by Unknown
‘Fuck him, fuck this whole piece of shit!’
‘What’s wrong, darling?’
‘He’s fucking drunk! Like those fucking breath mints are going to hide about half a quart of scotch. His fucking eyes are like swimming around. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to act to that?’
‘Calm down, you’ll give yourself a stroke. Anyway, it’s not your problem, it’s Mark’s problem. Let him deal with it.’
‘Who the fuck are you?’ said Bobby, suddenly turning on him. ‘Lee fucking Strasberg, you know so much about acting? Go clean the toilet or something.’
‘Well, pardon me.’
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ chanted Bobby. ‘I’m going to go home, I’m going to get so fucking shitfaced, I’m going to puke and pass out and I’m fucking going into a coma until this all disappears.’
‘That’s the mature way to handle it,’ said Ginger.
‘Are you fucking still here?’ Bobby said to him. ‘Go earn your money. Go do something. Pretend you fucking work for a living.’
‘Have a cup of tea.’
‘I don’t want any fucking tea. I want a fucking six-foot heroin needle. I want death.’
Ginger handed him a cup of tea. Bobby took a sip from it. And another. He put the cup down. He closed his eyes. He leaned his head back.
‘Fuck. Fuck me, fuck me . . .’
‘You want a hot towel? I can put one in the microwave,’ said Ginger.
‘I’m still in makeup. I actually have to go back out there. Can you believe that?’
Annie knocked at the door.
‘What is this?’ Bobby asked her as she came in. ‘Fucking Macy’s Thanksgiving parade?’
‘Did I come at a bad time?’ she said, looking around for help. None came.
‘Whatever it is it can wait,’ said Bobby.
‘I heard he was drunk,’ Annie said. ‘Is that true?’
‘His eyes are sort of rolling around,’ said Bobby.
‘I’ll talk to Mark,’ said Annie.
‘No, don’t fucking talk to Mark.’
‘Well how are you supposed to work like this?’
‘All I need is Mark pissed at me.’
‘Sweetie, Mark is supposed to be doing his job.’
‘Just fucking leave it alone. We’re going to be here all fucking night.’ To Ginger he said, ‘Call Irina. Tell her I’m going to be fucking late. No, screw that, shit, tell her I don’t know when I’ll be there, tell her just to go and have dinner without me.’
‘You don’t want me to talk to Mark?’ Annie said again.
‘No.’
‘Look, there’s something else . . .’
Bobby closed his eyes and threw back his head, moaning at the ceiling. ‘Oh fuck me, fuck me, fuck me . . .’
‘It’s nothing major,’ Annie continued, ‘it’s just that Jurado is coming over here in a minute and he wants you to do him a favor.’
‘Tell him it will cost him,’ Bobby said with a demented gleam in his eye. ‘Tell him I want an arm and a leg, I want to be paid for it, I want a fucking villa in Tuscany . . .’
‘It’s the head of the local Teamsters union. His daughter wants to meet you. She’s a huge fan.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘You make nice to her for thirty seconds, they take a picture, it’s all done.’
‘No,’ said Bobby. ‘And by the way, you’re fired.’
‘Look, Jurado’s having union problems, he needs this.’
‘Fuck Jurado. And fuck that smegma-stained little girl.’
‘She may be legal and gorgeous for all you know.’
‘I’m dating a supermodel. I’m not interested in the daughter of some fat guinea gangster.’
‘Jesus,’ said Annie. ‘You didn’t say that. Tell me you didn’t say that, please. You want us all never to work again? Or dead? These are not the people to piss off.’
A knock and Jurado entered, smiling like Burt Lancaster.
‘Greetings,’ he said.
‘We have a problem,’ Annie said to him.
‘We’ve no problem,’ Bobby contradicted.
‘About what?’ said Jurado.
‘Can we postpone the meeting with the union guy?’ Annie asked him. ‘It’s been a really hard day. I heard Sir Ian is under the weather.’
‘That’s not true,’ Jurado said sharply. ‘I just spoke to him.’
‘He’s smashed,’ said Bobby.
