Eduardo Sullivan

Eduardo stood in front of the newsstand, eyes and mouth carefully hidden behind cheap sunglasses and a mask, looking at himself on the smooth laminated magazine cover. The full effect of his brooding but powerful stance, him dressed in an elegant black suit, didn’t really come across as he had imagined, with the sun reflecting on the shiny dark page. It was not as imposing and sexy as he had wished it to be. 

When he’d gotten the call from his agent, that he had been named People magazine’s sexiest man alive, he had not been surprised, it had only been a question of time. He rather wondered why it had taken them so long.

“Eduardo Sullivan, the modern hero we needed on our screens and in our lives”. Yes, he was a hero, one could even say that his name had become synonymous with the word itself. Who else had played James Bond, Iron Man, and countless other fictional world-saving heartthrobs?

He smiled under his mask, time for the big reveal. He didn’t need to buy the magazine, they had sent him a copy of it already, but he’d never miss an opportunity to relish in the awe of his admirers when they met him in person. To bestow that honour upon them had gotten him out of bed more than once already. Unfortunately, for he had not yet made plans for the night, the person selling these magazines wasn’t a woman.

Slowly he took off his sunglasses, getting the vendor’s attention, before sliding down his mask under his chin. With his brightest smile he showed the guy owning the newsstand the magazine and said in his lowest, most imposing voice: “Why don’t I give you 20 bucks for this and we’re good?”. Charitable as ever.

He could see the confusion, felt it, but Eduardo did not doubt for a second that this guy knew him, had seen at least one of his movies, and would recognize him soon enough. His arrogance driven instinct was correct, as always, for after a first furtive glance the newsstand guy could not get his eyes off Eduardo, trying to decipher whether it was really the world-famous actor that was just casually standing in front of him or just a really convincing lookalike, before concluding that it must actually be the happiest and luckiest day of his entire life. 

This last bit was obvious for he grabbed the newsstand to steady himself and unconsciously shook his head, not yet entirely sure what to make of the situation. 

Eduardo tried to suppress a victorious smile; he had done it again. 

“Of course, Sir, thank you!”, the guy took the money and Eduardo could see that he was contemplating saying something else, he probably wanted to ask for a picture, which, Eduardo knew, he would humbly and gracefully agree to, pretending that he could make some time in his busy schedule because he cared so much for his loyal fans.

“You know, Sir,”, he stopped, not sure if he should continue, but Eduardo just gave him an encouraging smile, hoping that he could soon be on his way, “I was there, at the audition for your break-through role, I auditioned myself, and even though you were not famous or anything back then, I still remember you, you helped me calm down because I was so nervous about it, you even made me tea so I could calm down, and”, he nervously fiddled with his hands, “I just wanted to thank you for it”. 

This guy was around Eduardo’s age, the latter realized half surprised. 

“What’s your name then?”, he tried to act interested, to be a good role model. “Clint, Sir, Clint Baker. Ever after that day, I looked up to you and wished you only the best, it’s an honour to be meeting you again!”

“Well, thank you. But what happened to your acting career?”, he knew he could have walked away just then, but he needed to confirm a suspicion he had. He might remember this guy and that specific audition, one of his first, for a minor role that had gotten him the attention of the agent he still employed today. 

Flattered that the sexiest man alive would show any interest in him, Clint continued: “Even though you were so kind to me on that day, the nerves had really gotten to me, and I started to feel so sick that I could not go on with the audition. It was so bad that I could not leave my bed for the next 3 days and I just realized that acting wasn’t quite for me, that this kind of nervousness would never allow me to get a role. So, I quit, but I don’t regret it, Sir, I am just as happy with where I am in life right now, acting just wasn’t for me.” He seemed to actually mean what he said, weird.

Eduardo had rolled up the magazine and, holding it in one hand, he extended the other one to Clint, just to make his day even better: “It was nice meeting you Clint Baker, maybe fate will let us cross paths a third time, I wish you all the best until then”. And while he turned away, feeling the weight of Clint’s stare on his back he smiled, thinking about the moment Clint would get home to his partner, and maybe kids, and tell them about the surreal experience he had had today. 

While he was walking toward Central Park, he put his mask and sunglasses back on. Although he did like to be recognized, it had to be on his terms. 

What surprised him was that he did indeed remember Clint, he had been the first person that Eduardo had deemed worthy of getting rid of, all these years ago. It amused him to think that Clint thanked him for that tea that had caused him to give up on all his dreams. 

Why would he need to feel bad about it? The acting world was a cruel place and only those that were ready to accept the reality of it and fight for what they wanted should be granted any success. If Clint, or any other person in that audition that day or on any other day, had had his drive and ambition, they could have done the same thing to him. That Clint just gave up because of it showed that he did not have the necessary dedication for the craft, that even if he had gotten the role, he would not have been worthy of it. Eduardo knew that he himself was worthy of all that he had achieved for he had fought for it, just as the heroes he had portrayed had fought for what they wanted in life. 

Of course, Clint had not been the only one that had suffered Eduardo’s ambition in the course of his career. He had always incapacitated whoever represented a real threat to him, one way or another, and sometimes, when he was lucky enough and the casting director had shown any interest in him – an interest of a more sensual nature – he had not even needed to go meddle with the other candidates to get the role.

He hadn’t interfered in a casting process for a while now though, mainly because he did not have to go to castings anymore. Film directors were usually coming to him, begging him to consider being part of their projects. It didn’t help that it was more difficult to get established actors out of his way than to get little Clint Baker sick. 

The last time he was able to resort to his methods, which had become a little good luck ritual for himself, had been for the casting of James Bond. After the news that the then-current 007 would not continue in his role, he had gotten a call from his agent that they were considering him as one of his possible successors, that he did not have the role secured however because there were two other actors that they were interested in. Shortly after, one of the two had some serious child pornography charges to deal with and the other one had not stood a chance against Eduardo either way.

He finally reached the cooling shade of the park and went to one of his usual spots, a small path in the shadow with an empty bench waiting for him. It was perfect because not entirely deserted, only a few people ever came across it, assuring that whenever he got recognized, he would only have to deal with 3 or 4 people at a time. 

Looking behind him he could see the dark shape of his bodyguard in the distance, always alert but not too worried. He had done this a million times by now and nobody had ever attacked him. Who would ever want to hurt “the modern hero we needed on our screens and in our lives”? Eduardo grinned as he took off his mask and sunglasses. 

Looking down at his face on the magazine he wondered what the press would write about him if they knew what he had done, what he had sacrificed to get where he was now. They would probably not hail him as their hero anymore but condemn him as some degenerate monster, too ambitious for its own good. Idiots. The world would judge him for what he had needed to do, while they continued to celebrate their favourite British spy that had harmed and killed countless people to get what he wanted. People were hypocrites, ugly and whiney and dumb.

Eduardo pulled out the book his agent had told him to read in public, he did not know what it was about, didn’t even care for its title. 

Two people came strolling about, and he could feel the moment one of them recognized him. Excited whispering, slowed down walk, uncertainty whether they should bother him or not. Eduardo looked up and with a humble smile invited them to approach.

“Unambitious, stupid hypocrites”, was all he could think, as they stood next to him, smiling into the lens of their overpriced smartphone.