Celluloid Memories

by Sandra Kitt

  “Hi,” Savannah said, hesitating when Domino beckoned her in. “Are you in the middle of something? I can come back another time…”

  “No, this is fine. I just got in myself. I had a callback and it went longer than I expected. Come on in. Sorry about the mess.”

  Savannah stepped into the apartment, glancing around. She had no idea what “mess” Domino was referring to. The entrance gallery, which led to a sizeable open living room and dining room combination, was comfortable and charming. The only mess was a stack of what appeared to be scripts, a large weaving frame and several baskets filled to overflowing with different kinds of yarns and threads.

  “What’s a callback?” Savannah asked, as she sat on a canvas-covered love seat.

  “It’s after you first audition for a part and the producers like your reading well enough to ask you to come back and read again, sometimes with actors that have already been chosen, sometimes against someone else they’re also considering. It’s nerve-racking. Here’s your shawl,” Domino said, as she unwrapped the one that Savannah had selected at the craft show two months earlier.

  Savannah pulled a check from her tote bag and they made the exchange. “Thank you,” she said, admiring the shawl as if it was the first time she was seeing it. “I don’t know when my girlfriends Donna and Kay are going to get around to seeing what you have, but I know they’re still interested.”

  “They can come over anytime. There’s a chance I might go on location for a few weeks, but I don’t have the shooting schedule yet.”

  “What happened at the callback this afternoon?” Savannah asked, as she rewrapped her shawl and put it into her tote.

  Domino shrugged. “I won’t hear anything for a few days, but I probably didn’t get the part.”

  “Why?”

  “I wasn’t the right type. I wasn’t brown enough.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Domino grimaced good-naturedly. If she was disappointed it certainly didn’t show. “Someone did the Ms. Thang part better than I could. Well, maybe not better, just more convincingly.”

  “What do you mean?” Savannah asked.

  Domino sat on the edge of the chair opposite her and looked directly at Savannah. “Close your eyes and listen.”

  Savannah did as she was told. After a moment’s pause, Domino launched into the dialect and intonation of the street, complete with inflections, vocal attitude and current slang. Savannah grinned.

  “You sound very good to me.”

  “Okay, now watch me.”

  With Savannah watching, Domino repeated the dialogue. The effect was jarring. Savannah heard the words in exactly the same way, but coming out of Domino’s mouth, with her blond curls and white skin, it all seemed a put-on, a fake.

  Savannah winced, and Domino reacted to her inadvertent response.

  “See what I mean?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m used to it,” Domino said smoothly. “It is what it is. I am what I am.”

  “Who do you think will get the part?”

  “A newcomer. She’s gorgeous, of course, but she also has props and authentic ethnic creeds, if you know what I mean. Even her name works. Cherise Kim Daly.”

  “Oh. I know…” Savannah began, but quickly swallowed what she was about to say. “It seems unfair, doesn’t it?”

  “Not really. This is not a fair business,” Domino said dryly.

  Savannah couldn’t help, in that moment, but to draw a parallel between Domino and Rae Marie Hilton. Domino seemed to have a levelheaded understanding of what she was up against, and didn’t rage over what she couldn’t control. Rae Marie, on the other hand, had lived uneasily in her own skin, trying to invent herself and fool the eye. It still wasn’t clear to Savannah whether the actress had ever succeeded at either.

  “If you don’t get the part?”

  “I move on to something else. That’s the nature of the business. I’m doing a TV commercial next month and a few print ads. They pay the rent.”

  “Well, I certainly admire your focus.”

  “Sometimes I think I’m just kidding myself,” Domino said honestly. “Sometimes, I do think about giving up and going back home. I can always open my own shop with my weaving,”

  Savannah stared at Domino with understanding. “But that’s not what you want to do. You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t stick it out ’til the bitter end.”

  “Exactly. What if I give up one day or one month too soon? And to be honest, sometimes it’s not about how talented you are, but about whether you have the right look. Cherise has what the producer is looking for, for this project. He could change his mind next week.”

  Savannah sighed at the uncertainty of it all, and stood up. “Well, I’m not going to stay. What do you do when you’re told you’re not the one?”

  “I don’t take it personally,” Domino said, walking Savannah to the door. “It’s not about me, it’s about the work. Anyway, I am getting work, and I will be filming out of town soon. Gotta keep moving,” she chuckled.

  “Do you think this other actress has what it takes to become a star?”

  Domino was thoughtful as she opened the door. “Maybe. She could make it on her looks, that’s for sure. You know, there are lots of folks who get all the great notices and the spot in People magazine and the great parts, and then suddenly you never hear from them again. There is always another pretty face, or a buff pair of biceps and great abs. There is always, as the saying goes, ‘someone waiting in the wings.’”

  “My father was an actor,” Savannah confessed, somewhat sheepishly.

  “I know. Your last name sounded familiar and I checked it out,” Domino said. “He was great.”

  “To be honest, when my brother and I were kids I hated that my father was an actor. But now I realize how brave he was to risk so much.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re not interested in following in his footsteps.”

