Chapter 57 - Gale and Renee
At 1:15am the morning after Sody figured out the main story line of the filmy play, the assassin's thing, George got a phone call from Renee Zellweger. He didn’t answer it because he was out cold in his hotel room; out cold because he drank the best part of two bottles of champagne sitting on the stage at The Hall, having a great time with the crew, especially Jinny, who kept him in stitches for hours telling him stories about crime in Saint Petersburg. Monique finally answered the phone, not because she was sleeping with George or because she didn’t get drunk with the rest of them, but because she got less drunk than George and because he always forwards his phone to hers when he senses he is losing control of his responsibilities.
Monique said, “How the hell are you, Wegs?”
“I’m not bad considering I just flew halfway around the world.”
“Could have been worse. Could have flown coach halfway around the world.”
“Right. I shouldn’t complain. I’m waiting for these Customs guys to wake up and check me through. George said someone would pick me up.”
“Yeah, that would be Gale. You met her on the phone call.”
“I couldn’t tell if she’s a bitch or not. Gave me some shit about money, but that’s not necessarily bitchiness.”
“She’s not, she’s a riot. Just has a big mouth, but what she says usually is funny. She’ll be up there right away. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” said Monique.
“How’s George? Still studly?”
“Oh, god, didn't you hear? No, we managed to keep it out of the news, and you’ve been off yaking it in the hills.”
“Those aren’t exactly hills. You’ve heard of the Himalayas? What haven’t I heard about George?”
“Lost part of his nose. The left side nostril. Was skiing in Switzerland, drank too much schnapps and fell asleep in a snowdrift for two hours. Frostbite. It doesn’t look too bad if you stay on his right side and maintain the profile. That’s how Sody’s gonna have to shoot him for this filmy play thing. Everything from the right side.”
“Very funny. As long as his pecker didn’t get frostbit, I can put a bag over his head. What is this filmy play thing? That’s the second time I’ve heard that.”
“Listen, we’ll tell you tomorrow. We start work at 10am every day, and Gwen doesn’t take no for an answer. Let me call Gale and roust her ass out of bed and get her up to the airport. See you tomorrow. Don’t be late. Do not fuck around with Gwen. Bye.”
Monique dialed Gale. “Hi Gale. How you doin?”
“Are you in bed with him?”
“Who, Gale?”
“You know who. Is it great? Really great? What’s it like?”
“Gale, last I heard about three hours ago he was snoring like a platypus. Very slobbery sounding, and there were bubbles on his lips. He was sleeping on his stomach with his arms underneath him in a weird position, and his bare butt was up in the air. Not a pretty sight. Don’t believe everything you read about him. I went in to check he wasn’t drowning in his own vomit. He does like champagne. And he was funny, wasn’t he?”
Gale said, “He sounds good to me. Can I come over and wake him up?”
“What you can do is get your ass in your car and go pick up Wegs. She’s at the airport, waiting on Customs.”
“No way. It’s George or nothing.”
“Cut the crap. Gwen gave you the job; get on it. We gotta get Wegs to bed so she can show up at ten tomorrow. I don’t want her starting off on the wrong foot with Gwen. It’s your responsibility to get her to The Hall on time. See you then,” and she hung up.
Gale looked at her phone, said screw you, and got dressed. In ten minutes she was in her Ferrari and on her way to the airport. Gale didn’t have to work, but that doesn’t mean she’s wealthy. People just seem to want to keep paying her way to things. She didn’t buy the Ferrari, it was gift from a rich guy. He was tooling down King Street at twice the speed limit, and Gale stepped off the curb in front of him, wearing one of her normal eye-dropping short skirts and four inch silk pumps. He manages to swerve out of the way, barely, she’s pissed and is holding an umbrella with a heavy wooden handle, she yells at him, “You cretinous moron.”
This pisses him off and he gets out of the car, grabs the umbrella out of her hands, and snaps it over his knee. She grabs the half with the wooden knob out of his hands, smashes the right side headlight of the Ferrari, walks in front of the car, smashes the left side headlight, walks to the rear of the car and smashes both taillights. The guy watches this, takes it all in, her form and figure now registering in his brain, and he says, “You wanna go for a drink?”
His form and figure how register in Gale’s brain, as does the fact that he’s driving a $200,000 Ferrari, and she says, “If you promise to try and not run over me again.”
