Revival!

Revival!

Preposterous!

Never in her life had she, Chelsea Loren, Queen of the Silver Screen, been so disrespected. The words of those penny-pinching producers, fresh from their final-cut-meetings and box-office reports, echoed in her head. She knew what they were doing. They were trying to get rid of her.

“It’s time to step aside.”

“You were great… twenty years ago.”

“You’re old news, Miss Loren. Don’t drag this any longer.”

“Have some dignity and retire. I’m sure they’ll give you another Award for your many years in this business.”

Their words were nothing but poison being passed as honey.

What would those fools know about an actress’ skills or the power they have to move the hearts and minds of moviegoers?

On the ride back home, Chelsea was coldly staring out the window of her limousine. She had told the driver the simple command of: “Home” and had the privacy partition raised so she wouldn’t have to deal with the stares or questions. Alone with her thoughts, she continued to simply let the anger in her chest consume her…

Alone as she was, no one could tell she was a prisoner in her own world. The fine leather seats of the limousine or the champagne that was left unopened before her nor the silence that now enveloped her could give her any solace. They were almost suffocating her…

Chelsea just wanted to scream to her heart's content and let out all the frustration and anger she felt just pour out of her! To think that all of her life, all of her career and all of her accolades had amounted to nothing! That the glory of yesterday was meaningless at the end… They didn’t even have the courtesy to say: “Thank you for making our lives more glamorous”.

When did it all go wrong? Was it the divorce from her husband after that bastard cheated on her? Her statements about the current direction of the movie business? The fact that there wasn’t a SINGLE movie starlet that could even reach her level of talent and skill as a master thespian?

No… the press had been quite clear why she was no longer getting the movie parts she’d always turn into gold… She was getting old.

As Chelsea sighed deeply and turned her eyes towards the evening lights of the city, she caught the glare of a neon sign:

The Shakers Bar.

How quaint… for a moment she had scoffed at the sound of that name.

But something inside of her felt drawn to it. It wasn't the neon light, the sign, or the name. It was the way the bar seemed completely separated from the coldness and hollow promises of her world.

The limousine came to a stop. Without a word to the driver or a glance toward her entourage, she simply opened the door, stepped out, and headed toward the Shakers Bar with her usual proud bearing.

The moment she stepped into the bar, Chelsea’s senses were immediately assaulted. A group of sports fans screamed, “TOUCHDOWN!”, and a cheer rippled across the room. The scent of stale beer and crushed peanut shells was pungent, causing her to instinctively cover her mouth and nose with her perfumed scarf.

“This place is a dumpster! Who could possibly find relaxation in such squalor?” Chelsea’s first thoughts were cold and dismissive. Her eyebrow arched, her mouth twisted into a grimace and even her body language shifted from pride to disgust. Everything about this bar seemed wrong - from the decor to the furniture was terrible!

One of the people sitting by the bar looked over to her direction…

“Oh Lord… here we go,” she thought bitterly, “Can’t seem to get a moment of rest even in this dump…” She was about to turn around to leave, seeing as that person would probably recognize her, walk over and request a photo or a signature. She had been through it a thousand times before: one person would approach, then another five, then ten, until the entire bloody bar would be demanding a piece of her to remember on their way back home.

But something strange had happened - something she had never encountered before.

Nothing.

The person that had seen her just turned around and returned to their drink. No one had approached her. No one was hounding her to talk to her. Nobody was taking out their smartphones to take a picture of her.

This was a welcome change for her. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about being mobbed. All she needed now was to find the right place to sit.

Her eyes, hidden behind dark shades, scanned the bar until they settled on a place at the far end of the room. It was left completely empty - the light was dimmer, there were a few booths, some leather covered armchairs and even a small chess table. The bar seemed to end at that corner, creating a secluded haven. “A VIP section”, she thought instinctively, a place where her privacy could remain untouched.

Still moving with her perfect, practiced stride, she made her way to the very end of the bar. Even the stools here were different - richer leather, more polished wood. At least the owner had the good sense to cater to a more discerning customer.

As she set her purse aside and let out a long sigh of fatigue, Chelsea noticed that one of the bartenders had been following her movements with his eyes and was now approaching her with a simple smile. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes, but his polite smile didn’t reveal what he’d learned.

