Until It's Time To Go

by Connie Bailey

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that absurd remark,” Isaac said. “Is that really barbecue pizza?”

  “Yes it is. Of course, it isn’t the same as my dad’s, but it’s pretty good.”

  “I’ve been consumed with curiosity about this barbecue pizza,” Tony said. “And tortured by the delicious smell all the way from the pizza shop. Shall we?”

  “I’ll get some plates,” Isaac said.

  “Are you kidding? It’s pizza. Get a roll of paper towels and we’ll be fine,” Callie said.

  “Church key?” Tony requested. “Imported beer, you know?”

  Isaac brought the paper towels and a bottle opener back to the counter. Everyone sat on the bar stools, and conversation was suspended for a few minutes as they chewed and swallowed. Tony finished his slice first and set the crust on a paper towel, from which it was promptly snatched by Callie.

  “She’s like a magpie,” Tony told Isaac.

  “He wastes the best part of the pizza,” Callie said, pointing a thumb at Tony.

  “It’s good pizza,” Isaac said. “So why’d you want to see me?”

  Tony looked to Callie. “Didn’t you tell him?”

  “Of course I told him.”

  Tony turned back to Isaac. “When Callie told me who she’d found to fix this bollixed proj of mine, I couldn’t believe me ears.”

  “That’s nice, but could you go into more detail?”

  “Oh right, sorry!” Tony swept a hand over the top of his thinning reddish hair. “Sometimes I think I’m losing brain cells along with my follicles.”

  “Tony’s always wanted to film the Dorian Gray story,” Callie jumped in, and Tony shot her a look of gratitude. “But an updated version.”

  “I know it’s not a terribly original idea,” Tony said. “But I really want to do it. I’ve promised myself that I’m not doing any films for anyone else until I do one for myself.”

  “He turned down an offer from Disney,” Callie added.

  Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so you’re serious. I think that’s great.”

  “Does that mean you’ll work with us?” Callie asked.

  “I didn’t say that. I need to know a little more before I decide.”

  “Ask us anything, old boy,” Tony said.

  “How long do you think the production’s going to take?”

  “Three months at the outside, not counting post-production, of course, but you won’t be involved in that,” Callie said. “That’s all the time we have budgeted.” She paused. “You’ll be writing on the set while we start preliminary photography.”

  “No way. I work from home.”

  Tony looked around. “I suppose we could shoot some of it here. It’s all interiors.”

  “You’re not bringing a film crew into my home.”

  “All right, mate. Calm down.” Tony held up a hand. “Let’s see if we can make this work, okay?”

  “Tell us what you need,” Callie said to Isaac.

  “What I don’t need is several hours a day in the company of a bunch of actors.”

  “You’d have a trailer to hide in,” Callie said with a glance at Tony. “We can afford another one.”

  Tony nodded. “A little Winnebago all your own where you can type in air-conditioned comfort with the door locked.”

  “I don’t see why I need to be there.”

  “We need to keep in close touch.”

  “You can text me, phone me, or e-mail me anytime.”

  “It’s not the same as sitting down with you and bouncing things around.” Tony ran a hand through his hair again. “I need to collaborate face-to-face.”

  “That’s not how I work.”

  “I’ll pay you $240,000 for the script and any rewrites.”

  Callie rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to start at $100,000 and go up if you have to, not offer the entire script budget.”

  “I want you on this project,” Tony told Isaac. “I’ve waited ten years. Surely you can bend a little. What do you say?”

  “I don’t know why you want me now.”

  “If you’re referring to some of your recent efforts, let me say that I believe you have a great script in you, but you need someone to coax it forth.”

  “Coax it forth?” Isaac repeated sardonically. “And that would be you?”

  “I believe so.” Tony leaned forward. “Ten years ago, I had a really good feeling about working with you, and I was really looking forward to it. I understand why you backed out, but it’s always bothered me—the road not taken and all that. I really believe we were meant to do something together, something wonderful.”

  Punkin sailed onto the counter and sniffed delicately at the shredded meat on the pizza.

  “Sorry about that,” Isaac said as he picked up the cat. “I let him do pretty much as he pleases, so he has no manners.”

  “He’s gorgeous,” Callie said, reaching over to scratch between Punkin’s ears.

  Punkin drew back and sniffed at Callie’s fingers before dropping his head to signal that a scratching would be welcome now.

  “He’s kind of a dick,” Isaac said, and Callie and Tony chuckled.

  “Like father, like son?” Callie said. “Sorry. When I was looking you up, I heard a few things, and now I’ve made a bad joke. I’m always being inappropriate at the worst time.”

  “I thought it was funny,” Isaac said. “And if people are saying I’m a dick, it’s not just a coincidence. The more distance I have from people, the better I like it.”

  “I heard you were a recluse,” Callie said. “I was relieved that you didn’t answer the door in your bathrobe.”

  “I’ll have to remember that. I know I have a bathrobe around here somewhere.”

  “I was also relieved that you agreed to talk to us in the first place.”

  “Honestly, I wanted to see how you’d grown up. I have such clear memories of you that day in the hospital.”

  “I was such a brat.”

