STS Ch-42

“So this is your new home?” Julie asked thoughtfully and looked around the living room. The place still looked a little too empty without any of my personal stuff put in. It didn’t make sense to decorate the place when I’ll be going away soon.

“Yup,” I said with a nod. “Thanks for agreeing to stay here with me.”

“That’s what friends are for, aren’t they?” she shot back playfully. She stepped closer, slipped her arms around my neck, and pressed her body against mine. “And I’ve got very little stuff to carry. So it isn’t too much trouble, even if I’m here only for a month.”

I leaned in and kissed her, feeling her fingers slide through my hair. My mouth parted on instinct as the kiss deepened. My hands slid down to her butt, pulling her closer, rubbing her body against my—

“If this is what you guys plan to do for the whole month, I’d better start looking for another place.”

I laughed and broke the kiss, turning toward the voice. My best friend Peter stood at the doorway with a deadpan expression, while Ash and Lenny hovered behind him wearing matching grins.

“You’re just jealous,” I shot back, still keeping an arm around Julie.

She, unfortunately, had other priorities. She nudged me away and straightened her shirt.

“I have to unpack,” she said. “You guys do what you gotta do. I’ll be in my room.”

She headed down the short hallway to the room closest to mine, all the while dragging her suitcase behind.

When she was out of earshot, I faced my friends and dropped my voice to a warning tone. “I might be letting you guys rent this place, but if anything happens to it, you had better fix it. Or I’ll make you.”

“Don’t worry, man,” Ash said, lifting his hands as if promising peace. “If nothing else, I’ll make sure these two knuckleheads behave.”

That was actually reassuring. If there was one thing everyone knew about Ash, it was that he was the responsible one in our group. If he said he’d take care of the place, I trusted him. I’d been planning to rent the house out anyway when Peter gave me an idea.

Lenny would be going to a college nearby, and Ash and Peter had been planning to move out of their parents’ homes. Now they’d all be paying their share of the rent to me. It was way less than what I’d get from renting to a family, but I agreed to it because it was difficult to rent a place this big. It may take months before someone moves in. And if that happens, I’ll lose access to this place. With my friends living here, it meant I could come and stay in my room whenever I wanted.

“Man,” Lenny said, practically buzzing with excitement, “I can already picture the parties we’ll have here. We’re gonna be drowning in pussy.”

“As long as the house stays exactly the way I left it, you can have mass orgies for all I care,” I said. I paused, reconsidered, then added, “By the way, I’m keeping my room locked when I’m not here.”

And will definitely hire a deep cleaner if I were ever to live here long-term.

Lenny laughed like I was joking, but the sound died immediately when he saw my expression wasn’t changing.

“I’ll be leaving for work,” I announced. “You guys can settle in for now. We’ll meet again tonight.”

With that, I headed out to continue the editing process for Friday the 13th. The only difference this time was the car I drove. Instead of my old Ford, I slid into my brand-new silver Porsche 911 Turbo 3.3 Coupé. Even now, it still feels unreal how quickly I bought it. I wanted something cheaper, but I also knew that when I debut next year, I can’t drive a beat-up car. The thing cost around twenty-five grand, but I only paid 15% as a down payment. I’d rather avoid buying anything on credit, but the current tax laws made it way too tempting.

I can’t wait for Reagan to liberalize taxes in a few years.

(Break)

I let out a long breath as I eased my whole body into the water. My new place sat right on the beach, but I wasn’t sure if the rejuvenation I felt in Fiji’s waters would work the same way here. Today had drained every ounce of energy from me, and the thought of working on my next script made me want to curl up and sleep instead.

But the instant the water touched my skin, it felt as if I’d just woken up from a twelve-hour nap. Warmth spread through my muscles, washing away my exhaustion. This was definitely my favorite part of the new house.

“You shouldn’t swim so late at night!” a voice shouted from the shore. “The water’s freezing and pretty choppy. You could drown.”

