Faces in Time (36 page)

“Omar, do you think the other guys are okay with me insisting Rhonda be here even though none of them could bring anyone with them?”

“No, I told them there was some nut following her around and it wasn’t safe to leave her alone. They’re all fine with it.”

“Good.”

“Family’s important, Chester; I wouldn’t have gotten very far without mn. Show business is nuts, and if you don’t have a normal life to go home to after sixteen hours of rewriting a script that just won’t play, you’ll go crazy.

“Back in the early days I embraced nepotism like she was the lone beautiful woman in homely town, and one with beer-flavored lips to boot. Took a lot of heat for that, but Hollywood’s a weird place and you have to surround yourself with people who are more than just honest but actually care if you make it. So why not start with your own family? At least you have years of experience in telling when they’re lying to you,” perfectly timed pause, “Seriously though, having the support is priceless. But, that doesn’t mean that things didn’t get crazy every now and then. I cast my brother as a C-level character in my first series; nothing special, just a classmate of one of the kids—a desk-filler and sometimes a reaction shot, but he was getting a regular paycheck, which was more than he had had for awhile.

“So, one day my brother says to me, ‘Mar, when am I gonna get my check?’

“‘Every Friday just like everybody else.’

“‘I ain’t been paid in two weeks.’

“So, I look into it. I’m thinking accounting’s got their wires crossed, lost a social security number—something like that. Studio swears all the checks had been given to my mother who I hired to work for me in payroll—she served as the bad cop when people needed to be told no or fired or whatever else, which she was good at, and it let me work with my actors without them holding a grudge against me. You know, she could really play the bad guy when it was necessary and didn’t mind doing it.

“Anyway, I go down and ask her about the payroll. She tells me she’s got both of his checks, and she’s not gonna give them to him until he apologizes for getting flip with her in front of the whole cast in the commissary. We were number two in the ratings at that point, fighting it out for the top spot in all of television, and I had to spend half a day getting my brother to tell my mom he was sorry.

“So while it was good most of the time, it was a real sitcom behind the scenes of the TV sitcom. At least it could give you material for an episode of the show sometimes. Dysfunction is the clown-shoed mother of comedy. And your real mother will always let you know you’re still just her kid no matter how big of a star you’ve become.”

David asks, “Is that why you got that pistol? To settle family disputes?”

Sighs, “No, we actually had a little problem with a disgruntled young actor who we cast in a spot and he just didn’t work out. We let him go, and he started making a lot of threatening phone calls. When he slashed some tires in the parking lot, I decided I needed somthing to protect myself. Just in case.”

Silence is given birth as their minds all drift to the current threat on Chester’s life. Chester told Omar and David that he had been making bets with Lucky and that one of the bookies has gone nuts over a loss and has been threatening to kill him. Since David has already met Lucky and witnessed the betting first hand, it was a believable story. Omar told the rest of the staff the excuse of Rhonda having a stalker just so no one would gripe about the rules being bent. He also didn’t see any benefit in informing the staff that the show’s chief creator is being hunted down for his exotic gambling activities.

“Say, David?” Omar starts.

“Yes.”

“I heard a little rumor that you had a star going psycho on you a few weeks back.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Something about a
Most Hipness
rehearsal.”

“Err, yeah, uh, we had a little incident.”

Omar says, “Well, a sleepless night in a parking garage is the most appropriate place to discuss little incidents.”

“Well, there was a car accident that sent a pickup crashing into a fire hydrant and water gushed toward a transformer directly above it, shooting out all power to the neighborhood including our studio…”

Chester’s mind drifts from the conversation to the trouble he’s facing. Bits of the story come in and out his attention.

“…she starts screaming, ‘Get me out of here! Get me out of here, you morons!’...I had no idea she was locked in a dark closet when she was a kid…she didn’t apologize, but the next weekend she threw an incredible party for the whole cast.”

So lost in his wondering where Manny is and what he’s up to, he hasn’t noticed Omar has launched into a show business diatribe.

“…still trying to get those snobs to accept me as a filmmaker—don’t want to let me out of my cheap, flashy, discount store packaging on the TV aisle to be in their fancier venue. My movies all make money—people seem to like them, but all the critics hate’em. They’re comfortable with me where they’ve labeled me, and they become enraged and snarky at the thought of having to reassign me to a new category intheir minds. Guess they have me shoved between two hard posts that are labeled pliable but are solid and cold—there’s not much worse than someone who thinks he’s open-minded and creative but is really closed-minded and chained to conventions.

“Conventions are like a life jacket; sticking to them will keep you afloat long enough to fool most people into believing you know what you’re talking about, but they’ll slow you down if you ever try to race—you’ll never win pulling their weight,” pausing for a moment, “See—that was one heck of a little rant there. Every time a critic complains about one of my scripts saying that people don’t talk like that in real life; I do it all the time—just need a subject that I have a mouthful to say about. Dontcha think so, Cha—I mean Chester?”

“Huh?”

