair. Go Vampires!

A True Blood Retrospective:

Paul & Amy Have Come Together

they came togetherRomantic comedies sometimes have a way of taking themselves way too seriously. They often are victims of cliched moments and overused plot lines. It takes a truly wonderful pairing to make any good romantic comedy stand out from the pack.

David Wain (Wet Hot American Summer) decided to turn the genre on its head. Wain has shot a comedy that hits the ceiling of silliness and bursts through the plaster for a view of the upper floor. Every romantic comedy trope is roasted here, mocked and emulated with a wink. He reunites his stars from Summer, Paul Rudd and Amy Poehler, and together they tackle the absurdities of romantic comedies. 

And according to Indiewire.com, “Forgoing restraint at every moment, They Came Together indulges in every goofy impulse of its players, always in search of the next punchline. The sloppiness pays off, with the humor hitting its marks more often than not. Granted, Wain and his cohorts are gunning for easy targets here, only occasionally digging deep in their deconstruction of a genre that’s just begging for it. However, in terms of its pure laughter quotient, They Came Together constantly delivers.”

 

Tom Cruise

edge of tomorrowCruise set a 10-year deadline for himself in which to build an acting career. He left school and moved to New York, struggling through audition after audition before landing an appearance in 1981’s Endless Love, starring Brooke Shields. Around this same time, he snagged a small role in the military school drama Taps (1981), co-starring Sean Penn.His role in Taps was upgraded after director Harold Becker saw Cruise’s potential. His performance caught the attention of a number of critics and filmmakers. In 1983, Cruise appeared in The Outsiders , directed by Francis Ford Coppola. He starred alongside Emilio Estevez, Matt Dillon, and Rob Lowe—all prominent members of a group of young actors the entertainment press dubbed the “Brat Pack.” The film was not well received, but it allowed Cruise to work with an acclaimed director in a high-profile project.
His next film, Risky Business (1983), grossed $65 million. It also made Cruise a highly recognizable actor—thanks in no small part to a memorable scene of the young star dancing in his underwear.In 1986, after a two-year hiatus, the budding actor released the big-budget fantasy film Legend, which did poorly at the box office. That same year, however, Cruise’s A-list status was confirmed with the release of Top Gun, which co-starred Kelly McGillis, Anthony Edwards, and Meg Ryan. The testoterone-fueled action-romance, set against the backdrop of an elite naval flight school, became the highest grossing film of 1986.Cruise followed the tremendous success of Top Gun with a string of both critically acclaimed and commercially successful films. Cruise first starred inThe Color of Money (1986), with co-star Paul Newman, then went on to work with Dustin Hoffman on the hit film, Rain Man (1988). His next role as Vietnam Vet Ron Kovic in the biopic, Born on the Fourth of July (1989), earned Cruise an Academy Award nomination and a Golden Globe for Best Actor.

The rolls kept coming and so did the accolades. Cruise has been one of the most profitable actors in Hollywood since the mid-80’s. His latest film, Edge of Tomorrow took in $62 million in its opening weekend and has gained steam from word of mouth since. Here is a clip below:

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Rock ‘n’ Romance

drummerFrom the June 2010 issue of True Love Magazine

I stared in horror at my friends’ gloating faces. “Did he just call my name?”

The man with the microphone waved a slip of paper in his hands. “Nicole Malone, we hear it’s your birthday? Come on up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumbled.

Sarah shoved against me with her shoulder. “Go on. You gotta do it.”

“No, I don’t,” I hissed. It was bad enough my three closest girlfriends dragged me to karaoke on my thirtieth birthday, but to embarrass me by having me stand in front of a crowd of self-deluded crooners was beyond humiliating.

Michelle and Heather jumped from their barstools, each taking a hand and pulling me toward the stage.

“Ah, there’s the beautiful birthday girl. Come on, sweetheart. We don’t bite.” Given the karaoke master, or whatever his title was, wore a studded collar around his neck, I couldn’t take his word for it.

Accepting there was no way out of standing center stage while enduring an off-pitch rendition of the happy birthday song, I faked a gracious smile and walked to the front of the crowd.

Catcalls and whistles pierced the air in the packed bar.

I took my place next to the Pat Sajak of the karaoke world when suddenly a spotlight flipped on. Great. Now the whole room can see my red face.

“Woo hoo! Go Nikki!” Sarah was really going to get it when I returned to the table.

The announcer put his arm around my shoulders as if we were good buds. “Ladies and gentleman, it’s the lovely Nicole Malone.”

Crazy cheering broke out. You’d think I was a celebrity with their level of enthusiasm. And I had to admit that their energy was contagious. Just to be a good sport, I curtsied. So what if they sang happy birthday to me? I was a big girl, officially a real adult. No longer a twenty-something.

Wow. That was a depressing thought. Thirty years old in an uninspiring job and no relationship to speak of, unless you counted my live-in Scottie. And no, I didn’t have some hot-kilted guy waiting for me at home. My Scottie was a dark haired cutie who liked walks in the park and belly rubs.

The announcer handed me the microphone, and I stared at it as if he’d handed me a snake. Did they expect a speech? “Um, thank you?”

“Material Girl!” someone in the back shouted out.

“Love Shack!”

“Queen!”

What is wrong with these people?

The announcer, who towered over me by a good foot, grinned expectantly. “Well, what’s it going to be? Are you an 80’s girl, or do you wanna rock?”

Whoa! They expected me to sing? I covered the microphone with my hand. “I’m sorry. There’s been some mistake. I don’t sing.”

When he took the microphone back, I almost melted with relief, but it was short lived. “Our little Nikki is shy, and she needs your encouragement.” He waved both arms in the air, cuing the crowd to join him. “Nik-ki! Nik-ki!”

Soon the whole room exploded with noise. They chanted my name over and over until I knew there was no way I’d leave that stage without singing. Now I wished I’d had that second margarita.

I nodded as my knees knocked together. Again, they cheered. I accepted the microphone. “I don’t know what to sing,” I whispered.

The man looked into the crowd. “Tyler, why don’t you come help out the birthday girl?”

Someone stood, but with the light behind him, I couldn’t tell anything except he had nice shoulders and a tapered waist.

The crowd broke into a frenzy of excited screams as Tyler made his way to the stage. Forget the margarita. I wanted some of whatever everyone else was drinking.

The first thing I noticed when he hopped on the stage was his bare feet. They were nice-looking feet as far as that went, but who didn’t wear shoes in public? In fact, didn’t I see a sign when we came in that said, “No shoes, no shirt, no service?”

