“Let’s read something,” he said, straightening back up. “Anything for now, just to get the wheels turning. Doesn’t have to be Sally.”
“Sure,” Ellie said.
Doesn’t have to be Sally? Because there’s fuck all of Sally to read.
Klein drained his glass, sighing loudly with satisfaction. Sounded to Ellie like he’d just creamed his pants – not that he was wearing any pants. He put the empty on the floor and leaning against the wall, skimmed through the screenplay. He was still humming ‘Happy Birthday’ under his breath.
“Alright,” he said, looking up from the page. “Found something and guess what? It is a Sally scene. Page fifty-nine. Sally Atkins is in the Irish bar, which is still unnamed in this draft, talking to Marty and by the way, that’s the role I’m trying get Johnny Kent for. Marty Wallace. You’ll be shooting a few scenes with Johnny if everything works out.”
Ellie felt the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. “Cool.”
Klein laughed. “Yeah, it’s cool. Alright, page fifty-nine. Got it?”
Ellie found it and firmly pressed her hand down upon the open page.
“Got it.”
She tried to concentrate but it felt like someone was drilling a hole in the side of her skull. That was the guilt talking. She hadn’t come here to read a script and play movie star wannabe and yet here she was, completely diverted by the allure of old, childish dreams. Was this Klein’s superpower? Getting people to do what he wanted instead of sticking to the plan?
“You know,” Ellie said, holding both hands up to stop proceedings. “Maybe we should postpone. I feel like you’ve got a lot on today and I guess I’m worried about holding you up. I can come back later or we can do this at your office another time. I know you’ve got this lunch date with Johnny Kent today and that’s super important, a hell of a lot more important than meeting me. What do you say? Shall we postpone?”
Ellie glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were narrow with disappointment.
You’re trying to run?
“No way,” Grady said, walking over and tapping Ellie gently on the head with the script. She watched him in the mirror, standing over her. “Ellie, it’s fine. No need to postpone. Seriously. Go on, start reading for me. I want to hear what you’ve got and find out if you’re as good as I think you are.”
She sighed. “You’re sure?”
“More than sure. C’mon, let’s go.”
Ellie picked up the script and looked at the words on page fifty-nine again. Where was Sally? What was the first line? Felt like she was looking at it for the very first time. “Okay.”
“Camera’s rolling,” Klein said. He leaned over the iPhone that was fixed to the tripod stand. His thumb slid back and forth across the screen and after that, he adjusted the angle by pushing the tripod back about an inch across the table. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
Ellie was ready. If ready felt like someone excavating a massive chunk of your brain, then sure she was ready. What she was, was drowning in a rickety hotel chair and on the brink of being sucked down into the floor, into the deep, bowels of the Chateau Lux. She tried to blink off the fog in her mind. When she did, all she could see was a trickle of bright colors seeping in through the walls, leaving a mess of scattered rainbow stains hanging in midair.
“What the fuck?”
“What’s that?” Klein asked. “You say something?”
“Nothing. Sorry.”
Either she was zoning out, stressed out, or Klein had put something in Ellie’s wine. Some kind of rape drug. Then again, it might have been Ellie’s friend knocking. Telling her that it was time to move over. Time to play.
We’ve got work to do.
No, Ellie thought. No we don’t. Klein hadn’t done anything wrong, not in the grand sense of the word. Inappropriate, sure. Gross, yep. But wrong, no. She didn’t have the nerve to go through with the original plan, and it didn’t make sense either, not now that Klein had pretty much offered her a part in a Bob Tucci movie. What was wrong her wanting to take that part? With becoming a movie star and getting out of West Rouge forever? Nothing, not a goddamn thing.
