“You don’t have to do this.” Turner put his hand on the suitcase. “We don’t have to do this. It’s over. Let’s just let it be over.”
James Redfield looked at him and smiled. “Yes, Dave. It’s over, and this is how we end it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Look at me, Dave.” He dropped his eyes to the suitcase. “This is what I want, how I want it to end.”
“You’re sure?” Turner sat in the chair, defeated.
Redfield nodded his head. “This way no one will ever forget and no one will ever have to know the truth. It’s over and no one else has to suffer.”
“I can’t do this alone.” He half begged, half tried to convince himself.
“You’re not alone, Dave.” Redfield turned his face back to the darkness. “It will all just be different. We’ll all have to get used to it, but it’s for the best. You’re in control now.”
“But I don’t want to be in control.” Turner reached out and grabbed Redfield’s arm. “I don’t want it. I don’t want all the deceptions and the lies…Jamey, please.”
Jamey put his hand on Dave’s and gently pulled it from his arm. “There are no more deceptions, Dave. All the lies are gone. We don’t need to tell them anymore. We don’t need to look over our shoulders. All that died with Lucille.”
Dave was trying hard not to let his heart break. “She took my son.”
“We’ll find him. That’s my job now, and this is the best way to do it. I’ll find him and bring him back to you.”
Turner nodded his head. “Why did this all get started and how did it all become such an ungodly mess?”
“We did what we had to do to survive. It’s the name of the game in this town. We didn’t write the rules.”
“We just broke them.”
“We didn’t break any rules, Dave.” Redfield hissed at him. “We beat them at their own game. They said we couldn’t do it. They said we didn’t have the talent and they were wrong.”
He had to agree. “Then they said we’d never do it twice, and ten years later we’re still here and they aren’t.”
“And we own this town.” David could see Jamey smiling in triumph even in the dark. “People barely remember Four Stars Studios.”
“In ten years, with they remember HRT?” Dave asked.
“Of course they will.” Jamey said confidently. “It’s all up to you. You call the shots. We created a company, David Turner. Now, go. Create a legend.”
“We’re do we go from here?”
“Where do you go from here?” James Redfield turned to stare at him with a smile.
“I guess this is it then.”
“Yes. It’s been fun David, but this is what I want. The world will remember me the way I was.”
“But they can fix your face, Jamey. You will work again. We own the most powerful film company in the world.”
He shook his head. “No. Lucille was right.”
“Lucille was an idiot, an idiot and a coward.” David spit.
The fire in Redfield’s eyes ignited the room. “She gave us the out. She knew it was the only way to end it without losing it all. She sacrificed everything, everything for this. She wasn’t a coward, she was a genius and the only one smarter than her is you. Now stop acting like a frightened ten year old and get out there and make it all worth while.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” The remorse in David’s voice was finally real. “What am I going to do with out you or Lucille to keep kicking me in the rear?”
“Oh, things will be different, but whenever you need it, I’ll find a way to deliver a good swift kick now and then.”
Turner nodded his head and stood. “Well, I guess it’s my turn to go and clean up the mess.”
He heard Jamey laugh. It made him smile. He hadn’t heard a genuine laugh from the man in a long, long time. “Just where are you going to start?”
“Well, Lucille bought all these new companies. She claimed they were our future. I guess I’m going to go in the office and figure out what to do with a bunch of television stations. You’re starting a new adventure. I guess I’ll do the same.”
He walked to the door of the hospital room. “Goodbye, James Redfield, it was an honor knowing you.”
“Until we meet again, my friend, until we meet again.”
It would be the last time he ever saw James Redfield, but it wouldn’t be the last time he regretted not disappearing with him.
“Hey there gorgeous.” He beamed. “I was wondering when you’d come back to see me.”
“I’ve been a busy girl, and I knew you were tied up.” She giggled.
“I’m gonna ignore that pun.” Ian took Saxon’s hand as she leaned over and kissed him. “So, how was Disneyland?”
“We had a great time!” Saxon sighed and dumped herself into the chair beside his bed. “Ronnie had a set of ears made for everyone on Earth, but don’t tell him I told you. It’s a surprise.”
“Oh, joy. Just what I need Mickey Mouse ears with my name on them.”
“You’re in Hollywood, Ian. Disney is bound to get a portion of your soul somehow. It’s inevitable.”
“Well, I’m glad you finally got around to my name on your dance card. I was beginning to think you liked my son better than me.”
“Jealous?”
“Maybe just a little.” Ian picked up his cup and drained it. “Could I bother you to refill my water, please?”
Saxon looked around the room and then reached in her purse. “How about a Pepsi instead?”
“You smuggled me a Pepsi?” Ian’s eyes brightened as she popped open the top with a spritz and placed it within his reach.
“If you’ve got a pack a cigarettes in there, I’ll marry you.” He said lifting the can to his lips and taking a gulp of sheer heaven.
“I’ll remember that for next time.” She giggled as she popped another can from of her purse for herself.
“I think Ronnie has a little crush on you.” Ian confided.
“Aw that’s sweet.” She cooed. “The feeling is definitely mutual. He’s so much like his father, except I can swat him if he gets out of hand.”
“He wasn’t any trouble was he?”
“Oh no.” Saxon squeezed Ian’s free hand. “He was wonderful, just a fireball of energy. It wore me out trying to keep up with him.”
“I wish I could have gone with you.” Ian sighed.
“Ian, you and Ronnie will have lots of time to do things together. This was just something I thought I could do for him…and you…to keep him occupied and give Tippy and the boys a free hand today.”
“Have you heard how the clean up and repairs went?”
“I got a text from Jesse saying that everything went fine. Has no one been in to see you yet?”
“Not yet, but I figured sometime soon. The whole clan will show up eventually, hopefully with some edible food.”
“Who won lunch lotto?”
“Ronnie, eighteen bucks and he was right on the money, too. I’m still shocked he even knew what beef stroganoff was.”
Saxon laughed. “I’m surprised the cafeteria knew what beef stroganoff was.”
“Obviously they’ve heard of it. They just don’t know how to make it.” Ian turned up his Pepsi and drained it. “Got another one of these?”
“You’ve guzzled that whole can?”
“Sorry. Sugar and nicotine are rare treats. I’ve had nothing but juice and water for what three weeks now?”
“Here, have the rest of mine.” Saxon poured the dark liquid in his cup. “You’d better be careful Ian. The sugar buzz might send you into orbit.”
“Unless someone unhooks me, I won’t get very far. I’ll just be a sugar buzzed balloon.” He whined. “But, I am told if I’m a good boy they might spring me out of here in a few days.”
“So what another week?” Ian shot her a dirty look. “Well they said if you were a good boy. We both know that ain’t happenin’.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Ian slurped some more Pepsi. “So what’s kept you from my bedside vigil besides my son?”
“I’ve been busy.” Saxon giggled. “We finished casting ‘Hollow Points’ and of course Jeremy and I have been running around trying to tie up loose ends for “Quarters”.”
“So you’re in?”
“Absolutely. You’re not doing this without me. All we need is a director and one more major role. We’ve already set up a meeting with the lawyers to form the company. You know we can do that in less than an hour in somebody’s office?”
“It seems like it should be more complicated than that.” Ian drained the last of his cup. “I’ve got to talk with David Turner or someone from our legal department to make sure I’m not violating my HRT contract.”
“You can guarantee that couldn’t be solved in an afternoon in someone’s office.” She got up to rinse his cup and refill it with cold water from a sweating pitcher, putting both within his reach.
“I’m thinking that if Simon Kent and Baxter Reilly can do it on the sly, there shouldn’t be a problem with me doing it upfront and out in the open if it doesn’t create a conflict of interest. I’m certain there will be a lot more scrutiny of that sort of thing after the ‘Sebastian Manor’ debacle.”
“Speaking of which, have you decide what you are going to fill that hole with? I figure you’ve got what another week maybe two tops before dead air until September.”
“Oh, not to worry. I’ve got it covered.” Ian beamed for the second time since Saxon walked in his hospital room.
“Why Clem.” Saxon leaned in for the juicy details. “I know that look. What have you done in the corn field now?”
“Bessie, I’ve just done what comes natur’ly. I’m replacing ‘Sebastian Manor’ temporarily with ‘Sebastian Manor’”.
“Excuse me?” Saxon’s jaw dropped. “You are not seriously going to replace that tripe with reruns of the same tripe?”
“Not exactly. Wanna see?”
Saxon’s eyes lit up. “Grab that DVD player over there.” He pointed. “Don’t bring it too close. Ronnie let me borrow it and if I break it I have to by him a plasma screen and a new DVD player.”
“Smart kid.” Saxon set the player on the roll top. “What am I watching here?” She said as she expertly set everything up.
“Blake brought me a copy of the first few episodes. Have you ever heard of the website Better TV?”
“The one where they skewer everything in sight?”
“That’s the one. I signed the webmasters to a contract, gave them all the shot footage, every piece we had, turned it over to them and told them to have at it. They just had to wrap it all up by September 19.”
Saxon’s eyes popped. “Have you announced this or at least given the stations warning?”
“Nope.” Ian smiled. “Only six people are watching anyway, and I’m sure they’re all heavily medicated. It stays perfectly within all legal guidelines and at the same time sticks it to Baxter Reilly. He’s gonna have a fit!”
“What about, you know, FCC guidelines?”
“They are keeping it clean, and I have to be honest here.” Ian smirked. “This stuff is great. Logan and Will have taken a piece of absolute crap and turned it into something brilliantly hysterical.”
“It can’t possibly be a bigger bomb than the original.”
“My point exactly. Hit the start button.” Ian refilled his water cup and settled in to enjoy the disk again and gage Saxon’s reaction.
The screen stayed black, but ala ‘Star Wars’ white lettering began to scroll up the screen and a very professional man’s voice began. “And God created the heavens and the earth in six days. On the seventh he rested. On the eighth he looked around and said “What’s this crap?” And He called it…”
The opening credits for “Sebastian Manor” began to roll, causing Saxon and Ian to do the same. What followed was an irreverent bawdy double take of the plotlines. The men had chosen to highlight the stilted acting and camera angles, rearranging plots and dialogue, spoofing the original story and creating several new ones.
In several places, they chose to highlight the really horrendous original plot lulls by speeding up the tape, like someone hit the fast forward button. The 39 minutes of the first episode captured almost the first three weeks of the series. It was side splitting with a few dramatic moments as well. For the first time the story now made sense. It was now not only watch able but was addictive.
When the end credits rolled it was Ian’s turn to look like he had dined on a fat canary. “Well?”
Saxon was wiping her eyes with a silk handkerchief she snatched from her purse. Saxon grinned. “Baxter Reilly will be rolling over in his grave…”
“He’s not dead.”
“Are you kidding?” Saxon said. “The moment he sees the new tag and credits he’ll clutch his chest and keel over, and you know the man will be watching. Has anyone else seen this?”
“Just me and the five guys I have locked away in an editing room. In two weeks this hits the air…”
“And your not doing any kind of promotion?” She asked.
“We’ve deiced to just run the standard bites…I told you no one is watching this to begin with, so we’re just gonna blindside them and see what happens.”
“You aren’t afraid of affiliates thinking there is a problem?”
“We’re sort of warning them. My team is calling and sending letters letting them know that in two weeks to expect a shock and to just roll with it. Most are just relieved they don’t have nine weeks of dead air coming before Blood Kisses.”
“No promo at all?” Saxon was skeptical.
“Well not traditional promo…we’ve decided to promote it within the source. We aren’t warning the soap mags, who are filling their pages with wonderful rumors of no one knows what’s next…blah blah blah…actually causing great anticipation, we may even see rating spike the next couple of weeks of curious cats trying not be killed.”
“Nothing else?” Saxon asked.
“Not for the traditional sources, any time we get a call or a reporter drops by we just give them the lowdown on Blood Kisses completely side stepping any information on Sebastian Manor.” Ian told her.
“And if they ask point blank, you just tell them point blank…?”
“We respond as if we have no idea what they are talking about. As far as the new Manor, we are letting bloggers and You Tubers stir each other up, letting it leak that they are in charge…we’ll just see what happens.”
“What have we got?” Andy asked Balouche already on the scene.
“Jane Doe, we’ll do the usual.” Balouche lit up a Marlboro. “Take a few pictures, haul the body away and not waste anymore time.”
The junior partner stepped toward the body and crouched down. The smell was overwhelming. He should have been used to it by now, but every time the stench found a new way to turn his stomach.
“This looks pretty brutal, Balouche.”
“Probably just a hooker picking up a john hopped up on something. Got ugly, left an even uglier mess. No need to spend unnecessary tax dollars. We’ll write it up and unless something unusual pops up, we move on. Too much going on in this town to spin our wheels on a dead end.”
“I don’t see a purse or any sort of identification.”
“I doubt we’ll find anything. If we’re lucky her fingerprints will turn up a name. If not maybe someday someone will come looking for her.” He crouched down beside his partner and looked at the decaying corpse. “Not much of a face left, doubt anyone would recognize her.”
“Shame.” Andy stood. “Everyone deserves justice, especially for something this brutal.”
“Just fill out the paperwork and walk away. It’s a little more brutal than normal. Someone crushed her face in, otherwise it’s just more of the same.”
Andy sighed and stood “CSI finished up?”
Balouche nodded. “You might as well go back to the office and sharpen your pencil. I’ll take a few more notes and that’ll be it.”
A mousey man with thick glasses slipped back under the yellow tape. “You finally decide to make an appearance?” He directed toward Andy.
“Came as soon as I got the call.”
“Must have been doing something, Balouche made it here an hour ago.”
“Got here as soon as I could. Anything unusual, or is this as run of the mill as Balouche says.” Andy looked over at Balouche who had wondered away from the scene and was on his cell phone.
“This is anything but run of the mill, Andy.”
“Balouche says…”
“Screw Balouche. The victim died here, but there’s a trail of blood and chaos at least a mile long in this maze. My guess is the killer thought the woman was dead, she obviously dragged herself or crawled into this dead end. The killer came back, found her still alive and crushed her skull in with his boot.”
“What makes you say that?”
The man jerked his head, signaling Andy to follow him. They crouched down over the body again. “See here? The perp took the time to wipe his feet off with her sleeve. She was leaned up against the brick wall and then slumped over after he took his heel to her face.”
Andy looked up and around. “What’s this?” He pointed to the wall. “It looks like writing.”
“Probably just some graffiti. The blood and brain matter from her head has covered most of it.”
He bent closer and shook his head. “Newman take a closer look at this. There’s lettering written in blood.”
Newman cocked his head. “Barker, you get a good shot of this wall?” When the photographer nodded, he looked back at the body. “The index finger of her left hand looks like she dipped it in blood.”
“Was she trying to leave a message?” Andy looked at him.
Newman scrapped several places on the wall and dropped the shavings into marked plastic bags. “Don’t know if we’ll ever know for sure.”
“What are you jerk offs doing?” Balouche appeared.
“Looks like the victim tried to leave a message of some kind.” Newman continued taking samples from the wall.
“Don’t waste more time, Newman.” Balouche scolded. “The body’s been here a long while, we’re probably not the first to run across it. Some kids who watch ‘Ghost Hunters’ probably thought it was funny.”
“Peyton,” Andy tried to convince him. “Look at her finger, she definitely was trying to write something on this wall in her own blood.” Balouche rolled his eyes. “Take a look yourself.”
The senior partner bent over and glanced at the wall. “I don’t see anything that can’t be explained by normal blood patterns. As for her index finger, she probably touched herself. Stop wasting time, wrap it up.” Balouche stepped over the body and walked out of sight.
Newman looked at Andy. “The Big Kahuna has spoken, but get as many pictures as possible.”
Two men approached with a gurney and a body bag. “Can we get the body to the lab now?”
Reluctantly Andy nodded. He stared at the wall as the men busied themselves. Andy turned to look at them when he heard the plastic bag unzip. “Wait!”
The men stopped immediately. “Newman, look at the victim’s height compared to the writing on the wall.”
“What?” Newman was puzzled.
“Where was her head when the attacker crushed her skull?”
Newman pointed, “About here.”
“And where is the message she allegedly wrote?”
“Six to eight inches…” Newman turned and looked at the body. He looked back up at Andy and grinned. “Lasko, get back over here with that camera.”
When the photographer returned Andy looked at the men from the morgue. “Gentlemen, turn her over…very carefully.”
“What?” It was one of the attendants turn to question.
“We think before she died she tried to leave a message.”
“What kind of message?”
“Turn her over. Her back was to it when her skull was crushed. The final blow ran down over the message, but with any luck…”
The body was reverently and respectfully turned over. The camera flashed several times.
Newman whistled. “This chick may have gotten herself killed, but she was brilliant.”
Andy grabbed the photographer. “Do not under any circumstances put any copies of this on Balouche’s desk. Put them on disk and bring them straight to me.”
“Something up Andy?”
“Not sure, but for the third time, Balouche has just been a little too eager to gloss over a few things I feel are important. He wants me to do the paperwork. I do the paperwork, this time from my notes, not his.”
Newman took one last look as the body was placed properly in the bag and zipped up. “Three words, the last two garbled the first is pretty clear. Think there’s a connection?”
“If this were graffiti I’d say no, but positive it was written in her own blood just before she died I’d say definitely.”
“I can have a definitive answer for you on that one in a few minutes once I get back to the lab.”
