Feast of Saints (6 page)

Lilly and Anna arrived at the playhouse early and found their seats, which were right up front in the orchestra section. As the production began, it was clear that the director knew what he had in Tyler and had dramatically increased Kurt Von Trapp’s role in the production. Ty eclipsed the other players. His rendition of “The Lonely Goatherd” had them rolling with laughter. When Kurt stepped up to finish “Edelweiss” after Captain Georg Von Trapp faltered singing and the sweet ode to the Austrian homeland, there was not a dry eye in the house.

At the show’s end, the audience roared in approval, hooting and clapping through three curtain calls. On the last one, Ty scooped up a red rose from the stage and tossed it to Anna. Some lucky girl was going to have this boy, Lilly thought, and she was going to be the happiest girl alive. She hoped it would be Anna.

When it was clear the actors were not coming back, Lilly turned to look toward the exits and was startled to see that Jake Durant had been sitting two rows behind them with the rest of Tyler’s family. He had already turned and was headed out to the aisle. He was not alone. Sierra Nighly, looking drop dead gorgeous in a slinky green silk dress that hugged every curve, was his date. As she stepped out into the aisle, Jake put his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the theatre.

Lilly was shocked by the twisting sick feeling that overcame her at the sight of Jake’s hand on Sierra Nighly. When had she come to feel so proprietary about Jake, a man she’d met only twice?

She was frowning at his tall, retreating figure, when he suddenly turned to look straight at her. He gave her a small salute and continued out of the theatre.

“Let’s just wait here a bit and let the crowd clear,” she said to Anna, confused and appalled at her visceral reaction to seeing him with Sierra. Her dark mood returned suddenly, dimming the bright light Anna had brought to her afternoon and the joy of Ty’s outstanding performance.

Lilly stroked Anna’s hair as she fell asleep. Normally when Anna slept over, they both crowded into Lilly’s queen-sized bed. Tonight though, Lilly was worried that she’d frighten Anna by waking up thrashing and screaming with her recurrent nightmare. As she listened to Anna’s soft breathing, she questioned the wisdom of continuing to work on
Feast
. She had another four or five months of this horror flick. If she couldn’t get her stress level under control, she was going to turn into a basket case. She fell asleep sitting up in the chair beside the bed, still with no good answer for her dilemma.

The following morning, Lionel loaded Anna in the back seat of his car, shut the door and turned to her.

“What’s going on with you, Lilly? You look exhausted. I’d ask if it was Anna, but you looked like this yesterday, too.” Concern etched his features.

“I’m okay. Just stressed. It’s this movie. It’s gruesome. Not my cup of tea.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” her brother asked.

“No, I’m not sure. I’m really struggling, but I don’t intend to quit.” Lionel recognized the stubborn, determined look on Lilly’s face, and knew from long years of experience that she wouldn’t give up.

Not bothering to talk her out of it, instead he admonished, “Don’t go driving around in traffic on your Vespa without getting some sleep.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

True to her word, Lilly barely left her bungalow over the next couple of weeks. Continuing in the vein she started, she built on the Allegrezza she had begun after speaking with Kyle. It was the Jake statue that she began to think of as her production Allegrezza. On days that she awoke in a sweat, running from her fiery nightmare, she would uncover dragon Jake’s draped figure just long enough to stare him down and calm her heart, then blanket him again until the next time. Elven Jake she left uncovered and often consulted as she worked.

“What do you think, Grezza?” she’d ask him, stepping back to survey her design.

“You think it’s too much? Yes, yes, of course you’re right. Let’s start that brow over again….”

When she had a productive day, she’d slightly change elven Jake’s features to a kindly smile. If she was stymied, she’d pinch his brow in concern.

A week before the preproduction meeting deadline, production Allegrezza had become a hulking barbarian force in her studio. Lilly had developed an uneasy truce with him. Unlike her work on Gustav for
Fox Hollow
, she simply didn’t identify with the character. But she knew it was good: scary, strong and bruising. He would be virtually unstoppable in real life, if he existed.

Lilly knew when she was good at something and when she wasn’t. Looking at Allegrezza, she reluctantly acknowledged that she was extraordinarily good at making monsters.

