My Gun Has Bullets (17 page)

"Son of a gun," declared Burt, then he crammed a chunk of bloody meat into his mouth.

"Hey, don't be surprised. Someone was bound to notice your appeal," Eddie said. "I'm just glad it was me."

"S-U-N-N of a G-U-N-N," Burt said.

"Yes, that would be one possible spelling." Eddie waved at Bob Eubanks and tried to keep his composure.

"It's a little project we've had in mind for ourselves." Otto said, unaware that he was cutting his next piece of meat from his own thumb. "Something that'd capture our understated elegance."

Eddie, horrified, tried not to stare at Otto nor at the blood spreading from Otto's hand across the steak.

"Peter Gunn."
Burt started humming the classic, jazzy theme. "Dum dum dum dum dadada dum dum ... He's so cool."

"Since we can't both play him, we decided one could be
Gunn,
and one could be
Sunn. Sunn of a Gunn,
get it?" Otto said, pausing to spit out his thumbnail. "You can decide who's who."

Oh Jesus, Eddie thought.

"I appreciate that, I really do," Eddie said, swallowing back the bile rising in his throat. "But there are a couple hurdles we gotta jump first."

Eddie waved over the waiter and ordered a vodka, straight up, then turned back to the guys.

"If it was up Lo me,
Sunn of a Gunn
would be on the air tomorrow." Eddie said, choosing his words carefully. "But you gotta please the big guys upstairs."

"We can rent a couple tuxedos and do a screen test," Otto said.

"Make all the girls wet." Burt dipped a french fry in what he thought was steak sauce on Otto's plate.

"What I was thinking was more along the lines of doing them a favor," Eddie said.

"We
would
be doing 'em a favor," replied Burt.

Otto and Burt promptly broke into a fit of snorting, nasal laughter that drew the attention of just about everybody.

Eddie was thankful to see the waiter setting his drink down. He abruptly knocked it back, and felt tears coming to his eyes. Why had he brought them here? He could have impressed them some other way without humiliating himself in front of the entire industry.

Then again, what did he care? Soon he'd
own
the fucking industry. And he needed Otto and Burt to do it. So he laughed along with them.

"Wit, charm, sophistication," Eddie said. "You guys got it all."

"Too cool for words," Otto said. noticing his bloody finger for the first time. When the hilarity died down, and the other diners returned to their meals, Eddie got serious once again.

"You want the big boys to owe you something, so you do 'em a little favor," Eddie explained. "Next thing you know, you got a twenty-two episode order for
Sunn of a Gunn."

"What's the favor?" Otto tied the napkin around his thumb as an impromptu bandage.

"Nothing really." Eddie lowered his voice, making sure no one was listening. "All you got to do is kill Boo Boo."

"The dog?" Burt asked.

"Yeah," Eddie replied. "The dog."

"No problem," Otto shrugged. "It's cheaper than buying beef."

Revised Network Primetime

Schedule for Thursday and Sunday

THURSDAY

New shows in bold, new time slots in
italic

MBC -
Monumental Broadcasting Company

8-9 pm JOHNNY WILDLIFE

9-10 pm DEDICATED DOCTORS

10-11 pm FRANKENCOP

UBC -
United Broadcasting Company

8-8:30 pm BOO BOO'S DILEMMA

8:30-9 pm
ENERGIZER BUNNY

9-9:30 pm BROAD SQUAD

9:30-10 pm
THE
ANSON WILLIAMS SHOW

10-11 pm
MISS AGATHA

DBC -
Dynamic Broadcasting Company

8-8:30 pm ADOPTED FAMILY

8:30- 9 pm MY WIFE NEXT DOOR

9-10 pm YOUNG HUDSON HAWK

10-11 pm THE TWO DICKS

SUNDAY

MBC

8-9 pm HONEYMOONERS: THE NEXT GENERATION

9-10 pm SHERIFF OF MARS

10-11pm SLEEPWALKER

UBC

8-8:30
Rappy Scrappy

8:30- 9pm
It's All Relative!