My gaze traveled up his long blue-jean clad legs, took in his slender hips and screeched to a halt at his gorgeous face. My, I’d never seen any man that handsome unless he was twenty feet tall and projected onto a movie screen.

His smile about knocked me on my backside, and the amused look in his eyes told me he’d noticed my bold assessment. My cheeks burned with mortification.

He extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Tyler.”

I shook his hand. “Hi, I’m the worst singer on the planet, but my friends call me Nicole.”

He winked. “You couldn’t possibly be the worst. My dad holds that title.” He grabbed another microphone from the table and leaned to say something to the karaoke guy, who consulted his laptop.

Tyler returned to my side and nodded to a screen set up to the right of the stage. “Do you know ‘Cruising’ by Smokey Robinson? You sing the lines in green and I’ll take the red ones.”

I swallowed hard, sure I might pass out.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Just think of the stories you’ll have to tell at work Monday.”

For some reason, the touch of this stranger’s hand settled the turmoil in my stomach. The intro started to more cheers, but the crowd quieted quickly.

Tyler looked into my eyes. “Baby let’s cruise.” His voice was as smooth as café au lait and made me warm all over.

“A-away from here.” I almost missed my cue and my voice came out as a rusty squeak at first.

He beamed at me as if I’d done something miraculous, like founded the Hair Club for Men or invented the Magic Bullet.

I cleared my throat as he sang the second line. “Don’t be confused.”

“The way is clear.” This time I surprised myself by not sounding like fingernails against a chalkboard.

SingersBy the time we reached the chorus, I was more relaxed and I had to admit, I didn’t sound half-bad. And my partner was quite the performer. Even I wondered by the end of the song if we were involved in some torrid love affair. Right. No such luck.

The applause was shocking. I couldn’t believe how wild the crowd went. Tyler stepped back and swept an arm toward me. It really was invigorating.

Once the clapping died down, Tyler led me off stage and escorted me to my friends. “Mind if I join you ladies?”

“Not at all,” Michelle said, and scooted over for him to pull up another barstool.

His hand touched my upper back and he spoke softly in my ear. “That was fantastic. Let me buy you a drink.”

I nodded, too overcome by his nearness to speak.

“Another margarita?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He offered to buy a round for my friends, too. As soon as he left for the bar, Sarah leaned over. “Do you know who that is?”

“Should I?”

“He’s the drummer for Chaos.”

“Chaos?”

Sarah lifted her eyebrows. “The band? Hello, where have you been hiding the last year?”

Michelle squealed with excitement. “They’re touring with the Repentant Ones soon. Sold out shows all over. I wanted tickets so bad.”

My friends all began talking at once, but shut up fast when Tyler reappeared with a starry-eyed waitress and our drinks. I didn’t miss how she brushed against him when he gave her a tip. He probably had women throwing themselves at him all the time. Didn’t women go gaga over drummers?

I could see why in this particular situation. The drummer of Chaos made me feel like a chaotic mess inside.

“Well, thank you for the drink,” I said. “And for standing beside me on stage. I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”

He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the dim light. “Is that a hint I should go now?”

Sarah, Michelle, and Heather all shouted out, “No!”

Tyler chuckled. “Thanks, ladies, but I was asking Nicole. After all, she is the birthday girl.”

I smiled shyly. “Of course, you should stay if you’d like.”

He leaned close, sending my heart into a rhythm to upstage any drum solo. “I like.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t leave our table the rest of the night, despite the different women stopping by trying to gain his attention. He spoke politely to each one, and then picked up our conversation again.

Eventually, my friends became bored with watching us talk and wandered off to speak to other people they knew.

“What’s a famous drummer doing in the Midwest?”

The smile slid from his face. “Am I famous?”

I shrugged. “That’s what I’m told.”

“So, you didn’t know who I was on stage?”

“No, I just thought you were some dorky guy with no shoes. Which reminds me, where are your shoes?”

Tyler laughed. “Ah, Nicole. You are a breath of fresh air. I guess you have no idea the reason I’m not wearing any shoes either.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Should I?”

“It’s my thing, my gimmick.”

I made a face. “But it’s disgusting! You can’t tell me this floor is clean. Let me see the bottom of your foot.”

“No, I don’t want to.” His sudden bashfulness was adorable. “I don’t eat with my feet.”

“Good thing,” I retorted. “You might get hoof and mouth disease.”

He laughed again and hugged me to his side. “I really want to take you home.”

I stiffened. This is what he wanted? A one-night stand?

I squirmed out of his embrace. “Listen, Tyler. I’m sure you’re used to women jumping in bed with you, probably without an introduction even, but I’m not—”

His eyes widened. “No! Oh, man. That’s not what I meant.”

What? He didn’t want to sleep with me? Why the heck not? I’m still a hottie. Really, thirty is not that old.

He must have noticed my frown. “Don’t get me wrong, Nicole. You are gorgeous, but I meant you’re the type of girl my mom would really like.” I wasn’t sure if he was blushing or if it was simply the red glare of the disco lights. He blew out a long breath and ran his fingers through his dark curls. “Wow. I can’t believe I said that aloud. You probably think I’m some kind of freak.”

I reached out and placed my hand over his. “You are a complete freak, but I kinda like you. How about we meet for coffee first, then if we hit it off, in ten to twelve dates you can take me to meet your mom.”

“I’m only in town for three weeks. Could we start dating tomorrow?”

How could I resist? I could use a little fun in my life. “We could count tonight as our first.”

“Excellent.” He cocked a grin. “How many dates until I can get to first base?”

“What are you, an adolescent?” I teased. “What is first base again?”

“A kiss.” His husky voice sent chills racing along my skin.

“I don’t believe in PDA. Otherwise, you’d probably get lucky tonight.”

Despite my flirtatiousness, I was usually very uptight. Never in a million years would I have dated a rock star or kissed a guy I just met, but I was thirty. Time seemed to be slipping by a lot faster than I liked. My entire teens and twenties sped past without me ever doing anything wilder than purchasing a skimpy bikini off the clearance rack, one I never wore.

At the end of the evening, Tyler walked us to the car. We arranged to meet the next day at Maggie’s Café, and I gave him my number.

All the way home, my friends squealed like teenage girls, and their excitement began to make me nervous.

When I walked into Maggie’s the next morning, Tyler was already there in a booth. An older waitress fussed over him.

“Now, are you sure I can’t get you anything else, sweetie?”

Good grief. Were there no women immune to his charm?

“No, Aunt Kay,” he answered. “I’m waiting for a friend.”

Oh. Did I ever feel foolish!

Tyler broke into a big smile when he spotted me. “Nicole.” He scooted out of the booth to greet me with a hug. “I’d like you to meet someone.” He turned to the waitress with his arm around my shoulders. “This is my favorite aunt, Kay.”

