"I'll Handle It" is a short story that I recently finished. I like to write semi-autobiographical stories, but in this one, I decided to make the main character a composite of myself, Judy, and Auntie Mame. The other characters are based on people as well, who shall remain nameless. Anyway, let me know what you think!
The audience was on edge. You could sense it. There had been so many stories in the papers lately about canceled shows, late starts, illness, suicide attempts, there was some conversation going on about problems with a television special. No one ever knew what to expect. The audiences used to come to see a great talent. Now it seemed they came just to see a spectacle. To witness what could possibly happen next.
The overture started. So far, so good. The audience seemed a little more at ease. As the final note struck, a spotlight appeared in the middle of the stage. Where was he? After about forty seconds of tense silence, from left stage he emerged wearing a gold beaded suite that appeared to be made entirely of copper, topped off with a red silk scarf. The effect was dazzling.
From complete silence, the audience stood up and it suddenly sounded as though a terrible earthquake had just happened. He need only enter a room to get that sort of reaction. He modestly bowed his head and made his way slowly to the microphone.
“My goodness!” he slurred over the applause “I think I should go out and come back in again!”
More deafening applause. He looked wonderful if a bit pale, but something wasn’t right.
The first notes of the opening number started, but he was still staring into the audience smiling hazily. After three false starts, he finally began to sing. There was barely a trace of that spell binding voice left. It was hidden beneath a barely coherent slur of words that just seemed to run together. It was then that everyone knew that if the night was to continue at all, it would be a long one. He stumbled through two numbers, rather pathetically, and announced to the audience (who by now sat in their chairs transfixed on this creature) that he was not feeling well. He made his way to the apron of the stage, kicked off his shoes and began telling a story. It was obvious that he was in no condition to perform. Who let him on stage?
This was nothing new. It all came down to the almighty dollar. He was a moneymaker. As long as he could stand up, they’d photograph him.
Several audience members began to walk out.
“Where are you going?” He shouted from the stage. “Don’t leave me!”
It was then that a near riot broke out. More people left the huge auditorium and with the help of the conductor, he managed to get to his feet and began to walk off the stage. It was then that a group of well over a hundred devoted fans rushed the stage screaming “NO, Glenn! Come back! We love you! We want to be close to you!”. It was a reaction not many performers got from an audience. But Glenn Tucker had a special kind of audience, a unique breed of obsessive cult-like fan who truly believed they loved him with their whole heart and knew him better than anyone.
He honored their request and stumbled back to the foot of the stage. What was the problem? Was it pills? Booze? It didn’t matter. They wanted their Glenn in any condition. It was almost inhuman. They screamed for blood and he gave it. For without the mass love of an audience, who would love him? Was it him they loved or just his talent? At this point it didn’t really matter. Any kind of love would do. He’d been dealt a bad hand in life. Mismanaged, used, abused, and they knew it. Every person out there; every misplaced, misunderstood child felt they understood Glenn. They wanted to put their arms around him and protect him. But inevitably, they couldn’t protect him from himself. No one could.
The Day Before:
Glenn was sitting in his hotel suite sipping a cup of coffee and tapping his fingers. A nervous habit he had developed in recent years. He had been booked for a split week of concerts at Madison Square Garden and was staying at the St. Moritz. It was in his contract that they pay all living expenses. For some reason or other, they refused to. He couldn’t get in touch with his agents (as usual) and he was frantic about what to do.
At this point in his life, Glenn was one of the biggest names in show business. He was often called a “living legend”. Even at the age of 45, he was packing huge venues around the world. He was also flat broke. He sometimes walked around without even a dollar in his pocket.
Glenn was a product of the Star system of the 1930’s and 40’s where the studio took care of everything. If you needed something to wear to an opening, the studio provided it, if you needed a car or a star-worthy home, it was right there. Anything and everything was done to create the illusion of a fairy-tale existence for their stars. In return, however, the stars surrendered their personal lives and their souls. Contracts in those days were iron clad and stars were merely studio property. You did as you were told with no questions asked. It was also around this time that they discovered a magic little pill called benzadrine, a stimulant that not only kept you peppy and on your feet long after you were exhausted so that you could keep working to bring in a picture on time, but also curved your appetite to make you camera thin. The unfortunate side effect, however was that at bedtime, sleep was virtually impossible, so then they’d counteract the little red pills with some little green pills that put you to sleep. Then after four hours, you were awaken, given the pep pills, and put back to work.