‘That is exactly the sort of thing we don’t need,’ Jurado said to Bobby. ‘You say stuff like that and you’re going to have his attorneys all over you for slander. It’s patently untrue.’
‘Do we have your word on that?’ Bobby asked him.
‘Can we postpone?’ asked Annie.
‘No,’ said Jurado, ‘he’s on the set.’
‘You ever think about asking me?’ said Bobby.
‘I don’t have to ask you,’ Jurado said, angry now.
‘Frank—’ Annie started.
‘Look,’ said Jurado, ‘he’s not the only one with a hard day. I’m tired. I want this thing done.’
‘Kiss my ass,’ said Bobby.
‘Tell him to read his contract,’ Jurado said to Annie.
‘Where does it say in my fucking contract that I’ve got to jump up and do a minstrel show whenever you feel like it?’
‘Tell him,’ Jurado said again. All of the sudden he looked up and around. ‘Why are all these people here? We don’t need all these people. Why is he here?’ he said, as if Spandau had just materialized out of nowhere.
‘Because I want him here,’ said Bobby. ‘He stays. I may have him beat the crap out of you.’
‘What about him?’ Jurado said, nodding to Ginger.
‘I guess I’ll be the one to leave,’ Ginger said breezily.
‘No,’ said Bobby, ‘I want witnesses.’
‘Bobby, this isn’t helping,’ Annie said to him.
‘Helping? I’m not trying to help. I’m trying to get some respect.’
‘Jesus,’ said Jurado. ‘Tell him, Annie.’
‘It is in your contract,’ Annie said.
‘Bullshit.’
‘It comes under publicity and actively supporting the film. I knew you’d be pissed so I ran it by Robert. He says it’s not worth fighting, and it isn’t.’
‘Whose side are you on?’ Bobby said to her.
‘Your side, honey, but that’s what it’s all about.’
Jurado said, ‘In about five minutes, okay? I’ll send them over here.’
‘When that little girl walks in the door,’ Bobby said to him, ‘I am going to flash her. I am going to wave my dick in her face. I swear to you.’
‘Right,’ said Jurado, ‘great. Five minutes. I really appreciate this, guys.’
‘Appreciate this,’ said Bobby, and grabbed his crotch and shook it at Jurado.
‘I thought that went well,’ said Annie when Jurado had gone.
Bobby stood up and announced in an oratorical fashion, ‘I am going to go take a massive shit. With luck, when they get here, this place will smell like the inside of a camel’s ass.’
Bobby locked himself in the bathroom. Annie looked at Spandau.
‘Are you getting all this down?’ she said in an attempt at sarcasm. ‘You did sign a confidentiality agreement, didn’t you? What happens here stays here.’
‘You want to check my references?’ said Spandau. ‘This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. This isn’t anything new.’
‘I’m just saying, a word of this leaks out, one word, and you get buried in a pauper’s grave.’
‘You and Jurado ought to get some new material.’
‘You and Bobby are awfully close, all of a sudden.’
‘I’m supposed to be his bodyguard. That usually entails close.’
‘And why the hell does he need a bodyguard, I’d like to know? Particularly you. You sure you’re not feathering a little nest for yourself?’
‘It would l
ook that way to you.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means I don’t need to explain to you a goddamned thing. It means even if I did, the likelihood of your understanding it is about nil. There’s a whole fucking world outside of Hollywood, lady. Not everything on the planet is run by jackals. Not yet, anyway. You want rid of me, then talk to Bobby. It’s his call. In the meantime, back off. I told you before, I’ve had about all of your crap I’m going to take.’
Annie smiled at him coldly, then went back to the bathroom and knocked on the door.
‘I’m leaving, honey. You don’t need me here for this.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Bobby tiredly, on the other side.
Annie walked past Spandau and out the door. A minute later there was a flush and Bobby came out of the toilet.
‘You two making nice-nice?’ Bobby said to him.
‘Oh, you bet.’
Another knock. Jurado was back with the visitors. He stuck his head in the door. ‘Permission to come aboard?’
Bobby ground his crotch at him.
‘Mind your step!’ Jurado said over his shoulder. ‘Now you’ll get to see how glamorous the stars live, ha ha!’
