AntonTovaras
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Sep 8, 2012
- Posts
- 380
Charlie Ward stepped out of the plane into the baking tropical sun and smiled. The flight from LA to Tahiti was punishingly long, and even though he had flown first class, he was stiff and uncomfortable. Fresh air, with a taste of the sea even at the airport, and the sun on his skin went a long way to restoring him. Even if he still had a long way to go to reach his final destination.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked down the steps onto the tarmac. A young man held up a sign "Charles Ward," and chatted with an official looking woman Charlie chuckled as he walked over to him.
"Don't I have to go through customs?" Charlie said.
"It's ok," the young man said, and jogged off to the plane.
"Passport, Sir?" the woman said. Charlie handed over the passport and she stamped it. "Welcome to Tahiti, Sir. Enjoy your stay."
The young man returned with Charlie's luggage, and instead of heading to the airport terminal, they headed to the side. A car was waiting for them, and in a few minutes the young man was driving them down to the harbor.
"Mister Carter arranged all of this?" Charlie said.
"Yes Sir. Everything taken care of."
*
A year ago, Charlie was starring in a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream in a run down little theater in Santa Monica. A friend of a major producer saw the performance, and was impressed with the actor playing Puck, who brought a balance of good looks, cool wit and hot sensuality to the role. The next night, the producer himself came, and saw Charlie's performance. The producer, Randy Carter, liked what he saw, and he checked up on Charles Ward.
The next day, Charlie's agent called him, so excited he could hardly talk. Randy Carter was getting ready to shoot Northwest of Earth, a space opera loosely based on an old pulp sci fi character that was slated to be a major blockbuster. Carter was known for taking unknowns and making them legends, and apparently, he wanted to use Charlie in the title role.
"The character's name is Northwest?" Charlie asked.
"Just get there! He wants to do a screentest on you yesterday!"
Charlie lived in a tiny apartment that he shared with his best friend Eric, a guitar player. For five years, they had both been struggling to get noticed, scraping by and learning just how tough Los Angeles could be. Charlie was out the door fifteen minutes later, on his way to Carter's Dreamland Studio. He did a screentest, and they thanked him and sent himon his way. Two weeks later, he got a beer commercial. It was four months before Dreamland got in touch, telling him they wanted him for Northwest
The next few months were a blur. He was cast in the part. The story was classic sci-fi action, and he spent a month in intense training until he was lean and carved like a greek god. The next thing he knew, they were shooting in Iceland and then Morocco, and then he was back in LA.
Another producer put him in another movie, a small drama which would be released after Northwest, to capitalize on his name, and which would give him some credibility as something more than a pretty face. By the time that was finished shooting, there were three more offers, and Northwest hadn't even finished post-production.
"I need a break," Charlie said. "We don't even know if Northwest is going to be a hit."
"Yes we do," Randy Carter said. "And we need you to start promoting in a month, so take your break. Get out of town. Where do you want to go?"
"I have this surf movie coming up. I thought I might actually learn to surf, but I don't have to get out of town...."
"Tahiti. I know a place. I'll have my people set it up, but your ass is back here ready to do the promo tour in thirty days. Deal?"
"Tahiti?" Charlie repeated, stunned by the offer.
"You want it or not?"
*
Three days later, he was getting on a boat in the Papa'ete harbor, bound for a little B&B in a cottage overlooking a small bay on the island of Mo'orea. The young man that was delivering him chattered on about surfing, diving, sailing, and Charlie let it flow over him like the breeze. He had a month to spend in paradise.
After an hour of riding over the swells, the boat cut into a quiet bay and pulled up at a dock. Charlie tried to pay the driver, but he shook his head and explained it was taken care of. He tied the boat off and carried Charlie's bags towards the house. Charlie followed, moving slowly, looking around him. He could have been the only person in the world for all he could see. There were no other houses on the bay, nobody surfing the spot that the driver had pointed out at the mouth of the bay. A few small craft were tied up, and a larger sailboat was moored near the dock, but nobody was on the porch.
