Chapter 8: Ideas Begin To Form

Wednesday December 14
When I got up, I already had messages from home. Today was the beginning of the college football early signing period. Ty, our All-State running back, had made it official and signed with the University of Michigan. I thought it was a good fit for both of them. Michigan fans would be happy when they saw what he could do for them. Ty wanted to get his recruitment over with and had known after Michigan had held a football camp at our high school that he would play for them.

Brock and Bryan Callahan had decided to play ball for Western Illinois. The Leathernecks had gone 6–5 overall and 3–5 in the Missouri Valley Conference this season. The school was in Macomb, a small college town basically in the middle of nowhere. I was sure that when the two of them hit campus, they would liven things up.

Mike Herndon, my nemesis, had also signed with Michigan as an athlete, which meant he would probably never play quarterback. His going to Michigan was the one disappointment from today’s news. As much as I would like to think I could be above it all, that bothered me. Not because I thought Mike would ever take my place on the field, but because he was such a complete jerk. I was sure that at some point, I would have to kick his butt. That wasn’t enough to keep me from going there, though. Mike Herndon would just be one guy on a roster of eighty-five if we decided to play for Michigan.

One surprise was that Percy Wilkes pulled the trigger and committed to USC. I was sure that the people in Texas were disappointed that one of their own had gotten away. I had to admit that his going there made me think again about going to USC. He was a top-five recruit on every one of the recruiting services’ lists. He had the rare combination of size and speed that just screamed NFL prospect. Most kids his size were either offensive or defensive tackles. He would be a monster at defensive end.

I had only seen one man as large as he was move as quickly. He’d been the starting defensive end for the Buffalo Bills who’d worked out with me in Chicago. That was the day I committed to getting bigger and faster because I knew that if someone that big was chasing me, I didn’t want to get caught. If he did catch me, I had to be strong enough to handle the pounding.

Dad begged off on surfing, so it was just Manaia and me. He said that the waves were better at Zuma Beach today. The beach itself was nearly two miles long. Even with the number of people in the water, there was room to find your own spot this morning.

Manaia and I surfed for about an hour and had to get going. If I were lucky, I would get all my scenes done today and not have to work on Saturday.

We stopped at a place for breakfast.

“Is it okay if I inquire about your tattoos?” I asked.

Manaia had one on the right side of his chest that traveled up and covered his shoulder and the upper part of his right arm. He also had a tattoo that started at his waist and ended just above his knees; I assumed that one covered his buttocks. Both the upper and lower tattoos looked like intricate armor.

“It’s called tatau. When the Europeans arrived in the 1800s, they mispronounced it ‘tattoo.’ For men, we call them pe’a. Historically, Samoa’s culture used the pe’a to represent your social status. It was also considered a rite of passage for young men. I got them for my grandmother, who wanted to keep the old traditions alive. She always claimed that my family could be traced back to chiefs. It’s a cultural pride thing,” he explained.

“Did it hurt?” I asked.

“Hell, yes. The old man that did mine did it the traditional way. They don’t use a tattoo gun. It was done with a blade attached to a stick, and he whacked me with it. To get them so dark, he had to go over it again and again for what seemed like forever.”

“It looks pretty cool.”

“Chicks dig it,” he said with a smile.

“When my mom comes, you’ll have to tell her that.”

“I’ve been warned about your mom. There’s no way I’m going to tell her anything of the sort.”

It was probably safer for him if he didn’t.

“What’s the deal with you and Teresa?” he asked, to change the subject.

I just shrugged.

“She’s a fine woman. Is she in college?” he asked.

“Yep. You interested in her?” I asked.

“More like in lust,” he admitted.

This was more like what my security needed to be: guys I could talk about important issues with. Not the candy-asses I had back home who were afraid I would lead them astray.

“Ask Fritz to see the tape.”

“What tape?” he asked. “Did you ... uh ... never mind.”

It was funny to see the big guy get awkward. I just gave him a mysterious smile and let him twist in the wind. Maybe I could get him to handle Teresa’s mom. That woman worried me. If she would just focus on Manaia, it would be a load off my mind. I sure he wouldn’t mind taking one for the team in that regard. Now, she was hot!

