It had been eight years before and Van Man had the freshest of faces and widest of eyes. He knew it was only a matter of time before Hollywood discovered him. Then he stepped onto an elevator and she was there.
"You're gorgeous", said Rocky.
"Thank you", replied Van Man as he giggled. He loved shit like that.
"No, I'm serious, you're gorgeous. Are you an actor?"
Van Man acknowledged he was. She gave him her card and demanded that he call her to set up something. She was in her sixties by what he could tell, but she seemed younger.
Van Man did his research and found she had previously been married to a famous actor that was over twenty years her junior. She had been his manager, at the time of their marriage. And of all the actors that Van Man had been told he had a resemblance, Rocky's former husband was the most cited. Did she want a new husband? A bone, here and there? Was she for real? Van Man could get down with older women, but sixty year olds were out of his fuck range. And Van Man did not expect himself to have to sleep his way to the top.
Rocky and Van Man met numerous times and she asked to be his manager. They shook on it. Done deal. The weeks went by and Van Man grew tired of the partnership. He did not care for the weekly drives to Marina Del Rey just to sit at her dog hair-infused home and not do much. Nothing seemed to gel in their meetings and Van Man was green. He wanted to act, not sit around. Little did he know that would be the best lesson he could have learned.
The meetings stopped. He had lost faith in her and she had seen his kind too many times before. The years passed. Van Man did some no-lows and a few plays. And then she was dead. A sad moment for Van Man. After all, Rocky was the first "Hollywood" person to see something in the gangly kid from Alabama. And she was still the only one. The Van Man sipped his coffee as Sinatra sang "Anything Goes" and thought about that handshake. The deal was over.