It all seemed too good to be true (and by the time it was too late, they discovered it was). In those days the pills were handed out by studio doctors. Today, though, without the backing of the studio, they were harder to get and a certain amount of money and manipulation of doctors was necessary to obtain the medication that by now, Glenn could not eat, sleep, or indeed live without.
As far as finances went, he knew nothing. He’d been swindled, robbed, embezzled, and mismanaged since the collapse of the studio system in the early fifties.
However, money wasn’t the only thing on his mind because it wasn’t just him who had to suffer because of it. His twelve year old nephew, Ryan was asleep in the other room. What would happen when they were thrown out for not being able to pay the hotel bill? Where would they go? Ryan’s parents (Glenn’s brother and sister-in-law) died in a car crash when Ryan was eight months old. He’s been with Glenn ever since.
The telephone rang, causing Glenn to spill his coffee. He’d been up all night, jumpy from the last dose of medication and was on edge as it was.
“Yes” he answered, in a clipped tone.
“Mr. Tucker” a curt voice said on the other end “This is Bill Ashman. I’m the hotel manager and I’ve been informed that your bill is seriously delinquent. If the bills are not paid by twelve this afternoon, your personal effects will be confiscated and I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“There must be some sort of mistake” Glenn laughed, buying time “That’s all supposed to be taken care of by the Schmidt & Hegeman Agency”
“Yes, Mr. Tucker” He was getting impatient “That’s what you said the last three times we’ve addressed this issue. We’ve contacted Schmidt & Hegeman and they have resigned from all responsibility”
“It’s in my contract!”
“Mr. Tucker, I’m not a lawyer, I’m the manager of a hotel. A respected hotel where our guests pay their bills.”
“How dare you speak to me like some sort of delinquent squatter?” Glenn said with mock outrage “Just wait until this all gets straightened out! If I were you, I’d start looking for a new job!”
He slammed the phone down and ran to his green cosmetic case which held all of his medication. He fumbled through several bottles before arriving at the right one. He swallowed three bitter blue tablets with a sip of cold coffee, sat down and waited for them to take their calming effect.
Okay, think. He thought. I have until noon…. There was nobody in town he could think of to borrow that kind money from and no one on the coast who could wire it over in time. Perhaps he could buy another day by feigning some sort of illness. But then what about the show? He needed to keep working at this point just to pay off back taxes dating back over ten years. No one had ever bothered to look over these things and he knew nothing about them. Finally it came to him!
He ran into Ryan’s room, pulled up the shade and sat at the edge of the bed. He looked at the round face, the turned up nose. The image of his father. Glenn never even considered the idea of children until Ryan fell into his lap but the moment he did, it was love at first sight. One look into those beautiful blue eyes set between those long thick lashes and he knew he would never love anyone like that again. He was sleeping so peacefully, so unaware. Glenn had done his best to hide the truth from him. As far as Ryan knew everything was just fine and all of “Uncle Glenn’s” crazy antics were just fun games for his amusement. He changed the expression on his face to an excited one and began to shake Ryan.
“Ryaaaaaaaaan!” He sang cheerily “Wake up my little love!”
Ryan stirred for a moment before opening his eyes and shielding the sunlight.
“What is it, Uncle Glenn? Is everything okay?” He asked, sleepily.
“Of course it is, darling!” Glenn looked positively giddy. “Guess what, Rye!....You and I are going to have an adventure!”
“Another one?” Ryan asked wearily.
“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud!” Glenn said lightly. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do! I want you to get up and get dressed and then I want you to keep getting dressed until you have all your clothes on In layers! It’s going to be great fun! We’re going to pretend we’re escaping from a Japanese slave den!”
“Do we have to do this right now, Uncle Glenn?” Ryan asked.
“We do unless you want those Japs to chain you up and make you peel rice! Now get a move on!”
Ryan wanted to be surprised, even appalled, really he did, but this was just an average day with Uncle Glenn.
