12 Sep

In the six months since I first met Neal Higgens, he had never said a word that was not written on a screenplay. He was always first or second in line for casting calls, and when he would get moved to the side of the studio with the “EXTRAS GREEN ROOM” sign hanging overhead he wouldn’t even look at me. The other casting agents and I always joked around that he could play a deaf mute if we had such a role available.

I’m sure he just wanted a chance, but a generic white twenty-something hipster isn’t something the studio can take a chance on. He was one of thousands of kids who left Indiana or New Jersey or Kansas for a chance to make it big in Hollywood. Hell – he’s lucky any of us even got to know his name.

As I look up at his pale face, eyes closed and jaw relaxed, I am at a loss for words. What else can I tell the investigators about this kid? “Has Neal been acting strangely lately?” “Has he had any relationship issues?” “Did anyone have an issue with Mr. Higgens recently?” Not a damn clue, detective, but I’m sure he had an issue with us.

Ask me why he hung himself from the rafters in the sound studio and I’ll tell you one thing: he didn’t get to live his dream. Can’t fault him for that.


One Response to “Hollywood”

  1. jeanosullivan September 20, 2012 at 7:56 pm #

    I’m sad! I have to remind myself “it’s just a story!” 🙂

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