We exchanged warm greetings, and she poured me a cup of coffee before leaving us alone.

I leaned on my elbows. “I thought we agreed to several dates before I met your family.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know she worked today. Besides, we agreed you wouldn’t meet my mother until ten to twelve dates. I have family all over town, so I’m afraid we won’t be able to avoid them.”

That explained why he was in town.

He reached across the table and took my hand. His touch had the same effect on my senses as the night prior. I felt giddy inside. “Of course, you’ll fall madly in love with me before ten to twelve dates, so I let her know we’ll stop by toward the end of the week.”

I knew he was joking, or at least I thought he was. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. And don’t worry, I won’t fall in love with you. In three weeks, you’ll be on the road. I’m nothing, if not practical.”

He flashed his grin, his sea-blue eyes sucking me right in. I really couldn’t allow myself to fall for him.

“Three weeks gives me plenty of time to convince you otherwise,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Knock yourself out.”

Over coffee, I found out Tyler was born and raised in this town. He left after high school to attend Northwest University in Chicago and graduated with a degree in fine arts. For fun, he’d joined a band with some of his classmates, and when they started booking gigs in small clubs, he discovered he loved performing.

He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since college, and I got the feeling from some of his comments, that he’d had some bad experiences with women who turned out to only care about his modest fame.

“So, I make a living doing what I love,” he said, passing a creamer across the table after Aunt Kay refilled my cup. “I’m one of the few living a dream.”

He leaned back and draped his arm along the back of the seat. “What about you? What’s your dream? Don’t tell me you enjoy banking.”

I wrinkled my nose and peeled the paper from the creamer. “There’s nothing wrong with banking.”

He chuckled. “No, but your eyes don’t light up when you talk of your job. If anything, you look as if you’re about to lapse into a coma.”

Dumping the cream into my coffee, I figured he had a point. “It pays the bills. And I’ve made good friends.”

Tyler leaned forward. “But isn’t there anything that stirs your passion?”

I sighed. “Let’s go. I have something to show you.” We both slid from the booth and Tyler dropped a twenty on the table.

“Bye, Aunt Kay. I’ll see you next Saturday.”

Aunt Kay waved from behind the bar. “Sounds good, sweetie. It was nice to meet you, Nicole.”

I returned her warm smile. “What’s next Saturday?” I asked Tyler.

“Family gathering. I’d ask you to join us,” he said with a teasing twinkle in his eyes, “but I don’t think we will have been on enough dates by then.”

We stepped from the cool air-conditioned café into the balmy summer air. “I always love how the heat feels like a cozy blanket wrapping around me when I first step outside.”

He took my hand and squeezed it. “So, where are you taking me?”

I pulled him along the sidewalk. Our destination was only two blocks away.

A bell tinkled when I pushed open the glass door to enter the Second Street Gallery.

Janice, the owner, broke out a large smile and stepped forward, but she caught the warning look I sent her. “Welcome,” she greeted as if we were customers. “Please feel free to browse, and if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“This is your passion? Art galleries?”

I shrugged. “Care to look around?” I led him to a display of black and white photographs. My stomach churned. What would he think? These pieces were a glimpse into my soul.

“Wow. These are amazing. Are these your favorite?”

He perused my work, candid photos I had taken around town. One was of a vagabond passing through with his backpack. He’d taken refuge in the alley behind the bakery and leaned against the chipped red brick wall. The vacant look in his eye had drawn me to him. It was as if he’d already lived life and only the outer casing remained. After I took his photo, I offered him twenty bucks. I still tear up when I see his image.

I had pictures of young children playing in the water fountain at the park, an elderly couple walking hand-in-hand with love in their expressions, and a baby napping on a picnic blanket while his father gazed at him in such adoration.

Tyler moved closer to the photos. “N. Malone?” He smiled at me over his shoulder. “Nicole, these are magnificent.”

The wonder and admiration in his voice warmed my heart. “These pieces are my passion,” I said shyly.

Tyler faced me again and stepped closer until I could feel his body heat and smell his light cologne. With a gentle touch, he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear, sending waves of pleasure zinging throughout my body. “Thank you for sharing these with me. I am honored.”

I grinned. “And I’m easily flattered.” The gallery was empty of other patrons, and Janice had disappeared into the back storage room. “Enough to allow you to get to first base.”

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

His fingers slid into my hair to cradle the nape of my neck, and he brushed his lips over mine. If I thought his touch was electrifying, his kiss was like a lightning bolt. My legs trembled, and he wrapped his arm around my waist to steady me.

When we broke the kiss, he didn’t let me go. Instead, he stared into my eyes, his having darkened to a stormy blue. “Nikki, Nikki. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go.”

If only that were true, but I’d be a fool to believe it. He’d be gone soon enough, and he’d have plenty of women ready to make him forget all about me.

From the art gallery, we walked to the riverside park, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Would you photograph me sometime?” he asked, as we meandered along the shaded path.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll sell them to the tabloids?”

“Ooh,” he rubbed his hands together in mock delight, “nude pictures might make me a star.”

My cheeks heated, but I couldn’t help laughing. “That wasn’t what I meant.” Then feeling like the flirtatious girl I had been the night prior, I added, “But I have a feeling you’d be a work of art.”

“As would you, my pretty.”

As evening approached, I was reluctant to leave Tyler. Darn him if he turned out to be right and made me fall in love with him.

As I lay in bed that night, my cell bleeped with a text message. “Can’t stop thinking about u. See u tomorrow? Tyler.”

Tomorrow wasn’t soon enough, but it would have to do. I sent him a message in return.

Funny, but by the end of that week, I was ready to meet Tyler’s family.

We attended the family gathering, and everyone treated me as if I was part of the clan. I couldn’t believe how sickeningly happy I was.

That night, against my better judgment, Tyler and I made love. I was head-over-heels for a man only a week earlier I’d promised I’d never love.

When the rising sun peeked through my windows the next morning, it created the most beautiful shadows on Tyler’s face. I quickly grabbed my camera and clicked off several frames before he stirred.

He grinned, and looked as sexy as could be. “I knew you’d take pictures of me in the nude.”

“I wasn’t.”

Male model in bedHe eased the sheet down to reveal his sculpted chest and firm abdomen. The trail of dark hair disappearing under the covers stood out in strong contrast to the white sheets. “Why not?”

Tyler was beautiful. I clicked a few more frames, all very tasteful, while he posed for me. The only semi-inappropriate one accidentally showed his bare bottom, but I was too enamored with his captivating smile to notice until later.

He reached for my camera. “My turn.”