  “You were a kid in a fucked-up situation.”

  “True, but I remember sulking because I had to look after Denver, the big baby. I could’ve been more sensitive to what was going on.” Callie paused. “I’ve always wanted to apologize to you for that. You’d just lost your partner, and I was being a princess.”

  “I don’t remember it like that. I remember that you were calm, a lot calmer than your mother.”

  “She was always doing things like that. She’d volunteer to be a coach because there was no one else to do it, and then she’d freak out. You should have seen her when— Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that day.”

  “Not right now, but someday I’d like to hear it from your point of view.”

  “So we’ll be seeing each other again?”

  “If I turned down a quarter of a million dollars, my cat would kill me in my sleep.”

  “Almost a quarter of a million,” Callie said quickly. “Tony’s using his own money to make this one, so we’re watching the budget very closely. At least I am.”

  “No investors at all?”

  “Maybe a couple of private parties,” Tony said. “Friends who believe in me.”

  “You can guarantee my salary?”

  “I can deposit half in your account today.”

  “You have to promise I won’t be pestered on the set. I’ll only deal with you and Callie.”

  “We can keep it to a minimum,” Callie said. “We’re using a skeleton crew, and all the shots are interiors. There are only seven people in the cast.”

  “Seven. Really.”

  “When we shoot the party scene, there’ll be some extras on the set.”

  “You were a very honest little girl. Glad that hasn’t changed. Okay, I’ll think about it and call you tomorrow. I’ve had enough company for now.” Isaac stood, and his guests got to their feet.

  “I’ll look forward to your phone call,” Tony said.

  “Good-bye for now,” Callie said, reaching down to pet Punkin o
n her way out.

  After Tony and Callie drove away, Isaac filled a glass with ice, poured it full of vodka, and squeezed a slice of lime into it. Carrying the drink out to the back deck, he gazed down through the trees to the brook. Punkin came out to prowl around the empty planters, but he gave Isaac his privacy.

  “Here’s to me,” Isaac said, lifting his glass in a toast.

  Sunlight lay like sequins on the surface of the stream, reflecting brightly enough to hurt his eyes. His vision blurred, tears spilled over, and he let them fall.

  “How did I get here, Steve?” he whispered. “How did I get so far away from you?”

  Somewhere in the trees, a woodpecker knocked.

  “I thought you might be interested to know that I’m going to work with Tony Kendall after all. I know you thought he was all sizzle and no meat, but he turned out all right. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve always wondered how things would’ve turned out if I hadn’t walked away ten years ago.” He took a long drink of the vodka. “You must be tired of that tune by now. I’ve been bitching to you every night for how long?”

  Punkin froze in mid-stalk and looked over at Isaac. A dry leaf skittered across the deck, and the cat leaped sideways to avoid it. After making sure no one had seen the incident, Punkin went back in the house, where there were no attack leaves.

  “A dog would stay at my side and comfort me,” Isaac called out. He took another drink and spilled a little over the side of the rail for any spirits that might be present. “I still miss you, Stevie,” he said. “I still can’t understand why you were taken away from me just when we were about to have it all. I can’t get over the unfairness of it. I’m a selfish jerk. You were a great guy. If one of us had to go, it should’ve been me, don’t you think?” Isaac listened to the sound of the moving water and the wind in the pines for a few moments. “Yeah, I know. I say the same things every time I talk to you. I must bore the crap out of you. But the news about Kendall was pretty unexpected, you have to admit.”

  The woodpecker began drilling again, and a squirrel complained with an asthmatic screech.

  “I know just how you feel, pal,” Isaac said. Steve’s presence was gone for the evening, and he knew from experience that it wouldn’t be back tonight. He finished his drink and went inside to pour another.

  THE next morning, after a breakfast of spicy V-8 juice with a shot of vodka, Isaac found his phone and dialed a number. “Hi, asswipe,” he said before the other man could speak.

  “Isaac, is that really you?” Lewis Nobb pressed his phone harder to his ear.

  “Yeah, it’s really me. Are you the one that sold me out?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Tony Kendall’s AD got my private number from someone. I only gave it to three people. Janelle, Punkin’s vet, and you. Of those three people, guess which one I trust least.”

  “It’s a good opportunity for you.” Lewis flipped from defense to offense with the agility of an Olympic gymnast.

  “So you did me a favor?”

  “The girl was persuasive, and I happened to agree with what she said. Why don’t you let me handle your career again instead of throwing you scraps?”

  “I don’t need an agent.”

  “Whatever. Why do you insist on taking the cheesiest thing you can find? You can do better than Xenomorpheus, my friend.”

  “So what? I’m just trying to pay the bills, not win any awards.”

  “You could do both.”

  “Give it a rest. I just thought you’d like to know that I’m going to take the job.”

  “Fuckin’ A!”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. So… it was good to talk to you. I’m glad you’re doing so well.”

  “I could be doing worse.”

  “I hear you handle some pretty big names these days.”

  “I’m part of an agency. You know that. My company does handle some big clients, though.”

  “I’m happy for you. And, Lewis?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you ever give out my number again without asking me, I’ll come over to your house and shave your shih tzu. I’m not kidding.”