He now walks to the passenger side of the car, opens the door, and Gale gets in, taking a little extra time swinging her legs off the pavement and into the car. She punctuates the move by accidentally deliberately losing one of her pumps, thus revealing a Cinderella like foot. He picks up the shoe and hands it to her, at which time she flashes a smile that would make Julia Roberts cry. End of story. Well, not exactly. They spend a long weekend together at the end of which he tells her he’s taking his yacht over to St. Barths and does she want to go? She tells him she wishes she could but she has the orphans to take care of again starting tomorrow, and hey, look me up next time you’re tooling down King Street at twice the speed limit. He says, “I’ll do that,” hands her the keys to the Ferrari and says the papers are in the glove box, it’s yours, honey. It cost her $5,000 to get the headlights and taillights fixed, but obviously it was worth it.
And now she’s on her way to pick up Wegs, having thought beforehand about the very small trunk space in the car because most of the car is taken up by the monster 180
MPH engine, thinking wouldn’t it be too bad if all of Wegs’s luggage wouldn’t fit, and she has to send it to the hotel later, yeah, that would be too bad. Gale wasn’t a bitch but she could be bitchy where men are concerned.
It’s 2am but airport security never sleeps, so Gale has to sweet talk the cop into letting her park at the main entrance next to the sign that says in HUGE letters All Vehicles Impounded by Order of Transportation Security Administration. The cop is a car guy and Gale tells him she’ll give him a ride in the Ferrari someday, plus maybe something else, if he’ll let her leave it here for “two minutes”, and all she’s wearing is a pair of tight blue jeans and a silk Justified tee shirt falling below one shoulder (she loves that show), barefoot, he can’t resist, hopes she’s not a tricky Al Qaeda agent and there’s really a monster 180 MPH engine in the car and not a sewing machine motor surrounded by plastic explosives. She waltzes in, knowing where the small Customs office is because this isn’t the first private jet that’s flown in from Europe on June Enterprises business, sees a woman slumped over a huge pile of Gucci luggage, the whole thing, including her, looking like it was dumped out of a Caterpillar front end loader, holding a bottle of Courvoisier cognac.
Gale walks over to the mess and thinks, ‘This is the competition?’ She says, “You Wegs?”
Zellweger looks up at Gale and thinks, ‘Oh, shit, this is the competition?’ She says, “Hi Gale. How ‘bout a drink?”
Gale likes cognac, is a big fan of Sidecars and Stingers, and she’s tempted, but says, “I’ve already gotten drunk once today, champagne, with George, and I’ve gotta get us home.”
Wegs says, “Was that today today, or yesterday today? It’s the next day here in Charleston, right? Can’t you get drunk two days in a row?”
Gale is warming up to Wegs, thinking, this bitch may be all right. “C’mon, we gotta go or they’ll tow my car. And we gotta be at work tomorrow at ten or Gwen’ll throw a fit.” Gale helps her off the pile of luggage and helps her load all twenty pieces onto a couple of big c
arts and gets everything rolling towards the exit, where she finds the cop asleep in her car. So much for airport security. She rousts him out, pats him on the cheek, and turns to look at Wegs, who’s looking at the Ferrari.
“Shits not gonna fit, is it?”
Gale likes that Wegs likes cognac but is not exactly going to pave her way into the world of June Enterprises without a little hazing. She stands looking at Wegs, neutral expression on her face. Wegs sizes things up, turns to the cop who’s still hanging around now watching two hot babes next to the hot car, and does HER thing on the poor guy. Then she turns to Gale and asks, “What hotel?” Three minutes later she picks up one small suitcase, throws it in the back of the car, and says, “Let’s go.”
At 2:45am the Ferrari pulls up to the hotel overhang and Gale kills the engine. Wegs says, “What time we gotta show up?”
“Ten.”
“That means I gotta get up at nine, and do something with my body. That's six hours from now.”
Gale was tempted to say, ‘Honey, you gotta do a lot with your body if you’re gonna compete for Big George with me,’ but uncharacteristically she held her tongue.
Wegs stood looking at Gale sitting in the car, said, “Wanna come up?”
Gale looked at the body she just has dissed in her thoughts, looked at the bottle of Courvoisier Wegs still was holding onto, looked at her watch which now said 3am, thought about driving home and then driving back to hotel to pick up her charge in time to get to work on time so she didn’t get her ass kicked by Gwen, looked back at Wegs, remembered her in Leatherheads, how very hot, and said, “Why not.”
They got a key card to the suite from the desk, told the night clerk to park the car and to expect a delivery of luggage, sometime, by a cop, and walked to the elevator. The clerk could see the elevator from the registration desk, and as the elevator doors closed, he saw two hot women leaning shoulder to shoulder against the back wall, looking at each other.
The Ayatollah's Money Page 57