Chapter 6

The Sunday before Thursday’s preproduction meeting, almost a month into her work on
Feast of Saints
, Lilly punched the speed dial for Greg’s cell number to ask a favor. Greg picked up on the second ring, which she knew to be a Talking Heads Psycho Killer ringtone.

“
Qu’est-ce que c’est
, Peanut?”

“Hey, can I bum a ride off you Thursday afternoon?” she asked.

Her only motorized transportation was the Vespa, whereas Greg conveniently drove a customized mid-90s Chevy Astro van. Lilly heard Greg groan over the phone.

“No food, I promise,” she said quickly.

Greg’s “Peanut” nickname for her didn’t come so much from her size as from the fact that she’d had the ill manners once, after a night of bar hopping, to eat a bag of peanuts in the van. The peanut dust drove Greg, a bit of a neat freak, into a frenzy of midnight vacuuming.

“I swear. Just me and my portfolio.”

If she could hitch a ride with Greg, she could make some foam core boards of her designs and take them with her to her first official preproduction meeting with Jake and the director, Monty Davidson.

“Alright, but only if you keep your promise. No food in the van,” Greg said sternly.

“I promise. How about you and Becky come over the night before and I’ll cook for you. And, if you don’t mind, I can run through my presentation for you guys. I need to practice in front of an audience, or I’m going to be too nervous.”

“Sure, sure,” Greg agreed. Then, foreseeing a promotional opportunity for his business, asked, “Do you think you could slip some of my cards to your new friends?”

Greg, like most of her LA friends, also worked in the film industry as the owner of “Get-A-Grip”, a rental outlet that catered to LA’s abundant new and struggling independent filmmakers. His shop rented everything from cameras and lighting to wardrobes and props. If he didn’t have it, he could get it. He was a secret treasure and an extremely useful person to know in this industry, although Lilly would have hung out with him regardless of his resources because he was one of the kindest people she’d ever met.

“Um… I don’t know about the cards. I’m not sure I can fit a plug into my presentation.” Inspiration striking, she said, “Instead, how about I wear one of your ball caps with the embroidered logo and accidently leave it at the meeting?”

“Seriously? You’d do that? That would be schweet.”

“It’s the least I can do,” she said, meaning it. She was putting Greg out. It was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last.

On Wednesday night, Becky was forced to cancel, having been called in to work at her catering job. Greg still came by to listen to Lilly’s presentation. Becky had already seen her production Allegrezza a week earlier and had pronounced him “sexy creepy.”

When Lilly unveiled for Greg what she had been working on holed up in her bungalow for the last month, he seemed surprised.

“I’m blown away,” he said. “This is tight. Really tight.” Those were words of high praise in Greg’s lexicon. Lilly could tell she’d gone up a notch in his estimation and it pleased her enormously.

“I am pretty proud of it,” she said demurely. “Although I wish I had more time to flesh out my ideas.”

She still didn’t feel completely satisfied with the final design for Allegrezza. She had finally decided that her inability to connect with Jake’s character might be a self-defense mechanism. As good as she was at imagining horrible characters and bringing them to life, she didn’t like them, and she certainly did not like the sleepless nights she spent running away from her nightmare Jake.

As she walked Greg to the door, he said he would pick up her and her portfolio at two-thirty the following afternoon. The meeting was to take place at the Culver Hotel, a fifteen-minute drive from her bungalow.

On the porch, Greg turned to her and hugged her tightly.

“Lilly, it’s good. And scary.” Holding her at arm’s length, he said, “You’re going to knock ’em dead.”

“Thanks.” She suddenly choked up, overcome by gratitude at having such a wonderful friend.

Half-joking to cover her emotion, she started to say, “Don’t forget to bring a hat,” but Greg was no longer looking at her. His head had nearly twisted off to get a better look at the silver sports car that zoomed down her street.

“Wow, that’s a McLaren!”

Lilly turned to see what had so forcefully grabbed his attention.

“A McWhat?”

“It’s the fastest road car in the world. And it costs a million bucks,” Greg enthused.

She stared after the fast retreating car. It looked an awful lot like the car Jake had parked in front of his house when she’d gone there for the lifecasting session. But that couldn’t be, could it? Still, how many million-dollar sports cars are there in this town? Maybe quite a few. It was LA after all.