  Savannah shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Domino laughed. “It’s kind of refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t have stardust in their eyes. I’m sure your father warned you about the craziness of the business.”

  “No, he didn’t do that,” Savannah said. “But he did say that one of these days I would know what it’s like to hold fast to a dream and not let it go.”

  “Hasn’t happened yet?” Domino asked.

  “Actually, I think I” m working on it,” Savannah said spontaneously. “You’re the first to know, but I’ve just written a film script.”

  “Really? What’s it about?”

  Savannah hesitated, but Domino’s interest sounded real. “Well, in shorthand, it’s about how a woman’s life is ruined when she lies her way into a career, and how she saves herself.” Domino frowned. “I guess that wasn’t a good pitch, and I’m not telling it well, but I think it’s a timely sotry.”

  “I think I understand your theme. Would you mind letting me read it?” Domino asked.

  Savannah felt a jolt of excitement that seemed to light her from the inside; like a premonition.

  “If you really want to. I’d love to get your feedback.”

  “I’d be glad to,” Domino said.

  Savannah held the envelope tightly in her hands and stared at it. The contents represented weeks of writing in a format that was foreign and confusing and much more structured than she was used to. It also represented someone’s life and a cautionary tale of being careful what you wish for. Most of all, as far as Savannah was concerned, the one hundred and seventeen pages also represented a concession to the lure of L.A. and the single-minded dedication it takes to make it. The script she’d written was about coming to Hollywood obsessed with succeeding, blinded by imminent failure. It’s about what happens when the two meet head-on and the end result is not only painful, but self-destructive.

  What happens to the dream then?

  Savannah realized that her stomach felt queasy. She quickly stuffed the envelope back into he
r tote, and shoved it under her desk. That’s where it stayed until just after lunch, when she’d finished reading her third treatment of the day for the development director. The script ideas had been universally terrible, and she’d written as much in her critiques. And yet, the one thing that consistently surprised her was the incredible amount of belief all the writers had in themselves and in their stories. Enough to write them, submit them and take a big chance on rejection, ridicule and the criticism of total strangers.

  Her own father had done it. Domino Hagan did it every day. Even Taj had an outsized belief in himself that had yet to be tested and proven. But it didn’t stop him from having big plans. Cherise Daly apparently had enough gall for several people, and because she did, Savannah was now convinced that the young woman would succeed.

  Coward, Savannah admonished herself. What was the worse thing that could happen to her for having tried to write a film script?

  Savannah waited until the end of the day to decide she had absolutely nothing to lose. And in any case, “nothing ventured, nothing gained,” became a mantra that she used to build courage as she walked down a corridor that suddenly seemed endless. The office door almost near the end was open and Taj sat at his desk playing with the on-line digital mixing of music that only he could hear through his big Bose headphones.

  “Whuzzup, Baby Girl?” he asked, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as his shoulders moved and rolled to the music he was listening to.

  “You’re busy. I can come back,” Savannah said, a sudden feeling of insecurity sweeping over her.

  “Naw, you’re already here.” Taj pressed a button and the noises leaking from his headphones stopped. He pulled them off and left them looped around his neck. “Talk to me.”

  Savannah looked at him earnestly. “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “You know, I do a whole lot of favors for you. When you gonna treat me to that drink you owe me?”

  “Think of it as having a running tab with me. I’ll add this favor to the list.”

  “I’m down with that. What do you need?”

  Savannah slowly held out the envelope to Taj. “I want you to read something for me.” Taj reached for the envelope but she quickly drew it back. “I want you to be straight with me, Taj. If it sucks, don’t be afraid to say so.”

  He peered at her over the top rim of his glasses. “You wrote it?”

  “Yes. But I don’t want that to influence you.”

  “It won’t,” he promised, reaching for the envelope.

  Savannah pulled it back again. “I’m serious.”

  “I hear you,” he said patiently. Arm extended, he wiggled his fingers at her, waiting.

  “Another thing…”

  “Baby Girl, I’m getting old sitting here. If this is something you wrote I promise I will protect it with my life. How’s that?”

  “You don’t have to go that far,” Savannah said, although her voice suggested otherwise. “I just want you to keep in mind I’ve never done this before and I’m completely open to advice.”

  Taj snatched the envelope. “You will not be open to advice. I haven’t met a writer out here yet who doesn’t think they’ve written a masterpiece. That said, I will read it and I’ll be honest, so be prepared.”

  “Thanks,” Savannah said.

  “Hey, I’m taking a chance too, you know. This could be the end of a beautiful relationship.”

  Savannah grimaced at him. “You watch too many movies.”

  But now that the script was out of her hands, she was overcome with fear. Who did she think she was? Hollywood was littered with the walking wounded who claimed to be writers and who believed they had a great project. How many of those projects actually got sold? How many made it into films? How many writers turned their talents to other ways of making a living while they waited for a break? How many gave up, only to slink away in defeat, their dreams and spirits crushed?