I felt really awkward being in front of the lense, but as Tyler showered me with loving words and admiration, I loosened up. I actually felt like the seductress he believed me to be.

At the end of three weeks, I hated to see him leave on tour. We made plans for Scottie and me to join him for two weeks on the road in the middle of his tour, and I marked off each day on my calendar, hoping it might speed up the process.

Unfortunately, time seemed to slow down instead, and talking on the cell phone in the wee hours only made me miss Tyler more. When he ended each call with “I love you,” it was all I could do not to cry. I was a goner whether I liked it or not.

Two weeks after he’d left, I invited my girlfriends over for dinner thinking it might help me get back into the swing of things. It was nice getting together with them again. I had ordered Chinese take-out and we sipped on white wine.

We sat in my living room laughing and gossiping about the latest office romances. I pulled out my camera, as I often did, and shot a few pictures of my friends. When my cell rang, I sat my camera on the side table and hurried to find my phone.

It was Tyler. He’d gotten a chance to call before the show. We didn’t talk long since my friends were over, and when I walked back into the living room, Michelle held my camera.

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “He is so hot!”

My other friends jumped from their chairs to crowd around her to see the viewer.

“Totally hot,” Heather agreed. “Nikki is so lucky.”

My heart tripped and I ran across the room to snatch the camera before they discovered Tyler’s bare bottom picture. “I’ll take that,” I said, scooping the camera from Michelle’s hands.

“Spoil sport,” she teased. “So, when do you meet up with him again, anyway?”

I shared our plans to meet in Kansas City in six weeks.

“You really are lucky,” Michelle said on a sigh. “I wish it had been my birthday that night. Tyler Samson is the best gift ever.”

“Yeah,” Heather agreed. “How will you stand being away from him for so long?”

I shrugged. “We’ve only been dating a few weeks.” I tried to play it off, but the separation really was killing me.

The time to join Tyler on tour was close. Scottie and I would be on a plane in three days, and I couldn’t wait. As I wrestled over which bathing suit to pack, my phone rang. It was my mom.

“Now, Nicole, don’t freak out,” she said. My mom always said that when she called, so I never freaked out. What was it this time? Her seventy-year-old neighbor bought a red sports car and traded in his wife for a buxom blonde. Buxom. That word always made me laugh when my mom used it.

“Okay, I won’t,” I promised, cradling the phone with my shoulder while folding a pair of shorts.

“Tyler’s on TV.”

I chuckled. “Yes, Mom. He is from time to time. What channel?”

“Seven.”

I grabbed the remote from my bedside table and clicked on the flat screen. A butt filled the screen, and my mouth went dry. The picture widened to show Tyler’s smiling face. No way! It was my photo!

“It’s an exposé,” my mom whispered. “Apparently, he’s posed for some X-rated magazine. They say he’s selling pictures of himself to pay for drugs.”

“That’s a lie,” I exclaimed. How could this be happening? How did my photo end up on Entertainers Exposed? “Hold on, Mom.” I dropped the phone on my bed and raced to find my camera. Popping it open, I saw the memory card was missing.

No! Oh my gosh! Tyler’s going to think I betrayed him. Frantic, I scrambled back to my bed and rifled through the covers to find my phone. “Mom, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Tyler doesn’t use drugs.”

“I know that, honey. Don’t you worry, no one else is going to believe it either.”

My heart beat against my ribs, and my hands shook as I hung up. Immediately, I tried to reach Tyler, but his voicemail picked up right away. “Um, Tyler. It’s Nicole. Please call me when you get this message.”

An hour later, I still hadn’t heard from him. I tried again, but I reached his voicemail. He probably hated me, and how could I blame him. Even though I hadn’t released his photographs, I hadn’t kept them safe either.

I jerked up my phone and dialed another number, but reached voicemail again. “Michelle, it’s me, Nicole. I want to know what you were thinking stealing Tyler’s photos. I’m furious with you.”

I tried Tyler four more times, but never reached him.

At ten o’clock after Tyler hadn’t taken any of my calls or returned them, I knew it was probably over. I was exhausted and beaten down when I fell on my bed and let the tears come. I sobbed for the great sense of loss I had.

Poor Scottie didn’t know what to think during all of this. He had whimpered and followed me around the house earlier. Now, he curled up by my side and shivered.

“Shh, everything’s going to be okay,” I told him, wishing I could believe it.

A loud knock jarred me awake. I looked at the clock. It was eleven-thirty. The knocking continued, getting more insistent. I stumbled toward the door, not even fully awake yet.

“Who is it?”

“Open up, Nicole.”

Tyler’s voice sent a shockwave through my body. My hand shook as I twisted the deadbolt and opened the door.

“I’m ticked,” he said and barreled into my apartment. “What a B! I got here as soon as I could, because I had to look you in the eye.”

Just as I’d feared, Tyler hated me. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. Really, I am.”

He looked taken aback. “Sorry for what, sweetheart?”

I blinked, really confused. “Don’t you know about the pictures?”

He dropped his backpack on the floor. “Heck, yeah, I do. And that hack job writer at Exposed is going to pay, making up that idiotic story about posing for money for drugs.” With a frown, he stepped forward and held out his arms. “Are you okay? I can’t believe Sarah took credit for your work.”

Sarah? My best friend? “It was her?”

Tyler wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Nicole. Didn’t you get my messages?”

I shook my head before pulling from his embrace to go check my phone. Sure enough, I had four messages. I’d put my phone on silent somehow. “Are all four from you?”

“I left three of them.”

I listened to my messages and learned one was from Michelle. “I feel awful. I accused Michelle.”

“Well, call her and apologize.” Tyler plopped onto the couch. “I can wait.”

I called Michelle and apologized profusely for being such a moron, and fortunately, she forgave me. To make it up to her, Tyler promised her two tickets and backstage passes to the Minneapolis show. She gladly accepted with a shriek that almost burst my eardrum.

With things smoothed over with Michelle, I felt a little better, but I still felt awful about Tyler’s photos being plastered on TV. “If I hadn’t ever taken those shots—”

Tyler held out his hand. “Come here, Nicole.”

I joined him on the couch and almost cried with relief when he put his arm around me. “Those shots were amazing, and though I’d prefer not to have my butt shown to millions of viewers, it’s not bad publicity for a musician. In fact, the other guys want to know if you’ll photograph them, too.”

He kissed the tip of my nose before nuzzling my cheek. “I’ve missed you. Please, say you’ll come with me on the road. I can’t do this anymore without you.”

I pulled back, needing to break contact to think straight. “But, I have to work. I have bills to pay.”

“You’re a banker. Don’t tell me you don’t have a savings account.”