Anyone else might’ve missed it, but water was like air to me, so every sound traveled clear as day.

I surfaced and squinted toward the beach. There was a man standing near the path, his silhouette hazy with a porch light glowing behind him. He looked familiar somehow, though the backlit glare made it hard to place his face.

As much as I wanted to ignore him and keep swimming, I needed to get back and start working on the next movie anyway. I swam to shore and stood up, and the man immediately spun around once he realized I was skinny-dipping.

I grabbed my towel off the sand and wrapped it around my waist, deliberately letting the water droplets cling to my skin.

“You can’t swim out here naked,” the man grumbled. “It’s not proper. Families live here. Little kids could see you and…”

I was immediately irritated by the man. For one, this stretch of land was included in the land I had purchased, so legally, I could stand here naked if I wanted to. More importantly, even if it was illegal, who was this man to tell me off?

“Fuck off, Grandpa,” I snapped, too tired for a lecture. “Why do you think I came this late? I was just trying to relax after a long day.”

“In freezing cold water?” he shot back. “Are you out of your mind? By the way, there may not be fences, but this part of the beach belongs to that house.”

He pointed toward my new home.

“There’s a new owner, and they won’t like you swimming here at all.”

“They won’t mind,” I said with a grin. “Because I’m the new owner. And technically, you’re trespassing on my property right now. I could shoot you right now if I wanted to.”

The man stared at me for a few seconds, clearly not buying a word. I didn’t care what he believed. I just wanted to get back inside, get dressed, and work on my new script.

“Don’t lie to me,” he called out as I started walking toward the house. “You’re squatting here, aren’t you? How can a kid afford a place like this?”

I ignored him and kept going.

“I can call the police and let them handle it.”

I groaned loudly and turned back around. “Listen, old man, why the fuck don’t you mind your own fucking b—”

The porch light caught his face at the perfect angle. And when it did, the realization hit me like a punch.

He wasn’t that old, maybe late thirties or early forties, but he was definitely one of the most recognizable actors in the world.

“Fuck,” I whispered. “You’re Al Pacino.”

“That I am,” he said with a nod, his tone calm rather than smug. “But don’t change the topic. I’m not letting some squatter stay in my neighbor’s house.”

I sighed again. “I’m not a squatter. I’m an actor too, and I bought this house with my salary. I’m living here with four of my friends.”

Al narrowed his eyes. “If you were getting paid enough to afford a place like this, you wouldn’t be a nobody. And I know every famous actor working today.”

“Would my bank statement be enough proof to get you off my case?” I joked, expecting him to laugh it off.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” he said, completely serious.

That threw me off, but I shrugged. “Alright, come in and see for yourself.”

As I led him inside, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe I should’ve introduced myself to the neighbors earlier. And now here I was, standing next to Al Pacino of all people, after calling him Grandpa and telling him to fuck off.

I darted upstairs to my room, threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed my latest bank statement from a pile of untouched mail, and rushed back down.

He studied the document carefully before handing it back.

“I guess it checks out,” he said grumpily.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling like an idiot. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Pacino. You were just being a good neighbor, and I snapped at you. It’s been a long day.”

He waved a hand casually. “Don’t worry about it, kid. I remember being young and impulsive. I probably would’ve said worse if someone accused me of squatting in my own home. And drop the mister stuff. Call me Al. I’m not that old.”

“Alright, Al.” I offered him my hand, and he shook it. “Noah Hunter. Let me get you a drink. You okay with beer? That’s all I’ve got besides water.”

I didn’t expect him to stay, but apparently Al Pacino had nothing better to do tonight.

“Just beer?” he said, sounding genuinely disappointed. “That’s so basic. You need some good stuff. I can help you out with that later. Let’s have the beer for now.”

With a nod, I went to the fridge, grabbed a couple of bottles, and handed one to him as he settled onto my brand-new couch. I took the chair across from him.

“Where are your friends?” he asked after his first sip. “The ones you’re living with.”