“Can you turn to your left a little?” Klein asked. “I want the camera to have more of your face in it. Thanks.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Ellie shifted towards the iPhone. A moment later, Klein was reading from the script and Ellie had to concentrate with everything she had in order to keep up with what he was saying. The words were black smears on the page but she did her best to lock in with the groove. It got better. The reading went back and forth for about ten minutes, Ellie taking on the role of other characters because there wasn’t enough Sally dialogue to stretch out the session. She read the lead role of Kimmi while Klein, still wrapped in nothing but a wet towel, stood close beside her, playing some of the other characters. He wasn’t much of an actor. His voice was flat and colorless but Ellie wasn’t doing much better. Words flopped out of her mouth like sludge. The appropriate emotions weren’t forthcoming which meant forcing it. It all felt unnatural and amateurish.
When it was over, Ellie dropped the script on the table. She’d blown it. She was a lousy actress destined for the return bus back home.
“Sorry,” she said. “That was crap, I know.”
“That was excellent,” Klein said, pouring himself another glass of red before topping up Ellie’s glass to the brim. There was hardly anything left in the bottle.
“You’re nervous Ellie, I can see that. But you’ve got something. Take it from a guy who knows this business inside out. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that you and I working together was meant to be. Think about it. Our first meeting in Toronto, you calling me this morning on the same day I get my hands on the Tucci script, on the same day I’m meeting with Johnny Kent for the role of Marty. It’s fate. Don’t you feel that? Like it’s meant to be?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
He wiped at something under his nose. Made a loud sniffing noise that sounded like he was vacuuming up everything on the carpet.
“Read some more for me,” Klein said. “I wanna hear more.”
The old floor creaked as the producer paced back and forth beside her. He was getting closer and closer. That body odor again, stronger this time, polluting the air and shooting straight up her defenseless nostrils.
“Now sweetheart, I haven’t got all day.”
And Klein was behind her, massaging her shoulders. Just like that. There was a gap in between the chair and counter, leaving just enough room, even for someone as big and hulking as Klein, to get into the right position. Somehow, he’d crept behind her without her even noticing. It felt like his hands, under the guise of a massage, were holding her down in that seat.
Ellie recoiled at his brutish touch.
“What’s going on?”
“Read for me, will you? I like what I’m hearing.”
“Why are you…?”
“Read something, read anything. You’re doing great.”
“Am I?”
“So good. Tucci’s going to love you.”
Klein squeezed harder, then he released the tension again with a sigh. Ellie froze as his hands crawled over her skin, two giant spiders with fat legs. He began to peel back the sleeves of her Rolling Stones t-shirt, bringing the folded layers back to the shoulders, turning the garment into a vest. Heavy breathing. Ellie, frozen in her seat and despite everything she knew about him, still not believing that this was happening. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sensation of his hands on her skin. Was this the price they told her about? The price she had to pay for her dreams, for a part in a Tucci movie?
With her eyes still closed, Ellie saw the Shadow Man leaning over her. The monster, slamming a rock-hard fist into her face and then spitting in her mouth when she was down. She could feel the hot, familiar sensation of blood and saliva running down the side of her mouth.
“What are you doing?�
� she asked.
She opened her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Pick up the script,” Klein said. He raked his fingernails off her exposed arms and Ellie winced, unsure if he was drawing blood. “Bob Tucci is going to love you for this part. He’s going to fucking love you for this part. But it’s a dark movie, Ellie. You’re going to have to start getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. Do you understand? How far are you prepared to go in order to shine on the big screen?”
Ellie could feel the camera to her left. The electronic voyeur, watching her. Was this part of the screen test? Was Klein testing her right now?
His probing fingers burrowed underneath the rolled back sleeves, reaching down. Down. Towards Ellie’s breasts.
“Ellie...”
“No!”
Ellie jumped to her feet as if something venomous had just bitten her on the ass. She spun around, backed away from the chair at speed like there might actually be a coiled-up rattlesnake perched on the cushion. Her arms were fully extended in front of her, hands upright. Making it very clear that she didn’t want Klein to come any closer.
“Sorry,” she said. “I…I don’t feel well.”