“Good morning,” I said to Misaki as she entered the men’s dressing room.

I was about to get my makeup put on, so she took the seat next to mine.

“How was your day off?”

“Good. How was work?” I asked to get the small talk out of the way.

We both knew that Misaki was here to either give me sisterly advice or tell me who my next lunch victim was.

“I’ve been bad,” she admitted, surprising me.

“Oh, do tell,” I said, giving her my full attention.

“Today is your big scene with Haru when she gives you her first kiss.”

In this episode, I had kissed her when we filmed the beginning. It was all about her crush on me, what the kiss meant, and all the girly stuff associated with it. Kenta’s character would do everything he could to convince her that I was just an American playboy up to no good. The girls would all think it was romantic. Jiro, the nerdy actor Hana was dating, would stand up for me. They had Haru get brave and corner me after class, so she could kiss me back. That would set up the next few episodes where everyone tries to figure out what it all means.

I think I was hired to be the eye candy for this show. What else could I conclude when I had zero lines in this episode? I wondered if it would help if I took my shirt off for the scene. They should get their money’s worth. I decided to ask Misaki.

“Do you think it would help if I took my shirt off for the scene?” I asked.

I could almost hear her eyes roll at that. She gave her head a little shake ‘no,’ and then her eyes bore into mine.

“She’s nervous. Don’t you be too sexy and cute to cause her to mess up,” Misaki warned.

“You think I’m sexy and cute?” I asked innocently.

“You are a brat. Just be nice,” she cautioned.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and gave her a slight head bow.

Misaki liked it when I showed her deference. It was all part of being a big sister to boss around her charge. Somehow, I’d collected several big sisters who thought they were the boss of me. Little did they know...

I gave her a curious look.

“How have you been bad?” I asked.

“Haru told us what you did,” she began.

Haru must have shared that I slipped her the tongue to get her to react for the scene.

“We’ve been giving her ideas about what she should do in retaliation,” Misaki continued. “She was ready to turn up the heat with her kiss this afternoon when I reminded her that you’d already had sex on screen before. I told her you might not be like the typical guy from Japan who would be shocked by her being brazen.”

“First of all, it was never confirmed I had sex on set.”

“According to our research, I disagree,” Misaki said authoritatively.

“Our?” I asked, giving her my one-eyebrow-raised look.

She blushed.

“In exchange for pictures of you on set, friends back in Japan do research for us. We hit the mother lode when you decided to go skinny-dipping,” Misaki admitted.

“Let me get this straight. All the girls on the set are secretly taking pictures of me and sending them home?” I asked.

“Maybe not Tomoko.”

Tomoko played one of the professors and was older. I could see her not being caught up in all this. What struck me as funny was that Misaki wasn’t even embarrassed that they were doing it.

“I don’t think I want to know more about that. What I do need to know is what Haru plans to do, now that you scared her.”

“Just be super-nice to her. The poor girl is about to fall apart on us, worrying about what you’ll do next.”

“Who am I going to lunch with?” I asked to change the subject.

“Mr. Nomura. He’s the senior actor, and you should show him deference and ask him to be your mentor. It would mean a lot to everyone if you did,” Misaki said.

“Explain that to me.”

“The mentor relationship was created via Confucian teaching. I’m sure you’ve heard the words senpai and kōhai. It is a mentoring relationship that is formed in a variety of situations. The senpai is experienced and helps or offers friendship and guidance to the inexperienced kōhai. The kōhai, in return, must demonstrate gratitude, respect, and occasionally personal loyalty. It would be a great honor for Mr. Nomura to be your senpai,” she explained.

“Why would this be a big deal to the cast?” I asked.

“Knowing that Mr. Nomura accepted you as his kōhai would mean that you are more than the gaijin hired to be sexy and cute,” Misaki said.

Her little smile, and adding the ‘sexy and cute,’ helped soften the blow. I had to remember that people around the world had preconceived opinions of Americans that I would have to work to overcome. I might be big in Japan, but I was still an outsider.