“Then get back to the lab, Newman, and once again all information comes directly to me.”
“Gotcha, Andy.” Newman darted away as Andy opened his notebook and scribbled down the letters he could make out.
“Balouche maybe be trying to make everyone look the other way,” he said to himself on his way back to his car. “But as far as I’m concerned, there are too many people dropping the name Hutton before they drop dead around here.”
“I got a call from Scott Topper today.” David Turner mentioned as he put the rest of the paperwork into his attaché.
“Oh?”
“He asked for Simon Kent, fortunately he then asked for you and they transferred the call to my office.”
“I guess that slipped my mind.” Ian admitted. “Sorry, for some reason anything with the name Simon Kent attached self-deleted from my memory banks.”
“He says he’s very interested. I told him I would be speaking with you today and I’d call him back. You want to let me know what’s going on?”
“Kent’s pilot…”
“The God awful thing with the women in bras shooting up Laguna Beach?”
Ian laughed. “Actually yes. Have you by any chance seen the original script before Kent’s people got hold of it?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“That script had potential. I think if we went back to the original title and the original concept, it could be a winner.” Ian signed one more document and handed it back, where it was placed with the others.
“You actually saw something in that garbage that made you track down the original script?”
“Yes. It had this quirky maze like mystery, dump all the surgically enhanced mannequins reciting monosyllable dialogue, and I think there might be something compatible with “Hollow Points”.
“Having a Scott Tupper project on our schedule would bring another demographic to the fold.” Turner admitted. “I don’t see it, but if you do and Tupper does…”
“If it hadn’t piqued Tupper’s interest I would have just let it die. The money spent on the original pilot is wasted, but it was an in house project so I’d like to give Scott Tupper a crack at it.”
Turner nodded. “I’ll make I happen.”
“Thank you.” Ian said. “Now, along those lines, I need to find out if something that I’ve been asked to do, that I want to do is legal, as far as my contractual agreements with HRT.”
“You’re not thinking of leaving us already…”
“No…no…absolutely not. I understand my place here, and cherish it, but a couple of friends and I have found a film script. We are financing it ourselves…I’m just not sure if I can legally be a part of a production agreement while under contract to HRT.”
“These friends, are they bound contractually to any other studios?”
“No, just me…and I’ve signed the writer of the script to a retainer. It’s another Jenson Michael script.”
Turner nodded his head. “That man will be a legend in less than a year.” He sighed with a smile. “As long as you haven’t signed a deal directly with another company, you are free to do what you like. I would hope that you would give our distribution department first look rights, out of courtesy….”
“Absolutely, but I can tell you in all honesty that this isn’t anything that HRT would be interested in. In fact, even after we get this done, my guess is that it’s going to be pretty difficult to get distribution.”
“But you feel strongly enough to make the film anyway?”
“If we don’t no one will, and someone has to do this. I want it to be me. I didn’t realize how much until I got asked to be a part of it.”
“What do you have lined up?”
“It’s still very much in the ‘hey kids, let’s put on a show’ stage, but we have a script and two of the three leads and seriously that may be about as far as we get. This project is raw, raw but dynamic, I’m sure most people wouldn’t even touch it.”
“Rather risky for a novice…”
“But one I am willing to take. If I’m not getting into any legal risk with HRT, I’m free to pursue this, and I will pursue it to the end. Live or die.”
“Financing going to be a problem?”
“Ironically, I don’t think so. It won’t be an expensive film, and between the three of us committed we will literally only be risking our own bank accounts.”
“Director attached?”
“No, although Jeremy says he’ll do it if he has to to get it made.”
“Jeremy Tyson?”
“Yes.”
“He’s the committed partner?”
“Yes and Saxon Allen.”
“Ian, with people like that committed, you shouldn’t have any problem getting any one involved. They’ll be falling over themselves…”
“You’d think, but this is not your ordinary Jeremy Tyson action film and nowhere near a Saxon Allen romantic comedy. Mr. Turner this could easily be “Heaven’s Gate” only with drugs, graphic sex and an barely hopeful ending.”
Turner tapped his cane of the floor and chewed on his thoughts a moment. “The three of you believe in this project strongly enough to risk ending two brilliant careers and killing another just as it’s getting started?”
“Yes sir.”
“Okay, I’m in, too…”
“Excuse me?”
“You need a director, don’t you?”
“Well, yes…”
“I’m a director. I haven’t as much as directed a television commercial since before you were born, but I achieved a little respect.”
“Mr. Turner, I think 2 Oscars and 6 Emmys adds up to achieving just a bit more than a little respect.”
“So let me on board and you’ve gained a distribution guarantee.”
“I would love to call Jeremy and Saxon right now and say guess what my uncle’s gonna let us use his barn, but I can’t accept your offer. Mr. Turner, you don’t know the story…”
“Give me a script, and the right to back out if either of us thinks it’s something an old codger like me can’t handle.”
“I have no doubt you could handle it, I just think that maybe you wouldn’t want to.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Make the call….”
Ian took Mr. Turner’s cell phone and dialed Blake’s number. He asked Blake to make another copy of the “Quarters” script and messenger it to Mr. Turner’s home address. Mr. Turner patted Ian on the head, and told him he would speak to him in the morning. He’d be joining in with the morning power conference call, and then they would meet to discuss projects.
“I look forward to working with you my boy. It’s time for an old dog to teach a new one all the tricks…” he said as he walked out the door.
Ian heard Turner say goodnight to Ripley, who peeked his head in. “Mr. Ian, I’ll be saying goodnight as well. Noseworthy’s here, and I’ll be calling it a night.”
“Ripley…could you sit a minute?” Ian asked.
“Of course.” He took a seat next to the window.
“How’s your sister? Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you for asking.”
“Uh…Ripley…I’m going to be going home soon…I know I’ve been fighting and whining about wanting my space and privacy and I do want those things, but now that it’s going to happen I have to admit that…”
“Maybe it’s not such a good idea?”
“No…it is a good idea…I can’t continue to be a victim, but I’m swallowing my pride and admitting that I can’t do it alone…”
“Are you asking me to marry you, sir?”
Ian laughed, “Oh but that we were the marrying kind, Ripley…actually I want to hire you, full time…”
“Excuse me?”
“I know you have a good job with Kellen, and money’s not an object. I just got a massive promotion and a whopping raise. I can match his salary and benefits package, and pretty sure I can exceed it as well. We could even work it out so you could still work for him if you want. “
Ian admitted. “Basically, I want someone I trust and that I like at the house. You wouldn’t be on guard duty twenty-four hours a day, but you wouldn’t be a paid companion either. You could come and go as you please. You be more of a personal assistant, do things I can’t do either on my own or for whatever reason…”
“You mean live in the house with you?”
“Yes and Ronnie, he adores you and I trust you with him. There is plenty of room, I could hire someone to renovate so you’d have your own private quarters eventually. It would just comfort me, let me rest easy knowing that someone I trust, someone I consider a part of my family was there, watching out for me when I get stupid…”
“Mr. Ian…”
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’re the only one I trust enough to make the offer to…”
“I’d be honored.”
“You would?”
“Yes. And quite frankly, I’ll get a little more peace of mind being there. You’re a quite little devil, emphasis on the devil part…”
“I’m sure there will be some kinks to work out…”
“Mr. Ian, about Ronnie…”
Ian leaned back on the inclined bed. “Is there going to be a problem?”
“No.” Ripley put his elbows on his knees and his hands together. “No, not at all. I just wanted to tell you that the fact that you trust me with him, that you think it’s okay for a guy like me to be around him and consider me a part of the family. I don’t know what to say.”
“Ripley, you don’t have to say anything. You’re actions have spoken so much louder than any words. I don’t expect you to be a “manny” or whatever they call it, in fact I’m not exactly sure what your duties include, except that you be there, being you making sure that we’re safe.”
“As long as I’m around, be assured nothing will ever happen to you or Ronnie that I can possibly prevent.”
“That’s all I ask. Of course, if something should happen to the cat…” Ian reached out his hand and Ripley shook it. “Now go. Go get some rest, see your sister and tomorrow we’ll start figuring it all out.”
“Thank you, Ian.” Ripley stood and walked to the door. He started to stop and say something, but Ian got the feeling he was a little emotional about it. Ripley just nodded his head and left.
“We may have a problem.”
Bruno wasn’t happy. “What sort of problem?”
“We found Ella earlier this afternoon.”
“And?”
“This may be a little difficult to just dismiss. You got a little messy, and missed something.”
Bruno laughed. “I never miss anything. Granted she was harder to squash than Mighty Mouse, but I finally managed it. She didn’t know anything, I’m certain of it.”
“Maybe, maybe not, anyway she’s dead.”
“And unidentifiable. I made sure of it. No one’s going to worry about another dead hooker.”
“Then why suddenly is everyone interested in the case?”
“What?” Balouche sat up.
“All I know for sure is, the captain walked in the office ordering Mitchell and I to turn over all evidence and then in no uncertain terms to back off.”
“For a dead Jane Doe?”
“You missed something Bruno…now this whole thing may just implode.”
“I forgot nothing!” He slammed his hand down on his desk, then looked around to make sure it didn’t attract anyone’s attention.
“Ella left a message.”
“No she didn’t…wait a minute. Her purse, I never went back and looked for the purse.”
“Not it. My guess is it’s in river or some bag lady’s shopping cart. She scrawled a message on the wall she was leaning up against.”
“I admit I thought she was gone, so I left for a few minutes and came back. I saw her smearing her blood on the cement, but she leaned against the wall. I’d have smeared it unreadable myself, but her own head managed to do that for me.”
“She was wearing a linen blouse, you asshole. It wasn’t totally readable but her blood was fresh enough to soak right in and she had enough life left in her to pull away from the wall before her own brain washed away all traces.”
“She fingered us?” Bruno was nervous.
“No, but the one readable word was enough to warrant someone else handling the case. I think they’re connecting Blue and Ella together.”
“Why?”
“Hutton, you idiot. The first word she scrawled was Hutton…”
“They’ll never identify her. She was too clean. They won’t be able to match fingerprints, I made sure that was the only way they could identify her.”
“Let’s hope so.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve covered our tracks too well, the only connection they can make is the name Hutton, they can’t connect anything else unless they make an identification.”
Bruno thought a moment and smiled. “You’re probably right.”
“I think we should back off for awhile.”
That was exactly what Bruno wanted to hear. “You’re right. Just in case, let’s do a little clean up. Call me when you think we can get together and close down the apartment.”
“Yeah, that’s best. No need to take chances. I’ll keep my eyes out here, make sure they don’t make anymore connections.”
“We’ll ditch everything from the apartment and then when the dust has settled, we’ll hit hard and fast one more time.”
“Once we get that apartment cleared out, maybe there’s a way we can use it to implicate Justyn in all this after all. He was meant to be the fall guy for the paycheck scam, I’m sure I can figure out a way for him to take the fall for everything else.”
“I have every confidence in you. You’ve been the brains so far.”
“It was your idea. I just figured out how to do it. Give me 48 hours and then we’ll meet up at the apartment.”
“You got it.” Bruno smiled as he closed his cell phone. He couldn’t help but laugh. P.T. Barnum was right. There is a sucker born every minute.
He checked to make sure no one could over hear his conversation and then made another call. “Clare? I think you’re right, dear. Go ahead and do what you think is best. You let me know when it’s time and I’ll carry it through, just like you planned.”
Bruno rolled his eyes while she chatted awhile. He finally got her off the phone, convinced she had made the plan and that was calling all the shots.
He tossed his cell phone down on his desk and propped his feet up. As he slipped his hands behind his head he sighed in happiness. “Clare, Clare, Clare…you are even dumber than Peyton Balouche.”
Monday, February 28, 2011
Vignette #163: Monkey's Ears
“Guess where I been?” Ronnie asked, wearing an unending grin and Mickey Mouse ears.
“Hmmm…let me see.” Jesse said walking in a circle around him. “You smell like fudge, Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory?”
“No! Disneyland!” Ronnie somehow managed to grin even more. “The real one, not the fake one in Florida. Aunt Saxon took me.”
“She did?” Jesse sat on the bed. “I take it you had a good time?”
“We had a great time!” Ronnie pounced on the bed beside him. “Aunt Saxon is so much fun, almost as much fun as Disneyland.”
“Did you stop by and see your Papa?”
“Of course.” Ronnie rolled his eyes.
“How’s he doing today?” Jesse leaned back on his hands.
“Pretty good.” Ronnie flopped on his back. “He’s bored, but Uncle Jeremy is there and Mr. Ripley brought me home. He’s cool, too, ya know.”
“I guess when Saxon is there your Papa isn’t bored.”
“Probably not.” Ronnie flipped over on his belly and wriggled around until his head was facing the same direction as Jesse. “Do ya think they’ll get married?”
“Your Aunt Saxon and Ripley?”
“No, Papa and Saxon.”
“I don’t know.” Jesse took Ronnie’s mouse ears and put them on. “They seem to be the only ones who don’t see how perfect they are for each other.”
Ronnie nodded his head and grabbed his ears back. “Guess, we shouldn’t push it, should we?”
“Probably not.” Jesse grabbed the ears back. “Would you like that? If your Papa and Saxon got married?”
“Sure.” Ronnie hopped off the bed and opened up a bag he’d dropped on the chair when he bounced in the room. “She way too cool and the prettiest woman in the world. I think she’d make Papa happy. He needs that, and that would make me happy.”
Ronnie took his ears back and pulled another set out of the bag with Jesse’s name on it. “These are for you.”
“You got me my own ears?” Jesse smiled.
“Course I did.” Ronnie sat down next to Jesse as he put them on. Ronnie smiled and leaned against him and put his head on his shoulder. “You snore and your feet are cold, but I love ya.”
Jesse put his arm around the boy and squeezed him. “Love you, too, monkey. Hey let’s go somewhere with our ears on.”
“Cool! Where?”
“Any place you want to go.” Jesse smiled.
“Let me think on it.”
“Ronnie, does your Papa ever talk about his family?”
“Family?”
“You know, any other relatives besides you and his Uncle Nate?”
Ronnie shook his head. “There ain’t any that I know of.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure.” Ronnie sat down beside him. “Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“Uncle Jesse?”
“Yep?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Nothin’ really.” Ronnie looked at his face. “Ya just seem like there’s something way back in your head that you ain’t sure…” He corrected himself. “That you’re not sure you want to talk about.”
Jesse sighed, then grabbed Ronnie around the shoulders and yanked him close. “Oh, monkey, I think all this stuff, the stuff that happened to your Papa…”
“It’s a little hard to think about.”
“Yeah. It was scary.” Jesse kissed the top of Ronnie’s head. “Didn’t it scare you?”
“Yeah, but I knew everything was gonna be alright.”
“How did you know that?”
Ronnie took a deep breath. “Cause I’m pretty sure God didn’t put all of us together just to rip us apart so soon. He don’t go back on miracles. It ain’t the way God works.”
Jesse nodded his head. “You’re a smart kid.”
“I just got faith.” Ronnie smiled and took Jesse’s face in his hands. “I know no matter what, everybody is where they belong. Everybody is whirlin’ around in the world for a reason, not all of it good, but it’s all because of something that has to be.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“If ya forget. I’m right here.” Ronnie switched hats. “I think I like yours better. I’m gonna go give Granny and Poppy their ears, then let’s go get hot dogs and walk down that street with all the stars names in the sidewalk.”
“You got it, Monkey.”
Jess grinned as Ronnie snatched up his plastic bag and tore out of sight. He got off the bed and shut the door to his room. He got on his knees at the dresser and pulled the bottom drawer all the way out, off the tracks and into the floor.
He reached in a picked up the yellowing envelope he had hidden there. “So if I drop this bomb, does it destroy everything? Or is it just meant to be?”
“Hmmm…let me see.” Jesse said walking in a circle around him. “You smell like fudge, Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory?”
“No! Disneyland!” Ronnie somehow managed to grin even more. “The real one, not the fake one in Florida. Aunt Saxon took me.”
“She did?” Jesse sat on the bed. “I take it you had a good time?”
“We had a great time!” Ronnie pounced on the bed beside him. “Aunt Saxon is so much fun, almost as much fun as Disneyland.”
“Did you stop by and see your Papa?”
“Of course.” Ronnie rolled his eyes.
“How’s he doing today?” Jesse leaned back on his hands.
“Pretty good.” Ronnie flopped on his back. “He’s bored, but Uncle Jeremy is there and Mr. Ripley brought me home. He’s cool, too, ya know.”
“I guess when Saxon is there your Papa isn’t bored.”
“Probably not.” Ronnie flipped over on his belly and wriggled around until his head was facing the same direction as Jesse. “Do ya think they’ll get married?”
“Your Aunt Saxon and Ripley?”
“No, Papa and Saxon.”
“I don’t know.” Jesse took Ronnie’s mouse ears and put them on. “They seem to be the only ones who don’t see how perfect they are for each other.”
Ronnie nodded his head and grabbed his ears back. “Guess, we shouldn’t push it, should we?”
“Probably not.” Jesse grabbed the ears back. “Would you like that? If your Papa and Saxon got married?”
“Sure.” Ronnie hopped off the bed and opened up a bag he’d dropped on the chair when he bounced in the room. “She way too cool and the prettiest woman in the world. I think she’d make Papa happy. He needs that, and that would make me happy.”
