The Nylon Pirates by Nicholas Monsarrat

Author:Nicholas Monsarrat
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Nylon Pirates
ISBN: 9780755128990
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 2012-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

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7

Zucco was a breeze, a pushover, thought Diane; he knew all about the Hollywood meat-market, but he wasn’t used to it getting up and biting him in the wallet. The total operation took less than forty-eight hours, and the whole thing, as far as she was concerned, boiled down to two scenes, like in one of his lousy films.

Scene One was ashore at Barbados. Pretty colours, kind of picturesque, but a dump, old-fashioned as hell. Policemen dolled up like from Gilbert and Sullivan. A daylight session up the coast, where the attraction was billed as a Planters’ Lunch. (‘These are planters?’ asked Walham suspiciously. ‘But how do we know?’) A band knocking themselves into a coma, beating the hell out of two rows of oil drums. Then a nightclub where they fried the lobster in coconut oil and even gypped you in the loo.

First, Zucco mournful, saying: ‘Tell you a funny story about an electric guitar. We lost a good musician that way. Bought himself a cheap guitar. Too cheap. First rehearsal, he plugged it in, gave one plonk! and fell stone dead into the orchestra pit. Faulty wiring. Studio couldn’t figure out whether it came under the Musicians’ Union or the Seal of Good Housekeeping.’

Then Zucco warming up, giving the slip to his wife, saying: ‘Sure I’ll get you a film test, any time. I’m like that with Walter Warner.’

Then Zucco happy in his work at last, saying: ‘You’re stacked, kiddo. Beautiful music!’

Scene Two was Came the Dawn, or near enough to it, in Cabin A15.

Zucco distraught, saying: ‘But I told you, I’ll get you a film test. I can make you a big star! I have lunch with Genghis Cohen every day!’

Zucco weakening, saying: ‘Hell, they don’t pay those prices in Bel Air on Christmas Eve!’

Zucco in the death throes, saying: ‘Christ, if I OK’d a script like this, they’d have me strapped to the couch!’

Zucco flouncing out, saying: ‘Next time I see you, remind me to tell you to drop dead!’

Cut to hands counting ten-dollar bills, and Dissolve.

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