The flames died quickly, leaving a large scorch mark across the white tablecloth. Then Celia was there. “Go,” she hissed. “I’ll take over. Go check on the coffee or something.”
I hesitated, but not for long. She gave me a push. I found the table with the coffee pots and pretended to check them. Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone help Johnny Random out of the room, as the cameras went on flashing. There was a sudden lack of interest in crêpes flambé and the reception seemed to be breaking up.
I was still shaken up by what had happened and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I tried to look busy, rearranging the coffee cups on the table, and I didn’t notice, until too late, that Aunt Phyllis and Robert Rudsnicker were right beside me, helping themselves to coffee.
Aunt Phyllis was saying, “There I was, right in the middle of telling the reporters about one of my roles in theatre, when Johnny Random caused that commotion. He is such a publicity hound. Before I knew it, I was sitting there talking to myself. He’s so inconsiderate. Always seeking the limelight.”
There was no escape. I held my breath, waiting for Aunt Phyllis to notice me and introduce me to Robert Rudsnicker as her nephew. I’d had enough embarrassment for one night. But I was in luck. Aunt Phyllis was so engrossed in her conversation she moved off without so much as a glance in my direction. But I saw Robert Rudsnicker glance at me and, by the look on his face, I could tell he was wondering where he’d seen me before.
* * *
We were all assembled in the kitchen.
“I don’t know what happened,” Mr. Nicholson was saying, “or how Harry got involved. He hasn’t any experience with burning alcohol. Well, for now let’s tidy up and hope we don’t get sued. Joanne, I need to talk to you. That section was your service area. The rest of you get packed up and put everything in the vans.”
We scampered off, leaving Joanne with Mr. Nicholson in the kitchen. I felt terrible, but it wasn’t all my fault. I wanted to explain, but it didn’t seem to be the right time. I was thankful that Mr. Nicholson was taking it so calmly and Chef Antonio wasn’t in charge.
Bruce was going to drive us home. I was the last to get in the van. Marcie and Dawn were laughing.
“I told Mr. Nicholson that I just got too busy and needed help,” Joanne was saying. “I said I didn’t know Harry here wasn’t experienced and would set an actor on fire. After all, I did hear Henry say that if we got busy, we’d use Harry. I think Henry bought it. He’s a real sweetheart. So Harry, make sure you cover for me, okay, and none of us will get fired. But I may not be here long myself. I got a date with that casting guy you pointed out to me, Celia. He invited me to meet him at his room in The Ritz. He said he’d give me an audition. Maybe I’ll be a star.” Joanne laughed hysterically and the others joined in. I glanced back at Celia, who seemed about to say something, but she closed her mouth and looked out the window.
We came to our stop and I got out with Celia. Joanne, Dawn, and Marcie were still laughing.
I was too embarrassed to say anything to Celia as I walked beside her. I was still going over what had happened in my head and I was surprised when she stopped outside a house just a half block down the street.
“See you tomorrow, Harry, okay? At the bus stop on the corner at nine?”
“You think I’ll be allowed on the set after what happened?”
“Don’t worry. We’re not likely to run into Johnny Random. They don’t start shooting until late next week and nobody else will know who you are. I’ve already got the pass. Anyway, it was really my fault. Joanne kept bugging me all night to point out someone who would get her into the movies. She just wouldn’t let up. So I pointed out Ralph and told a little white lie. I did it as a joke to get her off my back. I’d no idea she would stick you with her job. I was going to tell her the truth about Ralph, but what the heck. She can look after herself.”
I guess I still looked worried because, before she went up the sidewalk to her house, she squeezed my arm and said, “Don’t worry. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”
12
“ROBERT GAVE A LOVELY speech last night,” Aunt Phyllis was saying. “Hardly a stammer. My breathing exercises worked wonderfully. But that Johnny Random made a fool of himself.”
Dad looked up from reading the sports page of the Morning Independent. “Oh, what did he do?”
“I’m not sure. Caused some kind of commotion. Set fire to the tablecloth or something. He’s so immature. That young man was too successful too soon and it’s gone to his head. He’ll burn himself out before long.”
Dad laughed. “I thought he only burned the tablecloth. Sounds like our Harry.”
I got really interested in spreading jam on my toast, as Aunt Phyllis gave Dad a withering look. Before I’d left for school yesterday, I’d told Mom I’d be working late at The Ritz. At that time I didn’t know anything about the reception and I wasn’t about to enlighten them now.
“Robert is beside himself with worry that the film will be a flop with Johnny Random in the leading role,” Aunt Phyllis continued.
“So,” Dad asked, “have you found out what your part is? Maybe you can save the film, win an Oscar.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, Robert told me last night that I’ll be playing a rich Chinese dowager, one of the nobility, mother of the ruler of the province, I believe. It’s only a small part and I’ve only got a few lines, but it’s important and rather exciting. At one point, I believe I’m being transported through the streets in the middle of a rabble of peasants who are rioting.”
“Sounds like type-casting to me.” Dad chuckled. “You riding in a taxi when everyone else has to walk.”
“Actually, I believe it’s a sedan chair or a rickshaw. It was before the time of automobiles in China.”
