Blood is Pretty

by Steven Paul Leiva

  I’ve been relatively happy with my performances. I can’t wait to get an A-list cinematographer. Do you have a name?”

  “Those who become associated with me tend to call me Fixxer. ”

  “Fixxer? Why?”

  “I fix things. ”

  “Not toasters and TVs I take it?”

  “That’s correct. It’s situations, not appliances, I’m good at. ”

  “Well I have a situation I need fixed. ”

  “Tell me about it. ”

  “Can we walk? I wouldn’t want to disturb her serenity,” she said referring to Ms Tai Chi.

  When she stood up I could see her beauty in its totality. Not just her face, which was the most perfect face I had ever seen, with everything correctly proportioned over a jaw line that was poetry. Her nose was as perfectly formed as Copernicus’s Universe; her lips were full and sensual, but not overblown and pouting; and her complexion was clear and luminous. It was probably the long winters in South Dakota that allowed little sun in to do its damaging worse. Here, where the sun was but one of many things that could sting you, she obviously maintained her skin’s protection through an admirable intelligence. Intelligence also defined her eyes, which were a unique and deep aquamarine. It was a cool intelligence, but intelligence nonetheless. All of this was framed by gold-blonde hair that fell down the sides of her face in thick, meaningful waves. But, as I said, it was not just her face. It was the full effect of her full that really stunned. She wore a baggy sports jacket, but open, allowing a view. Her breasts were the size and shape that made a man think not just of sex but of nurturing. Her waist cried for the clasp of your hands. And her long legs talked of nights entwined in your own. Did she work out to achieve this? Or was she just a case of perfect aesthetics?

  Could I fall in love with her? Every man asks himself this question when he is face to face with daunting beauty. I could have answered this one in a flash. But I begged myself for more time to think about it.

  We left the teahouse and walked on the blacktop path towards the center of the gardens, passing the Rosarium and entering into a grove of California Live Oaks, the tree that dominates the gardens. Dozens of squirrels darted across the grounds from tree trunk to tree trunk, and, above, jumped from one rough, wavy branch to another.

  “I come from South Dakota – a traditional Middle American town—town of values. ”

  “Values are very big right now. ”

  “Don’t mock me!” The flash of her anger was stunning.

  “I’m sorry if you took it that way. ”

  “Are you going to take me seriously?” she challenged.

  “Yes. I promise. ”

  She accepted that and continued. “People may find me odd, but I loved my childhood, I loved my parents and I loved my town. I did not come to Hollywood to escape anything. I was the dream child—the perfect child. But my parents were pretty down to earth about it. They made me acknowledge it as a fact to be dealt with, not one to be flaunted. I excelled in high school. Good grades. Head Cheerleader. Prom Queen. But I enjoyed drama the most. I enjoyed moving people beyond just the visceral reaction to my looks. I liked the control of it. It sounds pretentious but there, in that town, I was a star. ”

  She stopped to look at me and gauge my reaction. I tried to give her none but continued interest.

  “The scale may have been small, but I came to know what that term truly means. It’s an incredible high. Everybody encouraged me to come to Hollywood. Had it been a simpler time, say the 1920’s, I’m not sure I would have come. Local stardom probably would have been enough. But these aren’t simple times. You can’t escape Hollywood. ”

  We turned left onto another path.

  “I should have known better, but when I got here I was really surprise how many—this almost sounds elitist—really good looking people there are here. ”

  “It’s one of the raw materials this town uses. ”

  “At first I thought I was just one of many. That I didn’t stand out at all. But I decided to stay. I had the quality I knew it. I did the typical things to get by. I was a waitress. Worked temp jobs as a receptionist. I even worked for a home cleaning service, “The Mighty Maids. ” Finally I got a small part, a whole scene with Steve Martin. I must have called everyone in South Dakota. ”

  I was dying to say that that couldn’t have taken long. But I decided against it.

  “Then he popped up. ”

  “He?”