9-9:30 pm Smart Alec

9:30-10 pm MatchMusic

10-11pm
Socially Relevant

DBC

8-9 pm RED HIGHWAY

9-11 pm MOVIE

UBC Disarms
My Gun,
Revamps Sked

My Gun Has Bullets
has been pulled from its coveted slot on UBC's blockbuster Thursday schedule, and in a move that has stunned industry insiders, will be replaced by
Miss Agatha,
a fixture on Sunday nights for years.

The fate of
My Gun Has Bullets
remains unclear, although production has ceased indefinitely. LAPD investigators seem convinced the shooting of actor Darren Clarke by star Charlie Willis was accidental, citing a lack of any clear motive for foul play, though the investigation continues.

Police are concentrating their attention on the late Floyd "Itchy" Matthews, the property master best known for his work on
Birth of a Nation,
who died of a massive coronary the afternoon of the tragedy.

UBC has been attempting to shore up sagging demographics by adding sexy femme Sabrina (Torrid Embrace) Bishop to the
Miss Agatha
cast, and skewing the storylines to a younger audience. The move is seen as a way to halt any erosion in the Thursday sked as a result of the tragedy. New episodes will begin airing in two weeks. In the meantime, the web will fill the
My Gun Has Bullets
slot with unsold pilots.

The cops on DBC's
Blacke and Whyte
are now
The Two Dicks,
irreverent PIs based in Jamaica, though pundits predict it won't save the skein from
Miss Agatha.
Funeral notices are also expected for MBC's
Frankencop.

The Thursday hits
Rappy Scrappy
and
Smart Alec
are being moved to Sundays, where UBC hopes to clone its Thursday success story and steal some momentum from DBC's
Red Highway
and sound the death knell for MBC's
Honeymooners: The Next Generation.

Rappy Scrappy
will kick off the night, leading into the new McLean Stevenson sitcom
It's All Relative,
about an extended family forced to live in a cramped Miami condo, followed by
Smart Alec
at nine, and the struggling Tuesday night sitcom
Matchmaker.
Buttressed between two hits, UBC head Don DeBono expects
It's All Relative
to be strong enough by season's end to carry a new night next year. The new drama
Socially Relevant,
about a team of caring social workers led by Sharon Gless, fills the ten o'clock hour.
Rappy Scrappy and Smart Alec
are being replaced on Thursday by
Energizer Bunny
and
The Anson Williams Show,
a move seen as a last-ditch effort to save the ailing skeins.

There wasn't a single business in Los Angeles that didn't have at least one autographed photo of a celebrity patron on its walls. It didn't matter how big or small the star, just as long as you had a glossy or two to display.

The vacuum cleaner joint could boast that it regularly replaced Shirley Jones's lint-filled bags.
Lost in Space's
Dr. Smith rented the latest videos at the Wherehouse ("Your videos are out of this world!"). Superboy had his shirts pressed at Sally's Dry Cleaner ("You do a super job!"). Chuck Norris grazed the salad bar at Souplantation ("I get a kick out of your salads"). And Alec Baldwin liked the spaghetti at Filippo's, a narrow Italian restaurant tucked into the fold of a street corner mini-mall in the Valley.

So did Charlie, who wondered if Alec kept a stack of glossies with him at all times, ready to whip one out to any merchant who asked. Charlie speared his last meatball with his fork, and studying the wall of photos as he chewed, realized no one had ever asked him for his picture. He thought about offering one to Filippo, just for the fun of it, but decided he didn't want to risk having it refused.

Besides, the only photos he had of himself were a couple of Instamatic shots that Connie had taken, mostly of Charlie cooking at the BBQ grill or sleeping face-down in bed, twisted in the sheets, his butt exposed. Connie once spent an evening with a pair of scissors and Elmer's glue, making him a collage of BBQ and butt shots, which she proudly presented to him with great fanfare when he got home from patrol. The collage sparked a lot of laughs and love-making for a night or two, before it was put in the closet forever.

The bell above Filippo's door jangled as Detective Lou LeDoux blew into the restaurant, his pants clashing with the red-checked tablecloths and creating an instantaneous eyesore. He had always had that effect, sparking a violent conflict of pattern and color that assaulted the optic nerves of anyone within a glance. LeDoux felt one should stand out from the crowd, and dress accordingly. The least you could say was that he succeeded.

"Sorry I'm late," Lou said, settling into a seat opposite Charlie. "This old pervert was feeling up girls in the public pool out in Canoga Park. I was in the middle of arresting him and his brain exploded."

