by Stuart Woods
“You want me to cut the line?”
“It’s not cutting the line if we’re together. Grab a tray.”
Dylan grabbed a tray and got in line just in time to see Sandy come in and give him the evil eye.
Stacy and Dylan got their food and sat down while Sandy was still in line.
“You know that Sandy has a thing for you?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, he’s not serious. He’s like a dog trying to catch a car. He wouldn’t know what to do with it if he did.”
“That’s cynical.”
“I don’t mean to be. Sandy’s nice, he’s just not my type.”
“You have a type?”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Sandy’s a friend.”
Stacy made a face. “Oh, my God. Am I back in high school? Slip me a note during study hall?”
“No, nothing like that,” Dylan said. He stood up and waved Sandy over.
“What are you doing?” Stacy said.
“Well, I’m not sitting alone with you while my buddy has a fit,” Dylan said.
He started to sit down and his face froze.
There, not three tables away, was Billy Barnett.
Stacy frowned. “Hey, what’s with you?”
Sandy walked up with his tray.
“Hey, Sandy,” Dylan said. “Is that Billy Barnett?”
Sandy looked before sitting down next to Stacy. “Yeah, that’s him. I told you he’d show up.”
Waiting a beat, Dylan put on a curious expression and pulled out his cell phone, as if it had pinged. “Sorry, guys, I have to make a call, family stuff. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
Dylan slipped out of the cafeteria, dialing Sylvester as he went. He had him on speed dial. He hoped to be able to delete his number soon.
“It’s Dylan.”
“What’s up?”
“Billy Barnett’s here.”
“Where?”
“At Centurion. He’s in the cafeteria having lunch.”
“Where are you?”
“In the hall. I slipped out to make the call.”
“Get back in there. Don’t let him out of your sight. If he makes a move to leave, you go with him. And let me know the minute he does. This is pay dirt. Don’t blow it.”
* * *
Sylvester hung up the phone and called Frankie, one of the men staking out Centurion. “You see Billy Barnett?”
“No.”
“He’s there.”
“He can’t be.”
“Well, he is. If he comes out, you better see him or you’ll be looking for a new job. Tell Sammy. I don’t want to have to make this call twice.”
Sylvester slipped the phone back in his pocket and pushed his way into Gino’s office. “He’s there.”
“Billy Barnett?”
“At Centurion, in the cafeteria having lunch. No one saw him go in, but he’s there. The kid just called. He’s watching him. I told him to call us if Barnett goes anywhere.”
“You got men on the place?”
“Frankie and Sammy.”
“Send Max.”
“Two men aren’t enough?”
“They didn’t even see him go in! Call Frankie and Sammy back. If they didn’t see him go through the main gate, there must be another way in. When Max gets there, have them fan out and find it.”
“I’m on it.”
“We should get a man in there.”
“We got one.”
“A man with a gun, for Christ’s sake.”
“You want me to give the kid a gun? No way that ends well.”
“I don’t care if he gets killed as long as he takes out Barnett.”
“If he gets killed, fine. But what if he gets arrested? He knows who we are and he’ll talk. Relax. We’ve got him spotted, and we’ll know when he leaves.”
“We better know when he leaves. Send Max and put the fear of God in them. I’m tired of this shit.”
31
Frankie’s car was across the street and down the block from the main entrance to Centurion Studios.
Max pulled up alongside and rolled down the window. “Where’s Sammy?”
“Went to look for another entrance.”
“You just thought of that now?”
“Guy’s a fucking producer. Who’d expect him to sneak in a back entrance?”
“You can’t expect him to do anything. You gotta plan for if he does.”
Frankie rolled his eyes. “Hey, do I come around when you’re working and bust your chops?”
“It ain’t me. I hear Gino’s having a fit.”
“So help us out, willya?”
“That’s why I’m here. Which way did Sammy go?”
Frankie pointed. “Around that way.”
“Then I’ll go around the other way and see what he missed. You sit tight. See how many actresses you can spot.”
Max went around the back of Centurion Studios. He came to a gate leading to a loading dock. There was no one around to open it, but a big-shot producer might have a key.
Max found another locked gate behind the soundstages where scenery could be loaded in and set up. He found another gate behind which a fleet of trucks was parked, another gate that led to a scene shop, and yet another gate that a car across the road seemed to be staking out.
Max was not surprised to find Sammy in the driver’s seat. “What’re you doing?”
“They told me to find another entrance. I found it.”
“You’re staking it out.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“That’s the gate to the dumpsters. You think this producer’s going to throw out his garbage?”
Sammy said nothing, just glared at Max.
“I assume this is the first gate you came to since this is the place you stopped.”