  “Fred Crane”

  I must have made a visible reaction.

  “Do you know him?”

  “Only by reputation. ”

  “Then you won’t be shocked by anything I’m going to tell you. He was only the associate producer on this film, but very arrogant. Very—preening. He started harassing me, borderline stuff at first during the audition and some early meetings. But he finally just came out and asked me to, ‘Do him. ’ I hate that term. I’d much rather he had just said, ‘Fuck me. ’”

  “What was your answer?”

  “I really didn’t take him seriously at first. It was such a cliché. ”

  “And he was only the associate producer. ”

  “Yeah. I took that into consideration. At first he sort of pleaded, promising me all kinds of good things for my career. I tried to say no as diplomatically as possible. He turned vicious. Said he would get me fired off the film. ”

  “And?”

  “He did. Somehow he pulled it off. I couldn’t believe it. ”

  “Did you protest?”

  “Yeah—to deaf ears. So I was waiting tables again. And did temp jobs. And cleaned houses. ”

  “And were you ever sexually harassed on these jobs?”

  “Oh sure, but what was the threat? I would never temp in this town again? Pip-squeaks I can handle. Can we sit here? This is my favorite spot”

  We had come to a bench overlooking a fern-covered gully with a waterfall at one end and canopied by the intersecting branches of several large Live Oaks. There was no sense of the existence of anything but this. You could believe you were a million miles away from anything Hollywood had to offer—or to threaten you with.

  “I kept auditioning, of course. Did some small bits. Inconsequential. Finally I got another good part in a feature, a supporting role. Crane was there. He had advanced himself. He was now a co-producer. ”

  “And he makes the same threats. ”

  “And successfully carries them out. I mean, I had the role, the director loved me—even the producer loved me—then this little shit gets me fired. How?”

  “He had some control over people beyond his title. ”

  “That’s what I figured. Anyway, about this time I got a job teaching drama to kids for a Parks and Recreation program. One of the kid’s moms was Ronnie Charles. ”

  “The TV casting director. ”

  “Yes. She’s a wonderful lady. She cast me on Cobblestone Bay. ”

  “And all was right with the world. Until they canceled it. ”

  “The show did me a lot of good. Created buzz. Now I’m up for the proverbial ‘role of a lifetime. ’”

  “And Crane is the producer. ”

  “It’s like I’m tied to that bastard with a rotten umbilical cord. ”

  “The role is that good?”

  “It’s beyond good. This is going to be a hit. $200 million gross easy. If I get this role and even put in 50% of what I can do, it will put me into the ‘Club. ’ Crane says it’s between me and one other actor. ”

  “So what’s the problem? Fuck him. Its just sex. ”

  “No, he wants more, much more. I can tell. God knows how he’s managed to advance this far. ”

  “He’s been tapped into some power source. ”

  “Yeah, and that’s what I think he wants to make me. He wants a relationship. I don’t know, maybe marriage. He wants to ride me. ”

  “I see. ”

  “So sex won’t be enough. He wants my life. ”

  “Fuck him, take
the role, get the power, and then—fuck him. ”

  “No. He scares me. He will get me if I don’t get him first. Can you fix this, Fixxer? Can—can you kill him?”

  I almost laughed. “Anne, what did Norton tell you about me?”

  She looked at me, wondering, I assume, if she had made a misstep. But revealing nothing from those aquamarine eyes that one could stare into all day. She stated, “‘Miss Eisley. ’”

  “What?”

  “I’m very old fashioned. I prefer to be addressed as Miss Eisley. ”

  “Well, Miss Eisley, I am not a hit man. ”

  “Of course not. I shouldn’t have asked. ”

  “The idea, as you may have heard, is morally reprehensible in several cultures. ”

  “So you can’t help me?”

  “I didn’t say that. I believe I can. It will take your cooperation. And you will have to experience some intimacy with Crane. ”

  “How much?”