After the two of them were dressed and then dressed again, Ryan noticed Glenn frantically stuffing some of their possessions into shopping bags.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asked. “Aren’t we coming back?”
“No”
“Why not?”
“We need a change of scenery. I’m sick of those idiotic gold leaf patterns in the bathroom” Glenn took a quick look around the room. “All ready?”
“I guess, but...”
“Okay! Let’s hit the road!”
“What about the rest of your things, Uncle Glenn?” Ryan asked, confused.
“Let’s just call it a tip.”
They went down the back stairs of the hotel and into the lobby.
“Just pretend we’re going shopping” Glenn muttered out of the side of his mouth.
To Ryan’s astonishment, no one seemed to notice them. The entire thing was absurd. They looked like a couple of clothing racks at Woolworth’s after a massive (and violent) sale.
They made it out the front door and to the entrance of the Plaza hotel. Glenn took Ryan into the restroom and instructed him to stay there until he came to fetch him. He took off about seven layers of clothing, quickly ran his fingers through his hair in the mirror and walked out.
Ryan sat there in astonishment. How did he manage to pull these things off?
After what seemed like an eternity, Glenn returned to the men’s room with a bellboy.
“All of our luggage is right there” he said, pointing to Ryan sitting on the floor surrounded by clothes and shopping bags. The bellboy looked appalled and confused. This didn’t escape Glenn’s notice.
“My last secretary ran off in the middle of the night with a bunch of my personal things and all of my luggage! Can you imagine?” He said “Good help is so difficult to find anymore!”
The bellboy’s expression changed.
“Oh, Mister Tucker, that’s terrible! I’ll have some luggage sent up to your suite, courtesy of the Plaza, of course”
“Oh, would you?” Glenn said, sweetly “That would be wonderful! Thank you so much!”
Ryan sat there, watching the bellboy load up the cart. He was confused, but knew better than to ask questions, especially in front of a stranger.
They were ushered into the presidential suite, which was much too big for the two of them and must have cost easily over a thousand dollars a night.
Before the bellboy left, Glenn gave him some story about how his wallet had been in one of the stolen valises and signed a room charge check for a tip.
When he was out the door, Glenn turned to Ryan. “Isn’t this a lovely room?” he said,smiling
“Room?” Ryan said, sarcastically “Don’t you mean palace?”
“Well, I suppose it is a bit much, but remember, dear, your uncle is a star! And that means that you and I get the star treatment!”
“Does the star treatment include sneaking out of hotels because we can’t pay the bills?” Ryan asked.
Glenn’s expression changed from fright to lightheartedness.
“What are you talking about, Silly? We can pay the bills! That was just one of Uncle Glenn’s little games!”
“Uncle Glenn...”
“Look at the view of the park!”
“Uncle Glenn...”
“Oh, I hope I brought my red silk scarf! I want to wear it in the show tom...”
“UNCLE GLENN!” Ryan shouted in frustration. Glenn stopped cold and looked at him.
“I’m sorry, did you have something to say?”
“I have a lot to say” Ryan said. “But I’ll start with the fact that I’m not three and I know a lot more than you think I do?”
“Oh, do you now?” Glenn said, half laughing “And what is it that’s so important that you ‘know’?”
“Uncle Glenn, we’re broke” Ryan said.
“We’re not...”
“We’re broke!” Ryan was very firm. “What’s going on? You’re selling out concerts all over the world, you work harder than anyone. Where is the money?”
“I don’t know, Sweetheart”. Glenn said, deflated. He sat down in an oversized Morris chair.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Now Ryan was just confused again.
“The IRS is taking everything I make to pay taxes that apparently were never paid or something like that. I don’t really understand it. All I know is that I never see any money for the work I do”
“But what are we supposed to live on?”
“Each other” Glenn said after a pause.
“What?”
“You heard me.” Glenn said. “Listen to your Uncle Glenn, My Little Love. Money is not the most important thing in the world. People and relationships and love are. True, we may be flat broke and have to get creative for the moment, but we still have each other. The rest will take care of itself. And I don’t want you worrying about it! That’s what I’m here for. Now, go and take a shower. It’s almost lunch time. I’ll call room service.”
Ryan got up and began walking to the bathroom. Halfway there, he turned to Glenn. “I love you, Uncle Glenn and I’ll take care of you the same way you take care of me.”