“I didn’t see anything else.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Max pulled off on the side of the road and called Sylvester. “There’s half a dozen ways Barnett could have gotten in. None of them are likely. There’s no back entrance for personnel, and there’s not another manned gate. If the guy was intent on sneaking out through the kitchen or the scene shop or the delivery bay, it would mean getting through a locked, unmanned gate, but I would assume a producer could manage that. So, either you throw a lot more men on this place, or you have someone on the inside tip us off on which way he’s going.”
Sylvester hung up and called Dylan.
It went to voicemail.
32
Dylan got another cup of coffee and went back to his table and sat down.
Billy Barnett was still there talking to a man who looked like money, a somewhat plump man in a bespoke suit. They were also having coffee, which probably meant they’d be getting up soon. Dylan found his palms sweating.
Sandy and Stacy were just finishing up and getting ready to go.
“Aren’t you coming?” Stacy said.
“In a minute, I just want to get another coffee.”
“Hey, it’s the movies,” Sandy said. “When you need another coffee, you grab it to go.”
“I’ll be along.”
After what seemed like forever, Sandy and Stacy bused their trays and went out.
Dylan heaved a sigh of relief. Billy Barnett and his companion were still there. If he’d chosen that time to leave, things might have gotten messy.
They did.
“There you are,” a young woman said, swooping down on the table. Dylan recognized her as Francine, the script supervisor who sat in on Peter’s rehearsals.
“Dylan, was it?” Francine said. “Just the one I was looking for. Dylan, you look to me like a Harvard man.”
Dylan frowned. “What?”
/> She smiled. “I assume you can read. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment. The actors are trying it off book this afternoon, and they need a prompter. Peter wants you.”
“Really?” Dylan said. “But I’m the new guy.”
“Yeah, you lucked out, kid.”
“I know, but I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes. I mean, like, Sandy, you know?”
“Sandy reads like a truck driver.” Francine made a face and glanced around. She relaxed. “Dodged a bullet. It would be just my luck to have a teamster sitting there. Anyway, Peter wants you, and he needs you now. Come on, let’s go.”
“Can I finish my coffee?”
Francine stared at him. “Are you stupid or what? When the director wants something, you jump. Get going.”
Dylan glanced helplessly at the table where Billy Barnett was having lunch, and trotted off after Francine.
* * *
Rehearsal was wonderful. At least it would have been, if Billy Barnett had been there. Instead, Dylan got treated to the sight of two terrific actresses playing a scene. They knew their lines for the most part, and when they didn’t Dylan was able to cue them with intelligence and inflection, two key qualities for a prompter so many people lacked. Dylan was making a good impression on the director, and he’d have been high as a kite if it weren’t for the fact he knew he was in deep trouble with the mob, not the sort of thing that was apt to be conducive to his health.
Just when he thought the rehearsal was winding down, and it looked like they might take a break, Mark Weldon showed up, and Peter worked a scene with the three of them.
Dylan felt like his head was coming off. What the hell could he do? Billy Barnett wasn’t going to stay at lunch forever.
33
Francine was back in an hour and a half. She breezed in during a break in rehearsal and said, “Miss me?”
“I didn’t notice you were gone,” Viveca said cheerfully. “I’d look out if I were you. I think Dylan’s hot for your job.”
Dylan flushed at hearing Viveca call him by name.
“Don’t embarrass the kid,” Francine said. “It’s practically his first day. You wanna stick around and see how it’s done, Dylan?”
Dylan’s head was coming off. Was he ever going to get off the soundstage?
“I would, but I have work. Could I watch another time, Mr. Barrington?”
“Only if you call me Peter. Thanks for filling in. If Hal wants to know where you’ve been, use my name.”
Dylan beat a hasty retreat.
There was no way Billy Barnett was still at lunch, but Dylan poked his head in the door. Of course, the cafeteria was empty.
Dylan hurried down the hall to Billy Barnett’s office. Barnett’s secretary was at the desk.
Dylan smiled, fighting the adrenaline, and tried to appear casual. “Hi, Margaret. I heard Billy Barnett was around. I thought I’d say hi if he’s in.”
“I’m sorry. He left right after lunch.”
“That’s what I figured, but I thought it was worth a try.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll catch him sometime.”
Dylan went out in the hallway and made the call that he’d been dreading.
Sylvester answered on the first ring. “Where the hell were you? I’ve been calling and calling. It keeps going to voicemail. Didn’t you notice?”
“I got tied up.”
“Not an answer. If I call you on the phone, you answer the phone. I thought I made that clear.”
“I was doing the job everyone at the studio thinks I’m here to do. I couldn’t talk.”
“So you get away from people and you call me back in two minutes, not two hours. Is that clear?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Where is Billy Barnett?”
“He’s gone for the day.”
There was an ominous pause. “What did you say?”
“He had lunch in the cafeteria with some corporate type. Then he left.”
“And you didn’t follow him?”