  “A little. Not enough to start a family with. You’ll have to pretend that you’re accepting his offer, even that you’re finally coming to your senses and realizing what a hell of a swell guy he is. Once you lock the role and secure a pay or play deal, arrange a romantic evening at your house. I’ll tell you the rest as soon as I confirm that something I need is available. ”

  “And this will take him out of my life?”

  “I guarantee it. ”

  “And the price?”

  “I understand you’re cash poor at the moment. ”

  “That’s true. ”

  “I’ll do it on a contingency. If I succeed you’ll pay me two per cent. ”

  “Of this deal?”

  “Of everything you earn for the rest of your career. ”

  Her exterior cracked. “What! That’s absurd!”

  “You pay your agent ten. ”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Norton five. ”

  “But…”

  “You have a lawyer?”

  “Yes, of course. ”

  “You’re probably paying him five per cent. If I don’t succeed their percentages may be worthless. You’re a beautiful, young actress, but you only have a small window to make it in this town. You don’t have time to waste. ”

  “How can you be sure I’ll always pay you?”

  I just smiled.

  “Trading one pact with a Devil for another, I suppose,” she said sadly.

  She gave me her contact numbers. I told her to contact me through Norton. Then we started to walk back to the entrance. As we were passing through the grove I noticed a small brown bundle laying on the blacktop ahead. I guessed immediately what it was. I tried to direct her eyes away, but she saw it.

  “Oh, poor squirrel. ”

  It lay dead on the blacktop, eyes closed. Brilliant red blood had flowed from under its head to form a pool that now held its shape. I tried to move on, but she stopped, fascinated by the scene.

  “Do you think it was run over?”

  “Except for the tour tram and an occasional gardener’s truck, they don’t face that kind of threat here. And it’s not—I don’t know how else to put it—squashed. No, more likely it just fell from one of those branches and, unfortunately, found blacktop instead of a pile of leaves under him. ”

  “But they’re so good at jumping. ”

  “Even a squirrel can make a misstep. Or they get old. ”

  She continued to stare at it, especially the blood that a patch of sunlight had now fallen on, bringing out its red brilliance even more.

  “Blood is pretty,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said, for I had to agree. “Until it congeals. ”

  *

  I walked Anne Eisley to her car, then got into the 911 and put a call into The Phone before taking off.

  “Talk. ” It was Roee’s standard greeting.

  “It’s me. Patch me into Petey on the scrambler. ”

  “All right. Hold on a sec. ”

  It was more than a second, but not much. Petey’s loud, shouting voice came over the line. It was just the way he talked. “Fixxer! How are you!?”

  “I’m okay, for a man in my condition. ”

  “And what condition is that!?”

  “The Human Condition, Petey, the Human Condition. ”

  “Ha-ha! I fall for that each time!”

  “That’s why I love you. ”

  “Hey, don’t go maudlin! You know I cry at Kodak commercials! What’s up!?”

  “You remember Formula 12-72”

  “Oh yeah! I love that stuff!”

  “Got any left?’

  “Well, gee, let me think! Oh, yes, sure! I’ve got some in the deep freeze at home

  “Can you send me enough for one application. ”

  “Sure. Can you send me ten grand!?”

  “What do you think of five? How often do you get orders for it?”

  “Oh, okay! You’re a wicked negotiator!”

  “Overnight?”

  “You pay the shipping!?”

  “Certainly. ”

  “Done!”

  “So how’s every other little thing?” I asked.

  “Well, covert ain’t what it use to be!”

  “No kidding. ”

  “It’s better!”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s become truly pragmatic! As opposed, you know, to using “Pragmatism” as a cover for personal agendas! I feel like I’m working for ‘The People’ again!”

  “Should I return?”

  “Oh, come on Fixxer! Charity work ain’t your gig no more!”

  “Too true, Petey. Stay out of the cold. ”

  “Stay out of the heat!”

  I was blasting down the Two, heading back home, when the phone rang. I put it on the speaker.

  “Yes, Roee?”