Glenn smiled, widely.
“I love you too, Darling. But don’t you worry about anything but being a kid and having fun! That’s your one and only job!”
As soon as the bathroom door shut, Glenn ran to the cosmetic case. He took out another blue pill. Wonderful! Just wonderful! Now the jig was really up! Even Ryan knew what was going on. Those bastards! They took everything he made when he was a slave to the studio and now that he has to go out and work like a horse, there’s no one around to take care of things. And those low-life agents of his! All they care about is their fifteen percent. He must be the only performer in the world who’d been forced to settle for fifteen instead of the usual ten! He had to settle because he was rendered “uninsurable" in the business due to his frequent bouts with illness and canceled performances. And where were they now, the sleezy sons of bitches? He couldn’t even get them on the phone! But the most important thing right now was Ryan. He had tried so hard to shield him from all of this. He would not have a repeat of what had happened to him at that age. Putting his mother to bed, making sure his younger brother was okay and they had something to eat because of her severe depressive episodes when she’d take to her bed for weeks at a time. Glenn had been forced to grow up and face the real world very early and he didn’t want that to happen to Ryan. Whatever the issue, he would handle it.
He picked up the phone, called room service and ordered a burger for Ryan and a cup of tea for himself. At this point in his life, Glenn was physically emaciated. Years of medication and crash dieting had left him painfully thin and pale. The work he was doing, knocking audiences cold every night required much more energy than he had left. This meant more medication to carry him through.
Ryan emerged from the bathroom, clad in his blue embroidered pajamas Glenn had given him last Christmas. By now the food had arrived and he sat down to eat with Glenn.
“Aren’t you eating, Uncle Glenn?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m fine, dear, I have my tea. I’m not very hungry.”
Ryan took a bite of his burger, then looked as though he suddenly remembered something.
“Uncle Glenn” he said “Did you take your medication today?”
Ryan had learned to only use the words “medication” or “medicine” when referring to Glenn’s pills. They were not “pills” or “drugs”. Drugs were a bad thing and drug addicts were street people who shot needles and snorted cocaine. All of Glenn’s medications were prescribed by doctors, therefore, it was for health reasons and nothing else. However, in the past few years, Ryan did begin to notice the connection between Glenn’s behavior, health issues, and his “medication”.
“I remembered, doctor” Glenn said, sarcastically.
“How much did you take?” Ryan asked, trying to sound casual.
“What do you mean?” Glenn asked. “You know what I’m supposed to take.”
“Yes, I do.” Ryan said “But that’s not what I asked”
“Eat your burger.” Glenn said, growing agitated
“You know what the doctor said, Uncle Glenn. If you take too much or too little...”
“I said EAT!”
That was the end of the conversation.
Finally, it was time for bed. Glenn went into Ryan’s room to tuck him in. At twelve, he felt he was a little old to be tucked in, but it seemed to be so important to Uncle Glenn, that he never mentioned it. He liked to see him happy. He could see the worry in Glenn’s eyes tonight. He was probably nervous about the bills and the concert tomorrow night. So, he decided to do something he knew would make Glenn extremely happy.
“Uncle Glenn” he said, quietly “Would you sing me a song?”
There it was. That smile that only came in moments of true happiness. Ryan missed that smile.
“Of course I will, My Little Love!”
He sang softly, one of his favorite lullabies, “Ten Pins In The Sky”. He then patted Ryan on the head, gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, turned out the night light, and closed the door.
The next morning, Ryan woke up at ten. Uncle Glenn, naturally, was still asleep. He typically didn’t arise until noon or later, and on show nights, as late as three or four pm. He took a shower, ordered himself some breakfast (Uncle Glenn had taught him to order room service at the age of three), and flipped through some magazines. He decided he’d give Glenn until two and then he’d begin the long process of waking him up.
Two p.m. finally arrived. He climbed into bed with Glenn and shook his shoulder. “Uncle Glenn...time to wake up!” Nothing. Then he started to sing, “Wake up, you sleepy-head, rub your eyes, get out of bed...” Not even a groan. He turned his whole body over and Glenn didn’t even stir. Something was wrong.