Klein appeared only mildly annoyed by the interruption. With a poker face, he jerked a thumb towards the camera phone. “Still rolling baby. It’s only a screen test, remember?”
He scratched his stubbly chin. Sounded like a sheet of sandpaper on wood.
“This isn’t a Disney comedy you’re auditioning for Ellie. Tucci’s movies aren’t nice movies and he’s going to put you in some very uncomfortable places if you get the part. You’ve seen his movies, right? You know what’s in there. Now you gotta start being comfortable around naked men you don’t know. Sex and violence, it sells. Tucci’s giving the people who buy the tickets what they want to see and he’ll keep doing it as long as he wants me to finance his movies. You think he wants to go back to his nine-to-five and a life without the Cannes Film Festival and worldwide adoration? About as much as you want to go back to Canada, right? Now I don’t know how far you’ve read up to in the script but this movie gets pretty raunchy. Take it from me Ellie, you’ll give Bob a much better audition if you’re prepared for this type of thing. That’s all I’m doing here. I’m just trying to prepare you and I thought you understood that. Do you want this? Are you willing to do what it takes to be an unknown actor who gets a part in a Tucci?”
He thumped a hand off the wall. His face burned with a sudden, overwhelming rage.
“DO YOU WANT THIS?”
Ellie didn’t answer. It felt like her mind was being pulled in different directions at the same time.
“At least show me you’re comfortable being naked.”
“No. That’s not why I’m here. That isn’t why I came here.”
“Just the top half,” Klein said, pointing at Ellie’s breasts. “That’ll do for now. Listen baby, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable for no good reason. Okay? What do you think it’s going to be like on a multimillion-dollar movie set with hundreds of people looking at you when you’re butt naked? Sally gets fucked a lot in this movie, you know that? Truth be told, she’s kind of a bike and a lot of guys get to ride her. If you can’t show me your tits in the privacy of a hotel room, does that mean you’ll freeze on set? Hold up production for hours, days, weeks? Tucci doesn’t do stunt tits in his movies baby. It’s all you. It has to be all you.”
“That’s not what I came here for,” Ellie said.
“Oh really? What did you come here for?”
She glared at him. Suddenly it was clear again. Like the clouds had parted for one glorious second.
“Revenge.”
“What?”
Klein sighed and sandpapered his chin again.
“Ellie. You’re great and honestly, I don’t care what drugs you’re on as long as you’re still functional. Got it? Anything goes as long as it doesn’t interfere with work – that’s all I ask of my actors. Understand? Now if you’re going to make it in this town you have to understand how things operate around here. This is a loud, dirty, vicious place and the movie business, take it from me, is not for prudes. Now if you can’t show your tits to me in private, how do I know that you’ll be able to do it on set? You know how much money I lose if things don’t run smoothly on one of my sets? Millions. Tens of millions.”
“I know,” Ellie said.
She saw the bulge underneath Klein’s towel. He was as hard as a brick.
“Do you even remember me?” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Like, do you really remember me from that night in Toronto?”
Klein barked with laughter. “You’re hoping I’m full of shit, right? That Jami told me about some girl who called this morning, said we met in Canada, and that I just dragged you over here to fuck you in a hotel room before lunch with Johnny Kent. Right? Who do you think I am? I’m a professional, Ellie. What I do, I do for the sake of my movies and for the sake of great art. Some people can’t take it. Some people call me a monster because they’re too timid to ever have a chance of making it in this business. And for the record, I remember you very well. You waltzed up to me on the red carpet when we were in town promoting The Exorcism of Cassandra Saint. Tall, blonde and fearless. The lady in red. You got past the reporters, the security, my PA, and hell even my wife didn’t see you coming and she’s helluva good at spotting the lookers at parties and premieres. You were on fire. I saw a look of ferocious determination on your face and I remember saying to myself, here’s a kid that really wants it. I liked it. I liked you. To tell you the truth, I can barely remember watching the movie that night because I was thinking about you so much.”
