“Cockring,” she says, smiling, half-hugging me. “You’re telling him all my secrets.”
“Almost all of them,” I say.
Kathi turns back to Reid. “Want a Coke Zero? They ran out at the bar, but I’ve hidden several in the bushes around the pool.”
“Maybe later,” Reid says, a thrill in his eyes—the same thrill I’ve witnessed billions of times before in the countless strangers smitten by meeting this wonderful woman, delighted through and through that she’s offered a simple soda.
“Nice to finally meet you,” Kathi says.
“Likewise,” Reid says, this easy exchange, a solace.
Kathi then tugs on Reid’s arms, pulling him down to her. She whispers something in his ear. It’s strange watching them together, touching, Kathi Kannon and my Reid, the two most favored people in my life, the two most relevant entities in both my inner and outer worlds.
Reid smiles at whatever she’s saying to him. She’s smiling, too, holding his hands a bit longer than what’s natural, a bit sweeter than the mark of some casual moment. And, to my delight, I notice I’m smiling, too, faithful that what’s happening here is something special. This feels like the moment of endorsement. Like Kathi Kannon telling me it’s okay to keep Reid around, that it’s all okay that it ended up here, with the three of us together, our long and storied journey to this point.
While Kathi and Reid have their moment, I scan the room and lock eyes with Roy. He bounces up off the bed, dashes through the crowd over to me, and throws himself at me, adorable lower front fangs first. I squat down and rub his butt the way he likes, him spinning and spinning, happy and safe, seemingly ecstatic to see me—like a dog reuniting with a veteran. “I love you, buddy,” I whisper to him, scratching that special spot behind his ear. I’m thinking of Roy nearly every day, these days. We’ve been through a lot together, we’ve been through her together—us, war buddies, brothers, sharing an experience no one else will ever know. And I think about those dreams Roy used to have at night, where his feet would kick and kick and he was running and running and running—I’ve always been certain he’s running to her. I’m certain because I have those dreams, too.
“Oh!” Kathi shouts. “I have something to show you, Cockring.” She turns to me. I stand as she starts to unbutton the top of her gown.
“I’ve already seen them,” I say.
She reaches into her dress and pulls out a gold chain, and on the end of it, an oval-shaped gold locket, the gold locket.
I purse my lips. I slow my breathing. I feel my heart beating in my temples. I don’t want to cry.
“I had this made for you,” Kathi says. “Well, I had it put on a chain for you. But then I liked it too much and said, ‘Fuck him, I’m keeping it.’ I hope that’s okay?”
Through a smile, I nod and say, “It’s perfect.”
With Roy now nipping at her knees, Kathi turns to Reid. “Okay, you guys, be on the lookout for Courtney Love,” she says. “She’s coming tonight and owes me seven thousand dollars. Bring her to me as soon as you see her!” Kathi shifts her foot, not much, less than half an inch toward the bed, but I’ve seen it before. I know she’s done.
“Will do,” I say, and as I pivot politely away from her, I turn right back. “Wait,” I say.
Kathi faces me. That face, so open and powerful and almost begging for attention—I’m reminded, that’s the face of a movie star.
“I have so much I want to tell you,” I say.
“I already know, Cockring,” she says. And with that, and our absurd grins, Kathi Kannon turns, Roy beside her, and the little ocean of people around her parts, allowing the two of them back to their place in bed, swallowing them up again, with me and Reid standing there, not part of it, outside of it, and literally being sent away, sent on a task, to find her obsessive thought and handle it. I’m thinking, with fondness, Just like old times.
I’m also thinking, Greed knows no end. Not her greed but mine, for wanting, wanting, wanting more from that moment with her, from our time together. Part of me still wants back in the cocoon I left, back in time to appreciate her more, appreciate all this more. I look around this new room, see these new faces, new clothes, new clutter on her nightstand, and I realize how much I miss it. How much I miss her. It reminds me of the old part of me, the loser part, my sad former self. I can see him clearly now because I’m changed. I see my past through the eyes of my present. The hard truth is I know my life is better because of what we went through, but I don’t want to go back, however tempting the illusion looks.
Like when a drug company finds a cure, and puts themselves out of business, Kathi Kannon taught me to love, helped me get out of debt, showed me how to live a fuller life, even if it turned out to be one without much of her actually in it. It was generous of her, a rare kindness in Hollywood. Kinder still was that she gifted me power, for having known her, and for having left her.
I turn to Reid and notice he’s also looking in the spot where she was standing before us just moments ago, into that slice of space that she once occupied, similarly entranced by her coming and going.
I ask, “What did she say to you?”
He says, “She told me, ‘If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.’”
* * *
Parties seem absurd when you’re not there to party. With too much on my mind and shock at all this revelry surrounding my pensive heart, I nudge Reid. Time to go.
On our way out, I drag Reid around the house. I look for signs that I made a difference. The labels are still on the shelves in her bathroom. The basement is still full of the memorabilia I organized in plastic storage bins. The file cabinets full of her writing are standing guard, ever ready for more, ready for all the great books and films she has yet to pen.
I say polite goodbyes to the few people I know I won’t see again anytime soon, other cast members of Kathi Kannon’s life. Benny is still pretending to work. He will outlive us all. Miss Gracie is near the piano, smiling and regaling and making sure no one steals anything. Roger is busy, making sure the catering is in place, the forks and knives in their proper containers. Roger, his life lived for someone else, someone he worships, and I’m thinking, It’s so fucking sad. I’m thinking, It’s so fucking beautiful.
For a moment I watch Kathi’s newest assistant, obvious in the crowd, the groovy young gay guy holding a yellow notepad, wearing what’s clearly a brand-new gray cardigan, with that goddamned purple leather backpack dutifully attached to his shoulders, no doubt full of cash. After I left Kathi, Bruce said, she immediately hired and fired a new assistant. Then another. Then another. Then another. None of them were right. What exactly she was looking for, I can’t say for sure. But in my moments of ego and vanity and sadness and doubt and regret, I wonder if she was looking for me.
God, to think I ever said it: I’m bored.
Therapista says it’s impossible to be bored in this world with all its stimulus and opportunities. She says boredom isn’t actually a feeling at all, but the suppression of a feeling—like anger or shame or loneliness. I wish I would have known sooner. I wonder what feelings I suppress. And Kathi? Therapista says a wonderful, healthy life doesn’t include a requirement to be constantly entertained. She says what we really want is peace of mind, peace in being. Maybe another word for boredom is peace.