by Andrew Grey
“Here, the magic happens on the inside, and there are more interesting areas. Some of the studios still retain their backlots, like at Universal, and they rent them out for various movies. It’s all a business, and everything is here to make movies or television shows, which hopefully make money.” Juan chuckled. “We have some time. I can show you around a bit if you like.” Juan began walking, and Kendall followed. “If you see filming, just keep quiet, and whatever you do, stay out of the shot.” They wandered down the street of soundstages until they came to the back. “That’s the backlot.”
“It looks sort of like a hollow city,” Kendall said. Of course, what else would he expect? “They’re like stage sets, only larger.”
“Exactly. The front is dressed for the movie, and no one but the crew ever sees the back, so that’s left as it is. Most of what you see as buildings in the movies are just sets on a framework. Most shooting happens on soundstages because it’s so much easier to control everything. There aren’t weather issues, and the light is just the way you want it. But sometimes it isn’t possible, so then films are shot on location. For Stranded, there have been people scouting locations for a month or more now. But Mr. Davidson needs to okay them.”
Kendall nodded, and they walked back the way they’d come. “It’s a bit warm,” Kendall remarked, and he moved into the shade of the large buildings, where it was cooler. He didn’t want to be a sweaty mess for the meeting.
“Sorry, I should have been paying attention,” Juan said and then stopped. “Look, you won’t tell Mr. Davidson about what happened… you know, at the hotel. He’d probably fire me… not that he really knows who I am, but still.”
“Juan, I promise. If things had been different, I’d probably have taken you up on your offer,” Kendall said. “But don’t sell yourself short. You deserve more than….” Kendall swallowed, then said, “Than what you were offering.” He didn’t want to presume anything, but Kendall had an idea that he wasn’t the first guy Juan had propositioned like that.
“What more is there?” Juan asked with a wicked grin, the grown-up version of a kid on Christmas morning.
“Love,” Kendall said. “Someone who’s yours, and yours alone.” He paused and thought about Johnny, smiling at a mental image of him bent over his computer, staring intently at the screen. Then Johnny looked up and smiled at Kendall, the smile that was only for him. It had been a long time since he’d seen that look. Kendall was trying to remember exactly how long when Juan softly cleared his throat. “Lead on,” Kendall said, and followed Juan back.
“Go on inside,” Juan said. “They should be expecting you.”
“Aren’t you coming?” Kendall asked as he walked toward the door and Juan stayed back.
“God, no. I need to get back to my boss, and for this one, you’re on your own.” Juan chuckled, and Kendall pulled open the door, walking inside what appeared to be a small office area.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked as she looked him over and then returned to her computer screen. Obviously she didn’t think he was entitled to her attention. “If you don’t have an appointment, you can have a seat and they might get to you today, otherwise….” She never looked up.
“I’m Kendall Monroe, and I believe I’m expected,” Kendall said in his best New York haughty accent. He’d encountered more than his share of self-important functionaries in his career.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening. That obviously got her attention. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll let them know you’re here.” She stood up and hurried away through a door behind her desk. Kendall looked around. The place seemed more like mobile home chic than Hollywood grandeur. Kendall wondered just what he was getting himself into. Was this some movie they were making on a shoestring? With the money Sal had said was being offered, he hadn’t thought so, but who knew. She returned, and Kendall heard a heated discussion drift in.
“I don’t care. I didn’t ask for him,” a commanding voice said, and then the door closed, cutting off any more.
“They’ll be just a minute. Can I get you something? Coffee, Perrier?” she offered, her change of tone complete.
Kendall stood up. “No, thank you….” He held out his hand, and she stared at it for a second.
“Cassandra,” she finally supplied, taking Kendall’s hand. Kendall had discovered a long time ago that the assistants, secretaries, and receptionists in the entertainment business wielded their own sort of power—access. More than once, Kendall had gotten a leg up on the competition simply because he knew and was on friendly terms with a producer’s assistant. He’d also found it took very little effort to be kind and to see people others tended to overlook.
“Although from the argument I heard, a belt of something might be in order before I get thrown to the lions.” He chuckled and Cassandra did the same as she sat back at her desk.
“They’re all bark and no bite,” she said as she took her seat once again. Then she leaned across her desk. “You seem like a nice guy, so whatever you do, don’t let them push you around.”
Kendall shook his head just a tad. He’d met two people so far, and both of them had told him that. “Thanks,” he said, and Cassandra answered the phone and then hung up again without saying a word.
“You can go on back,” she told him, motioning toward the door. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Kendall said and pulled open the door to a conference room. Three men stared at him when he entered, and once he’d closed the door, they stood up.
“Kendall,” one of the men said, walking around the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Robert Starr, and this is Barty Lippert. We’re the producers of Stranded.” He took Kendall’s hand and shook it warmly. “Barty and I saw your last show when we were in New York,” he said as he looked at the other man, “two, three months ago. It was fabulous, and when we heard it actually closed, we knew we had to snap you up before someone else did.” He smiled, seeming to bounce with so much energy that Kendall couldn’t help smiling too. Then they turned to the third man in the room. “And this bundle of joy is our director, Lyman Davidson.”