Ronnie took his ears back and pulled another set out of the bag with Jesse’s name on it. “These are for you.”
“You got me my own ears?” Jesse smiled.
“Course I did.” Ronnie sat down next to Jesse as he put them on. Ronnie smiled and leaned against him and put his head on his shoulder. “You snore and your feet are cold, but I love ya.”
Jesse put his arm around the boy and squeezed him. “Love you, too, monkey. Hey let’s go somewhere with our ears on.”
“Cool! Where?”
“Any place you want to go.” Jesse smiled.
“Let me think on it.”
“Ronnie, does your Papa ever talk about his family?”
“Family?”
“You know, any other relatives besides you and his Uncle Nate?”
Ronnie shook his head. “There ain’t any that I know of.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure.” Ronnie sat down beside him. “Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“Uncle Jesse?”
“Yep?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Nothin’ really.” Ronnie looked at his face. “Ya just seem like there’s something way back in your head that you ain’t sure…” He corrected himself. “That you’re not sure you want to talk about.”
Jesse sighed, then grabbed Ronnie around the shoulders and yanked him close. “Oh, monkey, I think all this stuff, the stuff that happened to your Papa…”
“It’s a little hard to think about.”
“Yeah. It was scary.” Jesse kissed the top of Ronnie’s head. “Didn’t it scare you?”
“Yeah, but I knew everything was gonna be alright.”
“How did you know that?”
Ronnie took a deep breath. “Cause I’m pretty sure God didn’t put all of us together just to rip us apart so soon. He don’t go back on miracles. It ain’t the way God works.”
Jesse nodded his head. “You’re a smart kid.”
“I just got faith.” Ronnie smiled and took Jesse’s face in his hands. “I know no matter what, everybody is where they belong. Everybody is whirlin’ around in the world for a reason, not all of it good, but it’s all because of something that has to be.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“If ya forget. I’m right here.” Ronnie switched hats. “I think I like yours better. I’m gonna go give Granny and Poppy their ears, then let’s go get hot dogs and walk down that street with all the stars names in the sidewalk.”
“You got it, Monkey.”
Jess grinned as Ronnie snatched up his plastic bag and tore out of sight. He got off the bed and shut the door to his room. He got on his knees at the dresser and pulled the bottom drawer all the way out, off the tracks and into the floor.
He reached in a picked up the yellowing envelope he had hidden there. “So if I drop this bomb, does it destroy everything? Or is it just meant to be?”
Vignette #162: Playing Quarters
“So Susan’s excited about the new album?”
“She is. Marc from your old band, El Toro, is producing. She hasn’t recorded in so long. Thank you, thank you for getting my wife back where she belongs…”
“I’m just thrilled. I can’t wait to hear her voice again. It’s been absent way too long, and I think we’ve got a winner in what we’ve cooked up.”
“She hasn’t been this excited since she found out she was pregnant with Charlie.”
“I have to be honest, Jeremy. I’m excited to be working with her as little as I am. A lot of things seem to just be falling into place.” Ian winced. “You know I really hate that term, especially since I physically lived it.”
“You’ve been a busy boy.”
“You’re turn…anything in the works?”
“Not yet. Had lots of offers, but nothing excites me, lots of the same old crap. I’m getting too old and too bored with most of it. I need something I can sink my teeth into.”
Ian thought for a moment. “Okay, can I show you something? Something very different, maybe not your cup of tea, but I can’t get it out of my mind…?”
“I am very open to anything you can’t stop thinking about….”
“Hand me that tote.” He pointed to the tote that Blake had brought that morning. Jeremy sat it on the bed and Ian started rummaging through it.
“This is a new writer, one I’ve just put on retainer and talked him into bringing me just about everything. I retained him after one script, pretty run of the mill, but some really unique ideas. This stuff, this stuff he wasn’t trying to sell, it all just…I don’t know…blows my mind….”
“He wasn’t trying to sell…”
“Gut feeling. Everyone compromises somewhat on the first sell. I told him I’d put him on retainer if he brought me everything that he’d written but hadn’t tried to sell. My hunch paid off, a lot of really great stuff…this is it…Quarters…”
“Quarters?”
“Title….” He hadn’t the script to Jeremy. “Now I don’t have Jenson’s permission to let anyone else read his stuff. This one, this is just wow…edgy, sexy, funny and I think very personal.”
“Sounds great…”
“Now you would never ever in a million years do this movie, I’ve showed it to Saxon…”
“And…?”
“She loved it, but agreed it was totally uncastable. I think that maybe once you read this you and he might be able to get together and create something, something that will excite both of you.”
“Personal, you said…”
“This just rings to realistic. I’m wondering if maybe it isn’t a little autobiographical, and I really should ask him if I could let someone else see it first. So if he turns me down, we’ll have to figure something else out…”
“Especially since you seem to be handing it out like breath mints at a Garlic Festival…. Okay Mr. Executive, give me the run down….”
“The short sell is a guy getting involved in something and letting it take total control of his life. It destroys everything, including his wife and best friend, and then how he pulls himself out of it and attempts to go on…”
“It’s not one of those drug or alcoholic things?”
“Nope, although he does get involved with drugs, he gets wrapped up in porn.”
“Addicted to watching….”
“Uh…no…. performing….”
“Ah, a porn star…”
“No not really….”
“Computer downloads…amateur stuff actually…” a third voice entered the room. “And they prefer the term Adult entertainment, but that’s just a term like sanitation engineer, its still means garbage man.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Tyson, I’m Jenson Michael.”
Jeremy shook his hand. “Good to meet you, and call me Jeremy. Ian was just filling me in on how profound he thinks your work is, particularly this script.”
“Thank you, both.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I think now is the time to ‘fess up. It’s very personal, and it will haunt me forever. I try not to be ashamed, and in many ways I am not, but I know that it will haunt me for the rest of my days…”
“Jenson, this…” Ian pointed to the script now at Jeremy’s side “This is just brilliant…”
“But no one would touch it in a million years, except maybe the adult entertainment industry and they’d give it a sappy happy ending and a million dollar money shot.”
Ian nodded his head. “I was going to let Jeremy read it, so he could see what you are capable of and maybe the two of you could get together and create something, something just as good that would give Jeremy what he needs to take you both to the next level.”
“That would be great. Please, sir…uh…Jeremy…read it. I almost didn’t include it; I guess it was my way of chickening out in telling Ian about my past. I knew I’d eventually have to come clean…”
“Jenson, this does not change a thing in our working or personal relationship. You’re writing is brilliant and the fact that you’ve been through what you’ve obviously overcome just makes me respect you even more. I’ve been reading everything you keep coming up with. I’ve been devouring it like chocolate.
“You’re kidding?” Jenson sat down.
“Holy crap!” Jeremy had sat on the empty bed and was tearing through the script. “Just how autobiographical is this?”
Jenson drew a little circle on the floor with his toe. “Names changed to protect the innocent…”
“Zaps you from page one, doesn’t it?”
Jeremy put up his hand, as in do not disturb me and flipped to the next page.
“A rather different kind of action script, is it not?” Ian asked.
“Shhh!” Jeremy hissed. “Oh my God!” He looked at Jenson and turned the next page.
“I’ve never been in the same room while somebody read that. In fact, no one but me has ever read it…”
“Uhm…well, maybe one or two others have read it.” Ian admitted.
“One or two others?”
“Look Jenson, I’ve already optioned you for two series, but “Quarters” is several notches above…anything, plus the subject matter has hit close to my heart for some reason. I’ve showed it to a few people hoping they might feel the same way. Sorry if I over stepped my bounds.”
“I am…there are no words, Ian. You have in many ways been a savior to me…”
“Let’s never go that far, Jenson…”
“You literally pulled me out of the garbage, at least my script anyway and in just the last few months you keep finding ways to make every dream I’ve ever had a reality. You show whatever you want of mine to anyone you want. I trust you implicitly.”
“Jenson, I appreciate your praise, but I’m just betting on a winning horse.” Ian smiled. “Speaking of which, gimme a buck, take a look under that food cover and guess what the muck is. Winner gets the pot.”
“You are kidding me?” Jenson smirked.
“Serious.” Ian said.
“No I mean there’s no way anyone could guess what the stuff is.”
“Of course not.” Ian laughed. “It’s kind of like culinary horseshoes, closest to the mark gets the point.”
Jenson leaned over and sniffed. “That smells like it’s been through the system once already. Is that some sort of bread chunk? Pot pie?”
Ian reached out his free hand. “A dollar and I’ll put you down.”
Ian and Jenson discussed plans for the two series they were working on, tossing out ideas for storyboarding and future episodes. Jenson promised Ian that he’d bring him a few more scripts that he’d tinkered with and a list of ideas for a season’s worth of episodes by Monday morning.
While they plotted and planned, Jeremy read…and laughed…and moaned…and cried. When he finally read the last page, he closed the script and walked over to where Jenson was seated. He got on his knees and held the script to his chest. “This is mine…”
“Sure you can have it. I have it on disk at home…”
“No Jenson, you don’t understand. This is it. I want to do this film.” He was dead serious.
“You’ve got to be kidding me...” Jenson was floored.
“Jeremy…?” Ian blinked.
“I know, I know, we’ll never cast it, no one will want to direct, no one will distribute, no one will go see it…fuck it…I want to do this film…”
“Holy smokes…” Jenson began to tremble.
“If you’re going to throw up, Jenson,” Ian pointed to the bed stand. “There’s a bed pan in there.” He took the money out of it just in case.
“Its intimate, small, the budget will be tiny. I’ll even finance it myself.” Jeremy looked at Ian. “My only question is, are you in?”
“Me?”
“Put your money where your mouth is, buddy. We’ll form our own little production company. Susan will probably get involved. You’ll exec produce, and call Saxon, she’s perfect. Hell, I’ll direct myself if I have to...”
“I guess we could go the film fest route, see if we could find a distributor that way…”
Jenson waved his hands. “Wait…wait…are you guys sure? No matter how hard you try this is going to be a pretty graphic film…there’s probably no chance at all it would get an R rating…you’d have to release unrated…”
“Not a problem for me.” Jeremy was up and pacing the room. “Damn, this is the role of a life time and I don’t care if no one sees it…”
“What if it ruins…your career?”
“Who cares…I’d rather go out doing something that has real bite, gives insight to something that is an unspoken...I don’t know…problem…blight…whatever…”
“But the sex…the nudity…the…uh…?” Jenson cautioned.
“If you think showing a little weenie is a problem with me, you haven’t seen a couple of my films…I’d rather be known as the guy who destroyed his career doing this…” he waved the script in the air. “Then spend the rest of my days playing shoot ‘em up until they have to hire a butt stand in for the obligatory shower scene.” He turned again to Ian and pointed his finger at him. “One more time, Ian Justyn—are you in?”
“Does it make a difference?” He asked.
“Yes. I could do this alone, but with you on board I know we can make this more than a vanity project. Together we’ll find a way to make this something that people will stop and want to see, regardless. Are you in?”
“I’ll have to check on the legalities of it, but if it means that much to you, Jeremy, I will be in as much as HRT will let me…”
“She is. Marc from your old band, El Toro, is producing. She hasn’t recorded in so long. Thank you, thank you for getting my wife back where she belongs…”
“I’m just thrilled. I can’t wait to hear her voice again. It’s been absent way too long, and I think we’ve got a winner in what we’ve cooked up.”
“She hasn’t been this excited since she found out she was pregnant with Charlie.”
“I have to be honest, Jeremy. I’m excited to be working with her as little as I am. A lot of things seem to just be falling into place.” Ian winced. “You know I really hate that term, especially since I physically lived it.”
“You’ve been a busy boy.”
“You’re turn…anything in the works?”
“Not yet. Had lots of offers, but nothing excites me, lots of the same old crap. I’m getting too old and too bored with most of it. I need something I can sink my teeth into.”
Ian thought for a moment. “Okay, can I show you something? Something very different, maybe not your cup of tea, but I can’t get it out of my mind…?”
“I am very open to anything you can’t stop thinking about….”
“Hand me that tote.” He pointed to the tote that Blake had brought that morning. Jeremy sat it on the bed and Ian started rummaging through it.
“This is a new writer, one I’ve just put on retainer and talked him into bringing me just about everything. I retained him after one script, pretty run of the mill, but some really unique ideas. This stuff, this stuff he wasn’t trying to sell, it all just…I don’t know…blows my mind….”
“He wasn’t trying to sell…”
“Gut feeling. Everyone compromises somewhat on the first sell. I told him I’d put him on retainer if he brought me everything that he’d written but hadn’t tried to sell. My hunch paid off, a lot of really great stuff…this is it…Quarters…”
“Quarters?”
“Title….” He hadn’t the script to Jeremy. “Now I don’t have Jenson’s permission to let anyone else read his stuff. This one, this is just wow…edgy, sexy, funny and I think very personal.”
“Sounds great…”
“Now you would never ever in a million years do this movie, I’ve showed it to Saxon…”
“And…?”
“She loved it, but agreed it was totally uncastable. I think that maybe once you read this you and he might be able to get together and create something, something that will excite both of you.”
“Personal, you said…”
“This just rings to realistic. I’m wondering if maybe it isn’t a little autobiographical, and I really should ask him if I could let someone else see it first. So if he turns me down, we’ll have to figure something else out…”
“Especially since you seem to be handing it out like breath mints at a Garlic Festival…. Okay Mr. Executive, give me the run down….”
“The short sell is a guy getting involved in something and letting it take total control of his life. It destroys everything, including his wife and best friend, and then how he pulls himself out of it and attempts to go on…”
“It’s not one of those drug or alcoholic things?”
“Nope, although he does get involved with drugs, he gets wrapped up in porn.”
“Addicted to watching….”
“Uh…no…. performing….”
“Ah, a porn star…”
“No not really….”
“Computer downloads…amateur stuff actually…” a third voice entered the room. “And they prefer the term Adult entertainment, but that’s just a term like sanitation engineer, its still means garbage man.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Tyson, I’m Jenson Michael.”
Jeremy shook his hand. “Good to meet you, and call me Jeremy. Ian was just filling me in on how profound he thinks your work is, particularly this script.”
“Thank you, both.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I think now is the time to ‘fess up. It’s very personal, and it will haunt me forever. I try not to be ashamed, and in many ways I am not, but I know that it will haunt me for the rest of my days…”
“Jenson, this…” Ian pointed to the script now at Jeremy’s side “This is just brilliant…”
“But no one would touch it in a million years, except maybe the adult entertainment industry and they’d give it a sappy happy ending and a million dollar money shot.”
Ian nodded his head. “I was going to let Jeremy read it, so he could see what you are capable of and maybe the two of you could get together and create something, something just as good that would give Jeremy what he needs to take you both to the next level.”
“That would be great. Please, sir…uh…Jeremy…read it. I almost didn’t include it; I guess it was my way of chickening out in telling Ian about my past. I knew I’d eventually have to come clean…”
“Jenson, this does not change a thing in our working or personal relationship. You’re writing is brilliant and the fact that you’ve been through what you’ve obviously overcome just makes me respect you even more. I’ve been reading everything you keep coming up with. I’ve been devouring it like chocolate.
“You’re kidding?” Jenson sat down.
“Holy crap!” Jeremy had sat on the empty bed and was tearing through the script. “Just how autobiographical is this?”
Jenson drew a little circle on the floor with his toe. “Names changed to protect the innocent…”
“Zaps you from page one, doesn’t it?”
Jeremy put up his hand, as in do not disturb me and flipped to the next page.
“A rather different kind of action script, is it not?” Ian asked.
“Shhh!” Jeremy hissed. “Oh my God!” He looked at Jenson and turned the next page.
“I’ve never been in the same room while somebody read that. In fact, no one but me has ever read it…”
“Uhm…well, maybe one or two others have read it.” Ian admitted.
“One or two others?”
“Look Jenson, I’ve already optioned you for two series, but “Quarters” is several notches above…anything, plus the subject matter has hit close to my heart for some reason. I’ve showed it to a few people hoping they might feel the same way. Sorry if I over stepped my bounds.”
“I am…there are no words, Ian. You have in many ways been a savior to me…”
“Let’s never go that far, Jenson…”
“You literally pulled me out of the garbage, at least my script anyway and in just the last few months you keep finding ways to make every dream I’ve ever had a reality. You show whatever you want of mine to anyone you want. I trust you implicitly.”
“Jenson, I appreciate your praise, but I’m just betting on a winning horse.” Ian smiled. “Speaking of which, gimme a buck, take a look under that food cover and guess what the muck is. Winner gets the pot.”
“You are kidding me?” Jenson smirked.
“Serious.” Ian said.
“No I mean there’s no way anyone could guess what the stuff is.”
“Of course not.” Ian laughed. “It’s kind of like culinary horseshoes, closest to the mark gets the point.”
Jenson leaned over and sniffed. “That smells like it’s been through the system once already. Is that some sort of bread chunk? Pot pie?”
Ian reached out his free hand. “A dollar and I’ll put you down.”
Ian and Jenson discussed plans for the two series they were working on, tossing out ideas for storyboarding and future episodes. Jenson promised Ian that he’d bring him a few more scripts that he’d tinkered with and a list of ideas for a season’s worth of episodes by Monday morning.
