Lives of the Circus Animals by Christopher Bram Read Free Book Online Page B

money. Bags of it. I want to sell out. If only I can find someone who’ll buy. Does that shock you, my dear?”
    She was smirking, not looking shocked, merely skeptical.
    â€œLook at Vanessa,” he said. “Or Hopkins or McKellen. Or Alan Rickman for chrissakes. Surely I have as much talent as those fakers. I’d make a lovely villain in a billion-dollar thriller. To die at the hands of Bruce Willis? The mere thought is enough to make me cream in my jeans.”
    â€œYou don’t really believe that.”
    â€œOh, Mr. Willis doesn’t get me hard. But the money does.”
    â€œThat’s what I meant. You’re not serious about the money.”
    â€œWhy not? What else is there to want from life?”
    â€œBut you were just complaining about being bored with this show. A big-budget movie would be even worse.”
    â€œYou think? Maybe. I contradict myself? Very well. I contradict myself.”
    He smiled, hiding his irritation for being called on his conflicted desires. He took a deep drag on his toothpick of bliss, wanting to climb back into a soft chambered cloud. When she said nothing, when she just sat there, watching, her intelligence began to worry him.
    He released his smoke. He took another gulp of wine. “I hope I didn’t sound envious and bitter about those other actors, my dear.”
    She shook her head.
    â€œYou must understand. When I run down my peers, it’s not out of hatred or envy, though those emotions may be present. It takes a faker to know a faker. No, we hate one another chiefly to get a change from hating ourselves.”
    He blinked at his own words—had he really said that? He let out a loud bark of laughter.
    â€œListen to me! What rubbish! What’s in this stuff anyway?” He stared at the joint. “Is this what they call designer grass?”
    Just then something beeped, like a signal from Jupiter. A second beep came from Jessie’s chair.
    Jessie dug into the cushion, fished out the cordless receiver, and passed it to Henry.
    â€œAh.” He pressed the button. “Yes?”
    â€œHenry? You’re home? I thought I’d get only your machine. It’s Rufus. In L.A. How are you?”
    â€œRufus! What a nice surprise. How good to hear your dulcet tones. And how’s life in the world of sunshine, hot tubs, and penis?”
    He was delighted to talk nonsense with a peer. His assistant’s curiosity and this potent grass had made him much too serious. He licked his thumb and forefinger and pinched out the ember.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Roof?”
    â€œI just called to say hello.”
    â€œUh-huh. And whose number do you want? What dish on whose houseboy or boyfriend?” His teasing was jovial, harmless, brotherly.
    â€œHen? Are you partaking?”
    Henry laughed. “We know each other too well, don’t we?”
    They had met fifteen years ago, in a Vanya at the RSC where Henry was Dr. Astrov and Rufus was the nameless workman with two lines in Act Four. It was Rufus’s first baby step in the profession. They were lovers of a sort during the run, hygienic lust with a touch of playacted romance. Rufus was a tall, beautiful, lazy fellow, but he’d achieved surprising success in Hollywood playing “the best friend” in romantic comedies. Or what passed for romantic comedies in these sorry times.
    True to form, he did want a favor. He was coming to New York next month and needed to meet Christina Rizzo. “She’s your new agent, right?”
    â€œWhat? Where did you hear that?” Henry scowled. “All these damn little birds. Oh, all right. Yes. But it’s not final yet. And it’s not public. I haven’t even told Dolly yet that I’m leaving her for CAA.”
    â€œMy lips are sealed. But what’s she like, this Rizzo?”
    â€œAn absolute cunt. But she promises to be my cunt.”
    â€œLucky you. A good cunt beats a limp dick any