Sitting in this horrible room at this cheap motel, reading an email written by someone who had only recently viewed Signs of the Zodiac, he could remember back, way back, when he tasted fame.
Tasted, not eaten, not even swallowed.
He looked at the photo he’d egotistically taped to his mirror… to this mirror, to every mirror he’d looked into for over a decade.
He looked at that photo, taken at the Sy-Fi con, and instead of gazing at his own image, looked at David.
Heath Alexander Pine remembered his friend David; David who was in that photo he so prized.
He had looked at that photo to elevate his spirit, to make him remember who he was, when he was, who he was. Heath never looked at David, only at himself.
That was the answer to how he went from that ‘icon’ to this nothing.
For he was nothing.
When SoZ ended, he couldn’t get a single role in anything of any value. He’d read for a role which was virtually an image of his character on SoZ. And not get it.
Then someone with a vague resemblance to him would appear, and play him; play him playing Ares.
All he could grab, after one, two years of trying was a small role in a soap opera. A small, limited role, which didn’t last a full season.
A minor role, gaining little attention. And when it was over, nothing.
Nothing but one offs in plays so far off Broadway they were in other states.