He stepped through a french door into a luxurious living room, with curtains billowing in the sea breeze.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked down the steps onto the tarmac. A young man held up a sign "Charles Ward," and chatted with an official looking woman Charlie chuckled as he walked over to him.
"Don't I have to go through customs?" Charlie said.
"It's ok," the young man said, and jogged off to the plane.
"Passport, Sir?" the woman said. Charlie handed over the passport and she stamped it. "Welcome to Tahiti, Sir. Enjoy your stay."
The young man returned with Charlie's luggage, and instead of heading to the airport terminal, they headed to the side. A car was waiting for them, and in a few minutes the young man was driving them down to the harbor.
"Mister Carter arranged all of this?" Charlie said.
"Yes Sir. Everything taken care of."
*
A year ago, Charlie was starring in a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream in a run down little theater in Santa Monica. A friend of a major producer saw the performance, and was impressed with the actor playing Puck, who brought a balance of good looks, cool wit and hot sensuality to the role. The next night, the producer himself came, and saw Charlie's performance. The producer, Randy Carter, liked what he saw, and he checked up on Charles Ward.
The next day, Charlie's agent called him, so excited he could hardly talk. Randy Carter was getting ready to shoot Northwest of Earth, a space opera loosely based on an old pulp sci fi character that was slated to be a major blockbuster. Carter was known for taking unknowns and making them legends, and apparently, he wanted to use Charlie in the title role.
"The character's name is Northwest?" Charlie asked.
"Just get there! He wants to do a screentest on you yesterday!"
Charlie lived in a tiny apartment that he shared with his best friend Eric, a guitar player. For five years, they had both been struggling to get noticed, scraping by and learning just how tough Los Angeles could be. Charlie was out the door fifteen minutes later, on his way to Carter's Dreamland Studio. He did a screentest, and they thanked him and sent himon his way. Two weeks later, he got a beer commercial. It was four months before Dreamland got in touch, telling him they wanted him for Northwest
The next few months were a blur. He was cast in the part. The story was classic sci-fi action, and he spent a month in intense training until he was lean and carved like a greek god. The next thing he knew, they were shooting in Iceland and then Morocco, and then he was back in LA.
Another producer put him in another movie, a small drama which would be released after Northwest, to capitalize on his name, and which would give him some credibility as something more than a pretty face. By the time that was finished shooting, there were three more offers, and Northwest hadn't even finished post-production.
"I need a break," Charlie said. "We don't even know if Northwest is going to be a hit."
"Yes we do," Randy Carter said. "And we need you to start promoting in a month, so take your break. Get out of town. Where do you want to go?"
"I have this surf movie coming up. I thought I might actually learn to surf, but I don't have to get out of town...."
"Tahiti. I know a place. I'll have my people set it up, but your ass is back here ready to do the promo tour in thirty days. Deal?"
"Tahiti?" Charlie repeated, stunned by the offer.
"You want it or not?"
*
Three days later, he was getting on a boat in the Papa'ete harbor, bound for a little B&B in a cottage overlooking a small bay on the island of Mo'orea. The young man that was delivering him chattered on about surfing, diving, sailing, and Charlie let it flow over him like the breeze. He had a month to spend in paradise.
After an hour of riding over the swells, the boat cut into a quiet bay and pulled up at a dock. Charlie tried to pay the driver, but he shook his head and explained it was taken care of. He tied the boat off and carried Charlie's bags towards the house. Charlie followed, moving slowly, looking around him. He could have been the only person in the world for all he could see. There were no other houses on the bay, nobody surfing the spot that the driver had pointed out at the mouth of the bay. A few small craft were tied up, and a larger sailboat was moored near the dock, but nobody was on the porch.
He stepped through a french door into a luxurious living room, with curtains billowing in the sea breeze.