He ran over to the infamous green case and looked through the pills. Glenn didn’t know it, but Ryan made it a point to know exactly what was in each bottle at all times. It was then he noticed that the bottle of blue tranquilizers that had been full yesterday was half empty. His first reaction was anger, but then worry. These things were lethal if taken in large doses! Even with Glenn’s tolerance, that was too much and could kill him. What had happened last night after he went to bed? What must have gone through Glenn’s mind to make him take this much? He had to wake him up somehow! But he couldn’t do it himself. Who could he call? A maid? A bellboy? The hotel doctor? No...all of that was too risky. It’d be all over the papers. He needed someone close and discreet. But they were on tour and he couldn’t think of anyone in New York who he could call. Wait! Of course! Aunt Nicolette! She was Glenn’s cousin and some kind of doctor. He remembered Glenn saying she was in town for some kind of brain seminar. She had known Glenn longer than anyone else since the two of them grew up together in Philadelphia. He found Glenn’s address book and found the number to her hotel scribbled in Glenn’s curly scrawl on a piece of paper.
He dialed the number desperately praying she’d pick up.
“Hello” a hurried voice on the other end said.
“Aunt Nicolette!” Ryan was so relieved. “Is that you?”
“Oh, Hi, Ryan! Listen, i was just about to....”
“Aunt Nic, Uncle Glenn is in trouble.”
“What now?” He could hear the annoyance in her voice on the other end. She assumed he needed money. This was not uncommon.
“I think he overdosed on tranquilizers”
“What!” Now she was worried. “Isn’t he opening at Madison Square Garden in like four hours?”
“Yes!” Ryan panted “I don’t know what to do” he was getting hysterical. “Please come over here as fast as you can! We’re at the Plaza!”
“I thought he was at the St. Moritz...never mind, I don’t even want to know.” she said. “I have a conference in fifteen minutes...FUCK!.... I’ll be right over. Try to keep him awake until I get there!”
She hung up the phone. Damn Glenn! He had a talent for getting into trouble at the most inconvenient times imaginable!
She was at the door in twenty minutes.
“Where is he?” she asked hurridly.
“He’s still in bed, I can’t rouse him for anything” Ryan said with tears in his eyes.
“Don’t worry, Ryan, this has happened a million times before. We’ll take care of it and he’ll be fine. Just do what I say!”
She went over to the bed and sat him upright. His head was a dead weight hanging down.
“GLENN!” She shouted at him “GLENN IT’S NICOLETTE!”
She slapped him in the face so hard it made Ryan jump! She then picked up a glass of water and threw it in his face. If he were awake right now, he’d kill her.
“Help me get him in the tub.” She said to Ryan.
“The tub?” He had no idea what was going on.
“Yes! Get over here and help me!”
They dragged his incoherent body into the bathtub, fully clothed and Nicolette turned on the faucet. Out came the ice cold water which almost immediately woke him up and caused him to scream.
“AHHH! WAHT THE HELL!” After a second though, it was clear, he still wasn’t all there.
“Ryan, order some black coffee and something greasy” Nicolette instructed
“Huh?”
“JUST DO IT!” Nicolette and Glenn were not un-similar in their tempers.
While Ryan did as he was told, she hoisted Glenn out of the tub, got him into a bathrobe and ushered him into the living room. She kept talking and nudging him to keep him awake and stop him from going into complete respiratory depression. How on earth was he going to perform tonight? The show would have to be canceled. The medication would have dried his throat out so badly, there’d be no way he could sing, that’s why she had instructed Ryan to order something greasy. Hopefully that would lubricate his throat somewhat. The moment he stumbled out in this condition, the press would have a field day. No, he wasn’t going anywhere. She’d call the theater herself and come up with some story.
The coffee arrived with some buttered noodles. Nicolette and Ryan forced the coffee into his mouth and actually had to pat his throat to get the noodles down.
Glenn tried to talk, but it was difficult. His words were so slurry, they were nearly impossible to make out. He was trying to say something about the show.
“There will be no show” Nicolette said. “You’re in no condition.”
It was then that she got up, told Ryan to keep feeding him the coffee and called the theater.
“Hello, this is Nicolette Tucker, Glenn Tucker’s cousin. I’m afraid he won’t be able to make it tonight. He has a fever and a severe case of laryngitis.”