Jurado came in followed by a thirteen-year-old girl and her father. The father was grinning from ear to ear and the girl was practically apoplectic with excitement.
‘Bobby, this is Mr Waller, and this is his daughter Tricia.’
Bobby made a nice smile. ‘Nice to meet you, Tricia.’
‘Oh . . . my . . . God . . .’
Mr Waller extended his hand to Bobby. They shook.
‘Nice to meet you, Mr Dye. My daughter Tricia here is your biggest fan. We all like your movies, including Mrs Waller and myself.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, my, God,’ repeated Tricia.
‘How are you, Tricia?’
‘I can’t believe it’s you.’
‘It’s me okay. Everybody being nice to you? Showing you around the set?’
‘I’ve been on movie sets before. They’re gross.’
‘It’s what’s on the screen that counts, right?’
‘You’re not as tall as I thought,’ Tricia said to him.
‘Did you get a chance to meet Tiffany Porter?’ Bobby asked her. ‘She’s in this movie too. And Sir Ian Whateley, wow.’
‘He’s, like, way old. He looks like my grandmother.’
‘How about an autographed picture?’ Bobby suggested. ‘I’ve got a picture around here someplace.’
Mr Waller pulled out a camera. ‘We were thinking, if you wouldn’t mind . . .’
‘No, sure, that would be fine.’
Bobby moved over next to Tricia and put his arm on her shoulder. Tricia put her arm around his waist and pushed in close. Very close. Practically humping his leg and smiling at the camera.
Click.
‘Can we get another?’ asked Mr Waller.
‘Sure,’ said Bobby.
Bobby tried to keep his distance from the girl this time but she moved in under his arm and hooked her finger in a front loop of his pants so that her hand rested on his fly.
Click.
‘Well that was great!’ said Jurado.
‘Thank you,’ said Mr Waller to Bobby.
‘No, no, any time.’
‘Will you sign my shoulder?’ Tricia said to Bobby.
‘Tricia!’ said Mr Waller.
‘Well it’s, like,’ said Tricia, ‘just a shoulder.’
Bobby looked at Jurado for help. Jurado looked sympathetic but he shrugged.
‘Gee, Trish,’ said Bobby uncomfortably, ‘maybe we should ask your father.’ There were in fact a thousand headlines involving pedophilia buzzing around in his head.
‘Well,’ Mr Waller said, ‘anything she wants . . .’
Tricia bared her shoulder and gave Bobby a felt-tip pen. He signed.
‘How come you dumped Shania Fox for this Russian babe?’ she asked while he was signing.
Bobby said, ‘It’s been real nice meeting you, Tricia. Thanks for coming to visit.’
Jurado said, ‘Well, we have to let Bobby get to work now. We can’t hold up a big movie like this.’
Jurado hustled them out. As he left he turned to Bobby and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’. Bobby gave him the finger.
‘Did you see that?’ Bobby said to Spandau. ‘Can you believe that?’
‘Your biggest fan,’ offered Spandau.
‘Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me . . .’
Knock. It was the PA.
‘You’re needed.’
Bobby said to Spandau, ‘I am going to blow my fucking brains out. You just watch me. This isn’t worth it. None of this is.’
And he went out.
Ten
It was around ten in the morning when Allison Graff and her four-year-old son, Cody, went into Denny’s Restaurant in Sherman Oaks. The restaurant was busy but there was a small booth in the front and they snagged that one. They were regulars and, anyway, Cody liked to look out the window. A waitress came by and smiled at Cody and gave them menus.
‘I want the Grand Slam,’ said Cody. He knew the menu.
‘You won’t eat all that,’ said Allison.
‘I will,’ he said.
‘I’m hungry.’
‘You’d better eat every bite.’
The waitress went away with their orders. Cody drew on the paper place setting with crayons and Allison stared out the window at the traffic. Terry came in. A booth had just opened up behind Cody and he took that one.