Laughing, “I guess that’s a good answer to all that flew outta my mouth. That’s my wife’s favorite answer when I go off on a tangent.”

“Sorry, Omar, I zoned out, daydreaming—thinking about the lunatic that’s after me.”

Omar says, “It’s alright. Daydreaming’s a big part of our job. Years ago I was arguing with a studio exec about the budget of a show we were shooting on location. I kept arguing that we needed to use a real streetcar for a shot, and he wouldn’t see it my way. He was getting pretty mad at me and told me that my head must either be in the clouds or up a nefarious place in my body, and my response was, ‘I get equal ideas out of both.’”

Laughing, David says, “Hope this morning’s meeting goes as well as yesterday did. We got some great story ideas pitched out yesterday.”

Omar says, “Still need a few more to flesh out the rest of the first season. Speaking of which, we oughtta try and get some sleep so we’re somewhat useful during tomorrow morning’s session, that is if the parking garage pajama party is over.”

“Yeah, I think it’s time we turn in,” David agrees.

They hop off the trunk, one more gingerly than the others, and begin walking to the elevator.

They walk past a stack of morning papers, bundled together and sitting on the ground a few feet from the glass doors to the rear of the lobby and the elevators. Omar fishes one of them out between their confining twine. A picture of Rhonda is on the bottom half of the front page in her bathing suit by the pool. Her picture is next to a photo of the towering façade of the hotel. The headline reads, “L.A. Landmark turns 75.” The article is on the hotel’s seventy-fifth anniversary, and the picture was taken the day before while they were hashing out episode ideas.

Omar says, “Good day for Rhonda with the hotel full of us writer nerds. She was the only star they could get a shot of.”

“My God, what is it gonna take to be free of this?” Chester asks painfully.

“What? The article doesn’t seem so bad, and her bathing suit looks fine. What’s the problem?”

“It’s not that; Manny-the-bookie’s looking for me. If he’s figured out Rhonda’s seeing me, he’ll know where we are
right now
.”

“Look, we told hotel security to be on their toes that there’s some nut following someone here on the retreat around. And, I’ll make sure I’m with you guys the whole time. I don’t go anywhere without this,” tapping his gun on his thigh as he says the end.

“So, are you a good shot, Omar?” David asks.

“At the range twice a week. You know me; compulsive personality. Besides, it’s good stress relief.”

“If you say so.”

“Works for me. Usually a lot more careful with it than this. Just couldn’t see wearing a holster strap with the pj’s—not a good fashion choice. And with all that’s been going on with Chester, didn’t want to come down without it.”

The air seems to get heavy with worry.

“Well, we still better get to bed. Morning’ll be here soon, and we’re supposed to be leading everybody else tomorrow. It’ll kill the room if we’re sleepy and uninterested in their ideas.”

Letting Omar lead the way to the elevator, David asks quietly, “Hey, Chester, are you sure, man?”

“About what?”

David’s uncomfortable look and a nod in Omar’s direction answer Chester’s question.

“Oh, yeah, positive. It’s a done deal; just do it.”

Without looking in their direction, Omar pushes the button for their floor and asks, floorDo what? What are you two doing at four in the morning? Rhonda’s gonna be waiting for Chaz—I mean Chester—with a rolling pin in her hand. ”

The internal cringing inside David can almost be heard in the cramped metal box whose doors are closing and sealing him inside.

Since David seems to be without response, Chester says, “Nothing tonight—just something for tomorrow after the writer’s retreat is over.”

“Really, what’re you guys up to? Anything interesting?”

“Not really. Just something to do.”

“So, let me get this straight. David’s asking you quietly
if you’re sure
about something at four in the morning when we should all be sleeping on the writer’s retreat planning out the first season of both of you’s biggest career project so far, all the while there’s some nut out there trying to kill you over a bet, and you’re trying to tell me it’s nothing interesting? That hound won’t hunt, Monsignor. Spill it.”

They both laugh as they step out of the elevator onto their floor, David doing so choppily and in the fashion of an engine that won’t turn over.

When his uneven laughter subsides, David concedes, “Like every good secret, it’s about a girl.”

“O-h-h,” coos Omar, suddenly with wider eyes and more energy in his demeanor, “It’s about a girl, is it? Well, who is she?”

“She’s a girl that Chester introduced me too. We went out once. It’s no big deal.”

“Well, all that may be true, but it definitely’s a big deal if you were asking in secret.”

“Well, yeah, but not of cosmic importance.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Dave; it is. I wouldn’t have done half the things I’ve been able to do without my wife keeping me sane and going the extra mile taking care of the family while I was in neck-deep trying to save some episode. The right girl makes all the difference. So, do you like her? You must.”

“Sure, she’s really cool.”

“Does she feel the same?”

“I, err, I guess I don’t know. S’why I was asking Chester what he tho—”

“Yeah, she definitely likes him,” Chester interrupts.

“Definitely?” asks Omar.

“Absolutely.”

“Then, why’s David so unsure about it? What do you know that he doesn’t?”