Mulholland Meat by Kip Nolan

Author:Kip Nolan
Language: deu
Format: epub
Publisher: Gmünder
Published: 2016-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

15 | That thing called magic

If he hadn’t been awake, the cougar bark of Jimmy’s pickup backfiring as it pulled into the front yard would have done the trick. But Zeke was wide-eyed and bright-eyed, and as bushy-tailed as any teenager responding to the beckoning finger of fame might be. Dressed, breakfasted (not too much, he didn’t need a heavy stomach), he flew onto the pickup’s bench seat to collide shoulder to shoulder with Jimmy.

“I got a call from Mr. Millson late yesterday to ask if I could collect you. He not coming?”

“Says he’s got some things to fix first and he’ll be along later to sort out a proper contract with Mr. Flemyng. He said he’d stick his head around the stage door to ‘look in on proceedings.’ ”

Zeke caught the twitch of Jimmy’s lips in profile, a smile at his imitation of Harry Millson’s staccato delivery.

“Gee, isn’t this a beautiful day, Jimmy? Did it take you long to drive over? I mean the traffic’s so heavy here in L.A. that I don’t know I’d ever want to drive. My buddy back home, Mutt, has a real beat-up—I mean you called this thing beat-up, but you should see Mutt’s Ford Woodie Wagon, tires on the rims, all the varnish has gone a funny kinda green color, mold I s’pose. But it sorta goes when it’s had a bit of gas. Not that Mutt can ever afford gas anyway. But he did let me have a drive once when—”

“Slow down!” Jimmy negotiated the last bend down onto Cahuenga Boulevard. He risked a quick sideways glance. The calm steadfastness mixed with an amusement Zeke was sure only he could see had its effect. He slowed his breathing. “It’s okay, Zeke, kiddo. God knows I don’t know how I’d feel. I’m a writer and I’m happy behind the camera.”

I bet you’d look fantastic in front of it. But Zeke kept his own counsel on this notion.

Jimmy joined the southbound traffic, threading through the slowmoving vehicles beside the Hollywood Freeway construction. “You seemed fine last week and that was your first ever time in front of a motion picture camera. Now you’re an old pro.”

“Who are you calling an old pro?” Zeke quipped. His breath hitched when Jimmy reached out and patted his lower thigh.

“Sorry, I was kidding. It’s okay to be nervous. Thing is, I expect last time you didn’t know what you were letting yourself in for, and now there’s more riding on it. Well, don’t sweat it. You got those lines in your head?”

“They’re not that much.” Zeke said, trying to look unconcerned, like he was used to dealing with much more complex exchanges on stage.

“Anyone tell you Rock Hudson froze solid on a single line of ten words his first appearance?”

“Heh, yeah, Harry told me that. Hard to believe, ain’t it?”

In less than twenty minutes, Jimmy turned off Gower and under the arch of Mount Rushmore Motion Picture Studio with its four glowering presidential busts. At the barrier the older security guy Zeke remembered from a week back stepped forward.

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