“I do, but it’s for emergencies. I don’t think running off with my rock star boyfriend counts.”

Tyler grabbed my hands in his. “Nicole, this is a chance to live your dream. I wasn’t joking about the guys in the band. We love your work, and we’ll pay you for your photos. Our manager wanted some new publicity shots, too. Think of all the subjects you’ll find traveling the world.” He pulled me close. “Please, come with me. I thought being part of a successful band was everything I ever wanted, but I was wrong. I want you by my side.”

If I did this, it would be the biggest risk of my life. But really, it was everything I’d dreamed as well, following my passion and loving a wonderful man. The fact that I’d turned thirty probably had a lot to do with my decision. It seemed silly to wait until age forty to begin living my life.

“I’ll come with you,” I said.

“Yes!” Tyler kissed me and sent a jolt of electricity to my toes. “I’ll never let you regret it.”

And Tyler has kept his promise. This September we will celebrate our second wedding anniversary, and every day is a dream come true.

Be Afraid! Ray Donovan Is Coming Soon

ray donovanFor those of you who love Liev Schreiber and love to hate his character Ray Donovan…he’ll be back! Showtime has just released a trailer for the second season of its hit series Ray Donovan, which returns on July 13. Back alongside star Schreiber are Paula Malcomson, Eddie Marsan, Dash Mihok, Steven Bauer, Katherine Moennig, Pooch Hall, Kerris Dorsey and Devon Bagby is Jon Voight, who won the Golden Globe last season for his portrayal of Ray’s father Mickey.

The show is set in the sprawling mecca of the rich and famous, where Ray Donovan does the dirty work for LA’s top power players. Ray makes the problems of the city’s celebrities, superstar athletes and business moguls disappear. But his life is full of its own problems when Ray’s father is unexpectedly released from prison, setting off a chain of events that shakes the Donovan family to its core.

Season 2 will also feature guest star turns by Hank Azaria as FBI Bureau Chief Cochran as well as Elliot Gould, Ann-Margret, Wendell Pierce, Sherilyn Fenn, Vinessa Shaw, Brian Geraghty, Heather McComb and Kip Pardue. Creator Ann Biderman is exec producer alongside Mark Gordon, Bryan Zuriff and David Hollander. Watch the trailer:

The Father of My Child

dad and soncrop

The Father of My Child
June 1951 True Romance

It was the best of intentions that she invited her first husband to meet her second. And when it was too late, she realized what a mistake she’s made.

Carefully I spread the quivering meringue over the still warm lemon pie. I wanted so much for everything to be right for tonight, Steve’s and my first wedding anniversary!
“Make sure Dickie feels part of it,” Steve had whispered to me that morning as he kissed me good-by.

There was a wistful note in his voice that tore at my heart, and made me wish again desperately that I knew the key to the riddle of Dick and Steve. “Time, give the boy time,” Steve had said in the beginning, but time only seemed to have made matters worse, and each day Dickie’s resentment appeared to grow rather than decrease.

The change had come over him so mysteriously, so insidiously, that it took me a few months to realize that instead of being gloriously thrilled and happy with his wonderful new stepfather, my eight-year-old son was miserably the only source of conflict in the one precious year Steve and I’d had together.

When I first met Steve I guess the thing that attracted me to him was the way he went out of his way for Dickie. Not in any over-display of affection, as some men would, showering him with grand presents and making a big fuss, but in a quiet, almost grave companionship.

Steve made a point, from the very beginning of coming to take me out on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, when Dick could come with us. Of choosing movies he would enjoy, of doing all his courting via circuses, rodeos, country fairs and all the things entrancing to a small boy. And I loved him for it.

Dick had been only two when Barney, his father, had skipped off, not even having the courage to ask me for a divorce, but leaving it to a lawyer. And even. in those two years Barney had spent considerably more of his time “on the town” than with us. After the dismal misery of that unfortunate marriage, and the years later alone, meeting Steve, falling in love, was like stepping out of a wretched, lonely wasteland into an almost forgotten world of laughter and affection, of slowly remembering the simple every-day joys of living, and the deep, mysterious magic of love.

When Steve whispered, “Meg, will you marry me?” I felt as if God had given me a reprieve, as if He had said, “You’ve suffered enough. You’re twenty-six years old and you’ve been through horror. I’m going to give you and Dickie, too, another chance now.”

And I still felt that way. I loved Steve with a passion and a tenderness that was unlike anything I had ever known before. Everything about him seemed blessedly different, new to me, even his looks. Big, blond, slow-moving, he was almost the direct opposite of Barney, who was narrow, slim and dark with a kind of graceful nervousness.

Naturally Dickie asked questions about his father and I answered them the best I knew how. After all, I couldn’t tell a small child that his father was selfish, irresponsible . . . about the ruthless disregard he had for anything and anyone, including Dickie, if it interfered with his own pleasure. So I picked out a few things and built up from there, about how gay he was, fun to be with, always ready for a laugh. The lies started out innocently enough soon after Barney was gone and Dickie had a broken wagon I couldn’t fix.

“If my daddy were here,” he said, his big brown eyes solemn, “he’d fix it, wouldn’t he?” I thought for a minute of the destruction Barney had left behind him, the unpaid bills, the broken window pane that still had a cardboard stuck in it because Barney couldn’t be bothered and there wasn’t any money to call in a glazier —and I had taken Dickie in my arms and said, “Of course, darling, your daddy would fix it.”

For a few years after that it seemed that everything that went wrong in Dickie’s life could be fixed and comforted by the words, “Yes, sweetheart, if your daddy were here it wouldn’t have happened.” It was such an easy way out for me—to stop the tears and the upsets—I didn’t realize the awful magnitude of the superman I was building up for the child to cling to. It wasn’t until he was around five or six that the magic ceased to work, and instead in any crisis he screamed, “I want Barney, I want my daddy.”

When Steve first came along, I think Dickie was as excited as I. The delight of having a man around was almost pathetic, and when I told him Steve and I were going to be married, he shouted with glee, “I’m going to have a daddy, just like all the other kids!”

But after a few months the novelty wore off, and having a new daddy wasn’t all fun when he told you what to do. Suddenly, came back again the old cry, “I want Barney, I want my own daddy.” I suppose I should have expected it, and yet somehow I had hoped that Steve with his kind, patient goodness would have wiped out the thought of anyone else.

“Hi, Mom.” I had been so lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t even heard Dick come in. “What’s all the decoration for?”

“Why, I told you, sweetheart. It’s our wedding anniversary. Steve and I have been married one year today. We thought we’d have a little party to celebrate.”

“Who’s coming? Will they bring me presents?”

