I was really down!
After 17 years as the dashing Dr. Ricardo Ames on the soap opera, ‘Fox Run’, there I was, at 39 years of age, waiting tables trying to make ends meet. Some pimply face, wet behind the ears, network executive said that ‘Fox Run’ was not reaching its ‘baby boomers’ target audience and canceled the show. When I tried to get other work, the casting directors said I was too typecast as the lecherous doctor that had seduced every female on the show. I think even my agent had written me off. I know she wouldn't sleep with me anymore.
It was true. In the story line, Dr. Ames had lured almost everyone in the show into his bedroom, from the fresh-faced teenage star to her silver hair grandmother, the upstairs maid, the cook, the black nanny and even made a pass at Juan the yard boy’s wife. It sure has hell wasn't like that in real life. I hadn't had a piece of ass in over six months and it didn't look like I was going to get one anytime soon. Unfortunately, when I was making it big, I was also spending it big. Although I got a little severance pay, my alimony payments and $1800 a month apartment was eating that up. With my Saturdays and Sundays waiters job I could only knock down $300 to $400 a week. I couldn't work extra hours because I needed the time to canvass the agents and casting offices. I had to find a new, cheaper place to live and a better source of income right away.
One Sunday at lunchtime, I was waiting on two ‘mature’ women when one of them said, "My goodness! You’re Dr. Ames from the ‘Fox Run’ afternoon soap opera aren't you? We have missed you so much since the show folded. You were one of our favorites."
"Thank you ladies." Then I fibbed just a little when I said, "I'm just filling in here for a while to help out a friend." It did make me feel good to know that I still had a fan or two. I took their lunch order and went about my business.
When I served their salads, the other one said, "Dr. Ames, would you do us an immense favor and have tea with us someday soon?"
"Thank you very much again ladies, but I don't think that would be possible. I am trying to find a new place to live and, by the way, my real name is John Evans."
"Please reconsider Mr. Evans. We live in the old downtown brownstone section and there are seven or eight ladies on our street that would die to meet you. Our house is an old mansion that we cut up into apartments after our parents died. There is a beautiful one bedroom on the upper floor that is vacant. We could let you have that very reasonably."
Perhaps this could be a solution to part of my problem. "OK, I'll come by and look at the apartment and have tea with you. When would be convenient?"
They gave me their names and address and we arranged to meet. Precisely at 3 PM the following Monday, I knocked on the door of a very large, lovely brownstone in an older section of town. It must have really been a show place in its day, on a quiet street lined with one after another of these beautiful mansions. Most of them had been converted into more stylish apartments.
Etta, the younger of the two ladies that I estimated to be in their mid to late 50’s, opened the door and ushered me into to the house. I was surprised to find her sister, Jane, and three other women in their same age bracket sitting around in the parlor. I was introduced to the ladies one at a time and each one oohed and aahed over me. It was certainly good for my ego. The tea was pleasant, and I must say, I out did myself and was quite dashing.
After the other ladies left, Jane offered to show me up to the apartment. It was a strange arrangement because you had to enter their front door and go up the staircase that went to the second floor. Another set of stairs took us up one more flight to what must have been an attic or loft at one time. Now, it was a beautiful apartment, completely furnished with a large kitchen, an enormous bath and a huge great room or lounge and an equally large bedroom with a gigantic, king-sized bed. When I asked about the price there was a little hedging.
"We are a couple of retired ladies and need things done for us now and then. If you can help us out once in a while we can let you have it for $250 a month. It will make us feel a little safer with a man in the house."
$250 a month was unheard of. It was easily worth three or four times that. It would certainly take a tremendous load off of my financial burden. "I'll take it! When can I move in?"
We arranged that I would move in on the first of the following month, which was only ten days away. I already had someone lined up that wanted to sublet my apartment, furnished, for $100 a month more than I was paying.
I went back to work the following weekend with a song in my heart and a lilt in my step. Most of the six ladies from the tea party came by for lunch on both Saturday and Sunday. Both times they had someone new with them. I didn't mind at all, they were good tippers and a hell of a boost to my sagging ego.