“Well, you should fit right in then, if it was the Ming Dynasty.”
“George!” This time it was Mom who gave Dad a look that said “don’t be insulting.”
Dad went back to reading his paper. Dad always reads the sports page first and I glanced at the front section that he’d dropped to the floor. I stifled a gasp.
There was a large photo right on the front page with the caption “Film Star Flambéed.” The rest of the caption, in smaller print, read “Well-known film star, Johnny Random, looked like a fire-eater when he got too close to a crêpe Suzette at a reception at city hall last night. More on page 5.” In the photo, a really freaked-out Johnny Random had a flame shooting from his mouth across the table. Opposite him were a couple of startled faces, and at the left hand edge of the photo, there I was. Although you could only see the back of my bald head, I was obviously the waiter in the white jacket.
I swallowed the last of my toast and stumbled to my feet. I had to get out of there before Dad or anyone else saw the front page.
“Gotta go,” I mumbled at Mom’s inquiring look.
I wasted no time getting out of the house but, before I left, I grabbed an old cap from the hall closet. I was sure everyone who saw my bald head would recognize it, and me, as the guy who tried to fry Johnny Random. Maybe I should forget about meeting Celia. I was sure my photo would be plastered over the gates to the film set like a Wanted Dead or Alive poster with a caption, “Under No Circumstances Is This Person to Be Permitted On This Property.”
I walked around a couple of blocks to kill time. I was early. I couldn’t very well not show up. What would Celia think?
At five minutes to nine I strolled to the bus stop. Celia was already there.
“Hi.” She smiled. “Why the cap?”
“Disguise,” I said, keeping my voice down so the other three people waiting for the bus wouldn’t hear. One of them had just put some money in the newspaper box that sold the Morning Independent and was scanning the front page. “Have you seen the newspaper?” I nodded towards the newspaper box.
“No.” Celia walked to the box and stared through the plastic front. She fumbled in her pocket for some change and bought one of the papers
just as the bus pulled up. She was smiling as we boarded the bus.
There weren’t many people on the bus and we found a seat to ourselves. Celia had the newspaper on her lap and was examining the photo.
“You can’t really tell it’s you.” She grinned. “It could be anyone. You can only see the back of your head.”
“Well, it isn’t very hard to figure out,” I said. “That reception was catered by The Ritz and I’m the only high school kid with a bald head who works for The Ritz.”
“You can’t tell from this photo that you’re a high school student. You could be an old man.” Celia laughed. “Let’s see what it says on page five.” She opened the newspaper and we both read silently for a minute. “It’s just reporting what the mayor and Robert Rudsnicker said,” Celia said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“No. That’s the wrong bit. Look what it says here.” I pointed to another piece on the same page that had “continued from page 1” on it. The words seemed to jump from the page. “Oscar-winning star Johnny Random, here to star in Funeral at Feng-t’ai, had a narrow escape last night at a civic reception in city hall to welcome Pocket Money Pictures. During the serving of crêpes Suzette, which are served flambéed, some alcohol caught fire right in front of where the star was sitting. No injuries were reported, but the actor was apparently lucky. The mayor said the incident was unfortunate and he had no idea what had gone wrong. When contacted late last night, a spokesperson for The Ritz Hotel, which catered the event, declined comment, except to say that the incident will be investigated. Johnny Random was also unavailable for comment.”
I groaned. “I can’t wait until Monday. An investigation.”
“Oh dear,” Celia said. “I’m sorry. But you should never have been put in that situation. You wouldn’t have been, if I hadn’t told Joanne to go talk to Ralph. Tell me what happened, anyway.”
I told her the whole story, about how Johnny Random seemed to be drunk and grabbed the bottle of brandy.
“So it was his own fault,” Celia said. “I heard he was a bit of a jerk and has been giving room service a rough time. If you get asked, just tell them what happened.”
“Who’ll believe me? It’s my word against the great Johnny Random. And then there’s my reputation. You know what they call me?”
“You mean Harry Flammable? I wondered about that. So tell me.”
I did — all the crazy incidents that had happened to earn me my nickname. Celia was in stitches, laughing.
“Except for maybe the grass fire incident, none of them were your fault. Well, I guess you did light the Bunsen burner in science class. But you’ve just been unlucky.”
“Yeah, but how unlucky can you get? Well, at least I won’t have to go on pretending I’m enjoying working at The Ritz. But I guess it’s too late to find another job. I’ll just lose the credits, which means I’ll have to make them up next term, when I should really be finished school.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist. A few weeks from now you’ll look back on what’s happened and think the whole thing was hilarious. Think of it as part of life’s experience. It’ll make you a better person.”
“How?”
“I dunno. I don’t have all the answers. Look, we’re almost at the film set. I was looking forward to showing you around, but it won’t be much fun if you’re going to mope about things. What’s happened, happened, and you can’t do anything about it. So do you want to come or not?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil your day. You’re right. I can’t do anything about it.”
“And if you let your hair grow back, in a few weeks nobody will recognize you anyway.” Celia chuckled. “So why did you cut it off?”
“I just got tired of everyone telling me to get a haircut,” I said.
“You’re funny.” Celia laughed.