“Good evening ma'am.” There was a slight drawl in the man’s voice. Probably from the South. Chelsea remembers a few movie shoots she had to do in Texas. “What can I get for you?”

Chelsea took the measures of the man the moment he spoke to her. He wasn’t a young man but neither was he too old. Maybe in his 30’s. Looked like another tough guy like the thousands she’d worked with before.

“I would like a glass of ‘Inspiration’. I’m certain such a request isn’t that complicated?” Chelsea flashed a look of a challenge. This was her signature move in her movies: a raised eyebrow, a condescending smile and a very subtle tilt of her head. This earned her the fame she was now clinging to.

The bartender smiled with amusement as he chuckled softly. To her surprise, the sound held no trace of disrespect. It was as if her request was the most delightful challenge he’d heard all night.

“Meaning no disrespect, ma’am, but ‘Inspiration’ isn’t exactly on the menu. However, perhaps I could mix you up something worthwhile if the lady would humor me by answering a couple of questions.”

Chelsea believed this man was certainly not used to talking to celebrities like her. But, considering what she’d been through, she found his honest answer and request refreshing. The lady, flashing a smile of her own, nodded with approval towards the bartender.

“Jimmy!” The bartender turned to the other tender on duty, “Can you hold the bar for a few minutes?”

Chelsea noticed that the other bartender, Jimmy, flashed a big smile and gave a thumbs up. “You got it Chas!”

Grateful that he can now focus 100% on the lady’s request, the bartender takes a quick gander under the counter and nods to himself.

“Apologies for the delay, ma’am. Now then,” Rubbing his hands together, the bartender rested both hands on the counter and looked straight into her eyes. This made Chelsea somewhat uncomfortable, being scrutinized so much, “if the lady had to choose, would she be silent or bold?”

The question caught Chelsea off guard. What kind of bartending-psychology was this? She was about to voice her displeasure. But the serious look in the bartender’s eyes despite the friendly smile made it clear to her that this wasn’t just bar talk.

“Bold.” Chelsea answered. She recalled how she was lauded by her bold personality on screen and made her an icon back in those days.

The smile on the bartender’s face widened a bit more. He reached under the counter and took out a martini glass, an undisclosed bottle of liquor and a shaker.

“This ‘bold lady’, would she be humble or proud?”

“Proud.” This word had been used to describe her when she performed her greatest role - That of a proud member of royalty, The Queen. She rode that pride for many years.

Chas nodded slowly as if he had caught a piece of a great puzzle. He then began to pour some liquor into the shaker, reached under the counter again and added another bit of liquor from a different bottle and began to stir them both.

“A powerful combination. This ‘bold and proud lady’ certainly seems to set the terms in her life rather than the other way around.”

The actress observed the man working with purpose, even as his eyes moved to look at her in the eyes from time to time. Did he know who she was or was he trying to figure this out with his questions? It was difficult to say considering that he hadn’t asked her name or what her profession was.

“Now… this lady, is she happy or sad?”

This question suddenly made her feel uncomfortable. She certainly wasn’t happy that her career was in decline, but she promised herself she’d never allow anyone to see her angry or feeling sorry for herself. But… she didn’t know what she felt.

“I… I don’t really know anymore.”

The bartender lost his smile for a moment. Realizing something important, he looked under the counter again but decided against using another liquor.

“This lady sure has a lot in her mind… a lot in life going on. It’s tough to find ‘Inspiration’ when she’s struggling to find out what’s going to happen in the future.”

She continued to watch as the bartender narrowed his eyes for a moment as if he were staring at someone else sitting beside her. He nodded and his smile returned.

“A bold and proud woman who cannot tell how she feels. If this lady had to choose a flavor of her life, would it be sweet, bitter or, my personal favorite, bittersweet?”

Chelsea stares into the eyes of the bartender as if he had reached the point of his questions. There was something oddly calming in the way this simple bartender was slowly but gently helping her unveil her own thoughts to herself.