  “No need to get nasty. I won’t do it again.”

  “Damn right you won’t,” Isaac said and immediately hung up, grinning as he pictured the expression on Lewis’s sock-monkey face.

  After a shower, he called Callie and told her he accepted the offer. She told him she was sending a car and asked what time he’d like to be picked up. He said he could be ready in half an hour, and an hour later, he was in a limo on his way to work, with Punkin glowering through the mesh window of his pet carrier. Isaac would take his own car tomorrow morning—he hated the feeling of being stranded—but for now he appreciated not having to find an address in Topanga Canyon on his first day of work.

  THE driver called Callie, and she was waiting when the car arrived on location. She took charge of the pet carrier and escorted Isaac to a motor home parked with two others behind a starkly modern house. The back driveway and yard constituted a rather large area that included a sizable parking lot, a strolling garden, and an enclosed pool.

  “This place looks like Darth Vader’s bank,” Isaac said. “If I owned it, I’d live somewhere else and rent it out to a film company too.”

  “Tony’s accountant is friendly with the agency handling the property,” Callie said as she set Punkin’s crate down inside the RV’s door. “I’ve taken the liberty of stocking a few things like bread, peanut butter, water, coffee, tea, sugar, dishwashing soap, et cetera. Sodas, sandwiches, chips, and other snacks are available at the craft services table right over there.” She pointed out the window. “You can always get coffee there too. Actual meals are provided by the catering truck during designated hours.”

  Isaac set his laptop bag down on the table and tested the comfort of the booth seat. “I can write here,” was his judgment.

  “Good. I’ll get back to the set then.” Callie paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I’m looking forward to working with you,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but I had a crush on you when I was twelve. I used to ride my bike down your driveway all the time, hoping you’d be outside so I could wave to you. When Mom explained to me that you and Mr. Michaels were in love, it broke my heart—for a few days. Oddly enough, after I got over it, it made me happier to think of you with Mr. Michaels.”

  “It made me happy too.” Isaac smiled ruefully. “Sorry. I’m used to talking to the cat, and he has a fondness for melodrama.”

  “I didn’t think it was melodramatic. Sounded like a perfectly normal thing to say.”

  “Didn’t you say you had somewhere else to be?”

  “Right.” Callie went down the short flight of steps to the ground. “Tony will be stopping by as soon as he can.”

  Isaac didn’t reply, and she closed the door before walking away. He pulled a bottle of vodka and one of brandy from his work bag and put them in the cabinet over the sink. Less than half an hour later, someone knocked.

  “This isn’t bad,” Isaac said as Tony came into the Winnebago. “The bed’s a little skimpy, but nothing I can’t put up with for a few weeks. Punkin is still forming an opinion.”

  Tony sat down opposite Isaac at the motor home’s small dining table and set down a Styrofoam cup of hot tea.

  “So let’s see your script,” Isaac said.

  “I don’t actually have one, as such.” Tony sipped his tea. “What I have are heaps of notes.”

  “Did you bring them?”

  “No need. Once I write something down, it’s stuck in my head.”

  “Then let’s get started. You say you want to update the story. How far?”

  “Modern day.”

  “As in present time?”

  “Exactly.”

  Isaac stroked the cat purring on the table in front of the laptop’s heat vent. “So we do away with the aging painting motif. Maybe it’s a piece of film instead. A loop that Dori
an can play over and over.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Some piece of film that has great significance to him.”

  “So in our version, Basil is a filmmaker?”

  “If you like the idea.”

  “Let’s think about it for a minute. What if, instead of an actor, Dorian was a supermodel?”

  Tony thought it over. “Modeling is probably the only profession where looks and sex appeal matter more than they do in acting. It would neatly explain why he so desperately wants to remain young. I like it.”

  “In which case, Basil would be a fashion photographer.”

  “Or video maker.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I like that,” Isaac said, fingers moving on his keyboard. “A rock band uses Dorian in a video. An unused clip from the video is what replaces the painting from the original.”

  “I like it too.” Tony absently reached over to pet Punkin. “What if the piece of film wasn’t actually from the video? What if Dorian was getting busy with someone on the set, maybe one of the musicians, and Basil secretly filmed it? He can show it to Dorian later and there can be this great scene—”

  “Where Dorian demands that Basil give him the film. We can show him watching it at home and making the deal with the devil to remain forever young while the film ages.”

  “Yes!”

  “And later when Dorian finds out Basil has a copy, well, that’s Dorian’s motivation for killing him right there.”

  “I knew we’d pull well in harness together.”

  “So you were right. Hang on a second. I probably have some gold stars around here somewhere.”

  Tony picked up his tea. “You can’t offend me.”

  “Oh, I think I could if I tried. I’d probably start with a few off-color remarks about Callie.”

  “You bugger!”

  “You see?” Isaac sat back in his chair. “Does her husband know?”

  “He died in Afghanistan a few months after they were married. I’m rather certain she’s using me as a sexual outlet because she knows there’s no chance she’ll fall in love with me.”

  “Wow, there’s a whole movie right there.”