The Ayatollah's Money

by Richard Dorrance

  Chapter 54 – The Screenplay

  It was ten o’clock the next morning and the artists wondered at the loud thumps that came from Gwen’s purse and Roger’s and Jinny’s backpacks as they dumped them on the tables at the center of the stage. The noises came from the weight of the guns each of the June Enterprises soldiers had brought to work; one on their hips out of sight and a backup in their bags. Shimmey circled the chairs and the nine team members sat down, ready to go. Roger looked at George and asked, “You hear from Renee? When she’s coming?” He liked the nickname Wegs, but couldn’t bring himself to say it until he’d met her, which he was looking forward to.

  George nodded, “Yeah, last night, late, woke me up. They were refueling a second time, in the Azores, she said they’d be here sometime tonight. They had to give the pilots ten hours in the sack. I can’t wait to see her again.”

  Monique said, “I bet you are, you pillock.”

  Roger said, “When she lands she’ll have to go through customs here, and they don’t do that a lot, so it takes a while. Have her call, and by the time she gets through and gets her luggage, we can be at the airport and pick her up.”

  Gwen looked at Gale, who said, “Why me? Send Jinny.” Gale was pouting a little.

  Gwen said, “Jinny’s got other duties. You and Wegs might as well have it out right away, and then you can be friends. We aren’t going to have any envy or jealousy around here. Can’t afford it.”

  “What duties? He’s just crawling around after Monique, the cretin. That his duty?”

  Gale sounded worse than she was, just acting up a little, establishing her turf in the operation, trying to impress Sody with a kind of toughness so he would cast her in some role. Everyone ignored her hard edge, especially Jinny, who loved her. They knew she’d do the airport pickup later that night.

  Gwen said, “Yesterday we made the two biggest decisions. Now we have to make another one; we need to choose the writer and the type of vehicle.” She looked at Soderberg and said, “We know you can write. And this is your decision, you’re the director. We mentioned that Shimmey is a published novelist, and you know he’s Laleh’s boyfriend, and you know Laleh is financing the production. We’re not hiding anything around here about relationships and roles.” She looked at Shimmey, who sat relaxed. She went on, “Now we know the nature of the beast, part film and part play. We’ll need something between a script and a screenplay, and we gotta have it fast. I’m going to suggest something here, that’s my role as producer, and then Sody decides.” She looked at Sody, who nodded. “I say we spend two days as a team creating the story, whoever wants to sit in and contribute. We know the basic concept, and we’ll brainstorm on that until we have the storylines, and then we divide up into directorial tasks and writing tasks. Sody starts figuring out how to actualize the story in this building, on the stage and on film, and Shim starts on the screenplay. He’s never done a screenplay before, so it’ll be a real challenge. But I have faith.” She smiled at him and then at Laleh, telling her she had to support him. “We let that work for a week and see where we are. If everyone's happy, the show goes on. What do you think?”

  The only people in the room that cared were Sody, Shim, Gwen, and Laleh, and Gwen knew Sody was the key. Would he accept directing a filmyplay based on the work of a novice screenwriter? That was asking a lot. He was a master director, and had written some of his films himself. Gwen waited, but didn’t have to wait long. After a minute, Soderberg said, “This whole thing is crazy. Movies and plays are not made this way. But here we are, and everyone is in and we’re moving forward as if this is going to work; and I think it will work, and so who am I to try to bring order to chaos? Let’s give it a try. This is a party, and that’s how I’m going to treat it, as a serious party with lots going on and some fun and creative people who’ve come up with a wild idea and the money to make it happen. Let’s go with the flow, and keep things moving. Shim, let’s do it, you doin' most of the screenplay, and I’ll work with it and the actors where changes need to be made, and we’ll see what comes out in the end. Let’s rock.”

  Shim didn’t show it but he was relieved and elated. He’d always wondered what it would be like to write a screenplay, and now he was sure he could do it. It reminded him of years ago when he started out writing short stories, and after a couple of years he wondered what it would be like to write a novel. He’d found out, and was successful at it. Now, a new challenge. One thing he knew for certain; he’d never write a line of dialogue in which the person talking said the person’s name to whom he or she was speaking. He’d never write, “You get the picture now, Rocco?” or “I love you, and can’t live without you, Wendy.” He knew there is software for writing screenplays, but he doubted he’d use that. He'd use his experience and skill to produce a rough first draft, throw it at Sody and George, and follow their advice for the revisions. He’d never been a writer planner, who charted and outlined a book ad infinitum, figuring out every character and plot line before he started writing, knowing the ending and every twist and turn ahead of time. He was a winger, starting with a central concept and a core cast of characters, and feeling his way through as the writing happened. That was what made the work entertaining. Years ago he’d read a quote from John Dos Passos on writing, in which he’d said the central characteristic of writing fiction is curiosity. Dos Passos meant that the central motivator in a writer is curiosity about what happens next in the story and the characterizations. Shim’d always liked that perspective, and applied it to his work. He was VERY curious about what would happen now, with this group of people, in this creative environment, under this pressure.