I smiled at his only interest in parties. “No one’s coming. It’s a family party, just you and Steve and me. I don’t think there will be any presents.”

“Well, I want to go to the movies anyway. Can I, Mom?”

“No, of course not. I said we were having a party, and we want you home with us.”

“But I want to go to the movies.” Dick’s face looked stubborn. “Having a party with you and Steve ain’t no fun.”

“Oh, Dickie!” I could feel despair. Please, not tonight. Don’t build up to a scene tonight, I prayed silently to myself. “You wait and see, I think it might be fun,” I said aloud.

“Maybe for you and him,” he answered sullenly. “But not for me.”

I was glad to hear Steve’s key in the door, and overjoyed to see him come striding into the kitchen carrying two long boxes. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart!” he exclaimed, taking me in his arms and holding me close. In Steve’s arms I felt as if nothing could ever really be wrong between us.

“Hi, Dick.” Steve turned to Dick as soon as he released me. “Here, this is for you.” He handed him one box and gave me the other.

Dick’s face lit up for a minute as he tore off the wrappings. “Oh, boy, this is great.
Thanks,” he said a little sheepishly, taking out a fine baseball bat.

I was busy with my own present, my favorite long stemmed deep red roses. I was filling a vase with water when I heard Steve’s voice behind me say, “Dick, don’t swing the bat around the kitchen,” and a second later the crash, of shattered glass.

“Oh, Dickie!” I spun around to see two of my best tumblers in tiny pieces on the floor.

“Why did you deliberately swing that bat, after I told you not to?” Steve’s voice was kind but firm.

“‘Cause I wanted to.” Dickie was defiant. “Besides, I don’t have to do what you tell me.”

“I think it’s time you started learning,” Steve said patiently. “Take a dust pan and sweep up that mess.”

“I’m not goin’ to do it. You ain’t my father, and I’m not going to do anything you tell me!”

Dickie’s eyes were darting around the room, looking for escape. “Mom, give me my supper so I can get to the show.” He turned to me, pleading.

“I thought that was all settled, Dickie,” I said, trying to keep my voice quiet. I could feel the tension in the room, the fury in Dickie’s little body, mounting up to something enormous, frightening and terrible. . . .

“Of course you’re not going to the movies,” Steve said, stooping down to take care of the glass himself.

“Why not?” His voice was high and shrill. “Why not?”

Steve stood up and faced the boy. “Because first of all it’s a school night and you know you don’t go to the movies then, and secondly your mother went to a great deal of trouble to fix up a nice party, and I think you should help us celebrate our wedding anniversary.”
Then it came. The anger, the temper, the bitter resentment and hate. Dickie burst into loud sobs, his face red and wild looking, his foot stamping up and down. “I don’t want to celebrate your wedding. I hate it. I hate you—you’re not my father and you never will be. I want my own daddy. I want Barney,” he shouted so loud people must have heard him blocks away. Suddenly he ran out of the kitchen and we could hear the door to his room slam after him.

My whole body trembling, I sank down on the kitchen chair and heedlessly let the tears roll down my cheeks. Steve put a hand gently on my shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard, Meg.”
Steve was pacing around the kitchen restlessly. I tried to make myself stop “Maybe you should have let him go to the movies,” I said dully.

“Nonsense!” Steve’s voice was strangely sharp “If he got the movies, it would be something else! That’s not what he’s crying about. It’s this idiotic picture of his father you’ve been building up all these years. Nobody in the world could live up to that!” He ran his fingers through his hair impatiently. “If Barney were someone real I could cope with him. But not this image of perfection the kid has!”

“What do you want me to do? Tell the boy his own father’s no good?” I felt myself getting angry now. It all seemed so hopeless, so confused. . . .

Steve swung around in front of me. “Why not? You can’t keep on kidding him forever. Barney never comes to see him, hasn’t been around here since I knew you. He doesn’t give a hang about the kid, and yet he’s ruining his life—and yours and mine too. And you’re the one who’s letting him do it!” I had never seen Steve like this before. His face was white and his eyes blazing.

I said the cruelest thing I could have. “If you were his own father you wouldn’t be talking this way.”

There was a long silence which Steve finally broke in a toneless voice. “I guess you’re right, Meg. He is your son, and from now on you can run the show any way you please. You give the orders and I’ll try to keep my mouth shut.”
I

knew, and Steve knew too, that that was no solution. It was about the worst thing in the world that could have happened. But I was too weary, too emotionally spent, and I guess too stubborn, to say anything except, “That’s okay with me,” in a terse voice.

After supper Steve said gruffly, “I’ll do the dishes, you take care of the boy.”
Slowly I pushed open the door to Dickie’s room. He’d been so quiet I suspected he was asleep, and sure enough he was curled up on his bed, his face still wet and streaked, and clutched in his hand was the one snapshot he had of Barney. . Gently I undressed him. He hardly woke up at all, just a few times he cried in his sleep, “Daddy, I want my daddy!”

After that Steve kept religiously to his word. Every time Dick asked if he could do anything, it was always the same answer from Steve. “Ask your mother.” Whatever discipline there was had to come from me, and that was getting harder and harder to maintain. So far as Dick was concerned, Steve was like a polite guest living with us—and with every advance that Steve made toward the boy Dickie got bolder and bolder in rejecting. It seemed if Dickie couldn’t have Barney he didn’t want any father at all!

It would be foolish of me to say this didn’t affect things between Steve and me. How could Steve be a husband to me and not a father to the boy? In my desolation I thought of all kinds of things. Even of leaving Steve, my wonderful, strong Steve, whose eyes were carrying around a pain that seemed to say, “What have I done? Why can’t the child love me?” And my tormented heart answered him silently, “It was done before you were here. . . . I did it, I’m the one.”

Some words of Steve’s kept nagging at my mind. “I could cope with a real father, but not with this image. . . .” Why not, I wondered. Why shouldn’t Dickie see his own father?
I had covered up for Barney so much, why couldn’t I go one step further and ask him to come around. I was sure he would if I asked him, Barney wasn’t mean or vicious—just careless, thoughtless, disinterested. I remembered an article I once read saying how to tell a kid that a stepfather was something extra . . . that gave him two fathers, his own and another one, which was more than other children had.

Maybe that’s what Dickie needed, some part of his own father once in a while, and then he wouldn’t mind so much about Steve.

Barney lived only sixty or seventy miles away from Torrington. . . . I’d ask him over for Sunday dinner and surprise Dickie.

But I was going to have to tell Steve, I knew that. That night after Dickie was in bed, my heart hammering violently, I said as evenly as I could that Barney was coming over on Sunday. Steve’s face flinched and the pain shot through his eyes. “What brought him to, after all these years?”