While they plotted and planned, Jeremy read…and laughed…and moaned…and cried. When he finally read the last page, he closed the script and walked over to where Jenson was seated. He got on his knees and held the script to his chest. “This is mine…”
“Sure you can have it. I have it on disk at home…”
“No Jenson, you don’t understand. This is it. I want to do this film.” He was dead serious.
“You’ve got to be kidding me...” Jenson was floored.
“Jeremy…?” Ian blinked.
“I know, I know, we’ll never cast it, no one will want to direct, no one will distribute, no one will go see it…fuck it…I want to do this film…”
“Holy smokes…” Jenson began to tremble.
“If you’re going to throw up, Jenson,” Ian pointed to the bed stand. “There’s a bed pan in there.” He took the money out of it just in case.
“Its intimate, small, the budget will be tiny. I’ll even finance it myself.” Jeremy looked at Ian. “My only question is, are you in?”
“Me?”
“Put your money where your mouth is, buddy. We’ll form our own little production company. Susan will probably get involved. You’ll exec produce, and call Saxon, she’s perfect. Hell, I’ll direct myself if I have to...”
“I guess we could go the film fest route, see if we could find a distributor that way…”
Jenson waved his hands. “Wait…wait…are you guys sure? No matter how hard you try this is going to be a pretty graphic film…there’s probably no chance at all it would get an R rating…you’d have to release unrated…”
“Not a problem for me.” Jeremy was up and pacing the room. “Damn, this is the role of a life time and I don’t care if no one sees it…”
“What if it ruins…your career?”
“Who cares…I’d rather go out doing something that has real bite, gives insight to something that is an unspoken...I don’t know…problem…blight…whatever…”
“But the sex…the nudity…the…uh…?” Jenson cautioned.
“If you think showing a little weenie is a problem with me, you haven’t seen a couple of my films…I’d rather be known as the guy who destroyed his career doing this…” he waved the script in the air. “Then spend the rest of my days playing shoot ‘em up until they have to hire a butt stand in for the obligatory shower scene.” He turned again to Ian and pointed his finger at him. “One more time, Ian Justyn—are you in?”
“Does it make a difference?” He asked.
“Yes. I could do this alone, but with you on board I know we can make this more than a vanity project. Together we’ll find a way to make this something that people will stop and want to see, regardless. Are you in?”
“I’ll have to check on the legalities of it, but if it means that much to you, Jeremy, I will be in as much as HRT will let me…”
Vignette #161: Sniffing Around
Jesse and Reese were sitting by the pool watching the workman unload. Jesse was all a jitter. He wanted this work done and the worker’s gone. He had waited a whole week for the pool to be drained and sanitized, then refilled. Tonight he could use it, and damn it wouldn’t you know that’s the day the insurance company scheduled the men to come and fix the windows and the railings.
Reese was just a sad puppy. He had flown Billy home two days ago. They had spent almost every waking hour together, and he missed him so badly. He knew that Billy had to go home, but he also knew that sooner or later either he was going there or Billy was moving here.
He’d heard nothing from him, only an email saying that his plane had arrived and his sister had picked him up at the airport. Reese knew that his family probably had lots of questions and when Billy gave way to the details it probably wouldn’t be pretty. Billy knew that he was there for him, but it was hard to be a shoulder to cry on when you were on opposite ends of the country.
“Good morning gentlemen.” Tippy stood before them, hands on her hips, and smile on her face. “I’m Tippy Shores; you all can introduce yourselves later. These are my boys, Reese and Jesse. We live next door, but Mr. Justyn wanted us to make sure that you were properly taken care of, since you’ll be taking care of his place. Now, Mr. Justyn insisted upon supplying you all with anything you might need.”
One of the tall ones said, “We thank you ma’am, but we brought everything that we need.”
“We’re not offering hammers and nails, honey. We will be sitting up a table, you tell us where out of your way and out of the sun, and we’re gonna keep it well supplied with lemonade, coffee and soft drinks, and of course I’ll be serving you lunch as well.”
“Oh, wow! We need more gigs like this!” One of the others said.
“Now, two things boys…first off I’ll need to know how everyone likes their steaks…”
“Steaks?” the one who could still speak managed to utter.
“Mr. Justyn and the Shores don’t screw around with lunch meat boys. And finally when the work is completed…to my satisfaction…I’ve got several cases of Dos Equis chilling…how does that sound?”
“Can we work for you guys forever?”
Tippy laughed. “Now we got some things to do here as well, so let us know if we are in your way…”
And the work began. Tippy and the boys began to hose down and scrub the patio, Tippy just wasn’t happy with the work the first clean up crew had done, and of course the pool people “had made a mess”. The work crew tore down the plywood that had been nailed up and took down the last of the police tape.
Jesse was standing beneath the under hang watching one of the guys strip off his shirt and wipe his face with it, then pick up some wood and hauled it off. He leaned against the house.
“Jesse, get your head out of the clouds and get your ass in gear” Reese commanded.
Dutifully he went back to work. As he squatted to clean a splatter of something off the wall, he shifted the weight on his foot heard a crunch. “Damn, there must still be some broken glass down here.” He said to no one in particular.
He pushed the bar back and unveiled a mass of shattered glass that had either never been found or just been swept under the bar by the first clean up crew. He walked over to where his mother had leaned a broom and a dustpan.
As he bent over to pick up the dustpan, another of the workers whizzed by. Jesse had to duck out of the way or get smacked by a two by four. He lost his balance and bonked his head against the wall. He felt the wall give.
“Shit…” Jesse said, rubbing the knot on his head.
When he looked up he noticed that the panel was drifting open. “The police must have left this unlocked…” he said to himself, and stuck his figure in the fake panel knot and pulled it toward him until he heard the click. He made a mental note to go in the garage and make sure that side was locked as well.
Mr. Herman hadn’t been buried long when Miss Elizabeth told him that she was having the place renovated. Jesse had assumed that all the passageways had been either taken out or closed off. The house looked completely different, but Jesse had found that one hidden entrance from the patio to still be in tact. He wasn’t sure if Miss Elizabeth had just forgotten about it, but he always made sure that it was locked and he knew the only other one was in the garage.
It was the only way now into the basement, so he never worried about it. With all the strangeness that had gone on the past couple of weeks; he didn’t want to take any chances. Jesse went back to cleaning up the broken glass.
Kellen had arrived by ten and enlisted the boy’s help in setting up the surveillance system. It was a series of wires and cameras, tripped by movement. Kellen had one and the Shores had one. The cameras were linked to main frames that were checked supposedly by a central system for unusual circumstances.
It wasn’t complicated and once it was hooked up anything could be recorded or reported with the touch of several buttons from anywhere in the house. Had this system been in place before hand, if nothing else, there would have been some footage of Blue Richards entering the house and maybe at least a few more questions could have been answered. Hopefully someone at the main frame would have alerted the police and all of the mess could have been avoided.
As they hung some of the wires Kellen laughed. “You know, I have one of these, too…you’d think I could at least catch on tape how my damn dog keeps getting out of the house…” Jesse and Reese looked in the direction Kellen was and sure enough Ralphie had joined the party, tail wagging and gleefully sniffing at the workers.
Reese was just a sad puppy. He had flown Billy home two days ago. They had spent almost every waking hour together, and he missed him so badly. He knew that Billy had to go home, but he also knew that sooner or later either he was going there or Billy was moving here.
He’d heard nothing from him, only an email saying that his plane had arrived and his sister had picked him up at the airport. Reese knew that his family probably had lots of questions and when Billy gave way to the details it probably wouldn’t be pretty. Billy knew that he was there for him, but it was hard to be a shoulder to cry on when you were on opposite ends of the country.
“Good morning gentlemen.” Tippy stood before them, hands on her hips, and smile on her face. “I’m Tippy Shores; you all can introduce yourselves later. These are my boys, Reese and Jesse. We live next door, but Mr. Justyn wanted us to make sure that you were properly taken care of, since you’ll be taking care of his place. Now, Mr. Justyn insisted upon supplying you all with anything you might need.”
One of the tall ones said, “We thank you ma’am, but we brought everything that we need.”
“We’re not offering hammers and nails, honey. We will be sitting up a table, you tell us where out of your way and out of the sun, and we’re gonna keep it well supplied with lemonade, coffee and soft drinks, and of course I’ll be serving you lunch as well.”
“Oh, wow! We need more gigs like this!” One of the others said.
“Now, two things boys…first off I’ll need to know how everyone likes their steaks…”
“Steaks?” the one who could still speak managed to utter.
“Mr. Justyn and the Shores don’t screw around with lunch meat boys. And finally when the work is completed…to my satisfaction…I’ve got several cases of Dos Equis chilling…how does that sound?”
“Can we work for you guys forever?”
Tippy laughed. “Now we got some things to do here as well, so let us know if we are in your way…”
And the work began. Tippy and the boys began to hose down and scrub the patio, Tippy just wasn’t happy with the work the first clean up crew had done, and of course the pool people “had made a mess”. The work crew tore down the plywood that had been nailed up and took down the last of the police tape.
Jesse was standing beneath the under hang watching one of the guys strip off his shirt and wipe his face with it, then pick up some wood and hauled it off. He leaned against the house.
“Jesse, get your head out of the clouds and get your ass in gear” Reese commanded.
Dutifully he went back to work. As he squatted to clean a splatter of something off the wall, he shifted the weight on his foot heard a crunch. “Damn, there must still be some broken glass down here.” He said to no one in particular.
He pushed the bar back and unveiled a mass of shattered glass that had either never been found or just been swept under the bar by the first clean up crew. He walked over to where his mother had leaned a broom and a dustpan.
As he bent over to pick up the dustpan, another of the workers whizzed by. Jesse had to duck out of the way or get smacked by a two by four. He lost his balance and bonked his head against the wall. He felt the wall give.
“Shit…” Jesse said, rubbing the knot on his head.
When he looked up he noticed that the panel was drifting open. “The police must have left this unlocked…” he said to himself, and stuck his figure in the fake panel knot and pulled it toward him until he heard the click. He made a mental note to go in the garage and make sure that side was locked as well.
Mr. Herman hadn’t been buried long when Miss Elizabeth told him that she was having the place renovated. Jesse had assumed that all the passageways had been either taken out or closed off. The house looked completely different, but Jesse had found that one hidden entrance from the patio to still be in tact. He wasn’t sure if Miss Elizabeth had just forgotten about it, but he always made sure that it was locked and he knew the only other one was in the garage.
It was the only way now into the basement, so he never worried about it. With all the strangeness that had gone on the past couple of weeks; he didn’t want to take any chances. Jesse went back to cleaning up the broken glass.
Kellen had arrived by ten and enlisted the boy’s help in setting up the surveillance system. It was a series of wires and cameras, tripped by movement. Kellen had one and the Shores had one. The cameras were linked to main frames that were checked supposedly by a central system for unusual circumstances.
It wasn’t complicated and once it was hooked up anything could be recorded or reported with the touch of several buttons from anywhere in the house. Had this system been in place before hand, if nothing else, there would have been some footage of Blue Richards entering the house and maybe at least a few more questions could have been answered. Hopefully someone at the main frame would have alerted the police and all of the mess could have been avoided.
As they hung some of the wires Kellen laughed. “You know, I have one of these, too…you’d think I could at least catch on tape how my damn dog keeps getting out of the house…” Jesse and Reese looked in the direction Kellen was and sure enough Ralphie had joined the party, tail wagging and gleefully sniffing at the workers.
Vignette #160: Party Games
Ian poked something gloppy and brown, not resembling anything edible yet there it was on his lunch plate. He shoved it with his fork. As it sort of deflated and ran, he looked up to heaven. “Please Lord, let me go home soon…”
“It can’t be that bad.” Dr. Hunter was suddenly standing beside the bed. He looked at Ian’s plate. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to be.”
“If I eat it and don’t throw up, can I go home?” Ian begged. “They give criminals time off for good behavior.”
“Put away the puppy dog eyes. They won’t work. If you continue to improve at this rapid pace we’ll discuss your going home in a few days.”
“I’ll do almost anything to go back home and back to work.” Ian drained his cup and decided to avoid the muck on his plate.
“Like we’ve been able to stop you from working, but the arrangements you made seem to be working out fine. We’ll keep it that way for a while longer. Your physical therapist wants to start you on hydrotherapy. Do you have access to a pool?”
“You mean like the one my best friend was floating in after he was shot?”
“Yes, just like that one.” Dr. Hunter Smiled. “I keep forgetting you lived a sort of ‘Sunset Boulevard’.”
“The film or the stage musical?”
“I prefer the film myself. The wife preferred the musical.”
“I didn’t know you were married.” Ian tried to make small talk so the doctor wouldn’t notice him hiding his lunch. “I’d love to meet her.”
“I’ll give you her number. She’s living in Bermuda somewhere with half of everything I own, working hard on getting the other half from her current husband.”
“Ouch…”
“Did that sound bitter?” Dr. Hunter took the napkin off Ian’s food tray, scooted it right back to him and handed him a fork. “If you want to go home you need to eat your meals.”
Ian looked back down at it, sighed and stuck the fork in it. “Can I call Tippy and have her bring me some lunch?”
“What’s wrong with…that?”
“You tell me what it is and I’ll eat it.” Ian looked at the food tray and then back up to Dr. Hunter. “I’m from the South, we’ll eat anything as long as someone can identify it.”
“Well it’s brown…” Hunter examined it.
“So are most body parts when heated.”
“It’s…liver…it has to be liver.”
“Why does it have to be liver? Is a transplant missing?” Ian asked.
“Uhh…”
“Look, I’ve got a really great appetite. I just haven’t been able to get down most of the stuff the hospital serves. There are workers converging on my house at this very moment to fix everything. I’m sure my son or someone will be arriving any minute with some real food, something edible and not loaded with salt.”
“You haven’t been eating any of the meals you’ve been served?”
“Dr. Hunter the meals here are more of a party game than a dining experience.”
“Party game?”
“We all put a dollar in the bed pan and try to guess what’s on the plate. When the orderly picks up the tray we ask what it was and the closest guess wins the pot. I won $8 yesterday. I guessed pudding, everyone else thought it was some sort of spaghetti.”
Dr Hunter rolled the table with the tray away. “Maybe I should have a conversation with the board about the food.”
“At least hide the salt from the people in the kitchen. Just looking at it makes me thirsty.” Ian looked in his cup and back at the doctor. “Hint…hint…?”
“More water?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Ian lifted his cup and indicated the arm that was still immobile. “One of us is still chained down.”
The doctor filled Ian’s cup from the sweating pitcher out of his reach. “Okay, now let’s have a look at this knee of yours…”
Ian lay back on the bed and lifted his hips as Taylor pulled the sweats off and laid them on the chair. He placed a stethoscope on Ian’s knee and listened a moment. “Okay ready?”
“As I’ll ever be…”
Ian winced as the doctor slowly maneuvered the leg in several positions, bending the knee and carefully watching the movement in the thigh. It always brought tears to Ian’s eyes.
“Well, the swelling obviously has gone down, nothing was broken. Are you able to put much weight on it?”
“Not much. It’s still pretty painful and it feels like it wants to give.”
“Once we get you healed we’ll probably need to discuss joint replacement.”
“Joint replacement? Isn’t that for senior citizens and Liza Minnelli? I’m only 29, doc.”
“But somehow, young man, you’ve managed to tear away most of the cartilage around your knee. You’ve got bone on bone. You’ll be able to function, but you’re going to continue to have more and more pain until you let us give you an upgrade.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“It’s up to you, but it’s my recommendation. In the meantime, I’m sure I’ll be sorry for saying this, but I do want you up and moving around more. You going back and forth to the bathroom by yourself?”
“Pretty much…when there is someone around to unhook me.”
“Showering?”
“Oh god, wouldn’t that be nice.”
“Why aren’t you showering?”
“You didn’t tell me I could.” Ian smiled at the doctor. “I don’t do anything I’m not told I can do.”
“Yeah…uh huh.”
“Really.” Ian insisted.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to escape when you were less than 48 hours out of a coma.”
“That was an emergency.” Ian pouted. “And you exaggerate. It wasn’t a coma, I was just bored senseless from being in the hospital.”
“Whatever…” The doctor made a notation on Ian’s chart. “I’m sure I told someone it was fine for you to shower.”
“Either you didn’t or the nurses here just love giving me sponge baths.”
“We won’t go there.”
“Good.”
“I’ve made a note on your chart and before I leave the floor I’ll tell the nurse on duty that you may shower.”
“On my own?”
“Did you want to invite a friend?”
“Not really.”
“I’m not going to guarantee you’ll be able to do it on your own, but give it a shot…with an orderly standing by. The last thing we need is for you to lose your balance, slip or fall.”
“Thank you. I haven’t washed my hair in two weeks. You could fry pork on my scalp!”
“I’m sure we can get that taken care of…”
“Nice underwear!” They both turned in the direction of the door. “I take I got here just in time for Naked Time?” Jeremy Tyson was grinning from ear to ear.
“Who keeps letting the peeper in?”
“How’s he doing, doc?” Jeremy asked as Dr. Hunter helped Ian get his sweats back on.
“Very well, hopefully we’ll be sending him home—with reservations---soon.”
“He can stay with Susan and I for a while. We’ll wait on him hand and foot, keep him out of trouble.”
“And I told you, no offense, I just want to go home. I’ll be fine. Ronnie can keep me out of trouble, and you know good and well the Shores will be no further away than, well, just far enough away that I won’t be able to swat them. You all are welcome to come and visit, and I am dying to see the boys. The look on the cat’s face when they show up will be a big plus. Please understand, I just want to be in my own home.”
