by Tim Dorsey
The brothers laughed.
We cant do that, said Ian. Whats she ever been in?
Be sensible, said Mel. A small speaking part is the going rate for this kind of thing. Ask around.
Not this time, said Tori. She reached into her purse and threw something. A pile of Polaroid photos scattered across Mels desk: the brothers, naked, unconscious in a variety of compromising positions. Accessories, too.
Mel became queasy. Whered you get these?
Ally wasnt as smashed as you thought, said Tori. You blew it and didnt put enough in her drink. She woke up first. Not too bad with a camera, eh?
Look at this one, Ian told his brother. Id never do that. Its obviously posed!
And this one, said Mel. Why would I do that?
She staged these pictures! said Ian.
Took advantage of us while we were passed out! said Mel.
Whats it going to be? said Tori. Leading role or copies of those start turning up in newsrooms?
The brothers bit their lips. Okay, okay, Ian finally said. Dont go and do anything crazy.
Say it! yelled Tori.
They cringed.
Say it!
Mel forced his mouth to form the words:
A
leading
role.
Ian picked up the phone. Legals on fourth. Ill make the call.
Tori hoisted a purse strap over her shoulder. Nice doing business with you.
Dont be a stranger, said Ian.
Tori went out and Betty came in. Line three.
Who is it? asked Ian.
Wouldnt say. Sounded Japanese. And mad.
Damn, said Mel. Tell him were not here.
We better take it, said Ian. Hell just show up again in person and itll be a lot worse.
Betty, put him through, said Mel. He reached for the receiver. Mr. Yokamura, what a pleasant
I cant understand
Youre yelling too loud
You saw the article on Potemkin?
I was just picking up the phone to call about that. Another false report. This towns full of liars
No, weve got everything completely under control
HALF HOUR OUT OF HOLLYWOOD, JUST WEST OF GLENDALE
A rented Chrysler Sebring headed north on Eagle Rock Boulevard. Serge counted addresses out loud. Forty-five hundred
forty-six hundred
There it is! Forty-seven twenty!
Where?
The corner of Ridgeview. That big sign with the mariachi chicken special after eleven
Pat and Lorraines?
Serge parked on the street. Coleman chugged the rest of his Schlitz and stepped onto the sidewalk. Looks dumpy.
Show some respect, said Serge, grabbing his video camera and iPod. Youre on holy ground, like Lourdes or the Presley crčche in Tupelo.
They opened the front door. A group of people at a corner table saw them and waved. Serge lit up with recognition and waved back. Coleman, best behavior. These are future friends.
Serge!
Grab a seat!
Weve heard a lot about you!
Serge pulled out a chair. He stopped and looked around. Where is he?
Not here yet, but any minute.
Serge began videotaping the restaurants interior. Cant tell you how excited I am to finally meet him. Its the only thing Ive been able to think about since I got the letter. Well, not the only thing. My mind tends to jump around. The U.S. mint just released the Nevada state quarter. Photos from the Cassini probe have top NASA scientists scratching their heads. Youll always be disappointed by shampoo from a convenience store. The Dutch are now the tallest people in the world. I havent been bowling in years. Serge aimed his camera down at a place mat. So, you got the table.
We got the table, said the man with dreadlocks. Knew youd insist.
Serge turned off the video. The table was pulled out from the wall.
What?
In the movie, said Serge. It was out from the wall. Remember that famous circular panning shot? They laid tracks around the table for the camera dolly.
Everything they said about you is true, said the woman sitting to his right.
Lets pull it out from the wall, said Serge.
Please, said the dreadlocks. Just relax.
Youre right, said Serge. Im the guest. Besides, I have all these new friends. Thats the most important thing in life. I should count my blessings. Ill bet we could scoot it out just a tiny
Serge!
Im good.
You sure? said the ponytail. Because something big is about to happen in the next few days. We wanted to see if you might be interested
What are you doing?
Serge quickly folded his hands on the place mat. Nothing.
You were nudging the table out from the wall.
No, I wasnt.
Serge, this is important. Were putting this thing together and could really use the help. We need to know if youre in
Serge placed his iPod on the table and connected it to tiny external speakers. He started the L.A. soundtrack.
Serge?
What?
Are you listening?
Sure. You were saying something.
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right
Is that Steelers Wheel? asked the woman next to him. I loved that song in junior high.
Me, too, said Serge. The perfect track for the movie
Serge turned to the man across from him
that had the table out from the wall.
Five minutes and a ten-dollar tip to the waitress later, Serge was smiling at a table pulled out from the wall.
Happy now? asked the dreadlocks.
Youre the one whos tense, said Serge. Go ahead. What were you saying?
Coordination and timing are crucial
Serge reached in his pocket and unfolded a square of paper on the table.
Whats that? asked the woman.