When Greg showed up the following afternoon to give her a ride to Culver City, Lilly was ready, waiting and nervous as hell. She had not yet met Monty but had met his chief Assistant Director, or “AD”, Alison Chervik. Lilly had participated in two crew meetings at the studio run by Alison, who talked a mile a minute. Blunt, crude and quick with a bruising putdown, Alison reminded her of a female Ari Gold from the hit HBO drama,
Entourage
. Trendy LA action phrases and industry acronyms spewed out from her mouth.

Halfway through the first meeting with Alison, Lilly’s head was spinning. Turning to Bryce, who she was delighted to find at the start of the meeting had been hired on to the film, she asked, “What’s she saying? Is she speaking English?”

Just then, Alison’s laser gaze zeroed in on Lilly.

“And finally, for you newbies,” Alison blasted, “if you’re not already registered with your union, sign up at one of the tables in the lobby before you leave here today. I don’t care if you’re SAG, PGA or ADG, read the bylines and follow them. If I get a whiff of guild discord on this pic, I’ll push you right back up your mommas.”

Lilly fervently hoped Alison was not going to be at the Culver City meeting.

Greg, ever the gentleman, met her at the door and took the oversized black portfolio case from her and carried it out to the Astro.

Sitting at a stoplight halfway to Culver City, Greg looked over at her appraisingly.

“You look really pretty. Kinda hot, too, Peanut,” he said.

Lilly had bought a new dress for the meeting and she thought she’d struck the right note between professional and artsy in the muted gray silk, square-necked shift dress, with a wide belt of the same fabric. The red-trimmed five inch snakeskin Suecomma Bonnie’s that had arrived on her doorstep from Busan two days ago added a spice of style to the otherwise austere dress.

“Thanks,” she said, grateful for anything to boost her confidence. Rubbing her damp palms together, she asked, “Got any more good advice?”

“I’m always full of good advice. For starters, I think you look too nice to wear this stupid hat,” he said, reaching in the back seat and dropping the camo Get-A-Grip ball cap in her lap.

She looked at it ruefully. “I said I would, and I will. I’m a woman of my word.”

Popping it on her head, she looked at him, pursing her lips.

“Gimme that!” Greg whipped it off her head and threw it in the back of the van.

“Seriously, they’re going to love your work,” he said.

Pulling up in front of the historic Culver hotel, Lilly got out as Greg came around to slide open the side door and hand her the portfolio. If it had only contained foam core boards, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but she had shoved a collapsible easel in the soft-sided case, not taking a chance that there wouldn’t be one in the meeting room. The lopsided weight made the large portfolio unwieldy.

Watching her teeter in her high heels, Greg said, “Why don’t you let me follow you in and put these in the meeting room? You’ll look even cooler if you have a lackey.”

Relieved, she handed it back to him. As he closed up the van, she said, “Wait a minute!” Leaning in, she grabbed the hat and put it on his head. Greg smiled at her.

“Good thinking!” he said brightly. Then, in his best Morgan Freeman Tennessee drawl, “Lead the way, Miss Daisy.”

They were ten minutes early. Monty Davidson had been holding meetings all day in the Harry Culver conference room behind closed doors. There was a secretary at a table set up in front of the room with a roster. She checked that Lilly was on the list and raised her eyebrow at Greg, asking his name.

“Greg Newsome, Get-A-Grip film supplies,” he said.

Tipping his hat and winking at Lilly, he handed the secretary a fistful of cards. The woman, who may or may not have been a hotel employee, took the cards with a polite smile, copied his name onto the roster and told them to have a seat, indicating a small seating area across the hall.

Sitting and waiting was not one of her strong suits. “If it’s okay, we’ll leave these things here and just walk down to the lobby and be back in, do you think, ten minutes?”

“I’m sure that’ll be fine,” she replied.

Greg leaned the portfolio up against the wall outside the Harry Culver room, and they headed back down the marble stairs to the lobby, which was an ultra-sophisticated, old world lounge complete with live piano. Lilly waited by the door for Greg, who stepped out to move the van. When he reappeared, the two of them stood side by side at the entrance, surveying the elegant scene.

“Let’s grab a drink here after your meeting, and you can debrief me,” said Greg.