“It’s good to meet you,” Davidson said without a hint of sincerity. He also didn’t offer his hand. Robert motioned him to a chair, and Kendall sat down.
“You’ve read the script?” Robert asked.
“Yes. I received a copy from my agent.”
“Then you’ve read it?” he repeated, and Kendall nodded, settling back in his chair. “What did you think of it?”
“Parts of it were interesting,” Kendall said honestly, and all three men looked at each other. “I really like the idea of exploring Parker’s emotions as he’s locked in the car.” His leg shook under the table at the thought of being locked in a car, but yeah, as he’d examined the script on the plane, he’d realized Sal was right and he could use that fear in the character.
“Look,” Lyman snapped as he leaned on the table. “I believe in putting the cards on the table, yeah,” he said in an Australian accent. He’d have been cute were it not for the fire coming out of his eyes. “They’re the producers and they chose you for this role. I get that. But this is my movie and you will do as I say. I’m the director, and it’s my vision for the film that will get it to the screen, not some dancing pansy from Broadway.”
Kendall looked at the other two men, who had gone silent, their praise and fluff withering on the vine. “You’re just a bundle of sunshine, aren’t you?” Kendall said, and he leaned forward on the table. “I think we need to get something straight. I’ve worked with all kinds of directors. Some who were easy to get on with, and some of the biggest assholes in the business, and there’s one thing I know: the shows directed by the assholes all closed fast, because their assholeness made it onto the stage. Or in your case, the film. See, my agent told me who the director was, and I spent the last week watching every one of your movies.” Kendall saw Lyman smile. “And they were interesting, because they’re a reflection of you.
The assholeness came through, big-time. Your characters were all angry even when it wasn’t necessary.” Kendall met the director’s stony gaze with one of his own. “The directors who worked with their cast and pulled the best performances they could from the ensemble? Those shows ran for years.”
“Robert, Barty, I just don’t think this is going to work,” Lyman said to the other two men, and Kendall stood up.
“That’s perfectly fine,” Kendall said. “Just pay me and I’ll be on my way.”
“Pay you?” the producers said.
“Oh yes, read the contract. I did. It states on page eight the amount I will be compensated for this movie, with the first two hundred thousand payable on the first day. I’m here, I’m working, this is the first day. So write me a check and I’ll go back to New York.” All three of the men went white. “Yeah, see I’m from New York, and I might look like I’m fresh from the farm, but I’m not. I’m a professional, and I give each role the very best I can. I also treat everyone with respect,” Kendall said, turning his gaze to Lyman. “So if you want to work together, then treat me with the same respect you want from everyone else, and we’ll make a great movie.” Kendall sat back and let his gaze shift from one man to the next.
“This is going to be perfect,” Robert said with more enthusiasm than he’d had before. Then he stood up, along with Barty, and they left the room. Obviously they were expecting a directorial explosion and wanted to be out of the room when it happened. The door clicked closed, and Lyman stood up, glaring over the table.
“How dare you?” he yelled. “Those films….”
“Were just what I said. They were good and I enjoyed each of them, but I told you the truth,” Kendall said, standing up as well, meeting the director glare for glare. “You didn’t even meet me. You made assumptions about me and had already made up your mind before I ever got in here.”
Lyman huffed through his nose. “So what’s your point?”
“I was hired because I can bring this character to life, and I will, if you let me.” Kendall softened his tone but kept it firm.
“We’ll see,” Lyman said without breaking Kendall’s gaze. “There’s some revisions being made to the script. I’ll make sure a copy is messengered to you tonight.”
Kendall nodded. “Tell them to pay extra attention to pages fifty-six to eighty. The dialogue came off as particularly stilted and plays on some assumptions that aren’t strong enough. I can give you the exact lines if you need them.” They finally broke gazes, and Kendall sat back down.
“I think we’re done here,” Lyman said, and he walked to the door. “I’m reserving judgment, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning. We’re leaving to go on location at eight tomorrow. My assistant will send a car.” Lyman opened the door, and the two producers came back inside. Kendall said good-bye to the three men and left the room.
“You still with us?” Cassandra asked, and Kendall smiled.
“I think so,” he answered and left the office. The car was still parked outside, and the driver opened the door so Kendall could climb inside.
“Back to the hotel, sir?” the driver asked.
“Do you have to be somewhere?” Kendall asked the driver.
“No. I’m at your disposal for the day,” he answered.
“Then could you—” Kendall began, but he was interrupted by a knock on the window. Kendall opened the door and saw Juan standing outside. Kendall motioned him inside and then turned back to the driver. “Could you show me around town?”
“Certainly, what would you like to see?” he asked, and Kendall turned to Juan.
“Take us to Hollywood,” Juan said, and the driver turned around and the car began to move. “How did it go?” Juan asked.
“I’m not sure,” Kendall answered, and Juan looked like he expected Kendall to say more. “Did you get everything done you needed to?”
“I guess,” Juan said, pulling an iPhone from his pocket. He answered a text and then shoved it back into his pants.
