Ian Flagg’s mouth watered at the plate of Indian curry
sitting before him and another plate of the spicy treat across from him. Yet,
the old man’s sniper sight focus burned a hole through the newspaper he was
reading. Besides, he wouldn’t want to get any of that messy food on his clean
white dress shirt and silver tie. Accountants of his social status can’t afford
to look like that. A waitress came by and refilled his coffee mug, yet Ian
never took his eyes away from whatever news story was assaulting his mind.
As soon as the waitress strolled away, a young man with a
black ponytail, a green polo shirt, and tan khaki shorts entered the restaurant
hunched over with exhaustion and stress. Then and only then did Ian take his
eyes off his newspaper. The young man sat across from Ian and hung his head in
exhaustion, the scent of the curry doing no favors for his energy level.
“You’re late, son. Is that acting schedule of yours keeping
you down? For god’s sake, get some sleep, Payton,” said Ian.
“Sorry, Dad,” said Payton in a slow and medicated voice.
“I’m assuming there’s a review of my new movie in that newspaper of yours. I
stayed up until midnight reading those goddamn reviews online. What the fuck is
wrong with people?”
Ian folded up his newspaper and said, “You can’t fault your
critics for feeling the way they do, son. It’s a free country. Everybody’s
entitled to their own opinions, even if they are overwhelmingly negative and
come from a website about spoiled vegetables.” The father folded his hands across
the table and said, “Son, you need to get out of this movie business. It’s not
good for you. You can’t take criticism and it’s only going to get worse from
here.”
Payton lifted his unshaven face and said, “So what’s the
alternative to having my dream job? Doing what you do and crunch numbers all
day long? No thanks, I’d rather roll around on a pile of actual rotten
tomatoes.”
“Being an accountant sounds boring on the surface, I agree.
Hell, most of the comedy movies out there make fun of this idea. But it’s a
stable income and you don’t have to worry about where your next meal is coming
from. You’re welcome for the curry, by the way,” said Ian.
Payton languidly stirred his fork around in his food and
said, “Listen, pops. I spent way too much time and money just to get my acting
career of the fucking ground. I’m not going to give up on it just because of
some negative assholes online. Shit, man, there’s negativity everywhere I go,
so I have to get immune to it sometime. Maybe not right now, but eventually.”
“But that’s the thing, Payton. You don’t get used to harsh
criticism. You don’t improve your craft. You don’t get better in life. You feel
like this world owes you something and you don’t cash in on that opportunity.”
Ian leaned his face closer as if to intensify the seriousness of this
conversation. “Payton, you need help. You need to start making some real money
so that you don’t have to live like a goddamn bum.”
“So that’s it, huh?” said the actor as he shrugged his
shoulders. “One failure and I should just give up on my dreams?”
“We’re not just talking about one failure, son. We’re
talking about being universally panned by every critic in the country. I don’t
care how good of an actor you are, because nobody can recover from something
like that. You wouldn’t have to worry about this kind of thing if you got a
math degree and took up accounting like me.”
After a while of glaring in disbelief at his father, Payton
stood up, slammed his palms on the table (nearly knocking his curry on the
floor), and screamed, “Fuck you, old man! Fuck you! You talk about stable
incomes and the world not owing me anything, yet you sit here thinking that I
owe you my dreams and my hard work! You’re a conformist! You’re a soul-dead son
of a bitch and you want the whole world to be just as boring and sad as you! I
don’t care how much money you’re making, because all the money in the world
can’t buy you a charismatic personality!”
Ian stood up and slammed his own palms on the table before
shouting back, “I’m trying to look after you, you goddamn fool! I don’t want
you to end up homeless and begging for handouts! If you keep spiraling out of
control like this, you’re going to hit rock bottom and you’re never coming
back!”
Some of the restaurant patrons stared at the father-son duo
with shock on their faces while others turned heel and walked away altogether.
The waitress who filled Ian’s coffee earlier approached him and said, “Excuse
me, sir, but the two of you need to calm down or else I’ll have to ask you to
leave.”
Ian held his palm in the waitress’s face and said, “I’m
trying to get through to my idiot son, so if you could stay out of this
conversation, that’d be wonderful!”
“Idiot?! You think I’m an idiot because I actually believe
in myself?! You think I’m an idiot just because I refuse to give up?! I’d
rather be an idiot than a boring piece of shit like you!” shouted Payton.
“This so-called boring piece of shit is alive and well
thanks to his steady income, which is more than I can say about a fuck-up like
you walking around in those slob clothes! You have a decision to make, young
man! Either accept your responsibilities as a grown adult or live like a child
and die of starvation! Life may be boring and sad, but it’s not going to change
anytime soon just because you like to rebel against the system! The system is
in place for a reason, son, because it works!” yelled Ian.
“Hey!” snapped the waitress, who finally found her footing
in this conversation after shaking nervously throughout the screaming matches.
“I’ve had it up to here with you two scaring away the customers! You can either
calm down and eat your lunches or I can get my supervisor and have the two of
you blackballed from here! Do you understand me?!”
The father and son slowly sat back down and glared at each
other with fiery vision. “You know what?” said Payton as he dug in his shorts
for his wallet. “I’m going to go ahead and pay for my meal and leave on my own
terms. I don’t have a whole lot of money in my bank account, but not to worry,
because that’ll all be fixed once I start crunching numbers in a plain old
office. Here, take my goddamn card.”
The waitress eyeballed Payton’s debit card for a while
before a small smile formed on her face. “You’re Payton Flagg? The actor?”
“Guilty as charged, though I don’t know if ‘the actor’ fits
me anymore,” said Payton in a bummed out voice.
The waitress’s smile grew wider as she said, “You know what?
I don’t care what any of those morons on Rotten Tomatoes think. I thought that
movie was hilarious. I love dirty humor!”
A look of shocked disbelief formed on Ian’s face while one
of surprise formed on Payton’s. The actor said, “Do you really mean that?”
“No, I’m screwing with you. Of course I mean it, you silly
goose!” said the waitress with a giggle. “I’m training to become an actress
myself. You wouldn’t mind letting me in on some of your connections would you?”
The waitress playfully elbowed Payton in the arm.
“I don’t know. My connections aren’t exactly…”
“Come on, Payton, what’s the worst that could happen? You
got your foot in the door, didn’t you? That’s more than I can say for myself
right now. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be working here. What do you say? Will you
hook me up?” said the waitress with a Hollywood
smile.
Payton smiled himself and said, “You know what? I think
that’s a good idea. I’ll come back here when you get off work and I’ll
introduce you to some of my guys.”
“Yes!” squealed the waitress before hugging and thanking
Payton repeatedly. It was an awkward hug, but Payton wrapped his arms anyways.
He also gave his father a smart-assed wink before the tie-wearing sad sap
rested his forehead in his hands. Even though Ian knew his son wasn’t the
reflection of perfection, it hurt even more to know he was bested by the little
hipster. Blind conformity seemed like a foolish route after all.