Charlie rubbed his temples. He could sympathize.

"Some vein just went pop," Lou added. "Is that what happened to you?"

"Could you please take off your jacket?" Charlie asked.

"Because that's the only explanation I can think of that explains why ..." Lou continued, leaning close, his smile transforming into a tight grimace, "... you're being so
monumentally fucking stupid."

"I'll explain everything," Charlie said patiently, trying to not look at him. It gave him a headache. "If you'll just take off your jacket."

"That's it, isn't it? You've gone fucking nuts." Lou admired the fine cut of his blue-and-yellow-checked masterpiece. "This is a beautiful jacket, any sane person could see that."

"Take it off," Charlie implored. "Please."

"Let me guess." Lou took off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. "My jacket is sending messages to the mother ship."

"No, but I'm sure it can be seen from earth's orbit." Charlie was relieved that Lou LeDoux was wearing a plain white shirt underneath his hideous jacket. It was much easier on the eyes. He could think clearly again. "Lou, I need your help."

"I can't help you," Lou said. "You're too far gone. You need somebody who can prescribe drugs."

"I admit I may have stepped over the line—"

"Stepped over the line?" Lou interrupted incredulously. "You dug it up with a bulldozer. First you blow away some schmuck, then you go on national TV like some paranoid fuck and threaten to kill anyone who gets in your way. But is that enough? No, you got to go impersonate a police officer."

"That's what they pay me for," Charlie said wryly. LeDoux wasn't impressed with Charlie's wit.

"Do they pay you to ride along on a robbery-in-progress call?" Lou sneered. He had Charlie there. Charlie thought about explaining himself—that he stumbled into it only to avoid being recognized by Detective Emil Grubb, but that would only make things worse.

"The only reason I don't arrest you right now is that Flanek is taking credit for the bust," Lou LeDoux said, "and if I hauled your ass in, it would make the LAPD look like a bunch of clowns."

"And because I'm a brother to you," Charlie said.

"Brother-in-law,"
Lou shot back. "There's a big difference."

''Yeah,'' Charlie said. "For one thing, you couldn't sleep with my sister."

"Who says I am?" Lou said. "Thanks to you, not only is my career dying, so's my sex life."

"That'll change when you become a national hero," Charlie said. "Your career will soar and Zoe won't beable to keep her hands off you."

"Uh-huh." Lou leaned back in his chair. "And how does this miracle happen?"

Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag containing his bullet. He dangled it in his brother-in-Iaw's face. "You take this bullet and solve a murder."

The truth about Charlie's transformation from real police officer to a fictional one was known only to a few agents, lawyers, Boyd Hartnell, Don DeBono and, of course, Esther Radcliffe. Lou LeDoux only knew that Charlie had been shot by some unidentified assailant, and that a casting agent, in the hospital for a boob job and tummy tuck, discovered him in the solarium, and immediately cast him in the
My Gun Has Bullets
pilot.

So Charlie began by telling Lou LeDoux the truth, that it was Esther Radcliffe who had gunned him down, and that his memory lapse was paid for with a television series. Then Charlie worked his way up to the good part.

"Esther Radcliffe switched my prop gun with her own, and this bullet proves it," Charlie said. "It matches the slugs pulled from Darren Clarke, the actor I shot. Now, all you have to do is arrest her for murder and grab all the glory."

Charlie waited to be forgiven, congratulated, and praised by his cynical brother-in-law. Instead, Lou LeDoux stared expressionlessly at Charlie for a long moment before speaking.

"Let me see if I got this straight," Lou said evenly. "You got shot by Esther Radcliffe, then you lied about it to get a TV series. So you're a lying fuck. Then this lady for reasons unknown—"

"I think she thinks I'm blackmailing her," Charlie interrupted. "But I'm not."

"Whatever," Lou continued. "She switches your prop gun for her gun, and you go and blow away your guest star. You stick your face in a news camera and tell the world you're gonna blow away whoever did this to you. That makes you a
crazy
lying fuck."

Charlie started to interrupt, as he didn't like where this conversation was going, but Lou held up his hand, as if stopping traffic. ''Then you impersonate a police officer and tamper with police evidence."