It was a turning point in many ways, a great new beginning, our breakthrough. Orville would have his place in the sun. All the leading players would be up there in the same firmament, our film-making credentials validated, rewarded.
I allowed myself to fantasize: The interviews. The photographs. Flashbulbs going off. Talkshows. The host saying, "You brought along a film clip didn't you?" Orville, myself or another of the movie's co-stars responding with self-possession, "Sure did." Then the host saying, "So let's roll it!" After that, audience applauses and whistles, admiration from the masses.
Orville, myself or another of the movie's co-stars, scanning our audiences, bowing appreciatively, mouthing the words 'Thank you'. Our eyes brimming with pride. Figurative flowers strewn at our feet.
I imagined the new prominence. Orville, myself, like brothers now, two immigrant preachers' boys, arm around shoulder, vaunted to a vantage point of privilege from where we would look out in celebration on this deliciously golden city. Finally, my chance to be quoted by moviegoers. Finally, I was getting my own memorable lines. Finally, I was getting lucky.
Filming was scheduled. On a New York soundstage in a month. On movie screens in a year. If my West Indian origins would have a Hollywood ending, this, finally, was the beginning. All I could ask for, all I had worked towards, the career fulfillment delayed for so long, was close at hand. Then Orville got arrested again.
