“The Guy”
Art by someone else. I don’t know who.
2012
Santa Monica, CA
The party was dying down. The pool deck behind the mansion was mostly empty. No more girls splashing in the pool. No more sounds of ice crushed in blenders for margaritas. No more cigarette smoke. No more faked laughter. Just the far off sound of some Tina Turner music playing inside, and the wind picking up, gently shaking the palm trees outside the walled pool deck like cheerleader pom-poms. Just the two guys still around, by the look of it.
Tanner lay back on the lawn chair, promising that this would be his last cerveza. He checked his watch. 0340 hours. Damn. Late already. He looked over to the man sitting on the chair opposite him. He started his time-to-go pleasantries. He didn’t want to be hung-over and under slept on his first day as armorer on the 2nd unit.
“Good party,” he said, sitting up.
“Yeah. It was okay,” said Nicky. He looked up from the reclined beach chair at the sky, but there were no stars to see, just the sick orange glow of Los Angeles light pollution.
“It was good to meet you. It’s going to be cool working with you on this movie.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you too, man.” Nicky sat up.
“You seem like a pretty regular guy. I didn’t expect that cus you’re…”
“Famous?”
“Yeah. I’ll be real with you. I was a little nervous. It’s stupid, you know? You’re just a guy. I’m just a guy. It’s no big deal that you’re like… The Guy in Hollywood right now.”
Nicky smiled and nodded, then froze and the smile withered. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re… The Guy…”
Nicky finished his sentence, “...right now, you said. What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know.””
“You said it. You should know what you mean.”
“Relax, man. I didn’t mean anything by it…”
“Yes you did.”
“...I just meant that there’s always The Guy and you’re The Guy right now.”
Nicky stared. It wasn’t anger, though. It was fear. A small fear. He nodded, prodding Tanner to explain further.
Tanner tried to articulate better. “I just mean… like there’s always some guy who is in everything. I mean, you’ve been in a bunch of movies… six or seven in three years? You're in high-demand. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Like who else? Who else is a The Guy guy?”
“I don’t know… who’s that guy from that movie where he meets his girlfriend's family and it’s really uncomfortable. The dad is played by that guy from that movie where he robs banks with that guy from The Doors movie. He was The Guy for a while.”
“Ben Stiller.”
“Yeah. Wait. Which guy is he? I mentioned three guys.” Tanner had confused himself.
“He’s the first guy. Ben Stiller was in Meet the Parents with Robert DeNiro, who was in Heat with Val Kilmer who was Jim Morrison in The Doors.”
“Sure, I guess. That guy was in like two movies every year for a while.”
Nicky finally understood. “He was The Guy…”
“Yeah. Like you couldn’t even make a comedy in the first half of the 00s if he wasn’t in it.”
Nicky thought it over, looking down, eyes darting back and forth, reading an imaginary credits list. “Meet the Parents, Royal Tanenbaums, Zoolander, all in two years… Then Starsky and Hutch, Envy, Dodgeball (where he just rehashes his character from Heavy Weights), then Anchorman, Meet the Fockers… Oh my God, you’re right.”
“Yeah, he was like The Guy for comedies.”
“But now he’s not.”
“I mean. I don’t know.”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling you, he’s not The Guy anymore. Now he’s just doing shitty sequels to his older successes. He just did another Night at the Museum, another Madagascar, and another fucking Fockers movie. Fuck. Are you saying I’m overexposed? You think my manager is fucking up my career?”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“You think I need to slow it down? Pull back?”
“Dude, I don’t know.”
“Are you saying I’m MC Hammer?”
“What?”
“Am I being overexposed like MC Hammer? Am I burning too bright?”
“Bro, I’m just saying you’re The Guy right now, and you’re making it into this whole thing.”
“Right now. Right now! I’m The Guy a right now, you said! You think I’m just a flash in the pan.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I’m not MC Hammer.”
“I know that.”
“And I’m not Ben Stiller.”
“Sure, dude.” He took a tug from his beer bottle. Leaving the party was not going as easy as he imagined.
“I’m not Ben fucking Stiller!” Nicky pointed an accusing finger at Tanner. The veins in his neck were poking out. Eyes looking fierce like he was fighting for his life.
“Yeah. Okay, man. You’re not Ben Stiller.”
Nicky relaxed his pointing hand. His eyes were getting a bit soggy. “You mean that?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it!” The stern pointing finger was back now.
“I mean it, man. You’re not Ben Stiller.” He put up his hands as though a cop were pointing a gun at him.
“You swear it. You swear to fucking God right now that I’m not Ben Stiller.”
Tanner cocked a half-smile at the ridiculous demand. But Nicky wasn’t kidding. TK did his best to put away the smile. He forced a face as serious as he could. He looked Nicky right in the eyes. “I swear to God you’re not Ben Stiller.”
Nicky wiped away a tear with the palm of his hand, he laughed a little, showing his mouth full of big, perfect white teeth. “Okay. Okay, man. Thanks. Thank you.” Before Tanner could stop him, Nicky stood up, sat beside him on his beach chair, and gave him a big hug, both of Tanner’s arms pinned to the side of his body. “You’re a good friend, Tanner. I mean that. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Their faces were only inches apart and Nicky was trying to maintain eye contact. Tanner tried to look at anything else. Nicky finally let him go.
Nicky patted Tanner on the back and stood up. He put his hands on his hips and looked down on the armorer like it wasn’t weird to go from chill to furious to crying to happy in under 60 seconds. Nicky said the best thing he could have said in that moment. The only thing that made sense to say: “Let’s do some coke.”