“They went to a party,” I said with a shrug. “They invited me too, but I was busy with work. I’ll be working for a few more hours, actually.”

Al took another sip, his eyes drifting to the bank statement on the coffee table. Curiosity practically radiated off him.

“What?” I asked, unable to ignore it.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just wondering how a young actor like you made that much money without ever appearing in anything big. Don’t tell me you were some child star I’m failing to recognize.”

I chuckled. “Nope. I only started acting this year. Both my movies come out in the summer of 1980. And as for the money, I co-directed one of the indie films I acted in. It sold for a pretty good amount.”

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s amazing. What else can you do? Don’t tell me you’re a musician too.”

I laughed. “No. But I’m a screenwriter.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Kids these days. You’re making me feel like a lazy old geezer. Next thing I know, you’ll be winning gold medals at the Olympics.”

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly that, but I shut it before anything slipped out. I wanted the Olympics, sure, but it wasn’t happening any time soon.

We talked about the film industry for almost an hour. Al turned out to be genuinely knowledgeable and incredibly down to earth. His sense of humor caught me off guard more than once. Even though our introduction had been rough, I had to admit he was a great guy, with no trace of the ego I’d expected from an A-list celebrity.

“Well,” Al said, standing after finishing his third beer, “as much as I’d like to stay and talk some more, it’s getting late. My girlfriend will think I’m having an affair with someone here.”

We both laughed.

“I’ll leave you to your work, Noah,” he said as he headed toward the door. “Come over sometime. I live in the house right beside yours. I’ll show you my wine collection.”

“I’d love to,” I said with a smile as he stepped outside the way he’d come.

The whole encounter was bizarre, but I couldn’t help liking him. He wasn’t anything like what I’d imagined. It was strange that my realtor didn’t brag about the property being next door to Al Pacino.

I pushed the thought aside and headed back to my room to get some work started on my next film.

(Break)

“Why do you have to go to college?” Sean asked, sounding genuinely dejected. “You, me, and Bill have such a great thing going here.”

“We do,” I agreed. “But we’ve already gotten most of the work done. I’m sure you’ll manage the rest just fine without me.”

The last month had flown by in a blur. Editing was easily the most exhausting and thankless job in filmmaking. People don’t realize that without good editing, even a film with perfect acting, directing, and cinematography can fall flat on its face.

My days and nights melted together from lack of sleep, and before I knew it, the time had come for me to leave for college. If it weren’t for Julie reminding me constantly, I probably would’ve missed my first few classes without even realizing it.

Sean sighed and gave me a resigned nod. “All the best for Harvard. Remember, you still have to shoot a movie there.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m done with the script, and as soon as I get permission from the President of the University, I’ll start pre-production.”

Sean shook his head. “I’m telling you, you won’t get that. The last film Harvard allowed was Love Story in the sixties. The crew damaged the trees so badly that the university banned all filming on campus afterward.”

He wasn’t wrong, but I already had a backup plan. I just wasn’t sure how easy it would be.

“Then I’ll get permission from BU or MIT,” I said. “One way or another, I’ll make that film.”

Sean still looked doubtful, but he nodded anyway. “Whatever you say.”

When I stepped out of the editing studio for the last time, a wave of bittersweet guilt washed over me. Now that I was actually leaving for Harvard, I finally understood why Sean, Frank, Randal, and almost everyone else had been telling me that I didn’t need college. And now that I was going anyway, a part of me felt like I was abandoning my work. Sure, I’d still be working while studying, but it wouldn’t be the same.

“Ready to go?” Julie called out. She was leaning against my car with a bright grin, sunlight catching her hair.

“I am,” I said, feeling my confidence return. She walked around to the passenger side and slipped in while I took the driver’s seat. A loud honk sounded behind us.

I leaned out the window and saw my three friends packed into Lenny’s car, all of them grinning like idiots.

“Race you to Harvard!” Peter yelled from behind the wheel.

“You’re on,” I said, laughing as I hit the gas.

Harvard, here I come.