Misaki left me to get ready herself. When I made it to the set, I found Mr. Nomura and formally asked him to lunch. It was apparent the Japanese contingent approved.

I took Mr. Nomura to V’s Restaurant and Bar. It looked like an upscale diner from the outside, and the inside was well done. It was modern, but with a lot of wood accents and low lighting to give it an inviting feel. The menu had an Italian flair with traditional American favorites sprinkled in.

“You’ve done a lot to help teamwork on the set. These lunches are highly coveted. Thank you for inviting me,” Mr. Nomura said.

“I hope to get to know everyone better, but with you, I have an ulterior motive. I was hoping you could help guide me in working better with my castmates.”

Mr. Nomura was probably my dad’s age. He would fit into Hollywood because he looked like a TV star. He had long hair that he combed back, and it had started to show gray highlights at the temples. Mr. Nomura also had a small goatee and mustache that had gray beginning to come in. He still looked youthful but now had an air of authority and sophistication. He made the perfect dean for the show.

“I would very much like to help you,” he said.

Once that was out of the way, he opened up and started to share with me. Mr. Nomura had been on various Japanese TV shows over the past twenty years. He was actually Chinese, but had changed his name for Japanese TV, and was also a producer and musician. He’d taken this role so he could have time in the States and was auditioning for roles on his days off. Mr. Nomura had a callback for a show coming out called Altered Carbon; it was due out on Netflix next year.

He then dug into my life. I gave him the Cliff Notes version. He was fascinated with everything I’d done to this point.

“To be as young as you are with everything in front of you...” he said and trailed off.

He then looked up at me and held my eyes.

“What makes you happy?” Mr. Nomura asked.

“My children and family. My girlfriend. Good friends. That’s what immediately comes to mind,” I answered.

“You just told me about all the things you’re doing and what you plan to do before you go to college. Then it’s off to college for an extended period. Don’t you find it telling that they are not involved in most of it?

“There’s an old saying: he who chases two rabbits catches none. Yet somehow, you’ve split your focus between sports, acting, modeling, and family. I realize that you’ve made commitments, and I would never suggest that you don’t honor them. At some point, you must find the one thing that makes you both happy and fulfilled,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking about that. I sat down with my uncle this last fall, and we had a long talk about it not being about the path but more about what I wanted to achieve. That there are many paths that will get me there; I just need to know where I’m going. It has driven me crazy, trying to figure that out,” I admitted.

Mr. Nomura smiled at me.

“It sounds like your uncle is someone I would like to meet. Let me give you one piece of advice, and then we must get back to work: life is simple, but we insist on complicating it.”

I couldn’t help myself; I snorted. He and my uncle would make a pair. Fuck me! This was one more person who I felt had my best interest at heart, telling me to look to the future. The sad part was I knew they were right. My life goals were supposed to help me work towards that future.

At this point, the question was, ‘working towards what?’ What I needed to do was go to that psychic who told me I had five kids. His big reveal had been that some woman would put me off marriage, and I would do something unexpected. He did nail it with the five kids. Of all his predictions, I figured that one had had the longest odds of coming true.

“Any suggestions?” I asked to get his take.

“I would suggest that you find some way to combine your pursuits.”

Maybe it was time I quit kicking the can down the road. What Mr. Nomura just said tickled a thought I’d had lurking in the back of my mind.

Before our big kiss scene, I saw Mr. Nomura in a heated discussion with our director, Mr. Otsuki. I was surprised when Mr. Otsuki nodded to him and then called Haru, Hana, and me over to talk.

“I’d hoped to push the boundaries with public displays of affection and have Haru’s character kiss David in a public place. It was understandable that David would walk up and kiss her in public because this is America. What was pointed out to me was that a good Japanese girl would never do the same. We need to rethink the scene,” Mr. Otsuki explained.

“When I want a little privacy, I pull the girl into an empty classroom,” I said without thinking.

Both Haru and Mr. Otsuki gave me shocked looks. They knew enough English that Hana didn’t have to translate for them. I’d found out that all the cast spoke English and did it well. Mr. Otsuki used Japanese on set, which forced me to rely on Hana most of the time. I didn’t complain because it gave me a chance to learn Japanese.