I got very busy with the dishwashing. I couldn’t tell Steve I’d called him. I just couldn’t, I knew he would hate Barney even worse for that. “I dunno, maybe he just has a yen to see Dickie, or,” I added, laughing a little, “maybe he wants to give you the once over.”

“I hope it makes Dick more happy than it will upset him,” Steve said quietly.
I felt a pang of uneasiness go through me. “It won’t upset him—why should it? He’s been clamoring to see his own father and now he will,” I said, wishing I felt as convinced as I sounded.

Sunday dawned clear and pleasant. Right after breakfast Steve announced that he was going for a walk. “Want to come, Dick?” I could tell by Steve’s face he didn’t want to be around when Barney arrived.

“Naw,” Dickie muttered.

When I called Barney I’d told him to be sure to be over by twelve, figuring he’d get there around one, but a few minutes after twelve the bell rang. My heart was hammering furiously as I stopped to powder my nose before letting him in.

“Hi, Meg,” Barney said easily, as if he’d been coming around for Sunday dinner regularly for years. “How’s tricks?”

“We’re all fine,” I answered, surprised at the evenness of my voice. “You’re looking well.” As he walked around the living room on an inspection tour I was able to look at him. He did look well, very well … he was even fat and he was extremely well dressed. Steve’s best suit wasn’t as good as the carefully pressed pin-stripe Barney was wearing, nor could the tan shirt and perfectly matched tie have been bought at a cheap store by any means. “You look very well,” I repeated, “and certainly prosperous.”

“I’m doing all right,” he answered casually, perching himself on the arm of a chair. “I’ve got a nice hunk of territory selling booze, keeps me moving. Where is everyone?”

“Dickie’s downstairs, I’ll call him. Steve’ll be back soon.”

My knees were shaking as I went to the window to call Dickie. It was easy for me to see Barney, but Dickie . . maybe I should have told him, warned him, but it was too late now.

“Dickie, come on up, there’s someone here to see you.”

He came running into the room breathlessly, and stopped short when he saw Barney. I don’t think he knew who he was until Barney said, “Hi, son, how are you? Come here and let me look at you.”

Dick stood quietly in the middle of the room, not moving, not daring to look up. “It’s Barney, darling, your own daddy,” I said encouragingly. “Don’t you want to say hello to him?”

“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” Barney said, laughing a little too loudly. “No son of mine is shy! Come here and say hello like a man.”

Finally Dickie said “Hello,” in a tiny voice and ran out of the room into his own.

Barney looked annoyed. “Don’t you teach the kid any manners? That’s a heck of a greeting to give his own dad after all these years!”

I bit my lip hard. I must control myself, this is no time to have a scene with Barney . . . remind him that the years were his responsibility, his fault, not his son’s. “This is a big moment for him, Barney,” I said, “maybe he needs a little time to digest it. Why don’t you go in and ask to see his toys?”

“Well, maybe,” Barney replied. but he didn’t move. “You got a television set? There’s a show I wanted to see at one o’clock.”

“No, we haven’t. I’m sorry, besides we’ll be eating then. My heart felt heavy as lead. What had made me think Barney was going to be any different . . . that my bringing him here was going to achieve some magic?

After a while Dickie couldn’t resist coming out, but he came timidly, carrying a box of puzzles he’d gotten for his birthday “Can you do these?” he asked, shoving the box at Barney.

“Sure, sure,” Barney said expansively. “Of course I can.” He sat down on the floor with Dickie and I felt relieved This was more like it. But after struggling for a few minutes unsuccessfully with one of the puzzles, he excused himself, “Forgot to buy cigarettes,” he called from the door, “be right back. . . .”

By the time he got back Steve was there and we sat down to dinner. Then I realized the enormity of the mistake I’d made.

Barney kept the conversation going. but there was nothing in it that included
Dickie at all. He talked about himself, his trips as a salesman, and he talked cars with Steve.

A few times Dickie shyly said, “Daddy. . .” Steve, his face rigid, looked
the other way, and Barney would say,

“Yes, son?” and go right on talking. I was relieved when the meal was over and
wondered how soon Barney would leave.

Steve excused himself after dinner, saying he had a job to do over at the garage where he worked. Barney picked up the newspaper and turned on the radio.
Dickie hung around for a few minutes, his face tense and white. Finally he announced he was going downstairs to skate

“That’s fine,” Barney said easily. “Too nice to stay indoors, you should be with children, not hang around grown-ups.”

In about ten minutes Dickie was back upstairs again, carrying his skates. “Daddy,” he said solemnly to Barney, “can you fix this for me, please?”

He held a loose wheel in his hand . . . they were practically new skates, he’d hardly used them.

Barney put down the paper. “That was fast,” he said lazily, putting the wheel on to the axle.

“Here, ask your mother for a screw driver and tighten it. It’s easy.”

“No, you do it,” Dickie said quietly.

Barney laughed. “I’m too comfortable to move. Sunday’s supposed to be a working man’s day of rest, son, you can do it.”

Dickie was trying hard to keep his face from breaking up into tears, but the cry was there, drawing his mouth down. “I wanted you to fix it.” He couldn’t hold back any more, and the sobs came.

Barney looked surprised. “What a silly thing to cry about, if you’re big enough to skate you can fix it. Now go ahead, don’t be such a baby.”

I forced myself to get busy with the dishes, trying to push out of my mind the tragic disappointment on the child’s face. Perhaps I should have gone after him then, to comfort him, try to ease him with the warmth of my love. But my own heartache was too much, too stifling. . .

It must have been around four o’clock when Steve came in.
“Where’s Dickie?” he asked, surprised.

“Didn’t you see him downstairs when you came in?” I felt a funny little flutter in my heart.

“No, but I’ll go down and look again.”

Barney stood up, his face flushed. “Must have fallen asleep. Gosh, I didn’t know it was this late. As soon as the kid comes in I’ll say goodbye and beat it. This was darn nice, Meg, haven’t eaten as good cooking as yours in a long time.”

There was nothing I could say to him. I wanted to take my fists and pummel his face, wipe out the too-bright restlessness in his eyes, shake him until he couldn’t move, but all the time I knew it wasn’t entirely his fault. I had been the fool. The stupid, stupid, fool to have asked him here today. Hadn’t those years with him been enough to know he’d never change, that there was no understanding, no recognition, nothing in the world for him beyond the capital letters BARNEY. .

Steve came back with his face set in hard lines. “The kids said they haven’t seen him for about two hours. . . .” His eyes went past Barney’s and looked at mine accusingly. . .