  Savannah sighed. “Thanks, Taj. What are you working on?” she asked, as a distraction from her own small concerns.

  “I’m mixing something I wrote with the lyrics from a friend of mine. It ain’t half-bad.”

  “Can I listen to it?”

  He hesitated. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll read your work first, and then, after you hear what I have to say, if you still want a shot at getting even, I’ll play it for you.”

  “I guess that’s fair,” Savannah said. “Well, take your time. There’s no rush or anything.”

  “Yeah. But hurry up,” he added.

  Savannah chuckled. She turned from Taj and headed out of his office as he laid the envelope aside and went back to his music.

  “Hey,” he called out behind her.

  She stopped at the door and glanced back at him silently.

  “What’s it called?”

  “Fade to Black,” Savannah said, spontaneously coming up with a title to her work.

  Taj nodded sagely. “Good title.”

  Is this what people go through? Savannah wondered as she finally walked away. Anxiety and self-consciousness, combined with a false confidence and a starry-eyed fantasy that what they’d created was the greatest thing since chocolate milk?

  She felt sick to her stomach. But she also recognized why.

  Savannah remembered something her father had said that had never resonated with her until this moment. They’d just returned from a doctor’s appointment that had been difficult for him. He was exhausted by the time they’d returned to the house, but he’d insisted on reclining on a lounger by the pool, dozing off and on during the day as it slipped into a magnificent sunset. She’d brought him out a glass of iced tea, ignoring his requests for something stiffer that would have anesthetized some of his pain. He’d stared at her with a sad smile.

  “Thank you, Vann, I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “You don’t owe me any thanks.”

  “I think I do. I cheated you out of a father. I have a lot to make up for and no time left to do it. Honey, I don’t think I had a choice. I had to do what I did. I don’t know if you can ever understand that.”

  “Daddy? Do you ever have any regrets about how everything worked out?”

  “Umph. That’s the first time you’ve called me Daddy since you’ve been here. Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

  Savannah squirmed under his wistful question.

  “Vann, regret is expensive,” he’d murmured heavily. “I don’t regret coming out here to L.A. and giving it a shot. I did okay. But I missed you and Harris. More than you’ll ever know. There’s a moral to my story, baby. I want you to hear it from me before I’m gone.”

  “What?”

  “Hollywood is called an alternative universe for a reason. It’s not grounded in the real world. It’s all about make-believe. Smoke and mirrors. Pipe dreams. Do or die, maybe not in body, but in your soul. Being out here taught me something. Without dreams to chase after, you’re missing out on half of what life’s all about. It’s not about arriving. It’s about the bumpy road to getting there.” He chuckled quietly. “It’s been a helluva ride.”

  Savannah was just pulling out of the parking lot of her studio when her cell phone rang.

  She adjusted her earpiece and flipped open the unit as she drove. “Hello?”

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  Savannah pursed her mouth at the sound of McCoy’s deep voice. “Hi. I’m just leaving work.”

  “So you’re on the road.”

  “Yes. Does it matter?”

  “I wouldn’t want you to have an accident because you’re distracted.”

  “You don’t want to go there,” Savannah said, but recognized that McCoy was teasing her.

  “You’re right. And I don’t want to give you a reason to hang up on me. Tell you why I’m calling. Any chance you’re free sometime this week?”

  “Depends on why you want to know,” Savannah said, frowning at the slow traffic ahead. She made a spur-of-the-moment de
cision to get off the expressway and take local streets.

  “I thought we’d do a field trip out to Inglewood so I can show you the theater named after your father.”

  “Oh.”

  “And I thought that as long as we were out of L.A., we’d drive down to Long Beach. There’s a junior college there where Will Shelton was an adjunct. That’s where I’m from. I know the area.”

  “I knew about the college. I didn’t think there was any reason to see it.”

  “You might be surprised. Interested?”

  “Yes, of course. But are you sure you really want to spend your time chauffeuring me around the county?”

  “Is that a quaint way of saying you’d rather not go, or you’d rather not go with me?”

  Savannah navigated an unexpected end to the street she was on, and quickly made a series of turns. She sighed when she recognized Santa Monica Boulevard.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “We didn’t exactly meet under the best of circumstances.”

  “I thought we’d gotten past that. Don’t forget, I invited you to my house to use the pool.”

  “And I’m going to hold you to it,” McCoy said. “How’s this Saturday for the field trip?”

  “Well…” Savannah hesitated, then suddenly hit her brakes and her horn as another car attempted to cut her off short.

  “I heard that,” McCoy said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I got off the expressway but the side streets are just as bad right now.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Somewhere near Century City.”

  “Wave as you drive by. I’m still at the office.”

  She shook her head but smiled at his foolish suggestion. “Where were we?”

  “Saturday. Inglewood and Long Beach.”

  “It’s very nice of you to make the offer. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Are you fishing for a hidden motive?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but you’re talking about giving up a day of your weekend. That’s pretty valuable time. And I’m sure you have better things to do. And I wouldn’t want to interfere with any plans you already had.”