The next morning, a wet nose woke him from deep slumber..
"Nah. I Don't give a damn, shut the fuck up.. Oh, wha' the. Marcus, is it you?"
11.36 A.M., 14611 sutton street, Sherman Oaks CA.
---
A young man gracefully stretched himself, yawned, strolled to his hifi and picked a Chet Baker record from his collection.
At the same moment as he wanted to launch in his armchair, Marcus jumped on his lap and began licking his hand. Finally James, caressing him gently, launched to perform his part aloud. He did this from the bottom of his soul, full of tension and with such intensity that Marcus was once again terribly frightened and finally fled from his arms discontented with reverence.
James couldn't help but giggle and laid his script aside.
"Next time it won't sound that bad, promise.."
Marcus' purring immediately made James feel at ease and together they waddled to the beat of the saxophone-trumpet-jazz-music down the creaking stairs.
Marcus, who refused to listen to that catophony, immediately jumped out of his embrace again..
Actually James just wanted to pour himself a freshly brewed coffee...
Swings, Swing- and Jazzmusik (obvously Chet Baker), theatrical performances and now also James' beloved milk coffee with sugar - Marcus obviously had many dislikes..
But James kept it cool.
Cozily, he let the scent of strong Arabicas spellbind his nose and lifted his eyebrows with rapture.
Good Morning, good ol' Hollywood.
Yeah..
what day, when not today, would be so perfect for taking a carriage ride with a sports car through your inviten, foggy streets?
James himself could hardly wait to paint the town red with his streamlined sport sled, so he didn't hesitate to snatch his jacket, slip into his Jack Purcell Converse, with a look back, watching, how peacefully his cat purred back at him.
So the young man slipped enthusiastically into his Porsche Spyder 550 vehicle, which he had given the glorious name Little Bastard and got it's strong motor running.
- The Golden Days : Los Angeles, 1954, the smog must have been 'breathtaking' -
The day progressed faster than the excellent driver would have liked it to, as he made his way home again in his silver arrow. They drove through the sun-drenched avenue of the main street and turned right into James' residential street.
This Little Bastard simply represented (almost) everything that James Dean's heart was beating for..
Freedom -
Highest good and best friend.
Risk?
It was a clear fact that tonight was going to be a risky adventure..
And speed.. oh, yeah.
Slow was absolutely nothing for the brooding, all-or-nothing and dangerloving loner. So, you could imagine him as the kind of guy for whom 'soon' often couldn't be fast enough.
---
A refreshing shower, then James picked out the coolest jeans he could find and put on one of those white T-shirts in which Marlon Brando himself had become famous - James rolled up the sleeves of it and took a last glance in the mirror and formed a smirk.
Let's roll, Jim..
Hen gave his cat a last wink and took off with a nylon jacket over his shoulder and a touch of Knize Ten in his neck.
Marcus didn't care much about his master's busy nightlife - he had gotten his food and, above all, his milk - to him, that was all that counted.
---
Today Villa Capri showed itself from its liveliest side.
It took a while until his eyes met Marlon's.
Marlon Brando, in grey chinos and a short-sleeved creamwhite shirt, already awaiting him in a dim corner leaning against the wall with a drink, his bold gaze hitting James with impenitent violence, as if he had already set his sights on the velvetpawed jaguar.
But the predator shuffled casually past him, raising a corner of his mouth and suggesting to lead him to the back of the bar. With his hands shoved deeply in the pockets of his jeans and the glowing cigarette dangling coquettishly from the corner of his mouth, he went ahead - and short time afterwards, Marlon would follow him inconspicuously.
"Hey, Brando!"
Sammy Davis Jr. waved him over.
"Sorry! I can't hear you!"
Sammy, this rat.. he was the best snitcher in town. After Sammy knew IT, everybody knew it. Marlon himself knew it..
Sammy was joking around with friends on a table.
"Hey Brando, i've ordered pizza with some extra salami - Make sure to leave some for me!"
"What 'd you say?"
"I said, when you go to that kitchen, leave some salami for us!"
Marlon smirked his eyes had a devilish twinkle.
