Chapter 58 – Renee Rocks The Hall
The next morning at 9am a Transportation Security Administration Tactical Force Omega SWAT team van pulled up to the Charleston Place Hotel front door. Two regular security officers got out of the front, one of them being the cop from on duty at the airport earlier that morning, and two SWAT guys in full battle gear got out the back. The hotel manager happened to be in lobby, and said, “Oh shit.”
The regular cop came into the lobby, went to the desk, and asked the clerk for the room number of the two women who checked in around 3am. The manager came up to the cop and said, “That’s private, I’m afraid. We can’t give out that information unless there’s an official problem?”
The cop looked at the manager, then motioned one of the SWAT guys over, who said, looking through the Darth Vader visor of his helmet, “It’s official, ok, pardner?”
The manager nodded to the clerk who looked at the computer and gave them the suite number. The manager said, “Can I help with anything?” to which the cop replied by ignoring him. From their SWAT van the four guys proceeded to unload the other nineteen pieces of luggage Wegs had brought with her from the Himalayas, and got it into the double sized service elevator and up to her suite. The cop who had fallen asleep in her car at the airport knocked on the door, with the other three cops in the hallway behind him, visors still down on two of them, tending the luggage. He knocked and said, “It’s Soso. I got your stuff.”
Gale opened the door, smiled at Soso, said, “Hi Guys,” and motioned them into the suite. She was dressed in the same tee shirt as the night before, down over one shoulder, nothing else, the shirt was on the long side, thank goodness. Or not. As the SWATS lugged the stuff into the living room she said, “Let me see if I can get the princess up and at ‘em.” She went into the bedroom, over to the bed in which Wegs was unconscious, and said, “C’mon, get up, it’s 9:30, we got half an hour to get to The Hall, and the guys are here with your stuff. You gotta thank ‘em.” There was no movement, so Gale took hold of the sheet and ripped it off the bed, leaving Wegs naked and exposed. Gale said, “Get up you lazy bitch, or I bring the guys in here, let them roust your ass. And these are SWAT dudes.”
The guys heard this from the living room, and wondered what was up, the fantasies flying around and through the helmets. A minute later both of the girls appeared in the living room, Wegs wrapped in the sheet, eyes half open. When she saw the four cops standing there next to her mound of luggage she got her eyes open all the way, a smile formed on her face, and she said, “Morning guys. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” She turned to Gale and said, “Free tickets to one of the performances, ok? Can we do that here?”
Gale nodded and said to Soso, “Believe it or not, that’s Renee Zellweger, the actress. On the screen she’s a knockout, not like she is now, which is a wreck. She’s in town with George Clooney, making a filmy play. When it’s done, there will be some live performances, and we’ll get you guys tickets. Ok?”
Soso asked, “What’s a filmy play?”
“We don’t know yet, sort of half movie and half play, on the stage. We’re figuring it out. However it turns out, it’ll be great. Sound good to you guys?”
They all nodded yes, and Soso gave Gale his email, and they took one last look at Wegs the Wreck and Gale the Almost Naked Bomb, and walked out, on to more conventional duties than delivering luggage to drunken starlets hotel suites.
Wegs dropped the sheet and headed for the shower, asking over her shoulder, “How’d that guy get the name Soso?”
“His nickname. Said the other SWATERS gave it to him cause he can’t shoot straight. They say he’s a soso SWAT dude, won’t let him wear a helmet and carry four guns. That’s why he’s on midnight shift at the airport. Shit duty.”
“Right. A soso SWAT dude. Right.”
“Hurry up, you got five minutes in the shower and five minutes to get dressed, and you can fix your hair, such as it is, in the car.”
“Listen, who made this Gwen person god around here? Since when are stars on time for anything? You telling me she tells Big George and Steven Soderberg what to do?”
Gale said, “You now have four minutes in the shower, and believe me, you need every one of them. You want to find out who made Gwen the boss around here, just show up late. The answer is yes, she tells George and Sody what to do, she has this stealth way of commanding things that makes people think they’re in charge of themselves. Now hurry up; I know I’m not gonna to be late.”
While Wegs was in the shower Gale called valet service and ordered her car, then opened most of the pieces of luggage and got out a change of clothes and a tooth brush. As she stepped out of the shower Gale handed her the toothbrush, took a towel and dried her off. Gale jammed her into a pair of jeans, no underwear, and a blouse, handed her a hairbrush, picked up a pair of sandals with heels, and dragged her out of the room. The Ferrari zoomed up Meeting Street, turned left onto John Street and into the alley next to The Hall. Wegs finished with the brush, slapped on some lipstick she found in Gale’s purse, and followed Gale up the short flight of steps and through the stage door onto the rear of the stage. Gale looked across the stage at the other seven team members, eight counting the dog, and looked at her watch which read 10:02. Not bad. She took Wegs’ hand and led her to the group, sitting in the upholstered chairs with wheels, and said, “This is Wegers. Wegs, that’s Gwen and that’s Roger and that’s Little Jinny and that’s Laleh and that’s Shimmey. These other two you know. Welcome to Charleston and the June Enterprises’ production of, of, whatever it is.” Gale sat down, worn out from boozing and fooling around all night.