  “I’ve got Norton on the scrambler. ”

  “Patch him through. ”

  “Did you talk to Anne?” Norton greeted.

  “Yes. ”

  “Can you help her?”

  “Yes. In fact, call her and tell her to go ahead with what I suggested. She should call me through you when it’s set. ”

  “Okay. What did you think of her, he-he?”

  “Beautiful girl. ”

  “Yes, he-he, beautiful seems inadequate. ”

  “Are you in love, Norton?”

  “Oh, no—he-he—you know me, stable, happy married man. No, just looking out for my percentage. ”

  “Norton, why did you call? You don’t usually ask for such quick reports. ”

  “Oh, yes. Paul Hinckley called. ”

  “That third-rate Spielberg. What does he want?”

  “He remembers how you helped him before. ”

  “Yes. And I hope the film-going public never finds out. ”

  “Oh, he’s not that bad, he-he. ”

  “Norton, he’s had the most amazing third-times-the-charm career. ”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Track his career. He’ll make two back-to-back absolutely awful films that generate appropriately dismal box-office. Then his next film will always just break $100 million, saving his ass. ”

  “Well—he-he—he keeps working. Steady commission. Can you see him?”

  “He still has a housekeeping deal at Warner Bros. ?”

  “Yes, he does. ”

  “I’ll drop off now. ”

  *

  Paul Hinckley filled in the rather substantial gaps in his talent with pure ego. Absolutely convinced that he was better at every aspect of motion pictures than anyone else, he usually demanded to write or re-write the screenplay, produce, and be his own cinematographer as well as direct. The only reason he didn’t edit his films was that he hated confined spaces, fancying himself a cowboy. But he usually hired first-time editors more than willing not to bother him with creative input—splice and dice jobs. So he often made films that were murky in look, plot and flow. Then that third one in the cycle would happen, always with a s
creenplay he now didn’t have the power to touch. Some little well executed gem of a concept that even he couldn’t screw up. Boom - he breaks the $100 million sound barrier and suddenly he has the right stuff again. And the momentary power to get him through two more insults to the memory of Edison, Eisenstein, Griffith, Ford, and even—Christ!—Jerry Lewis. If there were any justice in the world, Paul Hinckley would be directing TV movies for a cable channel with a low audience share.

  I entered the main gate of Warner Bros. , and the guard pointed me to a VIP parking space. They know me at Warner Bros. They know me at all the studios. They just don’t know why they know me.

  Paul Hinckley’s Hondo Productions was housed in a bungalow suite of offices, all the rooms fairly cramped except his own, which still was not as spacious as I’m sure he thought he deserved. Posters of all his movies, even the two out of three dismal ones, were proudly on display: Certificates of honor for the completion of productions.

  “That was quick,” he greeted me as his assistant ushered me in.

  “Car phone. ”

  “Yes. What did we ever do before them?”

  “Listened to disco on the radio. ”

  “Ah, don’t get me nostalgic. ”

  He lit up a cigarette. Marlboro, of course, probably been smoking them since he was a teenager, and he still thought they made him look cool.

  “Sit. ” He gestured to a couch, chair and table arrangement which was not just a conversation bay, but also his workspace. He was one of those filmmakers who considered it bad form to sit behind a desk. “I need something fixed. ”

  “Go ahead. ”

  “There’s this kid out there, this—film geek—Dave Finch. You know the kind. They do movie reviews for free for freebie newspapers in order to get free screenings. ”

  “Yeah. The Land of the Free. ”

  “I want you to give him something for me. ”

  “What?”

  “A quarter of a million dollars. ”

  “Jesus Christ! He must have given you one hell of a good review. ”

  “He gave me something better than that. And I want him fairly compensated for it. ” He took a long drag on his Marlboro, smiled, and then blew out a stream of smoke prodigious enough to allow a tobacco lobbyist to cloud the issue.

  “So send him a check. I’m not a delivery service. ”

  “There’s a message that goes with it. ”