“Oh no you don’t!” The manager said in a cocky tone. “I took a chance on that bastard! He’s not pulling this shit on me! Those agents of his swore he’d be here with no trouble!”
“I understand that, but he’s sick! Even if I got him there, he’d be unable to perform!”
“Listen, I don’t care if you have to prop him up with a stick, that mother fucker had better be here in an hour, or he’ll never work again! I’ve got a sold out theater of over fifteen thousand!”
He hung up. God, Nicolette hated show business. Blood suckers! All of them! Now she was nervous and didn’t know what to do. In about ten minutes, his agents, Arthur Schmidt and Cole Hegeman showed up at the door.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Nicolette said, the loathing in her voice abundantly clear.
“Where is he?” Asked Arthur. Then he saw him on the sofa, being fed coffee by Ryan.
“Jesus Christ!” muttered Cole, sweating and putting his hand on his forehead. “He’s full of dope!”
“Shut up!” Ryan said defensively. “Maybe if you would answer his calls and help him out now and then this wouldn’t have happened!”
“Quiet, kid.” Arthur said, almost ignoring him. He sat on the other side of Glenn, pushing Ryan’s hand down. “Glenn....Oh, Glenn....It’s Arthur. Listen, we’re going to get you dressed and made up and over to the theater, okay?”
“Are you out of your so-called mind?” Nicolette said. “He can’t go onstage like this!”
“Listen” Cole said. “He’s got a contract. It’s iron clad. There’s nothing we can do. Besides, if he doesn’t go on tonight it could ruin our agency!”
“You’re breaking my heart.” God, she hated them! They were a couple of sleezy nobodies trying to make it off his back. How did he ever get mixed up with these low lives?
It took a lot of effort, but they got him dressed and made up. Ryan supervised the whole thing and made sure he had on the red silk scarf that he loved so much. When they got him into the car, he was still in pretty bad shape, but considering he should have been dead by now, he wasn’t so bad. He at least knew where he was and could form a sentence.
They got him back stage. The manager was standing there chain-smoking. As soon as he saw Glenn, he died his cigarette out and ran over to him.
“Glenn, baby!” He said, all smiles. “You look great!”
Both Nicolette and Ryan found it ironically funny how two faced the ass kissers in this business could be.
“I don’t feel great” Glenn said. “I need a doctor. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sing” His voice was hoarse and scratchy. Schmidt and Hegeman exchanged worried looks.
“Nonsense!” said the manager. “Take a sip of water and a couple of aspirin and you’ll be great! Tops! I’ll tell the conductor to start the overture.”
He ran off before anyone could say a word. The four of them helped him into the wings. Suddenly he started panicking.
“I can’t do it!” he said over and over “They’re going to boo me right off the stage.” He was fumbling over his words and staggering. It was then that he noticed Ryan. “I’m sorry, My Little Love” he slurred. “I was worried and I needed some sleep...”
“It’s fine, Uncle Glenn. You’re fine!”
The overture started. When it was over, Glenn just stood there, frozen. Cole gave him a quick, hard shove onto the stage and instructed Ryan and Nicolette to take their seats.
There was thunderous applause.
When he finally started to sing the opening number, it was a disaster. Glenn made a few pathetic attempts to sing and even tell some stories. People began to boo, shout obscenities at him, and walk out.
“Aunt Nicolette, why are they acting like this?” Ryan asked “Can’t they see that he’s sick?”
“Human nature, Ryan. Some people just need to watch someone else fall flat on their face to feel better about themselves. You’ll understand one day.”
Ryan was just astonished at the reaction of the people in the audience, especially when, after Glenn nearly walked off the stage, what seemed like hundreds of fans rushed up just to see him, to touch him, to be close to him. To get as close as possible to this creature, this thing, they felt so attached to.
Nicolette’s head was in her hands the entire time. She just kept picturing a seven year old Glenn singing the latest song on the hit parade and saying “When I’m famous, you’d better come and see all my shows!”
Ryan wanted to cry, but he didn’t. He just kept repeating in his mind what Uncle Glenn said. “We have each other.”
As long as he knew that was true, he vowed to himself, whatever the issue, he would handle it.