“We do, but the offer stands, even if you go home for a few days and then want to come by for a while. Besides, you’ve got Susan all fired up about this project. I need something to keep me occupied…you can be my project.”
“Get a real job, dude.” Ian snarked. “I’m tired of being everyone’s project. I just wanna go home, be with my boy and let his cat terrorize me.”
“Regardless when we release you to go home, you will need to be under adult supervision.” Dr. Hunter informed Ian.
Jeremy choked back a laugh.
“Hey!” Ian reminded him. “I only have one arm immobilized now, but I know lots of really good sign language I can do with my free one.”
“I meant that having your son around will be great, but you are still going to need help. As wonderful as your boy may be, I’m sure he can’t keep you from doing things your not supposed to be doing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ian wanted to know.
“It means he’s got your number.” Jeremy laughed.
“I’ve got one arm and a leg still useless and without a cane I’m pretty much doomed to walking in a circle. How much trouble can I get in?”
Dr. Hunter put his hands up in the air. “Mr. Justyn, you do not even want to tempt me to go there. Remember, if you’re good and continue to improve you’ll go home in a couple of days, provided I feel there will be someone around who will keep you out of trouble otherwise I’ll keep you tethered to that bed until I know you can’t do any more damage to yourself.”
“Fine.” Ian pouted.
“I’m going to go talk to the floor nurse about getting you to the shower.”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Hunter nodded and turned to go. He stopped and picked up the cover on the lunch tray and looked one more time. He reached in his pocket and tossed a dollar on Ian’s bed. “Liver. It has to be liver.”
“Why does it have to be liver?” Ian said, grabbing the single and tossing it in the bedpan on the stand by his bed.
“That’s my guess.” The doctor said and was gone.
“Are you in today?” Ian asked.
Jeremy walked to the tray and looked at it. “Have you tasted it?”
“Like that’s going to be any clue as to what it is.” Ian said. “I think its Jell-O with fruit.”
“It’s brown.” Jeremy looked back at him.
“But there’s chunks of something in it. It has to be Jell-O.” Ian motioned with his free hand to shut the door.
“What?” Jeremy asked.
“Shut the door and open the window. I’m dying for a cigarette.”
“What makes you think I have cigarettes on me?” Jeremy put the lid down on the mystery concoction.
“God only made me look stupid.” Ian smirked. “Now shut the door, open the window and share one with me. Just a puff or two…please, please, please.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but Jeremy shut the room door and walked over to the window and struggled to open in it. “I don’t think it comes open.”
“Yes it does.” Ian insisted. “Tippy had it open yesterday afternoon.”
The door opened and Ripley stuck his head in. “Are you smoking in here?”
“No.” Ian said.
“Then why did you shut the door?”
“Jeremy and I are going out on the ledge to have sex.”
“Cool.” Ripley smirked. “I am just not getting in trouble for letting you smoke again. You know they frisk me now every time I walk in the building?”
Jeremy gave up. “We couldn’t if we wanted to. The window doesn’t open.”
“Yes it does.” Ian insisted.
“You were going to smoke.” Ripley scowled.
“Okay, okay.” Ian admitted. “Jeremy was gonna share one with me, but the weenie can’t get the window open.”
“You have cigarettes on you?” Ripley scowled again.
Jeremy pulled a pack from his pocket. “Reds.”
“I’ll get the window open.” Ripley said. “You open the bathroom door and turn on the exhaust fan.”
“Gimme.” Ian said hungrily as Jeremy rushed to the bathroom and tossed the pack on his bed. He snatched the pack up and struggled to get one out.
“You’ll smash them.” Ripley said having opened the window. He took the pack and slid one out.
Ian put it to his lips and tried to be patient as Jeremy came with his lighter. Ian took a puff and rolled back his eyes. “Mmmm…lunch is good.” He handed it to Jeremy.
“I feel like I’m sharing a joint after the football game.” Ripley giggled as Jeremy handed the smoke to him.
The door came open and Ripley tossed the cigarette out the open window. An extra wide nurse stomped in. “Are you smoking?”
Ian looked at Jeremy and then to the nurse. “Some people think so.”
Jeremy nodded. “They do call him the Hunka Hunka HRT…”
“It can’t be that bad.” Dr. Hunter was suddenly standing beside the bed. He looked at Ian’s plate. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to be.”
“If I eat it and don’t throw up, can I go home?” Ian begged. “They give criminals time off for good behavior.”
“Put away the puppy dog eyes. They won’t work. If you continue to improve at this rapid pace we’ll discuss your going home in a few days.”
“I’ll do almost anything to go back home and back to work.” Ian drained his cup and decided to avoid the muck on his plate.
“Like we’ve been able to stop you from working, but the arrangements you made seem to be working out fine. We’ll keep it that way for a while longer. Your physical therapist wants to start you on hydrotherapy. Do you have access to a pool?”
“You mean like the one my best friend was floating in after he was shot?”
“Yes, just like that one.” Dr. Hunter Smiled. “I keep forgetting you lived a sort of ‘Sunset Boulevard’.”
“The film or the stage musical?”
“I prefer the film myself. The wife preferred the musical.”
“I didn’t know you were married.” Ian tried to make small talk so the doctor wouldn’t notice him hiding his lunch. “I’d love to meet her.”
“I’ll give you her number. She’s living in Bermuda somewhere with half of everything I own, working hard on getting the other half from her current husband.”
“Ouch…”
“Did that sound bitter?” Dr. Hunter took the napkin off Ian’s food tray, scooted it right back to him and handed him a fork. “If you want to go home you need to eat your meals.”
Ian looked back down at it, sighed and stuck the fork in it. “Can I call Tippy and have her bring me some lunch?”
“What’s wrong with…that?”
“You tell me what it is and I’ll eat it.” Ian looked at the food tray and then back up to Dr. Hunter. “I’m from the South, we’ll eat anything as long as someone can identify it.”
“Well it’s brown…” Hunter examined it.
“So are most body parts when heated.”
“It’s…liver…it has to be liver.”
“Why does it have to be liver? Is a transplant missing?” Ian asked.
“Uhh…”
“Look, I’ve got a really great appetite. I just haven’t been able to get down most of the stuff the hospital serves. There are workers converging on my house at this very moment to fix everything. I’m sure my son or someone will be arriving any minute with some real food, something edible and not loaded with salt.”
“You haven’t been eating any of the meals you’ve been served?”
“Dr. Hunter the meals here are more of a party game than a dining experience.”
“Party game?”
“We all put a dollar in the bed pan and try to guess what’s on the plate. When the orderly picks up the tray we ask what it was and the closest guess wins the pot. I won $8 yesterday. I guessed pudding, everyone else thought it was some sort of spaghetti.”
Dr Hunter rolled the table with the tray away. “Maybe I should have a conversation with the board about the food.”
“At least hide the salt from the people in the kitchen. Just looking at it makes me thirsty.” Ian looked in his cup and back at the doctor. “Hint…hint…?”
“More water?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Ian lifted his cup and indicated the arm that was still immobile. “One of us is still chained down.”
The doctor filled Ian’s cup from the sweating pitcher out of his reach. “Okay, now let’s have a look at this knee of yours…”
Ian lay back on the bed and lifted his hips as Taylor pulled the sweats off and laid them on the chair. He placed a stethoscope on Ian’s knee and listened a moment. “Okay ready?”
“As I’ll ever be…”
Ian winced as the doctor slowly maneuvered the leg in several positions, bending the knee and carefully watching the movement in the thigh. It always brought tears to Ian’s eyes.
“Well, the swelling obviously has gone down, nothing was broken. Are you able to put much weight on it?”
“Not much. It’s still pretty painful and it feels like it wants to give.”
“Once we get you healed we’ll probably need to discuss joint replacement.”
“Joint replacement? Isn’t that for senior citizens and Liza Minnelli? I’m only 29, doc.”
“But somehow, young man, you’ve managed to tear away most of the cartilage around your knee. You’ve got bone on bone. You’ll be able to function, but you’re going to continue to have more and more pain until you let us give you an upgrade.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“It’s up to you, but it’s my recommendation. In the meantime, I’m sure I’ll be sorry for saying this, but I do want you up and moving around more. You going back and forth to the bathroom by yourself?”
“Pretty much…when there is someone around to unhook me.”
“Showering?”
“Oh god, wouldn’t that be nice.”
“Why aren’t you showering?”
“You didn’t tell me I could.” Ian smiled at the doctor. “I don’t do anything I’m not told I can do.”
“Yeah…uh huh.”
“Really.” Ian insisted.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to escape when you were less than 48 hours out of a coma.”
“That was an emergency.” Ian pouted. “And you exaggerate. It wasn’t a coma, I was just bored senseless from being in the hospital.”
“Whatever…” The doctor made a notation on Ian’s chart. “I’m sure I told someone it was fine for you to shower.”
“Either you didn’t or the nurses here just love giving me sponge baths.”
“We won’t go there.”
“Good.”
“I’ve made a note on your chart and before I leave the floor I’ll tell the nurse on duty that you may shower.”
“On my own?”
“Did you want to invite a friend?”
“Not really.”
“I’m not going to guarantee you’ll be able to do it on your own, but give it a shot…with an orderly standing by. The last thing we need is for you to lose your balance, slip or fall.”
“Thank you. I haven’t washed my hair in two weeks. You could fry pork on my scalp!”
“I’m sure we can get that taken care of…”
“Nice underwear!” They both turned in the direction of the door. “I take I got here just in time for Naked Time?” Jeremy Tyson was grinning from ear to ear.
“Who keeps letting the peeper in?”
“How’s he doing, doc?” Jeremy asked as Dr. Hunter helped Ian get his sweats back on.
“Very well, hopefully we’ll be sending him home—with reservations---soon.”
“He can stay with Susan and I for a while. We’ll wait on him hand and foot, keep him out of trouble.”
“And I told you, no offense, I just want to go home. I’ll be fine. Ronnie can keep me out of trouble, and you know good and well the Shores will be no further away than, well, just far enough away that I won’t be able to swat them. You all are welcome to come and visit, and I am dying to see the boys. The look on the cat’s face when they show up will be a big plus. Please understand, I just want to be in my own home.”
“We do, but the offer stands, even if you go home for a few days and then want to come by for a while. Besides, you’ve got Susan all fired up about this project. I need something to keep me occupied…you can be my project.”
“Get a real job, dude.” Ian snarked. “I’m tired of being everyone’s project. I just wanna go home, be with my boy and let his cat terrorize me.”
“Regardless when we release you to go home, you will need to be under adult supervision.” Dr. Hunter informed Ian.
Jeremy choked back a laugh.
“Hey!” Ian reminded him. “I only have one arm immobilized now, but I know lots of really good sign language I can do with my free one.”
“I meant that having your son around will be great, but you are still going to need help. As wonderful as your boy may be, I’m sure he can’t keep you from doing things your not supposed to be doing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ian wanted to know.
“It means he’s got your number.” Jeremy laughed.
“I’ve got one arm and a leg still useless and without a cane I’m pretty much doomed to walking in a circle. How much trouble can I get in?”
Dr. Hunter put his hands up in the air. “Mr. Justyn, you do not even want to tempt me to go there. Remember, if you’re good and continue to improve you’ll go home in a couple of days, provided I feel there will be someone around who will keep you out of trouble otherwise I’ll keep you tethered to that bed until I know you can’t do any more damage to yourself.”
“Fine.” Ian pouted.
“I’m going to go talk to the floor nurse about getting you to the shower.”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Hunter nodded and turned to go. He stopped and picked up the cover on the lunch tray and looked one more time. He reached in his pocket and tossed a dollar on Ian’s bed. “Liver. It has to be liver.”
“Why does it have to be liver?” Ian said, grabbing the single and tossing it in the bedpan on the stand by his bed.
“That’s my guess.” The doctor said and was gone.
“Are you in today?” Ian asked.
Jeremy walked to the tray and looked at it. “Have you tasted it?”
“Like that’s going to be any clue as to what it is.” Ian said. “I think its Jell-O with fruit.”
“It’s brown.” Jeremy looked back at him.
“But there’s chunks of something in it. It has to be Jell-O.” Ian motioned with his free hand to shut the door.
“What?” Jeremy asked.
“Shut the door and open the window. I’m dying for a cigarette.”
“What makes you think I have cigarettes on me?” Jeremy put the lid down on the mystery concoction.
“God only made me look stupid.” Ian smirked. “Now shut the door, open the window and share one with me. Just a puff or two…please, please, please.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but Jeremy shut the room door and walked over to the window and struggled to open in it. “I don’t think it comes open.”
“Yes it does.” Ian insisted. “Tippy had it open yesterday afternoon.”
The door opened and Ripley stuck his head in. “Are you smoking in here?”
“No.” Ian said.
“Then why did you shut the door?”
“Jeremy and I are going out on the ledge to have sex.”
“Cool.” Ripley smirked. “I am just not getting in trouble for letting you smoke again. You know they frisk me now every time I walk in the building?”
Jeremy gave up. “We couldn’t if we wanted to. The window doesn’t open.”
“Yes it does.” Ian insisted.
“You were going to smoke.” Ripley scowled.
“Okay, okay.” Ian admitted. “Jeremy was gonna share one with me, but the weenie can’t get the window open.”
“You have cigarettes on you?” Ripley scowled again.
Jeremy pulled a pack from his pocket. “Reds.”
“I’ll get the window open.” Ripley said. “You open the bathroom door and turn on the exhaust fan.”
“Gimme.” Ian said hungrily as Jeremy rushed to the bathroom and tossed the pack on his bed. He snatched the pack up and struggled to get one out.
“You’ll smash them.” Ripley said having opened the window. He took the pack and slid one out.
Ian put it to his lips and tried to be patient as Jeremy came with his lighter. Ian took a puff and rolled back his eyes. “Mmmm…lunch is good.” He handed it to Jeremy.
“I feel like I’m sharing a joint after the football game.” Ripley giggled as Jeremy handed the smoke to him.
The door came open and Ripley tossed the cigarette out the open window. An extra wide nurse stomped in. “Are you smoking?”
Ian looked at Jeremy and then to the nurse. “Some people think so.”
Jeremy nodded. “They do call him the Hunka Hunka HRT…”
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Chapter #33: Whirling Around
Ian poked something gloppy and brown, not resembling anything edible yet there it was on his lunch plate. He shoved it with his fork. As it sort of deflated and ran, he looked up to heaven. “Please Lord, let me go home soon…”
“It can’t be that bad.” Dr. Hunter was suddenly standing beside the bed. He looked at Ian’s plate. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to be.”
“If I eat it and don’t throw up, can I go home?” Ian begged. “They give criminals time off for good behavior.”
“Put away the puppy dog eyes. They won’t work. If you continue to improve at this rapid pace we’ll discuss your going home in a few days.”
“I’ll do almost anything to go back home and back to work.” Ian drained his cup and decided to avoid the muck on his plate.
“Like we’ve been able to stop you from working, but the arrangements you made seem to be working out fine. We’ll keep it that way for a while longer. Your physical therapist wants to start you on hydrotherapy. Do you have access to a pool?”
“You mean like the one my best friend was floating in after he was shot?”
“Yes, just like that one.” Dr. Hunter Smiled. “I keep forgetting you lived a sort of ‘Sunset Boulevard’.”
“The film or the stage musical?”
“I prefer the film myself. The wife preferred the musical.”
“I didn’t know you were married.” Ian tried to make small talk so the doctor wouldn’t notice him hiding his lunch. “I’d love to meet her.”
“I’ll give you her number. She’s living in Bermuda somewhere with half of everything I own, working hard on getting the other half from her current husband.”
“Ouch…”
“Did that sound bitter?” Dr. Hunter took the napkin off Ian’s food tray, scooted it right back to him and handed him a fork. “If you want to go home you need to eat your meals.”
Ian looked back down at it, sighed and stuck the fork in it. “Can I call Tippy and have her bring me some lunch?”
“What’s wrong with…that?”
“You tell me what it is and I’ll eat it.” Ian looked at the food tray and then back up to Dr. Hunter. “I’m from the South, we’ll eat anything as long as someone can identify it.”
“Well it’s brown…” Hunter examined it.
“So are most body parts when heated.”
“It’s…liver…it has to be liver.”
“Why does it have to be liver? Is a transplant missing?” Ian asked.
“Uhh…”
“Look, I’ve got a really great appetite. I just haven’t been able to get down most of the stuff the hospital serves. There are workers converging on my house at this very moment to fix everything. I’m sure my son or someone will be arriving any minute with some real food, something edible and not loaded with salt.”
“You haven’t been eating any of the meals you’ve been served?”
“Dr. Hunter the meals here are more of a party game than a dining experience.”
“Party game?”
“We all put a dollar in the bed pan and try to guess what’s on the plate. When the orderly picks up the tray we ask what it was and the closest guess wins the pot. I won $8 yesterday. I guessed pudding, everyone else thought it was some sort of spaghetti.”
Dr Hunter rolled the table with the tray away. “Maybe I should have a conversation with the board about the food.”
“At least hide the salt from the people in the kitchen. Just looking at it makes me thirsty.” Ian looked in his cup and back at the doctor. “Hint…hint…?”