“I got tied up in rehearsal.”
“What rehearsal? You’re not in the damn movie.”
“They needed me to prompt the actors.”
“You should have got out of it.”
“I tried, but the director asked me to be at rehearsal. What was I supposed to do, tell him to go fuck himself? That would be the end of this job.”
“So you decided to tell Gino Patelli to go fuck himself. Not a great move. You wanna survive it, stay on the job and do everything in your power to locate Billy Barnett.”
Sylvester hung up the phone and went to tell Gino Patelli. He stopped outside the office to straighten his tie and compose himself. He felt just like Dylan must have felt before calling him.
34
Peter called Tessa into his office during one of the rehearsal breaks.
“Hey, Peter, what’s up?”
“I just wanted to get your input. How do you think it’s going?”
“I think it’s going great. Why, is there a problem?”
“Not at all. How do you like working with Viveca?”
“Are you kidding? She’s great. Landing her was a real stroke of luck.”
“I think so, too. I’m making some script changes, and, like I said in rehearsal, I’m building her part up a little.”
“Good idea.”
“But I don’t want to step on your toes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I mean. You’re the star of the movie. I don’t want you to feel like I brought in another actress to steal your thunder.”
Tessa smiled. “Hey, Peter, it’s me. I’m not some actress you have to handle. Anything that helps the movie helps us all. Viveca is nailing her part. Any way you can build it up is fine with me.”
35
Sandy was on cloud nine. The assignments for the shoot had been posted on the wall outside the production office. The production assistants all crowded around to see where they would be working; Sandy was assigned to the set.
“I’m on location!” he crowed. “I knew I was going to be, but you never believe it until it happens. It’s not all seniority. I mean, Michael’s been here longer than I have, and he’s in the studio.”
“I asked to stay in the studio,” Michael said.
Dylan wasn’t surprised. Michael was a computer nerd who was happier programming schedule changes than dealing with real people.
Not that Sandy gave a damn about Michael, but he had other reasons to be happy about the list. Stacy was also on set.
And Dylan wasn’t.
“Bummer, man,” Sandy said, “but it was a lot to expect when you’re so new.”
“Yeah.”
“But it doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate,” he added, with the gracious largesse of a winner. “We’re all going out. Come on, I’ll buy you a beer.”
“I wouldn’t want to be a wet blanket,” Dylan said. “I’m beat, and I’m going home.”
Dylan had to get away and call Sylvester, though he was dreading it. Sylvester would go through the roof. On the other hand, Sylvester was already mad about losing Billy Barnett, so how much worse could it be? Dylan figured he might as well give him the bad news all at once.
While the other production assistants trooped out the door on their way to the bar, Dylan slipped down the hall and jerked his cell phone out of his pocket.
“Yes?” Sylvester snapped, so viciously that Dylan almost reconsidered his plan.
“We got production assignments for the shoot. Bad news: Billy Barnett will be on the set, but I won’t.”
“You what?!”
“I’m not on the set. They assigned me to the studio. They’ll be filming in downtown L.A., but I’ll be at Centurion. But it’s all right. I’ll be on top of things, and I’ll be abl
e to tell you exactly where they are.”
“I don’t want to know where they are. I want to know where Billy Barnett is. I want a firsthand, eyes-on account of exactly where the guy is every moment he’s there. Is that clear?”
“It’s clear, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Swap with somebody.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t done. The production manager wouldn’t let me.”
“Why does he need to know?”
“He’s the boss. He knows where we are and what we’re doing.”
“Would he take a bribe?”
“No, he would not. If you try something like that, you’re just going to make him wise.”
“Too bad. You’re just going to have to get someone to switch.”
“No one is going to be willing to switch, it’s a plumb assignment. Look, I’m doing the best I can. If you’re not happy, I’ll give you back the five hundred dollars you put up for my fine just as soon as I get paid. But there’s nothing I can do. I’m tired, I’m pissed off, and I’m going home to get some sleep.”
Dylan hung up the cell phone and turned it off. He’d had it with these guys. He was willing to do anything within reason, but this was beyond all bounds. It was an unfortunate set of circumstances. He couldn’t see any way out. Maybe if he just stopped his mind and got some rest he’d wake up with a new perspective on life and be able to figure out something to do.
Dylan came out the main gate of Centurion. He considered splurging on a taxi but decided he couldn’t do that, not if he wanted to save up the five hundred bucks to pay for his fine. Instead, he took the three long bus rides it took to get home to his one-room, third-floor walk-up apartment. He trudged up the stairs, probably the glummest young man who had ever spent the day hanging out with two beautiful actresses. He unlocked the door and went in.
Strong arms gripped him from behind. A hand was clapped over his mouth. He was lifted off the floor, there was pressure on his chest, and it felt as if his lungs had collapsed.
