Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"How long have you been here trying to be a successful actor?" I asked him.

"Three years, seriously at it," he replied.

"Have you been in any movies?"

"I had a few bit parts. I have my Screen Actors Guild card. That's more than a lot can say. I was in a play six months ago. It ran nearly a month, too."

"Then you must be good," I said. He turned to flash me one of his handsome smiles.

"I am. I just have to get everyone else, the important people, to see it," he said. "After a while it's all just your lucky stars anyway," he added. "Being in the right place at the right time."

"Do you believe in astrology?" I asked.

"Hey, I'll believe in anything they want me to believe in as long as it means I get the part," he said.

"It's that important to you?"

"Are you kidding?" He turned back and gazed at me as if I had just arrived from anot

her planet. Then he smiled. "After you're here for a while, you'll understand," he said. "It's in the air."

"I hope I'm not here that long," I muttered and gazed out the window. Spike continued to watch me in the rearview mirror. I allowed my eyes to meet his briefly before I turned to stare almost blindly at the passing scenery. I couldn't help but be nervous about what was only minutes away. My stomach was doing somersaults. Spike finally noticed my anxiety and took some pity on me.

"It's been some time since you've seen your mother, huh?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

"And you're not even sure it is your mother?"

"No," I said, "although everything points to her being my mother."

He shook his head.

"What a gig. This address, it's an inexpensive condo development. Most of the owners sublet to people tying to break into the business."

"The business?"

"That's what we call Hollywood, the biz," he said. "We have our own lingo." He laughed.

"It's like another country," I muttered, but loud enough for him to hear, which made him laugh even harder.

"You really wouldn't want to be famous, in show business? I bet you have some sort of talent." I continued to stare out the window.

"I play the fiddle and some people say I'm very good."

"There, you see. A number of country music stars have become famous actors," he said.

"I'm far from a country music star," I said, shaking my head. How easy it was for someone to fall into the trap and start believing in his or her own fantasies, I thought. Was that what had happened to Mommy?

"You gotta think positive about yourself. Look at me. I must go to ten, twenty auditions a week and most of the time, I don't even get a call back, but do I let that discourage me? No. I just keep coming back at them. Sooner or later . . . sooner or later," he chanted.

I gazed at him, wondering if he, not me, was the one who should be pitied.

"It's just down this street," he finally said, after making a right turn. My heart seemed to stop and then pound, pound, pound like someone beating on a locked door. I held my breath as he slowed the limousine.

"That's it," he said, "The Egyptian Gardens. I just love the names they give these places."

I peered out the window. Tall hedges walled in the pink stucco complex that wound around the pool in an ell shape. The buildings were only five stories high, each unit with its own small balcony. Some had flower boxes with plants overflowing the sides. All had a small table and chairs. Although the pink shade was bright, the buildings looked worn, tired, chipped and battered in places. The lawn was spotty, some of the bushes looking sickly with many branches without blossoms.