“More water?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Ian lifted his cup and indicated the arm that was still immobile. “One of us is still chained down.”
The doctor filled Ian’s cup from the sweating pitcher out of his reach. “Okay, now let’s have a look at this knee of yours…”
Ian lay back on the bed and lifted his hips as Taylor pulled the sweats off and laid them on the chair. He placed a stethoscope on Ian’s knee and listened a moment. “Okay ready?”
“As I’ll ever be…”
Ian winced as the doctor slowly maneuvered the leg in several positions, bending the knee and carefully watching the movement in the thigh. It always brought tears to Ian’s eyes.
“Well, the swelling obviously has gone down, nothing was broken. Are you able to put much weight on it?”
“Not much. It’s still pretty painful and it feels like it wants to give.”
“Once we get you healed we’ll probably need to discuss joint replacement.”
“Joint replacement? Isn’t that for senior citizens and Liza Minnelli? I’m only 29, doc.”
“But somehow, young man, you’ve managed to tear away most of the cartilage around your knee. You’ve got bone on bone. You’ll be able to function, but you’re going to continue to have more and more pain until you let us give you an upgrade.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“It’s up to you, but it’s my recommendation. In the meantime, I’m sure I’ll be sorry for saying this, but I do want you up and moving around more. You going back and forth to the bathroom by yourself?”
“Pretty much…when there is someone around to unhook me.”
“Showering?”
“Oh god, wouldn’t that be nice.”
“Why aren’t you showering?”
“You didn’t tell me I could.” Ian smiled at the doctor. “I don’t do anything I’m not told I can do.”
“Yeah…uh huh.”
“Really.” Ian insisted.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to escape when you were less than 48 hours out of a coma.”
“That was an emergency.” Ian pouted. “And you exaggerate. It wasn’t a coma, I was just bored senseless from being in the hospital.”
“Whatever…” The doctor made a notation on Ian’s chart. “I’m sure I told someone it was fine for you to shower.”
“Either you didn’t or the nurses here just love giving me sponge baths.”
“We won’t go there.”
“Good.”
“I’ve made a note on your chart and before I leave the floor I’ll tell the nurse on duty that you may shower.”
“On my own?”
“Did you want to invite a friend?”
“Not really.”
“I’m not going to guarantee you’ll be able to do it on your own, but give it a shot…with an orderly standing by. The last thing we need is for you to lose your balance, slip or fall.”
“Thank you. I haven’t washed my hair in two weeks. You could fry pork on my scalp!”
“I’m sure we can get that taken care of…”
“Nice underwear!” They both turned in the direction of the door. “I take I got here just in time for Naked Time?” Jeremy Tyson was grinning from ear to ear.
“Who keeps letting the peeper in?”
“How’s he doing, doc?” Jeremy asked as Dr. Hunter helped Ian get his sweats back on.
“Very well, hopefully we’ll be sending him home—with reservations---soon.”
“He can stay with Susan and I for a while. We’ll wait on him hand and foot, keep him out of trouble.”
“And I told you, no offense, I just want to go home. I’ll be fine. Ronnie can keep me out of trouble, and you know good and well the Shores will be no further away than, well, just far enough away that I won’t be able to swat them. You all are welcome to come and visit, and I am dying to see the boys. The look on the cat’s face when they show up will be a big plus. Please understand, I just want to be in my own home.”
“We do, but the offer stands, even if you go home for a few days and then want to come by for a while. Besides, you’ve got Susan all fired up about this project. I need something to keep me occupied…you can be my project.”
“Get a real job, dude.” Ian snarked. “I’m tired of being everyone’s project. I just wanna go home, be with my boy and let his cat terrorize me.”
“Regardless when we release you to go home, you will need to be under adult supervision.” Dr. Hunter informed Ian.
Jeremy choked back a laugh.
“Hey!” Ian reminded him. “I only have one arm immobilized now, but I know lots of really good sign language I can do with my free one.”
“I meant that having your son around will be great, but you are still going to need help. As wonderful as your boy may be, I’m sure he can’t keep you from doing things your not supposed to be doing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ian wanted to know.
“It means he’s got your number.” Jeremy laughed.
“I’ve got one arm and a leg still useless and without a cane I’m pretty much doomed to walking in a circle. How much trouble can I get in?”
Dr. Hunter put his hands up in the air. “Mr. Justyn, you do not even want to tempt me to go there. Remember, if you’re good and continue to improve you’ll go home in a couple of days, provided I feel there will be someone around who will keep you out of trouble otherwise I’ll keep you tethered to that bed until I know you can’t do any more damage to yourself.”
“Fine.” Ian pouted.
“I’m going to go talk to the floor nurse about getting you to the shower.”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Hunter nodded and turned to go. He stopped and picked up the cover on the lunch tray and looked one more time. He reached in his pocket and tossed a dollar on Ian’s bed. “Liver. It has to be liver.”
“Why does it have to be liver?” Ian said, grabbing the single and tossing it in the bedpan on the stand by his bed.
“That’s my guess.” The doctor said and was gone.
“Are you in today?” Ian asked.
Jeremy walked to the tray and looked at it. “Have you tasted it?”
“Like that’s going to be any clue as to what it is.” Ian said. “I think its Jell-O with fruit.”
“It’s brown.” Jeremy looked back at him.
“But there’s chunks of something in it. It has to be Jell-O.” Ian motioned with his free hand to shut the door.
“What?” Jeremy asked.
“Shut the door and open the window. I’m dying for a cigarette.”
“What makes you think I have cigarettes on me?” Jeremy put the lid down on the mystery concoction.
“God only made me look stupid.” Ian smirked. “Now shut the door, open the window and share one with me. Just a puff or two…please, please, please.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but Jeremy shut the room door and walked over to the window and struggled to open in it. “I don’t think it comes open.”
“Yes it does.” Ian insisted. “Tippy had it open yesterday afternoon.”
The door opened and Ripley stuck his head in. “Are you smoking in here?”
“No.” Ian said.
“Then why did you shut the door?”
“Jeremy and I are going out on the ledge to have sex.”
“Cool.” Ripley smirked. “I am just not getting in trouble for letting you smoke again. You know they frisk me now every time I walk in the building?”
Jeremy gave up. “We couldn’t if we wanted to. The window doesn’t open.”
“Yes it does.” Ian insisted.
“You were going to smoke.” Ripley scowled.
“Okay, okay.” Ian admitted. “Jeremy was gonna share one with me, but the weenie can’t get the window open.”
“You have cigarettes on you?” Ripley scowled again.
Jeremy pulled a pack from his pocket. “Reds.”
“I’ll get the window open.” Ripley said. “You open the bathroom door and turn on the exhaust fan.”
“Gimme.” Ian said hungrily as Jeremy rushed to the bathroom and tossed the pack on his bed. He snatched the pack up and struggled to get one out.
“You’ll smash them.” Ripley said having opened the window. He took the pack and slid one out.
Ian put it to his lips and tried to be patient as Jeremy came with his lighter. Ian took a puff and rolled back his eyes. “Mmmm…lunch is good.” He handed it to Jeremy.
“I feel like I’m sharing a joint after the football game.” Ripley giggled as Jeremy handed the smoke to him.
The door came open and Ripley tossed the cigarette out the open window. An extra wide nurse stomped in. “Are you smoking?”
Ian looked at Jeremy and then to the nurse. “Some people think so.”
Jeremy nodded. “They do call him the Hunka Hunka HRT…”
Jesse and Reese were sitting by the pool watching the workman unload. Jesse was all a jitter. He wanted this work done and the worker’s gone. He had waited a whole week for the pool to be drained and sanitized, then refilled. Tonight he could use it, and damn it wouldn’t you know that’s the day the insurance company scheduled the men to come and fix the windows and the railings.
Reese was just a sad puppy. He had flown Billy home two days ago. They had spent almost every waking hour together, and he missed him so badly. He knew that Billy had to go home, but he also knew that sooner or later either he was going there or Billy was moving here.
He’d heard nothing from him, only an email saying that his plane had arrived and his sister had picked him up at the airport. Reese knew that his family probably had lots of questions and when Billy gave way to the details it probably wouldn’t be pretty. Billy knew that he was there for him, but it was hard to be a shoulder to cry on when you were on opposite ends of the country.
“Good morning gentlemen.” Tippy stood before them, hands on her hips, and smile on her face. “I’m Tippy Shores; you all can introduce yourselves later. These are my boys, Reese and Jesse. We live next door, but Mr. Justyn wanted us to make sure that you were properly taken care of, since you’ll be taking care of his place. Now, Mr. Justyn insisted upon supplying you all with anything you might need.”
One of the tall ones said, “We thank you ma’am, but we brought everything that we need.”
“We’re not offering hammers and nails, honey. We will be sitting up a table, you tell us where out of your way and out of the sun, and we’re gonna keep it well supplied with lemonade, coffee and soft drinks, and of course I’ll be serving you lunch as well.”
“Oh, wow! We need more gigs like this!” One of the others said.
“Now, two things boys…first off I’ll need to know how everyone likes their steaks…”
“Steaks?” the one who could still speak managed to utter.
“Mr. Justyn and the Shores don’t screw around with lunch meat boys. And finally when the work is completed…to my satisfaction…I’ve got several cases of Dos Equis chilling…how does that sound?”
“Can we work for you guys forever?”
Tippy laughed. “Now we got some things to do here as well, so let us know if we are in your way…”
And the work began. Tippy and the boys began to hose down and scrub the patio, Tippy just wasn’t happy with the work the first clean up crew had done, and of course the pool people “had made a mess”. The work crew tore down the plywood that had been nailed up and took down the last of the police tape.
Jesse was standing beneath the under hang watching one of the guys strip off his shirt and wipe his face with it, then pick up some wood and hauled it off. He leaned against the house.
“Jesse, get your head out of the clouds and get your ass in gear” Reese commanded.
Dutifully he went back to work. As he squatted to clean a splatter of something off the wall, he shifted the weight on his foot heard a crunch. “Damn, there must still be some broken glass down here.” He said to no one in particular.
He pushed the bar back and unveiled a mass of shattered glass that had either never been found or just been swept under the bar by the first clean up crew. He walked over to where his mother had leaned a broom and a dustpan.
As he bent over to pick up the dustpan, another of the workers whizzed by. Jesse had to duck out of the way or get smacked by a two by four. He lost his balance and bonked his head against the wall. He felt the wall give.
“Shit…” Jesse said, rubbing the knot on his head.
When he looked up he noticed that the panel was drifting open. “The police must have left this unlocked…” he said to himself, and stuck his figure in the fake panel knot and pulled it toward him until he heard the click. He made a mental note to go in the garage and make sure that side was locked as well.
Mr. Herman hadn’t been buried long when Miss Elizabeth told him that she was having the place renovated. Jesse had assumed that all the passageways had been either taken out or closed off. The house looked completely different, but Jesse had found that one hidden entrance from the patio to still be in tact. He wasn’t sure if Miss Elizabeth had just forgotten about it, but he always made sure that it was locked and he knew the only other one was in the garage.
It was the only way now into the basement, so he never worried about it. With all the strangeness that had gone on the past couple of weeks; he didn’t want to take any chances. Jesse went back to cleaning up the broken glass.
Kellen had arrived by ten and enlisted the boy’s help in setting up the surveillance system. It was a series of wires and cameras, tripped by movement. Kellen had one and the Shores had one. The cameras were linked to main frames that were checked supposedly by a central system for unusual circumstances.
It wasn’t complicated and once it was hooked up anything could be recorded or reported with the touch of several buttons from anywhere in the house. Had this system been in place before hand, if nothing else, there would have been some footage of Blue Richards entering the house and maybe at least a few more questions could have been answered. Hopefully someone at the main frame would have alerted the police and all of the mess could have been avoided.
As they hung some of the wires Kellen laughed. “You know, I have one of these, too…you’d think I could at least catch on tape how my damn dog keeps getting out of the house…” Jesse and Reese looked in the direction Kellen was and sure enough Ralphie had joined the party, tail wagging and gleefully sniffing at the workers.
“So Susan’s excited about the new album?”
“She is. Marc from your old band, El Toro, is producing. She hasn’t recorded in so long. Thank you, thank you for getting my wife back where she belongs…”
“I’m just thrilled. I can’t wait to hear her voice again. It’s been absent way too long, and I think we’ve got a winner in what we’ve cooked up.”
“She hasn’t been this excited since she found out she was pregnant with Charlie.”
“I have to be honest, Jeremy. I’m excited to be working with her as little as I am. A lot of things seem to just be falling into place.” Ian winced. “You know I really hate that term, especially since I physically lived it.”
“You’ve been a busy boy.”
“You’re turn…anything in the works?”
“Not yet. Had lots of offers, but nothing excites me, lots of the same old crap. I’m getting too old and too bored with most of it. I need something I can sink my teeth into.”
Ian thought for a moment. “Okay, can I show you something? Something very different, maybe not your cup of tea, but I can’t get it out of my mind…?”
“I am very open to anything you can’t stop thinking about….”
“Hand me that tote.” He pointed to the tote that Blake had brought that morning. Jeremy sat it on the bed and Ian started rummaging through it.
“This is a new writer, one I’ve just put on retainer and talked him into bringing me just about everything. I retained him after one script, pretty run of the mill, but some really unique ideas. This stuff, this stuff he wasn’t trying to sell, it all just…I don’t know…blows my mind….”
“He wasn’t trying to sell…”
“Gut feeling. Everyone compromises somewhat on the first sell. I told him I’d put him on retainer if he brought me everything that he’d written but hadn’t tried to sell. My hunch paid off, a lot of really great stuff…this is it…Quarters…”
“Quarters?”
“Title….” He hadn’t the script to Jeremy. “Now I don’t have Jenson’s permission to let anyone else read his stuff. This one, this is just wow…edgy, sexy, funny and I think very personal.”
“Sounds great…”
“Now you would never ever in a million years do this movie, I’ve showed it to Saxon…”
“And…?”
“She loved it, but agreed it was totally uncastable. I think that maybe once you read this you and he might be able to get together and create something, something that will excite both of you.”
“Personal, you said…”
“This just rings to realistic. I’m wondering if maybe it isn’t a little autobiographical, and I really should ask him if I could let someone else see it first. So if he turns me down, we’ll have to figure something else out…”
“Especially since you seem to be handing it out like breath mints at a Garlic Festival…. Okay Mr. Executive, give me the run down….”
“The short sell is a guy getting involved in something and letting it take total control of his life. It destroys everything, including his wife and best friend, and then how he pulls himself out of it and attempts to go on…”
“It’s not one of those drug or alcoholic things?”
“Nope, although he does get involved with drugs, he gets wrapped up in porn.”
“Addicted to watching….”
“Uh…no…. performing….”
“Ah, a porn star…”
“No not really….”
“Computer downloads…amateur stuff actually…” a third voice entered the room. “And they prefer the term Adult entertainment, but that’s just a term like sanitation engineer, its still means garbage man.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Tyson, I’m Jenson Michael.”
Jeremy shook his hand. “Good to meet you, and call me Jeremy. Ian was just filling me in on how profound he thinks your work is, particularly this script.”
“Thank you, both.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I think now is the time to ‘fess up. It’s very personal, and it will haunt me forever. I try not to be ashamed, and in many ways I am not, but I know that it will haunt me for the rest of my days…”
“Jenson, this…” Ian pointed to the script now at Jeremy’s side “This is just brilliant…”
“But no one would touch it in a million years, except maybe the adult entertainment industry and they’d give it a sappy happy ending and a million dollar money shot.”
Ian nodded his head. “I was going to let Jeremy read it, so he could see what you are capable of and maybe the two of you could get together and create something, something just as good that would give Jeremy what he needs to take you both to the next level.”
“That would be great. Please, sir…uh…Jeremy…read it. I almost didn’t include it; I guess it was my way of chickening out in telling Ian about my past. I knew I’d eventually have to come clean…”
“Jenson, this does not change a thing in our working or personal relationship. You’re writing is brilliant and the fact that you’ve been through what you’ve obviously overcome just makes me respect you even more. I’ve been reading everything you keep coming up with. I’ve been devouring it like chocolate.
“You’re kidding?” Jenson sat down.
“Holy crap!” Jeremy had sat on the empty bed and was tearing through the script. “Just how autobiographical is this?”
Jenson drew a little circle on the floor with his toe. “Names changed to protect the innocent…”
“Zaps you from page one, doesn’t it?”
Jeremy put up his hand, as in do not disturb me and flipped to the next page.
“A rather different kind of action script, is it not?” Ian asked.
“Shhh!” Jeremy hissed. “Oh my God!” He looked at Jenson and turned the next page.
“I’ve never been in the same room while somebody read that. In fact, no one but me has ever read it…”
“Uhm…well, maybe one or two others have read it.” Ian admitted.
“One or two others?”
“Look Jenson, I’ve already optioned you for two series, but “Quarters” is several notches above…anything, plus the subject matter has hit close to my heart for some reason. I’ve showed it to a few people hoping they might feel the same way. Sorry if I over stepped my bounds.”
“I am…there are no words, Ian. You have in many ways been a savior to me…”
“Let’s never go that far, Jenson…”
“You literally pulled me out of the garbage, at least my script anyway and in just the last few months you keep finding ways to make every dream I’ve ever had a reality. You show whatever you want of mine to anyone you want. I trust you implicitly.”
