The Beach House by Georgia Bockoven

lunch was over and he and Tony were on their way back to the set, Tony commented, “You really dig all this stuff.”
    â€œIt’s a world I didn’t know anything about,” Chris admitted. “I don’t get the chance to go to many movies anymore. When I did, I just never gave much thought to how they were made.”
    â€œThink you might like to act?”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI could never do what you do. There for a while you actually had me believing you were that guy you were playing. It was really weird.”
    Tony grinned. “Thanks.”
    When they were on the set again, Chris climbed back up on the stool that one of the grips had given him while Tony went over to have his makeup checked. Chris watched the lighting technicians working overhead for several minutes, then looked back to where Tony had been. But he was gone.
    A woman carrying a clipboard came up and asked Chris to move his stool to another location. In the process, Chris caught sight of Tony standing alone in a doorway. He was very still and had a faraway look in his eyes. As Chris watched he saw an incredible transformation take place. The Tony Chris knew was gone, the angry farm worker in his place.
    Later that afternoon, on the way home, Chris asked Tony about what he’d seen and received a quick lesson on acting.
    â€œI didn’t know it was something you could learn,” Chris said. “I thought you either had it or you didn’t.”
    â€œMy teacher used to tell us that a successful actor was ten percent talent and ninety percent tenacity, that you need one as much as the other.”
    â€œDo you believe that?”
    â€œWhich part?” Tony asked, rolling down the window and letting the warm moist air mix with the air-conditioning.
    â€œEither one.”
    â€œLuck and timing are important, too. In this business you can’t get anywhere without them.”
    â€œYou consider yourself lucky?” Chris asked.
    â€œHell, yes. I wouldn’t be where I am now if I hadn’t gotten sick and stayed home from a cruise that I’d won on a game show. As soon as I started feeling better, one of my friends called and asked if I wanted to earn some extra money bartending for a party in Malibu. I had no idea whose house it was until we got there. It was an agent from William Morris I’d been trying to get in to see for months. The rest, as they say, is history.”
    Chris shook his head. “I love stories like that.”
    Tony chuckled. “Me too, especially when they’re about me.”

Chapter 5
    Disappointment tugged at the tail of Chris’s kite of excitement when he got home and found Beverly’s rental car gone and the house empty. He’d called his mother from the movie set to tell her he would be late getting back, but he’d saved the news about where he was to tell her in person.
    And now she wasn’t there.
    Frustrated, he checked the house for a clue to where she might have gone, then walked around the outside to make sure she hadn’t stayed behind to work in the garden. Finally, accepting that his news was going to have to wait, he got a soda from the refrigerator and went out on the deck. But he was too excited to sit still long.
    It wasn’t just his mother he wanted to tell about the movie. He could hardly wait to see Tracy’s reaction. She’d try to be cool about it, but there was no way she wouldn’t be impressed.
    The thought brought him up short. His mind was working like a little kid’s whose only defense against the school bully was to say, “Someday you’ll be sorry.” Well, his day had come, sooner than he’d believed possible. How many times did that happen in a lifetime?
    When Tracy heard whose party it was, she would beg him to take her. He closed his eyes to picture them walking in together. When the image came, it left him with an odd, empty feeling. Confused that his