Screen capture from the movie. Printer quality wasnt too good, but still works for historic comparison. The clock up theres different, but those two planters next to it whod have thought theyd still be here? Some of the chairs are also the same, like the red jobs were sitting on. They got new curtains
Someone on the sidewalk walked by the restaurants windows.
Serge
Hold on. See up there on the wall? He tapped his printout. The spot was right over Joe Capas left shoulder when he asks Mr. Pink why he didnt tip. Its the only thing that would ever tell you the classic scene was shot here
Serge
You have to look hard. There are two little black-and-white movie cards over the cinnamon roll sign. The bottom ones from Reservoir Dogs, and the top is the 1947 noir thriller Born to Kill. That completely makes it for me. Esoteric homage to Lawrence Tierney, may he rest in peace
Serge
Bells jingled. The front door opened. The man with the dreadlocks pointed. There he is.
Serge grabbed his video camera and turned around.
** Chapter 18
VISTAMAX STUDIOS
Soundstage 23. A man with a long, untrimmed beard sat in a directors chair. Stitched on the back: Potemkin.
A younger man entered the set through a side door. He shook out an umbrella and hung up a dripping raincoat. He came over and sat in the first assistant directors cha
ir. Thought we were shooting outside this afternoon.
Had to scrap it because of the rain, said Potemkin.
But it was a rain scene, said the assistant.
We cant use the rain machine in the rain.
Why dont we just use the regular rain?
Doesnt look as real.
A crew member with a clapboard stood in front of a camera. At great expense, the movie set had been made up to look like a movie set.
Scene four hundred and twelve. Take sixty-seven. Clap.
Potemkin raised a megaphone. Annnnnnnnnnd
action!
On stage, an actor sat in another directors chair. Annnnnnnnnnd
action!
Ally Street threw her arms around the male leads neck and tried to kiss him. He pushed her away. Its over. Has been for a long time, but I was too blind
You dont mean that. Not after everything.
The actor picked up an old brown suitcase. Im taking the train back to New York. Theres a war on. He began walking toward a non-opening door painted on plywood.
Put down the suitcase!
Whered you get that gun?
I cant live without you
Cut! Cut! Goddammit! Potemkin was out of his chair. He slammed the script to the ground. Whats the matter with you? Cant you act? How did you ever get in my movie!
What did I do?
You were supposed to blow your line and start arguing with the coldhearted director. If theres one scene I thought you could handle, its where youre supposed to act badly!
Sir, said the first assistant director. Thats the hardest kind of acting.
Shut up!
I think we can save it till she pulls the gun. Cut in with camera two. Places everyone
Tori Gersh stood by the craft service table, mumbling under her breath: Come on, Ally, you can do it
Annnnnnnnnnnd
action!
Whered you get that gun?
I cant live with you, uh, I mean
Cut! Cut! yelled the actor playing the director on the set. What are you, stupid? Cant you remember a simple goddam line?
Im doing the best I can!
Cut! Cut! Potemkin was out of his chair again. You call that emotion?
I was full of emotion, said Street.
But youre supposed to be so overcome with emotion that you dont know how to feel. Im not getting that! Instead Im getting emotion!
Im supposed to cry?
Youre not listening! This is about how the old studio system mistreated everyone! Its the climax where all your frustrations come to a boil and you finally snap. You have to convince the audience that an otherwise sweet girl could be driven to murder. Then you raise the blank gun from props and fire it at the director. Except you secretly loaded it with real bullets between takes because youve had it with his insults, you stupid moron!
Ally raised the gun and fired a blank at Potemkin, then dropped the pistol and ran off crying.
Potemkin looked in astonishment at the crew. Did she just fucking shoot me? Has the whole world gone insane! His lip began to quiver. Tears rolled down the directors cheeks, and he fled in the other direction.
The set was stone silent. Potemkin and Street weeping in opposite corners.
Tori Gersh closed her eyes and felt a headache coming on.
The first assistant director eventually stood up. Okay, everybody, I think thats a wrap for today.
All That Glitters used to be behind schedule. Now, there wasnt one. Set 23 had been booked for the next day to rehearse a reality show reunion, so the crew was dislocated to 17, where they jumped to another scene earlier in the movie that Potemkin had since rewritten.
The cast began taking their places. Tori stood off to the side, holding Ally by the shoulders. Youre a great actress. Just remember, he yells at everyone. Now go knock em dead.
A clapboard clapped. A megaphone rose.
Annnnnnnd
action!
Ally was in an ultra-snug vinyl jumpsuit. She tossed a grappling hook aside and pulled a spy-tool off her utility belt. Soon, the cover was off the nuclear bomb. A digital display ticked down
1:01, 1:00, :59, :58
Ally held snippers to the green wire, then the red, the yellow, the blue, the green again.