“Jenson, I appreciate your praise, but I’m just betting on a winning horse.” Ian smiled. “Speaking of which, gimme a buck, take a look under that food cover and guess what the muck is. Winner gets the pot.”
“You are kidding me?” Jenson smirked.
“Serious.” Ian said.
“No I mean there’s no way anyone could guess what the stuff is.”
“Of course not.” Ian laughed. “It’s kind of like culinary horseshoes, closest to the mark gets the point.”
Jenson leaned over and sniffed. “That smells like it’s been through the system once already. Is that some sort of bread chunk? Pot pie?”
Ian reached out his free hand. “A dollar and I’ll put you down.”
Ian and Jenson discussed plans for the two series they were working on, tossing out ideas for storyboarding and future episodes. Jenson promised Ian that he’d bring him a few more scripts that he’d tinkered with and a list of ideas for a season’s worth of episodes by Monday morning.
While they plotted and planned, Jeremy read…and laughed…and moaned…and cried. When he finally read the last page, he closed the script and walked over to where Jenson was seated. He got on his knees and held the script to his chest. “This is mine…”
“Sure you can have it. I have it on disk at home…”
“No Jenson, you don’t understand. This is it. I want to do this film.” He was dead serious.
“You’ve got to be kidding me...” Jenson was floored.
“Jeremy…?” Ian blinked.
“I know, I know, we’ll never cast it, no one will want to direct, no one will distribute, no one will go see it…fuck it…I want to do this film…”
“Holy smokes…” Jenson began to tremble.
“If you’re going to throw up, Jenson,” Ian pointed to the bed stand. “There’s a bed pan in there.” He took the money out of it just in case.
“Its intimate, small, the budget will be tiny. I’ll even finance it myself.” Jeremy looked at Ian. “My only question is, are you in?”
“Me?”
“Put your money where your mouth is, buddy. We’ll form our own little production company. Susan will probably get involved. You’ll exec produce, and call Saxon, she’s perfect. Hell, I’ll direct myself if I have to...”
“I guess we could go the film fest route, see if we could find a distributor that way…”
Jenson waved his hands. “Wait…wait…are you guys sure? No matter how hard you try this is going to be a pretty graphic film…there’s probably no chance at all it would get an R rating…you’d have to release unrated…”
“Not a problem for me.” Jeremy was up and pacing the room. “Damn, this is the role of a life time and I don’t care if no one sees it…”
“What if it ruins…your career?”
“Who cares…I’d rather go out doing something that has real bite, gives insight to something that is an unspoken...I don’t know…problem…blight…whatever…”
“But the sex…the nudity…the…uh…?” Jenson cautioned.
“If you think showing a little weenie is a problem with me, you haven’t seen a couple of my films…I’d rather be known as the guy who destroyed his career doing this…” he waved the script in the air. “Then spend the rest of my days playing shoot ‘em up until they have to hire a butt stand in for the obligatory shower scene.” He turned again to Ian and pointed his finger at him. “One more time, Ian Justyn—are you in?”
“Does it make a difference?” He asked.
“Yes. I could do this alone, but with you on board I know we can make this more than a vanity project. Together we’ll find a way to make this something that people will stop and want to see, regardless. Are you in?”
“I’ll have to check on the legalities of it, but if it means that much to you, Jeremy, I will be in as much as HRT will let me…”
“Guess where I been?” Ronnie asked, wearing an unending grin and Mickey Mouse ears.
“Hmmm…let me see.” Jesse said walking in a circle around him. “You smell like fudge, Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory?”
“No! Disneyland!” Ronnie somehow managed to grin even more. “The real one, not the fake one in Florida. Aunt Saxon took me.”
“She did?” Jesse sat on the bed. “I take it you had a good time?”
“We had a great time!” Ronnie pounced on the bed beside him. “Aunt Saxon is so much fun, almost as much fun as Disneyland.”
“Did you stop by and see your Papa?”
“Of course.” Ronnie rolled his eyes.
“How’s he doing today?” Jesse leaned back on his hands.
“Pretty good.” Ronnie flopped on his back. “He’s bored, but Uncle Jeremy is there and Mr. Ripley brought me home. He’s cool, too, ya know.”
“I guess when Saxon is there your Papa isn’t bored.”
“Probably not.” Ronnie flipped over on his belly and wriggled around until his head was facing the same direction as Jesse. “Do ya think they’ll get married?”
“Your Aunt Saxon and Ripley?”
“No, Papa and Saxon.”
“I don’t know.” Jesse took Ronnie’s mouse ears and put them on. “They seem to be the only ones who don’t see how perfect they are for each other.”
Ronnie nodded his head and grabbed his ears back. “Guess, we shouldn’t push it, should we?”
“Probably not.” Jesse grabbed the ears back. “Would you like that? If your Papa and Saxon got married?”
“Sure.” Ronnie hopped off the bed and opened up a bag he’d dropped on the chair when he bounced in the room. “She way too cool and the prettiest woman in the world. I think she’d make Papa happy. He needs that, and that would make me happy.”
Ronnie took his ears back and pulled another set out of the bag with Jesse’s name on it. “These are for you.”
“You got me my own ears?” Jesse smiled.
“Course I did.” Ronnie sat down next to Jesse as he put them on. Ronnie smiled and leaned against him and put his head on his shoulder. “You snore and your feet are cold, but I love ya.”
Jesse put his arm around the boy and squeezed him. “Love you, too, monkey. Hey let’s go somewhere with our ears on.”
“Cool! Where?”
“Any place you want to go.” Jesse smiled.
“Let me think on it.”
“Ronnie, does your Papa ever talk about his family?”
“Family?”
“You know, any other relatives besides you and his Uncle Nate?”
Ronnie shook his head. “There ain’t any that I know of.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure.” Ronnie sat down beside him. “Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“Uncle Jesse?”
“Yep?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Nothin’ really.” Ronnie looked at his face. “Ya just seem like there’s something way back in your head that you ain’t sure…” He corrected himself. “That you’re not sure you want to talk about.”
Jesse sighed, then grabbed Ronnie around the shoulders and yanked him close. “Oh, monkey, I think all this stuff, the stuff that happened to your Papa…”
“It’s a little hard to think about.”
“Yeah. It was scary.” Jesse kissed the top of Ronnie’s head. “Didn’t it scare you?”
“Yeah, but I knew everything was gonna be alright.”
“How did you know that?”
Ronnie took a deep breath. “Cause I’m pretty sure God didn’t put all of us together just to rip us apart so soon. He don’t go back on miracles. It ain’t the way God works.”
Jesse nodded his head. “You’re a smart kid.”
“I just got faith.” Ronnie smiled and took Jesse’s face in his hands. “I know no matter what, everybody is where they belong. Everybody is whirlin’ around in the world for a reason, not all of it good, but it’s all because of something that has to be.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“If ya forget. I’m right here.” Ronnie switched hats. “I think I like yours better. I’m gonna go give Granny and Poppy their ears, then let’s go get hot dogs and walk down that street with all the stars names in the sidewalk.”
“You got it, Monkey.”
Jess grinned as Ronnie snatched up his plastic bag and tore out of sight. He got off the bed and shut the door to his room. He got on his knees at the dresser and pulled the bottom drawer all the way out, off the tracks and into the floor.
He reached in a picked up the yellowing envelope he had hidden there. “So if I drop this bomb, does it destroy everything? Or is it just meant to be?”
“It can’t be that bad.” Dr. Hunter was suddenly standing beside the bed. He looked at Ian’s plate. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to be.”
“If I eat it and don’t throw up, can I go home?” Ian begged. “They give criminals time off for good behavior.”
“Put away the puppy dog eyes. They won’t work. If you continue to improve at this rapid pace we’ll discuss your going home in a few days.”
“I’ll do almost anything to go back home and back to work.” Ian drained his cup and decided to avoid the muck on his plate.
“Like we’ve been able to stop you from working, but the arrangements you made seem to be working out fine. We’ll keep it that way for a while longer. Your physical therapist wants to start you on hydrotherapy. Do you have access to a pool?”
“You mean like the one my best friend was floating in after he was shot?”
“Yes, just like that one.” Dr. Hunter Smiled. “I keep forgetting you lived a sort of ‘Sunset Boulevard’.”
“The film or the stage musical?”
“I prefer the film myself. The wife preferred the musical.”
“I didn’t know you were married.” Ian tried to make small talk so the doctor wouldn’t notice him hiding his lunch. “I’d love to meet her.”
“I’ll give you her number. She’s living in Bermuda somewhere with half of everything I own, working hard on getting the other half from her current husband.”
“Ouch…”
“Did that sound bitter?” Dr. Hunter took the napkin off Ian’s food tray, scooted it right back to him and handed him a fork. “If you want to go home you need to eat your meals.”
Ian looked back down at it, sighed and stuck the fork in it. “Can I call Tippy and have her bring me some lunch?”
“What’s wrong with…that?”
“You tell me what it is and I’ll eat it.” Ian looked at the food tray and then back up to Dr. Hunter. “I’m from the South, we’ll eat anything as long as someone can identify it.”
“Well it’s brown…” Hunter examined it.
“So are most body parts when heated.”
“It’s…liver…it has to be liver.”
“Why does it have to be liver? Is a transplant missing?” Ian asked.
“Uhh…”
“Look, I’ve got a really great appetite. I just haven’t been able to get down most of the stuff the hospital serves. There are workers converging on my house at this very moment to fix everything. I’m sure my son or someone will be arriving any minute with some real food, something edible and not loaded with salt.”
“You haven’t been eating any of the meals you’ve been served?”
“Dr. Hunter the meals here are more of a party game than a dining experience.”
“Party game?”
“We all put a dollar in the bed pan and try to guess what’s on the plate. When the orderly picks up the tray we ask what it was and the closest guess wins the pot. I won $8 yesterday. I guessed pudding, everyone else thought it was some sort of spaghetti.”
Dr Hunter rolled the table with the tray away. “Maybe I should have a conversation with the board about the food.”
“At least hide the salt from the people in the kitchen. Just looking at it makes me thirsty.” Ian looked in his cup and back at the doctor. “Hint…hint…?”
“More water?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Ian lifted his cup and indicated the arm that was still immobile. “One of us is still chained down.”
The doctor filled Ian’s cup from the sweating pitcher out of his reach. “Okay, now let’s have a look at this knee of yours…”
Ian lay back on the bed and lifted his hips as Taylor pulled the sweats off and laid them on the chair. He placed a stethoscope on Ian’s knee and listened a moment. “Okay ready?”
“As I’ll ever be…”
Ian winced as the doctor slowly maneuvered the leg in several positions, bending the knee and carefully watching the movement in the thigh. It always brought tears to Ian’s eyes.
“Well, the swelling obviously has gone down, nothing was broken. Are you able to put much weight on it?”
“Not much. It’s still pretty painful and it feels like it wants to give.”
“Once we get you healed we’ll probably need to discuss joint replacement.”
“Joint replacement? Isn’t that for senior citizens and Liza Minnelli? I’m only 29, doc.”
“But somehow, young man, you’ve managed to tear away most of the cartilage around your knee. You’ve got bone on bone. You’ll be able to function, but you’re going to continue to have more and more pain until you let us give you an upgrade.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“It’s up to you, but it’s my recommendation. In the meantime, I’m sure I’ll be sorry for saying this, but I do want you up and moving around more. You going back and forth to the bathroom by yourself?”
“Pretty much…when there is someone around to unhook me.”
“Showering?”
“Oh god, wouldn’t that be nice.”
“Why aren’t you showering?”
“You didn’t tell me I could.” Ian smiled at the doctor. “I don’t do anything I’m not told I can do.”
“Yeah…uh huh.”
“Really.” Ian insisted.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to escape when you were less than 48 hours out of a coma.”
“That was an emergency.” Ian pouted. “And you exaggerate. It wasn’t a coma, I was just bored senseless from being in the hospital.”
“Whatever…” The doctor made a notation on Ian’s chart. “I’m sure I told someone it was fine for you to shower.”
“Either you didn’t or the nurses here just love giving me sponge baths.”
“We won’t go there.”
“Good.”
“I’ve made a note on your chart and before I leave the floor I’ll tell the nurse on duty that you may shower.”
“On my own?”
“Did you want to invite a friend?”
“Not really.”
“I’m not going to guarantee you’ll be able to do it on your own, but give it a shot…with an orderly standing by. The last thing we need is for you to lose your balance, slip or fall.”
“Thank you. I haven’t washed my hair in two weeks. You could fry pork on my scalp!”
“I’m sure we can get that taken care of…”
“Nice underwear!” They both turned in the direction of the door. “I take I got here just in time for Naked Time?” Jeremy Tyson was grinning from ear to ear.
“Who keeps letting the peeper in?”
“How’s he doing, doc?” Jeremy asked as Dr. Hunter helped Ian get his sweats back on.
“Very well, hopefully we’ll be sending him home—with reservations---soon.”
“He can stay with Susan and I for a while. We’ll wait on him hand and foot, keep him out of trouble.”
“And I told you, no offense, I just want to go home. I’ll be fine. Ronnie can keep me out of trouble, and you know good and well the Shores will be no further away than, well, just far enough away that I won’t be able to swat them. You all are welcome to come and visit, and I am dying to see the boys. The look on the cat’s face when they show up will be a big plus. Please understand, I just want to be in my own home.”
“We do, but the offer stands, even if you go home for a few days and then want to come by for a while. Besides, you’ve got Susan all fired up about this project. I need something to keep me occupied…you can be my project.”
“Get a real job, dude.” Ian snarked. “I’m tired of being everyone’s project. I just wanna go home, be with my boy and let his cat terrorize me.”
“Regardless when we release you to go home, you will need to be under adult supervision.” Dr. Hunter informed Ian.
Jeremy choked back a laugh.
“Hey!” Ian reminded him. “I only have one arm immobilized now, but I know lots of really good sign language I can do with my free one.”
“I meant that having your son around will be great, but you are still going to need help. As wonderful as your boy may be, I’m sure he can’t keep you from doing things your not supposed to be doing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ian wanted to know.
“It means he’s got your number.” Jeremy laughed.
“I’ve got one arm and a leg still useless and without a cane I’m pretty much doomed to walking in a circle. How much trouble can I get in?”
Dr. Hunter put his hands up in the air. “Mr. Justyn, you do not even want to tempt me to go there. Remember, if you’re good and continue to improve you’ll go home in a couple of days, provided I feel there will be someone around who will keep you out of trouble otherwise I’ll keep you tethered to that bed until I know you can’t do any more damage to yourself.”
“Fine.” Ian pouted.
“I’m going to go talk to the floor nurse about getting you to the shower.”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Hunter nodded and turned to go. He stopped and picked up the cover on the lunch tray and looked one more time. He reached in his pocket and tossed a dollar on Ian’s bed. “Liver. It has to be liver.”
“Why does it have to be liver?” Ian said, grabbing the single and tossing it in the bedpan on the stand by his bed.
“That’s my guess.” The doctor said and was gone.
“Are you in today?” Ian asked.
Jeremy walked to the tray and looked at it. “Have you tasted it?”
“Like that’s going to be any clue as to what it is.” Ian said. “I think its Jell-O with fruit.”
“It’s brown.” Jeremy looked back at him.
“But there’s chunks of something in it. It has to be Jell-O.” Ian motioned with his free hand to shut the door.
“What?” Jeremy asked.
“Shut the door and open the window. I’m dying for a cigarette.”
“What makes you think I have cigarettes on me?” Jeremy put the lid down on the mystery concoction.
“God only made me look stupid.” Ian smirked. “Now shut the door, open the window and share one with me. Just a puff or two…please, please, please.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but Jeremy shut the room door and walked over to the window and struggled to open in it. “I don’t think it comes open.”
“Yes it does.” Ian insisted. “Tippy had it open yesterday afternoon.”
The door opened and Ripley stuck his head in. “Are you smoking in here?”
“No.” Ian said.
“Then why did you shut the door?”
“Jeremy and I are going out on the ledge to have sex.”
“Cool.” Ripley smirked. “I am just not getting in trouble for letting you smoke again. You know they frisk me now every time I walk in the building?”
Jeremy gave up. “We couldn’t if we wanted to. The window doesn’t open.”
“Yes it does.” Ian insisted.
“You were going to smoke.” Ripley scowled.
“Okay, okay.” Ian admitted. “Jeremy was gonna share one with me, but the weenie can’t get the window open.”
“You have cigarettes on you?” Ripley scowled again.
Jeremy pulled a pack from his pocket. “Reds.”
“I’ll get the window open.” Ripley said. “You open the bathroom door and turn on the exhaust fan.”
“Gimme.” Ian said hungrily as Jeremy rushed to the bathroom and tossed the pack on his bed. He snatched the pack up and struggled to get one out.
“You’ll smash them.” Ripley said having opened the window. He took the pack and slid one out.
Ian put it to his lips and tried to be patient as Jeremy came with his lighter. Ian took a puff and rolled back his eyes. “Mmmm…lunch is good.” He handed it to Jeremy.
“I feel like I’m sharing a joint after the football game.” Ripley giggled as Jeremy handed the smoke to him.
The door came open and Ripley tossed the cigarette out the open window. An extra wide nurse stomped in. “Are you smoking?”
Ian looked at Jeremy and then to the nurse. “Some people think so.”