“Maybe we’d better call the police. Dickie doesn’t wander off without telling us where he’s going.”

Standing there, my face glued to the window, hearing the grim plans for a search in the low tones of the men behind me, I would have given my life to take back the fairy tale I had spun, take back the easy words of comfort I had invented about Barney, because I couldn’t stand hearing Dickie cry.

I had given him a make-believe father he had to discover was a fake, and I had made it impossible for Steve, or anyone I might have married to be a father to him.

I guess it was close to midnight when Steve called to say he’d found him, way over the other end of town, curled up in an alleyway sound asleep. I sank down in grateful prayer, feeling that God was kinder to me than I deserved.

We were alone after Steve came speeding home in a police car. Steve, Barney, Dickie and me—the four of us. Dickie was in my lap, clinging to me hard and tight.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry. You’re home now, safe and sound with Mommy. Please don’t cry, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” he mumbled, “but I wanted to run away. I didn’t want to come home. Steve shouldn’ta brought me home. . .”

The knife was turning in my heart so sharp I wanted to cry out with the pain of it. Steve came over to me and with one swift movement lifted the boy out of my arms into his own. “Why not. Dickie, why shouldn’t I bring you home?” he whispered, as if he didn’t want anyone but himself and the child to hear.

The boy looked around at the three of us uneasily and then covered his face with his arms.

From the depths of his despair his voice came to us, small and shaky. “‘Cause I don’t like having two fathers, it’s not like the other kids have. Besides I ain’t—I haven’t,” gravely he corrected himself, “I haven’t been nice to Steve, so he don’t like me—an’ Barney, he don’t like me at all either—so what’s the use of havin’ two fathers if neither one of them cares?”
“I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake there, son,” Steve said quietly. “I can’t explain it all to you now, because some of it’s going to take a long time, and maybe it won’t be for years, until you’re much older that you’ll understand it all—especially about Barney. But one thing you’ve got to take my word for—you’ve got to believe and never forget—no matter what you do or say I’m your father and I love you. Nothing you can do can stop that—and nothing I do, even when I’m angry, ever lets that stop, even for a second.”
Dickie took his hands away from his face for a minute and looked at Steve. “Even when I say I hate you?”

Steve smiled. “Even when you say you hate me—to tell you the truth, Dickie, I don’t think you always mean it.” He took the boy’s face between his hands. “And I don’t like you running away from home. You must never, never do this again.”

Dick flushed, and said, almost as if he didn’t know how to stop himself. “What you going to do to stop me?”

Steve’s face was serious. “You gave us a pretty rough time of it this afternoon. I think you’d better give up movies for a month, just to be sure you remember.”
Dickie’s face looked sullen, and then he looked up and caught Steve’s eyes on him. There was no mistaking, even for an eight year-old, the love that shone out of those eyes. “Okay, Dad,” he muttered, and broke out of Steve’s arms. Without looking at any of us he ran out of the room.
father of my child

In the hallway we heard him stop.

“Good night, Barney,” he called out, “and Dad, will you fix those skates for me so I can take them to school tomorrow?”

Steve and Barney exchanged one swift look. “Sure,” Steve answered,

“I’ll do them before I leave in the morning.”

The three of us stood in the room in an uneasy silence. “I guess I better help him into bed,” I said lamely.
For once Barney seemed without words. He opened his mouth and closed it again. “Guess I’d better run along,” he said. “I guess I missed my chance to be a real parent—long time ago. You two can do it much better than I ever could. Good-by.”

There was something in the way he looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the doorway through which Dickie had vanished, in the way he shook Steve’s hand, that made me feel so choked up I couldn’t even say good-by.

After the door closed behind him I was grateful for the strength of Steve’s arm around my shoulder. “It’s going to be all right, Meg—I think it’s going to be all right from now on.”

By the tenderness in his eyes, the firm clasp of his arms around me, I knew it was going to be all right. My boy had found a real father at last—and, in a way, a different, wiser and better mother than he had had before.

 

 

 

 

Modern Echoes of the ‘Penny Dreadful’

penny dreadfulBy Katherine Sharma

The term “Penny Dreadful” has been revived by the recent Showtime horror-thriller series. “Penny dreadful” refers to cheap and lurid British publications catering to the newly literate youth of the late 19th century. Thanks to increased public education, a growing number of English working class adolescents had learned to read at a basic level, and had income for inexpensive escapist entertainment. An American parallel would be the “dime novel.” Aimed mainly at young adult males, the “penny dreadful” began as serialized stories on cheap pulp paper (costing a penny per installment). They offered sensational tales of paranormal chills, violent crime and youthful adventurers. For example, Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, who has been recently reincarnated as a Broadway and film star, was a penny dreadful invention. Other series featured “Varney the Vampire” and “Wagner the Wehr-Wolf.” Actually, the penny dreadful tales don’t sound that different from current best sellers in the Young Adult genre. Clearly, the teen taste for horror-thriller adventure is unabated. But I wonder if the penny dreadful content has modern-day parallels because the elementary literacy of Victorian youth–who demanded short-attention-span excitement devoid of literary and historical allusions and difficult vocabulary–is also still with us. A 2012 study of reading trends among high school students found that the average student reads at the 5th grade level–the reading level of the Hunger Games and Twilight series. For more on penny dreadful history, see http://vichist.blogspot.com/2008/11/penny-dreadfuls.html

NOTE: Showtime’s Penny Dreadful series has been picked up for a second season. Watch a trailer of the series:

ABOUT  KATHERINE SHARMA

Katherine Sharma’s family roots are in Louisiana, Oklahoma and Texas. But after her early childhood in Texas, she has moved around the country and lived in seven other states, from Virginia to Hawaii. She currently resides in California with her husband and three children. She has also traveled extensively in Europe, Africa and Asia, and makes regular visits to family in India. After receiving her bachelor’s degree. in economics and her master’s degree in journalism from the University of Michigan, Katherine worked as a newspaper and magazine writer and editor for more than 15 years. She then shifted into management and marketing roles for firms in industries ranging from outdoor recreation to insurance to direct marketing. Although Katherine still works as a marketing consultant, she is now focused on creative writing.

David and Victoria: Soccer and Spice

David Beckham and Victoria Beckham  at the 2008 ESPY Awards. NokIt’s the most popular sport on the planet, and he was the biggest star the sport had to offer.

Born on May 2, 1975, in Leytonstone, London, England, David Beckham grew up with parents and siblings who were committed fans of Manchester United, England’s legendary soccer franchise. At an early age, Beckham showed his own promise as a footballer, winning the coveted Bobby Charlton Soccer Schools National Skills competition at 11 years old. Continue reading