“Bittersweet…” She managed to whisper as she looked down and tried to hide her eyes. She realized, at last, that she couldn’t run away from the truth. The glories of the past were long gone. Despite her talent and the power she had displayed in the good old days, she had to step aside. This left a bittersweet taste in her life.

“I see. There’s nothing wrong with being bold and proud. This lady sure sounds like she was at the top of the world at one time. Chances are I might know who she is.” When he said these words, the lady looked up to him with surprise. To her growing confusion, she saw him holding his finger to his lips: he knew, but he chose to remain silent.

“Unable to tell what she truly feels, she might get the feeling that all the glory of the past is long gone. The gold loses its luster. The mansions become prisons. Fame becomes a heavy burden. The end,” he said these words as he poured another cup of liquor into the shaker, closed it and gently began to shake the contents within, “usually leaves a bittersweet taste.”

After Chas had finished shaking up the drink, he remained silent for a moment, hesitating for a second.

“One last question and I won’t pry any further, if I may.”

The lady noticed a slight bit of hesitation in his request. Was this question something that could cause her to become angry? Would it infringe on her privacy? She was afraid, but also curious.

“By all means, ask away.” For the first time she genuinely smiled back at the bartender.

“Does this lady regret anything in her life?”

For several heartbeats Chelsea remained silent. She saw her entire life flashing before her eyes. When she left her town to become an actress. The endless auditions. The exhaustion from filming. Romances. The paparazzi. The divorce with her actor husband. The decline… Has it all been worth it?

A proud smile appeared in her lips as she looked into the eyes of the bartender, a few tears forming in her eyes.

“Not one second. She regrets nothing.”

A bright smile appeared in the bartender’s lips and he gave her a sharp nod. He reached under the counter and took out a red cherry. Careful not to spill, the man poured the mixed concoction into the martini glass and very slowly placed the cherry at the very center of the drink.

He slowly slid the drink towards Chelsea. It had a red color which was accentuated by the cherry.

“Hope this provides you with ‘Revival’ rather than ‘Inspiration’, ma’am.”

Puzzled by what this man had poured her, she took the glass and lifted it slowly to her nose: it had a bold scent. Strong, but not enough to be considered obscene. She took a small sip from it…

Memories flew into her mind…

The crowning moment of her life and career when she received the Academy Award for Best Actress. The pride she felt when her face became globally famous. 

She was the queen of the silver screen. And this left a bittersweet taste… much like the drink.

“Yo! Chas! The regulars are about to come in! You still need more time?” Jimmy called from afar, waking her up from her memories. She saw her bartender signaling Jimmy for a few minutes more.

“What drink did you give me? I’ve never tasted anything like this before!”

The bartender chuckled sheepishly and smirked. “I just created it for you, ma’am. I call it ‘Queen of the Stars’. Will you be okay now, ma’am? I need to get ready for the evening rush.”

“Yes. I think I’ll be fine now. Thank you. By the way,” she leaned forward a bit. “What’s your name?”

“Chester Elegant. Everyone calls me Chas. Don’t forget to eat the cherry, Miss Loren. That’s the real prize of the drink. Just signal me if you need anything else ma’am.”

With this said, Chas walked over to Jimmy and whispered a few words in his ear. Jimmy looked over at the lady and nodded as he patted Chas’ shoulder. So, he did know who she was after all…

Chelsea felt a strange feeling of relief and acceptance as she kept drinking this never-before seen drink. Did he really just make this drink for her? What an odd fellow. Chester Elegant, was it? Perhaps he was more than just a booze jockey.

Before she finished her drink, she took the cherry in her lips and bit into it.

Revival!

What!? This taste! It’s like… that night! She felt the statue in her arms and felt happiness beyond anything.

No. Not “Inspiration”. Revival! She could still revive her career. Maybe not on the screen, but as the one that makes things happen… a Producer? Talent manager? The ideas suddenly came to her mind as refreshing as the drink she had enjoyed. She was bold, proud… maybe a little sad at how things had turned out. But she held on. Without regrets!

She looked at Chas and how some regulars arrived greeting him cheerfully. This man greeted back with a smile, a laugh and hugged those that reached out.

Perhaps she finally found a place where she could rest and enjoy herself without the glamour and the fake smiles.

She had found Peace at the Bottom of a Glass.