The bus slowed and made a wide U-turn. It was the end of the run. We were out in the country and the only ones left on the bus.
We climbed off and Celia led the way up a gravel road that led through a security fence with a hut just inside the gate. A traffic barrier was closed across the road. A sign on the fence read POCKET MONEY PICTURES.
“Oh here. Pin this on.” Celia pulled a small laminated card from her pocket that said “Visitors Pass — Pocket Money Pictures.” When she helped me pin it on my jacket she looked into my eyes and smiled. We hadn’t been this close before and I took a second to stare back at her. She caught me staring and blushed slightly.
“Come on. Follow me.” She walked through the gate and around the traffic barrier, with me close on her heels. She stuck her head in the open window of the hut and showed her pass, then indicated me. “He’s my guest. He’s got a visitor’s pass.”
The security guard waved us on and called “Have a good day.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no one looking out for my face, to order me thrown off the premises.
“The set is over this hill and down in a valley,” Celia said, “but, if we walk to the top of the bigger hill on our left, you can see the whole thing laid out below and it’ll give you a better idea of how the whole scene looks. Then we’ll walk down into it. They’re hoping to start shooting next week. Robert Rudsnicker comes here every morning, then spends the afternoon at The Ritz. I think he’s still making changes to the script.”
We left the road and scrambled up the steep, grassy hill.
“Wow!” I gasped. “It’s fantastic.”
Below, in a large compound behind a high wall, a large castle-like structure dominated an ancient Chinese street. Workers carrying ladders and tools moved about, and there was a sound of hammering and power-saws. A building, with a tiled roof that curved upward at the ends, stood at one end of the street and a tall pagoda rose behind it in the distance. Beyond the castle there was a shimmering blue sea.
“The sea! It looks real! Look at the way it sparkles.”
“That’s my tinfoil,” Celia said. “I must admit it looks really good from here. Up close though, it looks really phony. All the building fronts are made of plywood, painted to look old. Look, they’re still painting one of the walls of the castle. It looks like stone and it’s all rough and bumpy because it has to be climbed. That building at the end, with the curved roof and the pagoda behind it, is supposed to be a temple.”
“There’s a railway line running down the edge of the street.” I pointed.
“Yeah,” Celia said. “They have a train that’s gonna be part of the action. Look over there.” She pointed across a small valley where a long wooden trestle bridge spanned a high ravine. Workers were swarming over it, painting the timbers to give the bridge a weathered look.
“So where’s the train?” I asked.
“It’s parked behind the hill on the far side of the trestle. It’s an old steam engine. It’s really neat. Want to go see it?”
“Sure,” I said. “This is fantastic.”
We crossed the valley, rounded the hill, and climbed to the rail line. There, a huge, really old-fashioned-looking steam engine, hooked to three equally old, green passenger cars, stood on a length of rail a short distance from the bridge.
“Does it run?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s really a diesel engine, but it used to be a real steam engine. They’ve changed it to make it look older, and it can produce smoke and steam somehow, like the real thing.”
“So what’s supposed to happen?” I asked. “What’s the action?”
“It’s a peasant uprising. They’re starving and being oppressed by the Chinese nobility. The peasants attack the castle and some of them take over the train and drive it into the town and help in the attack. Your friend Johnny Random is supposed to be the leader of the peasants. The title is from an early scene in the movie. When the hero is a child, his father dies. During the funeral procession, the Chinese ruler of the province and his bodyguards virtually trample the mourners into the mud and the child’s mother is knocked down. He never forgets this cruelty.
&nb
sp; “His girlfriend, played by Zulan Maisoneuve — she was at the reception too — is being held in the castle by the same Chinese lord, who wants to keep the peasants in slavery. Zulan, or Li Ching, as she’s called in the movie, and Johnny Random, I forget his Chinese name, are long-time childhood sweethearts and Li Ching is grabbed by the ruler to be one of his concubines, but ends up as a hostage.
“Paul Tinyan is playing the Chinese ruler. He hasn’t arrived yet. I think he gets here next week, but most of his part will be filmed in China.
“Anyway, Johnny Random and his rebels are not only fighting for more rice or better government or something, but they also want to rescue Li Ching.”
“It sounds great. They’ll need lots of extras. When are they getting the extras for the battle scene?”
“They did already in March sometime. During spring break. I wasn’t here then. You didn’t try out? I think it was in the newspapers.”
“We were away at spring break, visiting Mom’s sister. I didn’t know anything about it then. I was counting on getting on with Pocket Money Pictures with the work experience program.”
“Sorry about that,” Celia said. “I put my name in because I was already with The Ritz and I wanted something different. But I heard you had to look Asian for a part as an extra.”
“Johnny Random doesn’t look Asian,” I said.
“No, but it’s easier for the make up department to make one guy look Asian than a couple of hundred extras. Come on. Let’s go down into the street.”
We ran down the hill and walked along the edge of the street beside the railway line. All around us workers were putting the finishing touches to the building fronts. A water truck drove along the street, wetting it down to keep down the dust.
“In the movie,” Celia said, “I think they are going to have this street all muddy.”
Harry Flammable Page 7