Renee Zellweger, on the other hand, looked like a million bucks. She’d just flown half way around the world, drunk half a bottle of cognac on the final leg from the Azores, acquired a new bedfellow, gotten two hours of sleep, not had any coffee or anything to eat, and she stood there in her slinky sandals with heels and plain white blouse and curvy jeans, ready for the camera. Absolutely ready to roll tape. Laleh heard a funny sound and looked away from Wegs to see drool dripping onto the pine floor boards from the mouths of the four guys. It was like someone had rung Pavlov’s bell, and that someone was Wegs, whether it was intentional or not.
George was the first one to get his mouth closed, turning to Sody sitting next to him, raised a hand demanding a high five, and said, “I told you so.”
Sody slapped the high five and nodded, saying quietly, “Thank god she’s not fat.”
Gale recovered enough to pour two cups of coffee from the sterling service on the low table, and took one to Wegs. She stood looking at Wegs and then said to the others, “All that climbing around those hills on and off that yak, kept her in shape. You should see her without the jeans.”
Jinny finally got his mouth closed and and the drip faucet turned off, looked at his friend Gale and said, “Come again.”
Gale said, “You heard me, fatboy. In your dreams,” and slapped the back of his head as she sat down again next to him. Gale owned Jinny like a big sister.
Wegs sat down, at which point the dog left his spot next to Roger, crossed the circle, and lay down in front of her. Wegs automatically shook the sandal off her right foot and commenced running it up and down the dog’s spine. The dog looked at Jinny and winked, sticking another barb into Jinny’s psyche right on top of Gale’s, “In your dreams.” It’s a good thing Jinny learned about deprivation at a young age, first on the Saint Petersburg docks and then in the Russian army.
Wegs knocked back the hot coffee, blinked, smiled at everyone, and said to Gwen, “Ready to roll, boss.”
Then George was up and across the circle and the dog had to get out of the way, and there was a big hug, and then Sody did the same, and then Monique gave her a hug and a kiss on the lips, which Gale saw and didn’t like, and then Roger got in the act, him not being a shrinking violet where beautiful women are concerned, and then Laleh, who wondered j
ust what Wegs did look like without the jeans on, that was a new fantasy for her, and Shimmey got his ass out of the chair and got a hug from the new babe, all this babism becoming overwhelming for a person of his wimpy writerly constitution, and finally Jinny, who had to look up at her, as he did with most women, got his share of the pie, and was thankful for it. He always said a life lived vicariously is better than one not lived at all.
When all the schmoozing was done and Wegs was feeling at home, Sody stood up and picked a manila envelope from the coffee table. He said, “We’re going to do this the way Miles Davis did the Kind of Blue album recording sessions. Every day Shim is going to write a new scene or two, and the next day we hand out the script, rehearse it once, and shoot. Some days we’ll shoot film and some days we’ll rehearse for live performance on the stage. I don’t have it all figured out yet, especially how the transition from film to stage and back again will work, but that’ll come soon enough. I got feelings about it, and that’s a good sign. From feelings come thoughts and from thoughts come actions, so I think we’ll be ok. We just have to work through the mechanics as a team, trial and error. Here’s the first script Shim wrote yesterday. I read it early this morning while you two,” looking at Gale and Wegs, “were doing god knows what.” He handed a copy to everyone except the dog, who didn’t mind, him being occupied by Wegs’s fab back massage.
Wegs said, “We’re starting work today? No warm up, no transition from soul searching in the vast mystique of the Himalayan foothills to Hollywood egomania? No sex romps between the stars, infighting among the crew, firings and rehiring of writers and cinematographers? And what’s this about a play? Something about a filmy play? What is that? Live performances?” She looked at George. “You didn’t say anything about live performances. Me? I’m a twenty take girl, everyone knows that. You know that, Sody. Me fucking up nineteen takes before I get it right. What kind of deal did you get me into?”
Before either George or Soderberg or Gwen could answer, the dog lifted his paw to signal Wegs to stop the massage which she had kept going subconsciously during her mini diatribe, stood up, did the dog circle thing and sat down, looking at her. He shielded his telepathy from the others and transmitted just to her. After a minute she nodded, then nodded again, then smiled, then said, “No shit,” and then leaned with her head against the chair back, eyes closed. Everyone watched her while the dog went back and lay down in front of Roger. When she opened her eyes she said, “That’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard. Let’s get going.”
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