"Fine, if there's nothing left, i'd take yours!"
Sammy, with eyes wide open, turned to his mates again. He just shook his head..
"I would like him, if you weren't such an asshole."
---
The fact that her date at Villa Capri wasn't discovered came just in time for Marlon, because journalists weren't allowed to enter the Capri. He couldn't stand all those interview charades, after all..
People earned their dirty dough all day selling it for someone they wanted to see on their front page - that certainly wasn't him..
---
Immediately they were received by owner Patsy D'Amore himself. He led them right to his kitchen department – a wonderful kitchen, as it turned out – Patsy's jewel.
- Patsy d'Amore, owner of Villa Capri -
After James had exchanged a few familiar words with the sympathetic owner, Patsy pointed them to a sneaky wooden table in a niche. Patsy himself knew only too well what high-calibre guests he would look after – and that very evening would, of course, be kept under discretion..
In a time, where homosexuality was considered frowned upon and in which bisexuality was virtually 'non-existent'..
---
James turned around, took off his horn-rimmed glasses, sat down and lifted his gaze directly into Marlon's bright eyes.
"How's life?"
"Acting is an empty and useless profession.."
"Acting is the most logical way for people's neuroses to manifest themselves.."
"You're cute..
Seriously, what's working like for you... without glasses?"
James chuckled, tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.
"It's like playen' the bongos while you can't hear any dynamics.."
Marlon put his chin in his palms and arched both brows.
"Playing the bongos without hearing dinamics? You know what..? My dream actually was to become a drummer."
"Really?"
"It never came true.. Hey, but.. Oh, can you smell that? Heavenly."
At that moment Marlon's heart beat only for the lovely aroma spectacle that waved from the kitchen; he closed his eyes to capture the the notes and this scent with his nose..
Beef, that was easy to guess... and something sweet laid in the air; cloves? Oh yeah... anise... no, garlic, juniper and nutmeg... And red wine...
---
To James, the atmosphere felt almost too cozy. Who was he, this otherwise rather cruel and hard-shelled Brando, matador of screens, who prefered to rebel against everything and everyone instaid of playing by their rules? This also solved the question, why he'd never become a drummer: they had to play by the rules.
For Jimmy the only Thing that counted was, that he finally could be at the same eye level with Marlon. It felt More like not having to feel smaller than he already felt, anymore, instead they joked around and laughed at the same humor, namely that one which would have been too sarcastic for others.
Yes, the man with the broken nose suddenly seemed so much more content and unbiased.
No, Mr. Brando didn't need luxury, thought he could name himself a top-class actor -
When he was in Paris in 1949 for example, he just preferred to hang around with the local clochards than to sip champagne with the haute société. When they'd recognize him, they were surprised by how simple his needs were, that an actor could feel happy without any comfort.
But the fact was, that these people just had more interesting things about life to tell. And Marlon, curious as ever, began his studies of their characters - which, in turn, gave him new inspiration for his acting.
- Marlon Brando in Paris, 1949 -
---
While they were taking their starters, James reported on his new project. He was chosen for the role of boxing legend Rocky Graziano, for whom he was to undergo a special training and acquire the Italian accent. He complained, just like Marlon, how badly he got along with the script.
Most of all Marlon liked the sequence in which his tomcat always kept him in breath during the rehearsals.. they shared this love for animals.
---
They laughed, put their heads together to share experiences from their lifes - and although they both seemed to be very different, their life pillars cut each other surprisingly often. On the one hand there was the American-European ancestry. Then they both grew up in not only positive social conditions, a rural life as a farmer family in Indiana and Nebraska. Last but not least, both knew about their turbulent father-son relationship. Then, in addition to an unquenchable curiosity, there was a certain aversion to authority; Marlon hated nothing more than being led by authority figures (they, of course, had no idea from his point of view), and James Dean was known for being a sensitive nature that was difficult to lead. Her preference for motorcycles almost drove them crazy and then -
there was this preference which pertained to women and men..
---
James' attention that evening resembled that of a sponge whose curiosity followed question after question. He definitely belonged to the kind of people who preferred to listen rather than reveal anything of themselves.. After Petsy himself had served them their food, they enjoyed their feast to the fullest.
