Harlan Ellison by Love Ain't Nothing But Sex Misspelled

Author:Love Ain't Nothing But Sex Misspelled
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-01-13T13:23:55+00:00

HANDY

My first premonition of disaster to come was during the conversation Crewes had with Spencer Lichtman. It was two days before he was to shoot her initial scenes for the film. Spencer had made an appointment to discuss Valerie, and Crewes had asked me to be present.

I sat mute and alert. Spencer made his pitch; it was a good one, and a brief one. A three-picture deal with Crewes and the Studio. Sharpel, the Studio business head, was there, and he did some of the finest broken-field running I’ve ever seen. He suggested everyone wait to see how Valerie did in Subterfuge.

Spencer looked terribly disturbed at the conversation as he left. He said nothing to me. Neither did Sharpel, who seemed uneasy that I’d been in the room at all.

When they’d gone, I sat waiting for Arthur Crewes to say something. Finally, he said, “How’s the publicity coming?”

“You’ve got the skinnys on your desk, Arthur. You know what’s happening.” Then I added, “I wish I knew what was happening.”

He played dumb. “What would you like to know, Fred?”

I looked at him levelly. He knew I was on to him. There was very little point in obfuscation. “Who’s got the pressure on you, Arthur?”

He sighed, shrugged as if to say welllll, y’found me out, and answered me wearily. “The Studio. They’re nervous. They said Valerie is having trouble with the lines, she’s awkward, the usual succotash.”

“How the hell do they know? She hasn’t even worked yet; only rehearsing. And Jimmy’s kept the sessions strictly closed off.”

Crewes hit the desk with the palm of his hand, then again. “They’ve got a spy in the crew.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re kidding!”

“I’m not kidding. They’ve got a pile tied up in this one. That ski troops picture Jenkey made is bombing. They won’t get back negative costs. They don’t want to take any chances with this one. So they’ve got a fink in the company.”

“Want me to sniff him out?”

“Why bother. They’ll only plant another one. It’s probably Jeanine, the assistant wardrobe mistress… or old Whatshisname… Skelly, the makeup man. No, there’s no sense trying to pry out the rotten apple; it won’t help her performance any.”

I listened to all of it with growing concern. There was a new tone in Crewes’s voice. A tentative tone, one just emerging for the first time, trying its flavor in the world. I could tell he was unhappy with the sound of it, that he was fighting it. But it was getting stronger. It was the tone of amelioration, of shading, of backing-off. It was the caterpillar tremble of fear that could metamorphose easily into the lovely butterfly of cowardice.

“You aren’t planning on dumping her, are you, Arthur?” I asked.

He looked up sharply, annoyed. “Don’t be stupid. I didn’t go all through this just to buckle when the Studio gets nervous. Besides, I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“I hope not.”

“I said not!”

“But there’s always the chance they can sandbag you; after all, they do tend the cash register.”

Crewes ran a nervous hand through his hair.

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