You dont have to stay, she told the male lead. This only takes one person.
You know Id never leave. My love for you is eternal.
Youre just saying that because you cant outrun the blast radius in less than a minute.
That, too. Which wire do you think it is?
I feel lucky today. Reds my favorite color. Kiss me!
They embraced passionately. The camera trucked around the couple as Ally got her right breast groped. Their mouths slowly parted. Ally looked out the corner of her eye at the amber digits. Eight seconds, seven, six
I guess its time to save the world. Ally placed her snippers around a wire.
And she snipped the yellow one.
Cut! Cut! shouted Potemkin. You fucking idiot! You cut the wrong wire!
I forgot which one, said Ally.
You just said red!
The kiss threw me off.
The first assistant director leaned sideways from his chair. Maybe the sound guys can dub the mix.
No! No! No! shouted Potemkin. It has to be red because of the metaphorical reference to the McCarthy hearings. Wheres the standby electrician?
The crew stood around the coffee urn while the wire was replaced.
They were ready again.
Feed her the line, barked Potemkin.
An assistant read stiffly from a script. I guess its time to save the world.
Annnnnnnd
action!
I guess its time to save the world. Ally placed her snippers around the red wire. Shit
The snippers fell inside the bomb, causing a short. The digital display went black. A tiny puff of smoke.
Cut! Cut!
What the hell just happened?
I broke a nail, said Ally.
Im not fucking believing this! Did you use to ride the short bus to school?
Standby electricians began soldering a new digital display. Three makeup people buzzed around Ally, attaching a false nail with theatrical glue.
Places, said the assistant director.
The electricians and makeup people dashed off.
Clapboard man: Take fifty-nine.
Forget the lines! yelled Potemkin. Pick it up with cutting the wire
Ally! Can your brain handle that? In case you were wondering, its the red one!
Dont talk to me that way.
Ill talk to you any way I want, you no-talent tramp!
Ally and her co-star took their positions.
Annnnnnnd
action!
Ally reached in the bomb, ripping out all the wiring.
Cut! Cut! Have you lost your mind?
Ally grabbed the lightweight plastic prop and raised it over her head.
What the hell are you doing?
It smashed to the ground, spraying pieces.
My nuclear bomb!
The set was a tomb. A lonely plastic cog rolled across the floor.
Ally in one corner, Potemkin in another. Toris mouth hung open. She took a deep, resigned breath and walked out a side door into the bright California sun.
A rented Chrysler Sebring drove west on Hollywood Boulevard, leaving behind the Walk of Fame tourist frenzy. The road entered an established residential neighborhood with a scattering of old-growth motels. The car turned up a driveway in the lush hillsid
e.
Highland Gardens.
Serge checked the address against his notes. 7047.
They registered without incident at the front desk. Serge carried suitcases down a hallway that needed paint.
What do we do now? asked Coleman, lugging paper bags from grocery and liquor stores.
Just what they told us at the restaurant, said Serge. Stay out of sight until its time. Like Martin Sheen waiting for a mission in that Saigon hotel.
Now youre talking.
Coleman! You have taste! I didnt know you liked Apocalypse Now.
Oh, yeah. Sheen goes on a bender and gets really wasted and breaks shit. Great movie.
They came to room 105. Serge stuck a key in the door.
Division of labor: Serge rapidly assembled his reference headquarters of books and music. Coleman cleared the bathroom counter and threw the soap in the wastebasket. Serge plugged the iPod into external speakers and cranked up his L.A. chore tunes. Coleman unwrapped all the plastic cups that came with the room and stacked them behind the faucet. Serge rewired the TV to his video equipment. Coleman put iced beverages in the sink and arranged munchies in a convenient semicircle for impaired access. Serge precisely stowed film and ammo in dresser drawers. Coleman made joints and rum drinks.
Serge grabbed his camera for contingency photos and snapped pictures of his buddy at work. Ive never seen you move so fast.
Times limited. Coleman sliced lime wedges in advance. Everything will soon become tricky. Whats that music?
Posthumous album Pearl. Kris Kristofferson cover track. Next question.
Whyd you pay extra for this room?
Because theyre gouging history buffs. Serge closed the sock drawer. Room 105, Highland Gardens, formerly the Landmark.
Coleman torched a mombo spliff. Serge pointed at the floor. She hit face-first right where youre standing. October third, twenty-six years ago.
Who did? Coleman held the joint between his middle fingers and cupped his hands to his mouth like he was doing bird calls.
You pulling my leg? said Serge. This is Joplins room.
Coleman blew out an enormous amount of smoke. I dont know this old stuff like you.
Thats okay. I dont know how to interlace my hands like that to smoke dope.
You mean a carburetor? Its the first thing they teach you.
Freedoms just another word for nothing left to lose