Jeremy nodded. “They do call him the Hunka Hunka HRT…”
Jesse and Reese were sitting by the pool watching the workman unload. Jesse was all a jitter. He wanted this work done and the worker’s gone. He had waited a whole week for the pool to be drained and sanitized, then refilled. Tonight he could use it, and damn it wouldn’t you know that’s the day the insurance company scheduled the men to come and fix the windows and the railings.
Reese was just a sad puppy. He had flown Billy home two days ago. They had spent almost every waking hour together, and he missed him so badly. He knew that Billy had to go home, but he also knew that sooner or later either he was going there or Billy was moving here.
He’d heard nothing from him, only an email saying that his plane had arrived and his sister had picked him up at the airport. Reese knew that his family probably had lots of questions and when Billy gave way to the details it probably wouldn’t be pretty. Billy knew that he was there for him, but it was hard to be a shoulder to cry on when you were on opposite ends of the country.
“Good morning gentlemen.” Tippy stood before them, hands on her hips, and smile on her face. “I’m Tippy Shores; you all can introduce yourselves later. These are my boys, Reese and Jesse. We live next door, but Mr. Justyn wanted us to make sure that you were properly taken care of, since you’ll be taking care of his place. Now, Mr. Justyn insisted upon supplying you all with anything you might need.”
One of the tall ones said, “We thank you ma’am, but we brought everything that we need.”
“We’re not offering hammers and nails, honey. We will be sitting up a table, you tell us where out of your way and out of the sun, and we’re gonna keep it well supplied with lemonade, coffee and soft drinks, and of course I’ll be serving you lunch as well.”
“Oh, wow! We need more gigs like this!” One of the others said.
“Now, two things boys…first off I’ll need to know how everyone likes their steaks…”
“Steaks?” the one who could still speak managed to utter.
“Mr. Justyn and the Shores don’t screw around with lunch meat boys. And finally when the work is completed…to my satisfaction…I’ve got several cases of Dos Equis chilling…how does that sound?”
“Can we work for you guys forever?”
Tippy laughed. “Now we got some things to do here as well, so let us know if we are in your way…”
And the work began. Tippy and the boys began to hose down and scrub the patio, Tippy just wasn’t happy with the work the first clean up crew had done, and of course the pool people “had made a mess”. The work crew tore down the plywood that had been nailed up and took down the last of the police tape.
Jesse was standing beneath the under hang watching one of the guys strip off his shirt and wipe his face with it, then pick up some wood and hauled it off. He leaned against the house.
“Jesse, get your head out of the clouds and get your ass in gear” Reese commanded.
Dutifully he went back to work. As he squatted to clean a splatter of something off the wall, he shifted the weight on his foot heard a crunch. “Damn, there must still be some broken glass down here.” He said to no one in particular.
He pushed the bar back and unveiled a mass of shattered glass that had either never been found or just been swept under the bar by the first clean up crew. He walked over to where his mother had leaned a broom and a dustpan.
As he bent over to pick up the dustpan, another of the workers whizzed by. Jesse had to duck out of the way or get smacked by a two by four. He lost his balance and bonked his head against the wall. He felt the wall give.
“Shit…” Jesse said, rubbing the knot on his head.
When he looked up he noticed that the panel was drifting open. “The police must have left this unlocked…” he said to himself, and stuck his figure in the fake panel knot and pulled it toward him until he heard the click. He made a mental note to go in the garage and make sure that side was locked as well.
Mr. Herman hadn’t been buried long when Miss Elizabeth told him that she was having the place renovated. Jesse had assumed that all the passageways had been either taken out or closed off. The house looked completely different, but Jesse had found that one hidden entrance from the patio to still be in tact. He wasn’t sure if Miss Elizabeth had just forgotten about it, but he always made sure that it was locked and he knew the only other one was in the garage.
It was the only way now into the basement, so he never worried about it. With all the strangeness that had gone on the past couple of weeks; he didn’t want to take any chances. Jesse went back to cleaning up the broken glass.
Kellen had arrived by ten and enlisted the boy’s help in setting up the surveillance system. It was a series of wires and cameras, tripped by movement. Kellen had one and the Shores had one. The cameras were linked to main frames that were checked supposedly by a central system for unusual circumstances.
It wasn’t complicated and once it was hooked up anything could be recorded or reported with the touch of several buttons from anywhere in the house. Had this system been in place before hand, if nothing else, there would have been some footage of Blue Richards entering the house and maybe at least a few more questions could have been answered. Hopefully someone at the main frame would have alerted the police and all of the mess could have been avoided.
As they hung some of the wires Kellen laughed. “You know, I have one of these, too…you’d think I could at least catch on tape how my damn dog keeps getting out of the house…” Jesse and Reese looked in the direction Kellen was and sure enough Ralphie had joined the party, tail wagging and gleefully sniffing at the workers.
“So Susan’s excited about the new album?”
“She is. Marc from your old band, El Toro, is producing. She hasn’t recorded in so long. Thank you, thank you for getting my wife back where she belongs…”
“I’m just thrilled. I can’t wait to hear her voice again. It’s been absent way too long, and I think we’ve got a winner in what we’ve cooked up.”
“She hasn’t been this excited since she found out she was pregnant with Charlie.”
“I have to be honest, Jeremy. I’m excited to be working with her as little as I am. A lot of things seem to just be falling into place.” Ian winced. “You know I really hate that term, especially since I physically lived it.”
“You’ve been a busy boy.”
“You’re turn…anything in the works?”
“Not yet. Had lots of offers, but nothing excites me, lots of the same old crap. I’m getting too old and too bored with most of it. I need something I can sink my teeth into.”
Ian thought for a moment. “Okay, can I show you something? Something very different, maybe not your cup of tea, but I can’t get it out of my mind…?”
“I am very open to anything you can’t stop thinking about….”
“Hand me that tote.” He pointed to the tote that Blake had brought that morning. Jeremy sat it on the bed and Ian started rummaging through it.
“This is a new writer, one I’ve just put on retainer and talked him into bringing me just about everything. I retained him after one script, pretty run of the mill, but some really unique ideas. This stuff, this stuff he wasn’t trying to sell, it all just…I don’t know…blows my mind….”
“He wasn’t trying to sell…”
“Gut feeling. Everyone compromises somewhat on the first sell. I told him I’d put him on retainer if he brought me everything that he’d written but hadn’t tried to sell. My hunch paid off, a lot of really great stuff…this is it…Quarters…”
“Quarters?”
“Title….” He hadn’t the script to Jeremy. “Now I don’t have Jenson’s permission to let anyone else read his stuff. This one, this is just wow…edgy, sexy, funny and I think very personal.”
“Sounds great…”
“Now you would never ever in a million years do this movie, I’ve showed it to Saxon…”
“And…?”
“She loved it, but agreed it was totally uncastable. I think that maybe once you read this you and he might be able to get together and create something, something that will excite both of you.”
“Personal, you said…”
“This just rings to realistic. I’m wondering if maybe it isn’t a little autobiographical, and I really should ask him if I could let someone else see it first. So if he turns me down, we’ll have to figure something else out…”
“Especially since you seem to be handing it out like breath mints at a Garlic Festival…. Okay Mr. Executive, give me the run down….”
“The short sell is a guy getting involved in something and letting it take total control of his life. It destroys everything, including his wife and best friend, and then how he pulls himself out of it and attempts to go on…”
“It’s not one of those drug or alcoholic things?”
“Nope, although he does get involved with drugs, he gets wrapped up in porn.”
“Addicted to watching….”
“Uh…no…. performing….”
“Ah, a porn star…”
“No not really….”
“Computer downloads…amateur stuff actually…” a third voice entered the room. “And they prefer the term Adult entertainment, but that’s just a term like sanitation engineer, its still means garbage man.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Tyson, I’m Jenson Michael.”
Jeremy shook his hand. “Good to meet you, and call me Jeremy. Ian was just filling me in on how profound he thinks your work is, particularly this script.”
“Thank you, both.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I think now is the time to ‘fess up. It’s very personal, and it will haunt me forever. I try not to be ashamed, and in many ways I am not, but I know that it will haunt me for the rest of my days…”
“Jenson, this…” Ian pointed to the script now at Jeremy’s side “This is just brilliant…”
“But no one would touch it in a million years, except maybe the adult entertainment industry and they’d give it a sappy happy ending and a million dollar money shot.”
Ian nodded his head. “I was going to let Jeremy read it, so he could see what you are capable of and maybe the two of you could get together and create something, something just as good that would give Jeremy what he needs to take you both to the next level.”
“That would be great. Please, sir…uh…Jeremy…read it. I almost didn’t include it; I guess it was my way of chickening out in telling Ian about my past. I knew I’d eventually have to come clean…”
“Jenson, this does not change a thing in our working or personal relationship. You’re writing is brilliant and the fact that you’ve been through what you’ve obviously overcome just makes me respect you even more. I’ve been reading everything you keep coming up with. I’ve been devouring it like chocolate.
“You’re kidding?” Jenson sat down.
“Holy crap!” Jeremy had sat on the empty bed and was tearing through the script. “Just how autobiographical is this?”
Jenson drew a little circle on the floor with his toe. “Names changed to protect the innocent…”
“Zaps you from page one, doesn’t it?”
Jeremy put up his hand, as in do not disturb me and flipped to the next page.
“A rather different kind of action script, is it not?” Ian asked.
“Shhh!” Jeremy hissed. “Oh my God!” He looked at Jenson and turned the next page.
“I’ve never been in the same room while somebody read that. In fact, no one but me has ever read it…”
“Uhm…well, maybe one or two others have read it.” Ian admitted.
“One or two others?”
“Look Jenson, I’ve already optioned you for two series, but “Quarters” is several notches above…anything, plus the subject matter has hit close to my heart for some reason. I’ve showed it to a few people hoping they might feel the same way. Sorry if I over stepped my bounds.”
“I am…there are no words, Ian. You have in many ways been a savior to me…”
“Let’s never go that far, Jenson…”
“You literally pulled me out of the garbage, at least my script anyway and in just the last few months you keep finding ways to make every dream I’ve ever had a reality. You show whatever you want of mine to anyone you want. I trust you implicitly.”
“Jenson, I appreciate your praise, but I’m just betting on a winning horse.” Ian smiled. “Speaking of which, gimme a buck, take a look under that food cover and guess what the muck is. Winner gets the pot.”
“You are kidding me?” Jenson smirked.
“Serious.” Ian said.
“No I mean there’s no way anyone could guess what the stuff is.”
“Of course not.” Ian laughed. “It’s kind of like culinary horseshoes, closest to the mark gets the point.”
Jenson leaned over and sniffed. “That smells like it’s been through the system once already. Is that some sort of bread chunk? Pot pie?”
Ian reached out his free hand. “A dollar and I’ll put you down.”
Ian and Jenson discussed plans for the two series they were working on, tossing out ideas for storyboarding and future episodes. Jenson promised Ian that he’d bring him a few more scripts that he’d tinkered with and a list of ideas for a season’s worth of episodes by Monday morning.
While they plotted and planned, Jeremy read…and laughed…and moaned…and cried. When he finally read the last page, he closed the script and walked over to where Jenson was seated. He got on his knees and held the script to his chest. “This is mine…”
“Sure you can have it. I have it on disk at home…”
“No Jenson, you don’t understand. This is it. I want to do this film.” He was dead serious.
“You’ve got to be kidding me...” Jenson was floored.
“Jeremy…?” Ian blinked.
“I know, I know, we’ll never cast it, no one will want to direct, no one will distribute, no one will go see it…fuck it…I want to do this film…”
“Holy smokes…” Jenson began to tremble.
“If you’re going to throw up, Jenson,” Ian pointed to the bed stand. “There’s a bed pan in there.” He took the money out of it just in case.
“Its intimate, small, the budget will be tiny. I’ll even finance it myself.” Jeremy looked at Ian. “My only question is, are you in?”
“Me?”
“Put your money where your mouth is, buddy. We’ll form our own little production company. Susan will probably get involved. You’ll exec produce, and call Saxon, she’s perfect. Hell, I’ll direct myself if I have to...”
“I guess we could go the film fest route, see if we could find a distributor that way…”
Jenson waved his hands. “Wait…wait…are you guys sure? No matter how hard you try this is going to be a pretty graphic film…there’s probably no chance at all it would get an R rating…you’d have to release unrated…”
“Not a problem for me.” Jeremy was up and pacing the room. “Damn, this is the role of a life time and I don’t care if no one sees it…”
“What if it ruins…your career?”
“Who cares…I’d rather go out doing something that has real bite, gives insight to something that is an unspoken...I don’t know…problem…blight…whatever…”
“But the sex…the nudity…the…uh…?” Jenson cautioned.
“If you think showing a little weenie is a problem with me, you haven’t seen a couple of my films…I’d rather be known as the guy who destroyed his career doing this…” he waved the script in the air. “Then spend the rest of my days playing shoot ‘em up until they have to hire a butt stand in for the obligatory shower scene.” He turned again to Ian and pointed his finger at him. “One more time, Ian Justyn—are you in?”
“Does it make a difference?” He asked.
“Yes. I could do this alone, but with you on board I know we can make this more than a vanity project. Together we’ll find a way to make this something that people will stop and want to see, regardless. Are you in?”
“I’ll have to check on the legalities of it, but if it means that much to you, Jeremy, I will be in as much as HRT will let me…”
“Guess where I been?” Ronnie asked, wearing an unending grin and Mickey Mouse ears.
“Hmmm…let me see.” Jesse said walking in a circle around him. “You smell like fudge, Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory?”
“No! Disneyland!” Ronnie somehow managed to grin even more. “The real one, not the fake one in Florida. Aunt Saxon took me.”
“She did?” Jesse sat on the bed. “I take it you had a good time?”
“We had a great time!” Ronnie pounced on the bed beside him. “Aunt Saxon is so much fun, almost as much fun as Disneyland.”
“Did you stop by and see your Papa?”
“Of course.” Ronnie rolled his eyes.
“How’s he doing today?” Jesse leaned back on his hands.
“Pretty good.” Ronnie flopped on his back. “He’s bored, but Uncle Jeremy is there and Mr. Ripley brought me home. He’s cool, too, ya know.”
“I guess when Saxon is there your Papa isn’t bored.”
“Probably not.” Ronnie flipped over on his belly and wriggled around until his head was facing the same direction as Jesse. “Do ya think they’ll get married?”
“Your Aunt Saxon and Ripley?”
“No, Papa and Saxon.”
“I don’t know.” Jesse took Ronnie’s mouse ears and put them on. “They seem to be the only ones who don’t see how perfect they are for each other.”
Ronnie nodded his head and grabbed his ears back. “Guess, we shouldn’t push it, should we?”
“Probably not.” Jesse grabbed the ears back. “Would you like that? If your Papa and Saxon got married?”
“Sure.” Ronnie hopped off the bed and opened up a bag he’d dropped on the chair when he bounced in the room. “She way too cool and the prettiest woman in the world. I think she’d make Papa happy. He needs that, and that would make me happy.”
Ronnie took his ears back and pulled another set out of the bag with Jesse’s name on it. “These are for you.”
“You got me my own ears?” Jesse smiled.
“Course I did.” Ronnie sat down next to Jesse as he put them on. Ronnie smiled and leaned against him and put his head on his shoulder. “You snore and your feet are cold, but I love ya.”
Jesse put his arm around the boy and squeezed him. “Love you, too, monkey. Hey let’s go somewhere with our ears on.”
“Cool! Where?”
“Any place you want to go.” Jesse smiled.
“Let me think on it.”
“Ronnie, does your Papa ever talk about his family?”
“Family?”
“You know, any other relatives besides you and his Uncle Nate?”
Ronnie shook his head. “There ain’t any that I know of.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure.” Ronnie sat down beside him. “Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“Uncle Jesse?”
“Yep?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Nothin’ really.” Ronnie looked at his face. “Ya just seem like there’s something way back in your head that you ain’t sure…” He corrected himself. “That you’re not sure you want to talk about.”
Jesse sighed, then grabbed Ronnie around the shoulders and yanked him close. “Oh, monkey, I think all this stuff, the stuff that happened to your Papa…”
“It’s a little hard to think about.”
“Yeah. It was scary.” Jesse kissed the top of Ronnie’s head. “Didn’t it scare you?”
“Yeah, but I knew everything was gonna be alright.”
“How did you know that?”
Ronnie took a deep breath. “Cause I’m pretty sure God didn’t put all of us together just to rip us apart so soon. He don’t go back on miracles. It ain’t the way God works.”
Jesse nodded his head. “You’re a smart kid.”
“I just got faith.” Ronnie smiled and took Jesse’s face in his hands. “I know no matter what, everybody is where they belong. Everybody is whirlin’ around in the world for a reason, not all of it good, but it’s all because of something that has to be.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“If ya forget. I’m right here.” Ronnie switched hats. “I think I like yours better. I’m gonna go give Granny and Poppy their ears, then let’s go get hot dogs and walk down that street with all the stars names in the sidewalk.”
“You got it, Monkey.”
Jess grinned as Ronnie snatched up his plastic bag and tore out of sight. He got off the bed and shut the door to his room. He got on his knees at the dresser and pulled the bottom drawer all the way out, off the tracks and into the floor.
He reached in a picked up the yellowing envelope he had hidden there. “So if I drop this bomb, does it destroy everything? Or is it just meant to be?”
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