This was going to be Terry’s second breakfast. He had already stopped and eaten at six o’clock that morning at a similar all-night diner in Newbury Park, where he had sat for an hour and a half wrestling with his soul and that small sliver of brain where common sense resided. The sliver lost, and not for the first time. Terry drove back to Sherman Oaks and parked around the corner from her house. He listened to Lightnin’ Hopkins on his iPod and every so often he got out of the car and looked down the street at her place or drove a circuit around the block. He did this for three hours until he saw her come out of the house with the boy and get in her car.
Terry ordered his second breakfast and Allison said to Cody, ‘You wait here, I’m going to go get a paper,’ and she stepped out of the restaurant. Cody watched his mother leave and then stood up on his knees and peered over the back of his seat at Terry. Terry smiled at him. Cody looked at him suspiciously. Terry stuck his tongue out at him. Cody turned around and sat down. Allison came back with her paper and Cody whispered something to her. Allison looked over at Terry and smiled at him.
‘Well, maybe you’re bothering him,’ she said to Cody.
Allison was reading the paper and Cody turned around again to look at Terry, this time sticking out his own tongue. Terry made a ridiculous face at him and Cody laughed.
‘What are you doing?’ she said to Cody. ‘Leave the poor man alone.’ To Terry she said, ‘Is he bothering you?’
‘It’s fine,’ Terry said to her. ‘It’s nice to have someone my own age to play with.’
Allison laughed. Perhaps Terry would have been able to walk away, if she hadn’t done that.
‘You talk funny,’ Cody said to him.
‘I’m Irish. You know where Ireland is?’
Cody shook his head.
‘Well, imagine a country where everybody talks funny and goes around making faces at strangers. That’s Ireland. You’d fit right in.’
As Terry said this, Rosie Villano came by with another girl on their way out. Rosie was a bartender at the Voodoo Room and had been working the night Terry was there.
‘Hey, Allison,’ said Rosie, ‘welcome to Chez Denis.’ To Cody she said, ‘Hey, Cody, my man.’ She smiled at Terry, who smiled back quickly and turned to look out the window.
Allison was friendly enough but the politeness on both sides had a cold edge to it. It was clear they didn’t like each other. ‘Hi, Rose. Yeah, God, we’re in here practically every
day. I should be ashamed. I should be home making him oatmeal or something.’
‘Oatmeal?’ said Rosie. ‘Yech! Got to have them hash-browns, right, Cody?’ To Allison: ‘You working tonight?’
‘Yeah, I’ll be there.’
‘Take care,’ Rosie said. ‘You be good now, Cody.’
Rose glanced again at Terry, gave him a brief smile, and left with her friend.
The food came and no one spoke to Terry again. Allison seemed to avoid looking at him. They ate and at the end of their meal Allison and Cody got up, smiled in passing at Terry, paid the tab and left.
Terry had made contact and that was all he had wanted. To press it any further would have put her off. He knew where she lived now, and knew enough of her routine to be able to find her when he needed. If Rosie had not turned up things might have progressed a little further but probably not by much. Now he was a familiar face, no longer an instant threat. Next time he saw her in here he’d greet the kid and work up a conversation with her. Terry would turn on the charm, make her laugh. Guys trying to pick up women came on like James Bond. Truth was, in this fucking world everybody is afraid of everybody else and all anybody really wants is to feel safe. A woman like Allison – he knew her name now – feels vulnerable all the time. You make her feel safe, you make her laugh, and you’re at the head of the line. A woman once told Terry he had a face like five miles of Kilkenny roadway but he was the only man she’d ever met who knew how to laugh in bed.
Terry left a couple of minutes after they did. In the parking lot he saw her standing next to her car with a tall blond guy. The guy was buff, looked like someone who worked in a gym or an athlete. He had her backed up against the car and was up in her face about something, angry. Cody was sitting in the car, watching all this through the window.
‘I got a note from your goddamn lawyer,’ the guy was saying to her.
‘I have nothing to say to you, Lee. Just go away and leave me alone.’
‘Well, I got plenty to say to you. You think I’m going to roll over for this shit? Where do you think the fucking money is supposed to come from?’
‘Gee,’ Allison said, ‘maybe it’ll come from the same place you got money to screw half the teenyboppers in Santa Monica.’
She tried to move past him to get in the car but he grabbed her arm.