He took a step forward.
“I was still thinking about you later that night. When I fucked my wife.”
Klein pointed at her chest. He wasn’t smiling.
“Take your t-shirt off. It’s time for the real screen test and if it works out, we’ll be visiting Bob Tucci’s house before the end of the week. You have my word on that. Bob works for me, remember? I’m Grady Klein, the guy who cashes the checks around here. If I tell Bob to give you a part in his movie, he’ll give you a part.”
Ellie nodded. What he was saying, it made sense. It was how this vile town worked, wasn’t it? Before you touched the stars you had to put your fingers in the gutter and feel around a little. Only then could you start working your way upwards.
“Come here,” Klein said, beckoning her forward with a finger. His voice was soft but insistent. “Take your shirt off. Will you do that?”
“Yes.”
Ellie stepped towards him, her fingers clutching the ends of her t-shirt. She began pulling the shirt upwards. Slowly, she began to reveal her naked body to the starmaker.
Just this one time, she thought.
She heard him gasp with excitement. When Ellie looked at him, Klein was standing by the desk, rubbing his crotch in slow motion.
“Show me everything.”
Ellie pulled the t-shirt higher. It was almost over her head.
But Klein was impatient. He stampeded forward, a look of wild lust on his face. As he did, Ellie heard a sudden thumping noise that wasn’t the producer’s heavy feet crashing off the carpet. This was something else.
“What was that?” she yelled.
Ellie pulled the t-shirt back down over her body, dragging it down to her knees. She staggered backwards towards the door.
“What was that noise?”
6
It was Klein’s laptop, the one with Kane Dallas’s ancient face on the screen. It had fallen on the floor.
Ellie stood frozen, sneakers rooted to the carpet, staring at the MacBook Pro in horror. The laptop was lying on its side in between the desk and the foot of the bed. As far as Ellie was concerned, it might as well have been levitating in midair and spitting out beams of golden light.
“What the fuck was that?” she said. As she spoke, she stretched her Voodoo Lounge t-shirt to the knees, frighten
ed but still very much aware of what she’d been about to do. It was like she’d catapulted back out of a trance. Had she really given into Klein’s bullshit so easily? It was as if she’d been watching herself from the ceiling, the black and white starlet yielding to the advances of the Shadow Man. And for what? For a bit part in a movie. Holy shit, souls were sold cheap around these parts. How could she forget what she’d come here to do so easily? Not forget even, push it aside. Had she zoned out? Or was the American dream that seductive?
The falling laptop. That was the message. That was the reminder she needed.
“How did it fall?” Ellie asked. She finally let go of her t-shirt and pointed at the silver laptop.
There was a look of confusion on Klein’s face. “Tremors? We’re right on the San Andreas Fault after all.”
“What?”
“I’m only kidding,” Klein said, adjusting the towel to stop it sliding down his legs. “For Christ’s sake, would you look at your face? I’m only kidding. I bumped into it with my elbow when I was, you know, making my way over to you with unbridled enthusiasm.”
Ellie’s finger stabbed the air repeatedly. “That laptop was nowhere near the edge of the table when I came in here. You understand? It was right up the back, pushed against the wall. Almost in the next fucking room. You didn’t bump into it. That’s a sign.”
“A sign?”
“Yeah.”
“I bumped into it,” Klein said. “I got a little overexcited, you know? Couldn’t wait for you but can you blame me? I’m a red-blooded man and it happens. All of a sudden, I was doing the hundred-meter sprint and yeah, I’m not exactly light on my feet, am I? I must have knocked it over. No big deal. It’s a tough piece of hardware. It’ll survive and if not, I’ll get another one. Now where were we?”
He began to walk towards her.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Ellie said. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Klein stopped. There was confusion in his eyes. “C’mon. What do you think happened? Do you think it was a ghost?”
Scream Test: An unforgettable and gripping psychological thriller Page 8