The recognition blossomed James Dean's unsteady mind; he could feel a self-confidence in himself that would otherwise had been lost in Marlon's presence; how mocking Brando had been on him. He wears the same clothes and the same talent I had last year... Well... In his leather rags from 'The Wild One' James would have made at least as good a figure as he did. And he would never have let this twerp take the trophy from him!
Marlon would have had a jovial grin left for it at the most. This Method Actor Dean? He made for more theatre than solid acting. To slip into his role? Yuck!
But Marlon had to have his high nose polished recently.. Apart from the fact that James Dean had studied Method Acting after Lee Strasberg and Konstantin Stanislawski and he didn't, Marlon Brando could also be considered as Stella Adler's foster son.. or was he?
Wasn't Jimmy Dean already treated by the media as a newcomer who was more dynamic than himself? Those were probably the only headlines about himself that embarrassed Marlon... Was it time to envy the up-and-coming talent? Or should he be happy for him? Marlon himself didn't know exactly how to feel about the strange youngster..
---
He watched James light a cigarette again (he was obviously a chain smoker), spread his arms sideways, leaned back and let his gaze wander, lost in his thoughts.
Dean, the thinker, Dean, the philosopher, Dean, the poet..
"What are you thinking about?"
James felt caught.
"Why 'you wanna know?"
Marlon's brows tightened energetically.
"Just because I want to get to know you better.. that's why.."
James adjusted his glasses, lifted his eyebrows and leaned forward.
"Well, I think about everything...
an' nothen..."
Indeed, it was not easy to see through the talented actor with his shy nature.
His state of mind was able to change by 180 degrees, this within seconds and you never knew exactly whether you had finally understood him as a person....
"Everything and nothing, huh?
Jim, tell me. Would you say, i'm a big idol for you, as the newspapers say?"
James just watched him stirring his coffee with that silver spoon, feeling a little unconfortable, when Marlon put on his signature smile.
"So, the answer is no.."
For a while they would let only speak their glances.
"You're a man of many questions.."
James didn't break eyecontact,
"But the essential is invisible to the eye anyway."
Marlon liked that impish smirk.. He licked the dessert from the corner of his mouth and immediately Marlon leaned on the table with his forearm, his eyes narrowed.
"The essential is invisible to the eye..? You'll find that in every single thing, you only want to.",
The man with his diabolic laugh had wisdom, after all..
"I know a place, Jimmy.."
---
"Is this what you're callen' a place where one could find the essential, Marlon?"
They ended up at a nightclub around the corner, and Jimmy didn't seem top impressed and grabbed his drink.
"Yeah, why not? Look at that girl. She behaves like a peach who just waits to be picked off the tree.",
As James watched the girl coming closer to their table, he felt Marlon's hand on his shoulder.
"Mar, what makes you sayin' that?"
In this very moment the black haired woman in her sexy pedal pushers passed their table, but right after she'd passed, she turned around, bent towards James Dean and whispered something in his ear Marlon couldn't hear.
'i like your eyes. They're honest..
but you shouldn't let your actor friend getting jealous.'
James shivered, as she turned away; now, what was that? Marlon thought the same, lit a cigarette and and slowly turned his head towards Dean.
"And, uh.. what did she say?",
Marlon became serious.
But instead of giving him the answer Marlon wanted to hear, James arched his eyebrows, not breaking eye contact.
As their heads were turning synchronlously in the direction the woman was leaving, they observed her seating herself on another girl's lap as they leant in for a deep, passionate kiss -
---
The two men looked at each other in disbelieve, then James lowered his glance down the table.
"Guess i've gotta leave now.",
he rose from the black barstool and slid his right hand through his hair.
"Bye, Mar."
"You'll first tell me your little secret.."
"She said: go home to your cat."
"I see.."
Somehow he felt empty, as James gave him a last smile over his right shoulder. His playful movements reminded him of Charlie Chaplin, and his heart warmed again. Marlon watched the young man leaving.
Go home to your cat..