Kendall’s phone rang, and he fished it out. “Hi, Sal,” he said.
“I heard you made quite an impression,” Sal told him without any of his usual pleasantries.
“The director was being a total ass, so I used the leverage we talked about. I really owe you one for that,” Kendall said. “I think we’ve come to some sort of understanding, even if it is a cold war. At least he knows I won’t roll over or kiss his boots.” Kendall glanced at Juan and saw him hanging on every word. “How did you find out already?”
“Barty and I are old friends. He found the two of you interesting,” Sal explained. “Watch out for those two. Robert does all the talking, but it’s Barty who has the money and the real power. You impressed him. So, well done, but remember you need to work with Davidson, and he can be a vindictive bastard when he wants to be.”
“I understand,” Kendall said as the limousine stopped momentarily for a light. “I’m supposed to look at locations tomorrow morning. So I suspect I’ll find out then.”
“I suppose you will,” Sal said and then hung up. Kendall disconnected as well and placed his phone back in his pocket, then looked out the window and watched the scenery slide by.
The driver stopped on Hollywood Boulevard, and Kendall jumped out of the limousine. Juan took care of the arrangements with the driver, and then they wandered up and down the Walk of Fame. Kendall couldn’t help reading all the names on all the stars embedded in the sidewalk. At one point he pulled out his phone and dialed Johnny. “Guess what, I’m standing right next to Lucille Ball,” Kendall said as soon as the connection had been made.
“Johnny, I must have picked up your phone,” he heard a strange man say, and Kendall’s heart plunged into his stomach.
“Hello,” Johnny said.
“Who was that?” Kendall asked a little more snappily than he intended.
“Just a research assistant from Columbia,” Johnny whispered. “Did you get there okay?”
“Yes,” Kendall answered. “I met with the director and producers today. Tomorrow I’m supposed to go with the director to look at locations.” He wanted to say that he missed him and needed him, but couldn’t, the nagging doubts inside stopping him. “I didn’t want to call too late.”
“I’ll be up working for most of the evening,” Johnny said. “Have a good trip scouting locations, and I’ll talk to you real soon.”
“Okay,” Kendall said and hung up the phone. When he did, he caught sight of the time. It took him a few seconds to remember that the clock on his phone had reset to local time. He did some quick math and realized it was eight thirty back home. “Research, my….”
“Is something wrong?” Juan said from behind him.
“No,” he lied, placing his phone in his pocket. “Do you think we could get something to eat? I’m hungry, and then I want to go back to the hotel. This time change has me all out of sorts, and I need to be ready and awake in the morning.” Everything told Kendall that he needed to be at the top of his game around the director.
“You don’t want to eat and then go to some of the clubs? Sunset Boulevard is just a few blocks away, and there are some of the best clubs in the city,” Juan told him.
“No, thanks. They’re sending over the revised script, so I’ll have work I need to get done.” What Kendall needed was some time alone to think, not a loud club full of strangers. “Maybe another night, though.” Kendall looked up and down the boulevard, and as the sun sank behind the surrounding mountains, the lights from the signs added a garish quality to everything around him. “Can we go to a place that’s quiet where I can get a good cut of beef?”
“Okay,” Juan said skeptically and called for the car. It arrived a few minutes later, and Juan gave the driver the information about dinner as Kendall settled back in the plush seat. They arrived at a restaurant and had a nice dinner. He and Juan chatted a bit. “Johnny would love this place,” Kendall said at one point and then quickly steered the conversation in another direction.
/> After dinner, he rode back to the hotel and said good night to Juan. “The car will be here at seven,” Juan reminded him. Kendall thanked him for all his help and then walked into the hotel. He stopped at the desk, where he was given a large envelope, and then headed up to his room, where he settled on the sofa with the script.
After an hour he found it hard to concentrate and realized what it was. Always when he read a new script, he settled on the sofa at home, curled near Johnny while he worked. There was nothing he could do about that now, and he wasn’t certain he would have a Johnny to go home to. Pushing his fears and doubts from his mind, Kendall concentrated on the script so he could be ready in the morning.
Chapter 3
KENDALL tossed and turned for most of the night. The bed didn’t feel right no matter which way he lay, and more than once he rolled over to put an arm around Johnny and only came up with an empty bed. Of course, he woke at that point and tried to get comfortable again. But his mind would start running through his suspicions and he’d end up wide awake once again. Once during the night he even went so far as to pick up his phone to call Johnny, just to hear his voice and to ask what he needed to know. But he didn’t. The time change allowed him to sleep in a bit, and he was downstairs waiting when the car arrived.
He joined Juan in the backseat and rode, half asleep, to wherever they were meeting the director. Kendall had suspected they were going to the studio, but the limousine pulled into a diner parking lot. Kendall got out and saw Lyman standing with another man near a huge SUV. Kendall was relieved he’d dressed in older clothes when he saw the other man. “That’s the cinematographer, Guy Reynolds,” Juan said when he got out as well.
Kendall nodded. The two men seemed deep in conversation around a map, and he didn’t want to interrupt them. “Do actors usually go when they scout out locations?”
