Page 53 of Men or Paws
“Because—I’m not letting you off the hook that easily,” she said. “You didn’t adhere to one of the stipulations in my addendum and will now pay the penalty. Answer my question and I’ll forget it ever happened.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “Maybe. It depends on what the question is.”
“What goes through an actor’s mind when you consider auditioning for parts? It’s a general question, not personal, so don’t act like I’m trying to gather some inside information that I’m going to sell to the paparazzi.”
I was taken aback by the question.
I didn’t think she cared at all about my life and what I did for a living.
“Okay, I will pay your fine,” I said, still shocked that she wanted to talk to me. “For most actors, they just want to work, and most of the time they’ll take what they can get. The dream for everyone in Hollywood is to be working full-time, making enough money from your craft to support yourself and pay the bills. Unfortunately, the competition is fierce. Imagine your agent submitting your headshot and resume for a speaking role in a movie while there are a thousand other people going for the same part.”
“The odds are not in your favor,” Beth said.
“Not even a little. Fortunately, I’m in a position to be able to choose what I want to work on next, thanks to the success of the trilogy. And quite frankly, I would like to work on something fun that would make me happy and entertain viewers at the same time.”
Beth studied me for a moment. “LikeCaptain Clapton? Was that fulfilling?”
I leaned my back against the door and jammed my hands in my pockets. “The first movie, definitely, it was exciting, it was new, it was my big break. I even loved the story about a superhero trying to make things right in the world. Yes, I had to take off my shirt a few times, but there were way more positives than negatives working on the trilogy.”
“It sounds like the second and third movies in the series weren’t as fun as the first one,” Beth said.
“Shooting the second movie was enjoyable, but by the third movie, I’ll admit I was craving something different, something lighter with not so much bang-bang-shoot-em’ up. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that we were making history with box office sales, and the fact that millions of people were enjoying the movies.” I paused and gestured to Beth. “Present company excluded, of course, along with a handful of other people who clearly have no taste.” I laughed.
Beth shook her head, amused for some reason. “Face it. You can’t please everyone.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Obviously you would know better than anyone, being a chef. It doesn’t matter how well you prepare a dish or how amazing it tastes, there’s always going to be someone who doesn’t like your food or the way you prepared it, for whatever reason, right?”
Something flickered in Beth’s eyes.
She poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue, then slid her jaw back and forth, right, left, right, left, like the pendulum on my antique grandfather clock.
I really hit a nerve.
It was even stronger than the reaction she had when Gwen and I were talking earlier with her about being a chef. Maybe her career in the kitchen wasn’t such a positive experience. Her body language certainly seemed to indicate that.
“People can be finicky eaters, there’s no doubt about that,” I added, wondering if that would prompt her to say anything on the subject or make her feel better.
Beth looked like she wanted to say something, but then changed her mind.
I knew the restaurant business was grueling with long hours and sore feet. Maybe that was why she wasn’t a chef anymore and wanted to branch out on her own to create her own line of food. I admired her for that, making a change for the better, instead of continuing to do what didn’t fulfill her.
What a coincidence, I was on the exact same path, looking for something more fulfilling.
Too bad Beth was still holding onto the negativity of those ungrateful customers from her past. She really needed to let it go, but I wasn’t sure it was my place to give her that advice, even though it was tempting.
Beth finally spoke, her jaw clenched. “Yes, I’ve definitely had my share of rude customers who thought they knew how to prepare my dish better than me. Or others who wanted to make ridiculous changes or substitutions when the menu clearly stated they weren’t allowed. One always hopes that people who are not pleased with something would be civil and respectful about it. Unfortunately, that’s not always the case.”
There was definitely a story there, but why was she glaring at me? I understood it bothered her, but there was no reason to take it out on me.
I nodded, sympathizing with Beth and what she went through. “People can be cruel. I don’t think they realize how much goes into preparing a gourmet meal.” I gestured to some of the things she had on the kitchen counter: a bottle of white wine, a bag of all-purpose organic flour, two lemons, angel hair pasta, and Italian capers. “Anyone can throw all these ingredients together, but it can come out completely different depending on who’s preparing it. What you do is an art form, really.”
I was trying to make her feel better, but Beth’s state didn’t change at all. When she didn’t have a dazed look on her face, she looked like she wanted to strangle someone.
Hopefully, it wasn’t me.
I picked up the jar of capers and inspected it, hoping to distract her. “What’s on the menu? Something tasty, I would imagine.”
“Chicken piccata,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s not something I would expect you to appreciate.”