  With another big decision under her belt, Gwen looked around the circle, her gaze coming to rest on Big George. She said, “What do you want out of this? How do you see your role?”

  He said, “I’m an actor. I wait around until the director tells me what to do. That’s my role. I learn my lines. Now, what I want to get out of this is, creative fun. Something new and different. That was your scam, that’s what you presented me with, and it worked. I’m here, ready to work on whatever it is that comes my way. You need help with some part of the production, you ask, and I’ll help. You want to brainstorm the storylines, fine, I’m in. If nothing comes my way, I’ll ask people to go out to lunch: Monique and my darling, Gale,” and he looked at her suggestively, “Wegs, Jinny, whoever. Even you, Gwen,” and here he actually bowed his head bashfully. George Clooney, bashful. “You and Roger, of course.”

  Gale snickered, Jinny snickered, the dog, who’d made his first appearance at The Hall since the arrival of the new team members, snickered. Speaking of the dog, who lay next to Roger’s chair, what did he think of the movie star and the big name director? While Gwen surreptitiously got Shim lined up as writer, the dog and Roger had had a quiet conversation, using their usual telepathic communication method.

  Dog: “So that’s the big stud, huh. Seems friendly enough.”

  Roger: “That’s Big George. I like him. No BS, no apparent ego, not addicted to drugs that I can see, straightforward so far.”

  Dog: “What’s his relationship with Monique? She is some dish.”

  Roger: “Don’t know. Even Gwen can’t figure it out. They have separate rooms at the hotel.”

  Dog: “Connecting?”

  Roger: “Yeah, Jinny told us that. She’s loose and funny too, not just a babe. We think she’s his assistant, but whether she assists him with his libido, don’t know. Has really good hand eye coordination, something I appreciate. Since when have you become such a snoop?”

  Dog: “What else do I have to do around here? You see any rabbits to chase? Postmen to bite? Oh, so sorry, ‘mailpersons’.”

  Roger: “What about Sody, the director? What do think about him?”

  Dog: “Other than the ugly black glasses, he seems nice too. Not a prima donna Hollywood asshole. Can’t Gale
do something about those glasses?”

  Roger: “Give her time; he just got here yesterday. Maybe his wife likes them. Monique is beautiful, isn’t she? Look at that dress, what the hell is it made of that it clings like that?”

  Dog: “That’s Burmese silk. The Buddhist monks in some of the monasteries there over the last thousand years have learned how to communicate with and train the silkworms to make an incredibly delicate strand that follows the shape of whatever it touches, down to the molecular level. Great stuff, and it works on her, doesn't it?”

  Roger: “Where’d you learn about Burmese silk clothing?”

  Dog: “Pulleze, don’t insult my intelligence. Anyone with an iota of sartorial savoir faire knows that. I bet Gale knows. Let’s ask her….Gale, yo honey, stops staring at Big George’s crotch. We have a question, ‘What’s Monique’s dress made of?’”

  Gale looks over at Monique, sitting next to her new bud, Jinny, and says, “Silk. That special stuff from Cambodia, very clingy. I got underwear made out of it. In fact, got some on now, wanna see?” And she stands up, facing Clooney.

  Roger: “Sit down, for god’s sake. Save it for later. This is a business meeting.”

  Dog: “She was close: Burma, Cambodia, Ceylon, Myanmar….”

  Roger: “You know the whole production is going to be done in here? The whole movieplay thing, whatever it is. Whatever it will be. Whatever the geniuses cook up. You want to be here during the day or at home, doing the guard dog thing? The regular dog thing?”

  Dog: “Do I look like a regular dog? Talk like one? I wanna be here, where the action is. Just bring the food bowl, and let me out in the alley once in a while. Besides, this is Shim’s first shot at a screenplay. He’s gonna need some help.”

  Roger: “Right, forgot about that. Ok.”

  The dog got up, went over to where Monique sat, and lay down in front of her chair. She took off her emerald pump and began to stroke the dog’s back with her sexy foot. He looked at Roger, smiled, and closed his eyes. Roger said to himself, ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’