“I’m working on so little sleep I’d probably have one gimlet and pass out.”

Giving her a leer, Greg teased, “That’s why I like you. Cheap and easy.”

She scoffed, “Think again, buster. Only Old Raj gimlets for me. Popping for a drink here is going to put you back at least twenty bucks. I may be easy, but I’m never cheap.”

“Lilly?” She whirled in surprise at Sir Phillip’s rich voice right behind her, standing in the hotel entrance. Behind him stood Jake Durant, looking from her to Greg, one imperious brow raised. He looked all frosty, like the Jake she first met at the Campanile, not the playful Jake from the casting session a month ago. He looked different, too. Slimmer, she registered vaguely.

“Oh, hi!” she piped, moving out of the way so that they could get in the door.

Feeling flustered and trying not to let it show, she gestured toward Greg and said, “Phillip Greer, Jake Durant, may I introduce my….”
My friend, ack they might think she just let him tag along for a star encounter. My driver, no, no
. “This is Greg Newsome. He helped me out today by carting over a few things for our meeting.”

Greg tipped his hat at the two men, prompting Phillip to ask, “You’re with Get-A-Grip?”

“Yes. I own it.” Greg, ever ready with the cards, pulled a couple out of his pocket and handed them to Phillip and Jake. “Give me a call if you ever need anything. That’s the store number on there. Lilly’s got my cell. Call any hour, if you find yourself in a pinch. If it can be gotten in this biz, I can get it.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” said Phillip.

“I’m glad our name’s out there,” said Greg. Lilly couldn’t help smiling at Greg’s obvious pleasure upon hearing that Phillip Greer knew about his business.

“A man worth knowing,” said Jake, his tone bordering on sarcastic, as he made a show of stowing Greg’s card in his wallet. Then, looking at his watch, he said, “We’d better get up there, Phil.”

“Ms. Rose.” Jake extended his arm toward the stairs to indicate that Lilly should precede them. Greg was clearly dismissed.

Not appreciating Jake’s rude treatment of Greg she stood right where she was, effectively barring Jake’s path to the stairs. Greg was like family and nobody, big stars included, disrespected her family.

Refusing to rush off, she turned to Greg, touched his arm and said, “Thank you again for all of your help. I’ll call you in bit when we’re done here and we’ll have that drink. But I’m buying,” she insisted.

Looking only at Phillip, she said, “I’m glad the two of you had a chance to meet,” and then turned and headed back up to the conference room.

Emboldened by her irritation, Lilly thought she just might make it through the meeting without having an attack of knocking knees which tended to happen when she was nervous. The door to the Harry Culver room was open and the aide was no longer at her post.

“Well, where is she then?” thundered a voice that could be heard from the top of the stairs. Blanching, her bravado deserting her, she scurried into the conference room, not bothering to pick up the portfolio outside.

She recognized the hefty figure of Monty Davidson from his interview on James Lipton’s “Inside the Actors’ Studio,” which she had watched a few days before to prepare. He was on the phone, the aide standing nearby waving the day’s roster in front of him.

Snatching it from her, he said, “She was supposed to be here at one. Where the hell is she?”

One o’clock? What?
Surely she hadn’t screwed up the meeting time.

Looking up, the director saw her but kept talking until Jake and Phillip came in behind her. Lowering his voice, he seethed to the poor sot on the other end of the line before hanging up, “Figure out where Maya is and make sure this wasn’t our fuck up.”

Oh, thank God
. He wasn’t talking about her. He was talking about Maya Trent who had been cast in the female lead role. Maya, not Lilly, had failed to show for her time slot.

“Jake, my man,” the director boomed, glad-handing him. Then he grabbed Phillip by the shoulder and pulled him in for a half man-hug, patting him soundly on the back.

“Phil, thanks for getting him to sign on to this little project,” Monty laughed, emphasizing “little”. Alison had made it abundantly clear at the last crew meeting that this film had the largest “above the line” the studio sported this year. Bryce, translating for her, had explained that “above the line” meant the money budgeted for creative talent, such as actors, writers and directors.

Lilly stood quietly, waiting for the men to acknowledge the lone below the line talent in the room. It was taking so long, she wondered if maybe she was supposed to step outside and wait until she was called.