“I want to hear all about what you do in empty classrooms,” Haru said, and then blushed when she realized that Mr. Otsuki was standing next to her.

He was a good sport and chuckled at her discomfort.

“This sounds very American and solves my issue,” he said and left to set it up.

“We should practice kissing,” I ventured.

“You’re a brat,” Haru said.

“No, really. A movie kiss isn’t as easy as you think,” I said and shared what I learned in my acting class.

We did end up practicing. The sad part was that when we went into acting mode, it wasn’t near as fun as it sounded. We finally settled on how we would do it for the scene and went and shot it. On playback, it turned out to be precisely what a first kiss initiated by a girl should look like. I was destined to star in a Hallmark show if I kept up this sweet, innocent stuff.

I was so done when Mr. Otsuki finally let us all go at three in the morning. He’d extended our day to get the balance of my scenes completed. He decided that it fit their process better to wrap up the shooting on Wednesday. We would be back on set come Sunday.

Thursday December 15
I slept in like a real teenager and didn’t roll out of bed until ten. When I saw the time, I realized I had to get going because I had things to do today. I had a few scenes in Halle’s movie, and I also had a late afternoon appointment with Jett for further singing lessons.

I got ready and rushed downstairs to grab a bite and then head to the studio. What I found was my dad looking somber.

“What’s with you?” I asked.

“Cassidy was arrested last night. She was released this morning when the police saw the video,” Dad said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You should just watch it. I want you to know everyone’s fine,” he said.

If that didn’t set off alarms in my head, nothing would.

He opened his laptop and hit play. The video showed our living room; I could tell by how the light was coming from the kitchen that it was late afternoon. I could see Duke lying next to the playpen as Coby, Little David, and a baby I didn’t recognize were having naps. They must have just gotten home from daycare.

Coby woke up, and Duke jumped up and left to tell Peggy that they were awake. I had a smile when I saw my little monkey grab onto the playpen bars and begin to pull himself up.

Duke came down the stairs, followed by Aaron, the male nanny we’d hired. I was shocked to see he only wore a pair of boxers, and it was evident that he was aroused. I assumed that Peggy must have acted on her crush. My momentary distraction was snapped back to the screen when I heard Aaron’s angry voice.

“I’ve about had enough of you,” he said and shoved Coby back into the playpen.

My son was at first startled and then began to cry.

“I’ll give you something to cry about,” Aaron said and drew his hand back.

That was when I heard the deep growl that meant that Duke wasn’t playing. The hair was up on his back, and he was showing his teeth. I’d only seen him do that once with me and a couple of times with Precious.

Thankfully, Aaron turned his attention to Duke. I wasn’t happy when he kicked Duke and sent him flying into the coffee table. Aaron wasn’t done; he charged my dog and kicked him again. You have to understand that Labs are made out of rubber. I swear that they have no feeling, so when I heard his yelp, I knew that Aaron had hurt him.

“Stop!” Cassidy screamed as she charged in from the kitchen.

Aaron did the single stupidest thing any boy had done since Brad, her brother, did the same: he backhanded her. Two seconds later, Aaron was on the floor, screaming, with a dislocated elbow. It took me a moment to wrap my brain around that because I knew how hard it is to dislocate your elbow. It’s basically a ball and socket designed only to go back so far. To dislocate, either something has to break, or tendons have to be compromised. There’s also a bundle of nerves right there. If his screams of pain were any indication, that one was going to leave a mark.

Then my ‘Peggy hooking up’ theory was blown out of the water when one of the moms from the daycare came downstairs, half-dressed.

I looked at my dad, and I could see the pain in his eyes.

“Did they arrest him?” I asked.

“Yes, once they saw that Cassidy hadn’t just attacked him. She’d come over to eat dinner at our house. I hate to think what would have happened if she hadn’t shown up,” Dad said.

“How are Coby and Duke?” I asked.

“According to your mom, Duke is bruised and acting like a big baby, milking all the attention he’s getting for being a hero. Coby has a knot on the back of his head, but he is otherwise fine.”

