Searching For Moore by Julie A. Richman
Chapter Six
HE HAD BEENsitting with his mother in a coffee shop, eating a grilled cheese sandwich, when the man approached their booth.
Four-year old Schooner was not very interested in what they were talking about, because the grilled cheese had bacon that tasted really good and the French fries had bumps (his mother had called them crinkle fries). She was also letting him drink Coke that day instead of milk with his lunch, which never happened at home. So, everything on his plate, and in his glass, were much more interesting than anything this man had to say.
But Schooner knew they were talking about him.
“Photographs so well…All-American Boy…Pay for his education…”
The man handed Mrs. Moore his card and two weeks later, Schooner was in a photographer’s studio having his headshots and portfolio done. First, the photographer dressed him in a baseball uniform and posed him with a bat. Then, a bathing suit and they had him stand next to a giant flowered surfboard, in front of a large mural of the beach. The stylist finished up with school clothes and oversized glasses, with Schooner pretending to read a book.
“A natural…The camera loves him…Big career in front of him…”
Schooner learned early the importance of his good looks and what those looks could do for him. From the age of four until fourteen, his photo graced the covers and pages of every major catalogue in the US (and internationally, too). All the while, a trust account in his name became sizable (a trust account that would one day help him to become a very successful businessman, at a very young age).
Hitting adolescence, Schooner worried when he peered in the mirror and noted that his face had started changing. With skin prone to breakouts, he stressed out that he wasn’t perfect anymore and that would mean letting people down—especially his mother, who managed his career very tightly and whom he wanted to please more than anyone.
Sometimes during those extended sessions of studying his face in the mirror, Schooner would think about “the mask” he was looking at. The mask that had perfected the heart-stopping smile. And he would wonder, what does my real smile look like? and who am I really beneath the mask? And it frustrated him that he did not know the answers to those questions.
And so, Schooner truly became the ultimate actor—acting out the role he thought would make his parents happy. He was the All-American Boy. Handsome, polite, top student, great athlete, buddy, boyfriend, son, soon-to-be frat brother. He kept everyone happy.
Schooner Moore had no fucking idea who he really was.