“Can we get the charges dropped and have them release him? I would like that to coincide with me being able to be at home to check on my son,” I said.

Dad actually smiled.

“What?” I asked.

“Your uncle, Greg, and Phil all made similar suggestions. I guess you are a Dawson.”

“I’m not joking around,” I said, getting mad.

“Son, I know you’re not. Let Cassidy’s payback serve for now, and we’ll see how the justice system works on this one.”

“It had better work better than it did for us with Zander. If it doesn’t, you might have to get me the same deal he got.”

“Speaking of which, Mr. Voorhees filed suit yesterday.”

That meant they’d filed our civil suit against Zander for when his driver almost killed me.

“Good. I’m in no mood to play games with him, either,” I admitted.

“You want some more bad news?”

“What else?”

“Stewart, from the NCAA, wants to meet with us. Mr. Morris sent him the video from the dinner with Coach Foster. By the way, I played golf with Coach Foster yesterday, and he never even mentioned your recruitment. He seems like a nice guy,” Dad said.

Anyone who could get Dad onto a premium golf course was a ‘good guy’ in my dad’s book.

“What does Mr. Morris say?” I asked.

“He thinks we should show good faith and meet with him.”

“Lexi knows my schedule. Tell her what works for you, and I’ll have her call Mr. Morris to coordinate with Stewart.”

“You’re getting pretty good at delegating,” Dad observed.

“I’m just following in your footsteps. All I have to do is think about you ‘delegating’ to Greg and me.”

“You better get to work, or I’ll find something for you to do around here,” Dad threatened.

That just proved my point!

When I got on set, I went to Halle’s trailer. She took one look at me and hugged me.

“You looked like you needed that,” she said.

I told her about our manny. I think she was ready to fly out with me right now.

Fortunately for me, today was a light day. I was only in a couple of scenes. Unfortunately for me, they weren’t being shot consecutively. That did give me time to go to my trailer and think. Seeing our male nanny, or ‘manny,’ as we’d started calling him, abuse both my son and dog made me realize that Mr. Nomura had a point. I had to find more time for what was important: my family.

I was close to booking a flight and skipping out. If my uncle hadn’t pointed out what it took to be a ‘man of your word,’ I would have done precisely that. The only thing that kept me from breaking my word was my support system back home. I knew that between my mom, Peggy, and everyone else, Coby and Duke would be taken care of. Probably better than I could, if I were brutally honest.

I finished up acting and went to the sound studio to meet Jett.

“Hey, Big Guy. You bother to practice this week?” Jett teased.

“Yes, I practiced,” I said as whiningly as I could.

I gave it an eight out of ten. Only teen girls could pull off a solid ten.

“Okay, let’s warm your voice up, and then we’ll try the songs and see where you are,” Jett said, completely ignoring my whining and getting down to business.

I started to think I might have to work more on my whining, but then decided that was one quality I didn’t want to perfect.

The first half-hour was spent doing the exercises she’d taught me. She could tell I’d put in the effort. When you were on set for hours on end, there was plenty of time to work on other things. I told everyone that I was doing it to help out Rita James. But the real reason I was busting my butt was that I didn’t want to look like a fool.

I know that sounds silly coming from a guy who could walk through the cafeteria naked without a problem. But to me, singing was personal, for some reason. I wasn’t good at it, and I was going to make a fool out of myself if I didn’t get with the program. Still, I was holding onto the hope that they might let me lip-sync the songs. I mean, if big stars like Beyoncé and Scotty McCreery had done it, I was sure I was a good-enough actor to pull it off.

I’d floated the idea to Jett via a text message. It’s best that I not repeat what she sent back. That was one of those that even if you deleted it, someday it would come back to haunt you, I was sure.

“Let’s try the songs and see how you sound,” Jett said. “I’ll sing the girl parts so you start to get used to singing as a duet.”

“Then we should begin with Little Drummer Boy,” I offered.

From the other side of the glass, I heard someone bang on it, and suddenly the door opened and standing there was Trip. It looked like he’d lost weight, and I mean serious weight. He was Steven Tyler skinny. Behind him were Halle and Rita.

“Did you just call me a girl?” Trip asked.

I hugged him. I hadn’t seen him since this summer when I’d won the Gatorade award. Stepping back, I shook my head.

“I’m going to have to talk to Rosy. She obviously isn’t feeding you.”

Rita stepped forward and took control. Halle rolled her eyes when her mom went into business mode.

“I want to hear you do the songs with the artist. We need to figure out what order to put them in,” she explained.

“Whoa, hang on,” I said, holding up my hands. “I thought I was just doing one song, and you were going to help me pick which one it would be.”

Rita ignored me. I looked at Trip and Halle, and they both just smiled at me. I threw my hands up and let out a long breath. Clearly, I’d been set up. It wasn’t worth fighting Rita about this. I’d opened my big mouth and said I would do whatever she wanted. Now that I thought about it, why else would I be learning all four songs?

“Time is money, people,” Rita said, clapping her hands.

“Come on, Trip. Let’s show them what we have,” I said as Jett kicked Halle and Rita out of the room.

She had us sing it through once, and she decided that my part needed to go down a key. Trip had a strong voice and quickly hit the high notes for the Peace on Earth. When we sang it together, it sounded good; then Trip took it to another level when he sang the Peace on Earth part. I tried to keep it steady as I sang my part in the background. Singing two songs at the same time was not easy because you don’t have someone to harmonize with.

Jett was good at directing us and letting me know when I was to come in with each round. She took Trip aside and gave him some ideas, and then we tried it again. By the third run-through, I could see Halle and Rita smiling through the glass. They kicked Trip out, and Halle replaced him as we sang The Gift.

Halle had the opening part, and as soon as she began to sing, Jett did a double-take. Halle James was a talented young lady. The Gift was more of a love song than a Christmas song. The guy’s part was higher than I was comfortable singing. But Jett got in my face and urged me on as I hit a few notes that I wasn’t sure were possible.

We sang that three times also, and by the third, Jett had taken some notes and suggested that Halle and I work on it together. She wanted to make sure our chemistry came through.

I was surprised when Rita stepped in next and sang Silver Bells with me. That was the most straightforward song, and I knew it the best, so we only had to do one take. Then it was time for me to unleash my inner rocker and sing Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

“I might have to steal some of those moves,” was Jett’s only comment.

I took that as I’d nailed it! Of course, my sarcasm meter was set to eleven.

Before we left, I asked Trip and Halle if they wanted to go with me to watch Jett and her band play tomorrow night. Rita begged off. I scheduled another session with Jett for Saturday.

I had to get going because Lexi had set up our meeting with the investigator from the NCAA.

Manaia wanted tacos, so he called in an order at Del Taco for pickup. They had a special for Thursday nights where three chicken tacos were only $2.29. Thirty bucks later, we were loaded down with tacos. Manaia and I put a dent in them on the ride. When we got home, we shared with Hana, Lexi, Dad, and Fritz; he was relieving Manaia for the NCAA portion of the evening.

While everyone else ate, I went out to the pool area and crashed on one of the lounge chairs. The wind was coming off the ocean, and you could smell it. If I described it like a wine, it would have a slightly fishy smell, with a touch of seaweed and a briny finish. After eating ten or fifteen tacos, my tummy was full, and I began to get the heavy-lidded feeling you got just before you had a power nap.

My eyes had just succumbed to the weight of my eyelids, and I was almost there when I was disturbed.

“Stewart Chadwick is here,” Lexi said as she touched my shoulder.

“Sure, he is,” I mumbled and pulled myself together.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” Lexi said and left me sitting in the twilight.

There were times when I wondered if having a PA was better or worse than having a wife. I might have to ask my dad about that.

They were in the dining room. Someone had come up with a Polycom conference phone so we could call Mr. Morris, and Dad was in the process of doing just that. I saw that someone had set up video cameras on tiny tripods facing where we planned to sit and then at Stewart’s seat. He didn’t look happy about it.

I put on a corporate smile and shook his hand. My granddad used to say that a smile didn’t cost you anything, but to never underestimate the value of one.

“Stewart, so glad you could come,” I said.