DISCLAIMER: This is merely satire. You know for laughs only. No offense is intended and no offense should be taken.

FEEDBACK: Send to p.phair@comcast.net

THE 2H'ers

by

phair

Part 4

Connor had to suppress a smile of excitement as she followed Marv Rattenbury's secretary down a subterranean hall of RATTS Studio. Benjy and Joyce were hustling along behind her just trying to keep up. The trio had been summoned back to the Studio. Marv's secretary had promised he had found the perfect vehicle. The ONE! The script which would be their follow up to DUMBSTRUCK. Connor was so happy with the prospect of working at her craft, she let herself ignore the fact that DUMBSTRUCK did not really exist yet.

“You'll need to remove your shoes before you enter the Bull Room,” the secretary said when they came to the door.

The three complied. They placed their shoes next to three other pairs already lined up.

“Ms. James, I'm sorry but you'll need to put on these complimentary peds. It's a health code issue and all,” the secretary handed little white foot coverings to Joyce.

“Figures, she wouldn't even put socks on for the most important business meeting of her life,” Connor huffed under her breath.

Benjy nudged her to be quiet. She silently nodded agreement as they waited.

“All ready, darling,” Joyce announced after several seconds struggling with the apparel.

Satisfied the three had appropriate footwear to enter, the secretary opened the door and motioned them inside. It took Connor a few minutes to take in the space. The carpeting was a soft white with deep pile. The paint on the walls edged up in deepening shades of white until it reached the ceiling with a splash of coco color. A low table off to the side was surrounded by pillows.

“This room is just LUSCIOUS!” Joyce exclaimed as she brushed past Connor to approach the table where Marv was standing, waiting.

He gave her a half smile and said, “Connor, come over and join us. We're having Chinese tea.”

Connor let Benjy take her arm and they walked to the table. Marv stood in front of an executive office chair which, she guessed, meant he would not be sitting with them on the floor. However, sitting on the floor was a man in his mid thirties. His hair was close cut and he was clean shaven. His tanned body was thin but in no way muscular. He remained seated, sipping his tea, and consciously ignoring the new comers.

“Everyone, pull up a pillow. Benjy, pour the ladies some tea. Let me introduce our screenwriter, Polo Pei,” Marv said and the seated man just nodded but did not speak.

“Where's Saul?” Connor asked with a sudden realization her manager was not included around the table.

“Not to worry, my dear. He's seeing some new clients upstairs. I gave him an office to work out of. He's in very high demand lately. He's up to date on the plan and supports it fully.”

Connor felt a bit neglected. She took her seat on the floor without asked the additional questions running around her head.

Once everybody was seated and sipping tea, Marv continued, “Polo has an explosive script to tell us about. Don't you, Polo?”

“It's only the best thing I've written,” the man dismissed the introduction with a wave of his hand. “It's a buddy picture. A cop buddy picture. However, our buddies are women. One, you,” he pointed at Connor as he detailed, “is an expert in languages, cultures, disguises, basically the brains. The other is the muscle. Physically hard and also an expert in ammunitions, bombs, anything combustible. She get an infectious catch phrase to utter at key moments. The story's hook is you don't know until the final frame if the pair are good cops or bad cops. BingBangBoom, you got Thelma and Louise meets Lethal Weapon meets The Sting.”

“That equals a two Oscars minimum and a franchise,” Joyce clapped her hands and giggled.

“Wow O wow,” Benjy hushed.

“Big budget, gorgeous location shoots, wardrobe changes from denim to designer, lots of leather, we got the whole kettle of fish,” Marv smirked. “We've even got a simmering tension between the two leads!”

“Who's the other lead?” Connor asked.

At that moment the door to the Bull Room burst open. Sammi Gregory strode up to the table with a smug confidence. With one shattering word she answered Connor's question.

“KABOOM!”

* * *

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…,”

“Benjy, give me more of that Moo Shi Pork,” Joyce pointed at the one she wanted among the sea of white boxes on the low table.

“…no, no, no, no, no, no…,”

“Oh, and Sammi give me some Mongolian Beef, will you?” Joyce demanded.

Sammi dropped her chop sticks back on her plate with a hint of frustration at the interruption. She retrieved the box Joyce wanted and handed it to her. Their hands connected.

“…no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…,”

Sammi frowned as she pulled back her grease smeared fingers.

“Oops, my bad,” Joyce said with a short laugh and then licked her digits clean.

Benjy spoke up, “You're disgusting, Joyce.”

“…no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…,”

“Polo would you like some Kung Pao Chicken?” Marv asked.

The man slowly shook his head no as he watched Connor pace the room repeating her mantra over and over. The young woman had been walking back and forth muttering for almost thirty minutes. While the rest of the group ate, Connor seemed to be having some kind of breakdown. Polo was riveted by the contrast between Connor's dire hopelessness and the banality of Chinese take out.

“Sammi, more Lo Mein?” Marv continued.

Sammi stared at her plate as she answer, “No, thank you. I think I've had just about enough.”

“Not me!” Joyce said. “You can never get enough free food, free booze, or free rent. That's my motto.”

“GOD DAMN IT!” Connor exploded.

The script writer quietly observed, “Here it comes.”

“Joyce, you selfish, greedy, gluttonous, lazy piece of crap. If it wasn't for your stupid…,”

Benjy jumped up and interrupted Connor's attempted revelation, “Hey, Connor, calm down. We're all here for a really great thing. Remember? Come on back and sit with us. I'll make sure Joyce shuts up.”

“Connor,” Marv called over, “come and sit down. I'm going to have Benjy, Joyce, and Polo head out. You and Sammi and I need to talk. So, the rest of you lot get moving. Clear out.”

“But, there's still food left,” Joyce was near tears.

“We'll get room service,” Benjy said as he helped the woman to her feet.

It didn't take long to clear the room. Despite Marv's affable nature, he was a serious business man. People listened when he spoke.

“Girls,” he began after the door clicked shut, “you've got to work this thing out. The buzz is you can't stand each other. And, that feeling is palpable with the two of you in the same room. It's the kind of chemistry which will send a picture like this into the stratosphere. I want that to happen. You both work for me so it is going to happen. Now, shake hands and lets get started on smoothing over your feathers.”

Sammi quickly extended her right hand to Connor.

Connor hesitated for a moment.

“Connor,” Marv's voice carried a warning.

Connor's resolve crumbled. She took Sammi's hand in her own. It was a familiar warmth. It was a warmth Connor had been missing for a long time. Sammi gave a smile as she brought her left hand up to join the handshake.

“What the FUCK?” Connor shouted.

Sammi locked a handcuff around Conner's wrist. When Connor tugged to get her hand back she realized she was handcuffed to Sammi. Both Marv and Sammi chuckled.

“Calm down, Connor. You're going to have a great night. You and Sammi are going to go to Q. My treat,” Marv started to explain.

“Connor it's the most exclusive restaurant in LA,” Sammi reassured. “Probably the most exclusive restaurant in the world.”

“Only the AA elite get in. The reservation waiting list is two years long. Only serves seven; table for four, table for one, and table for two. Tonight, you two are at the table for two. Compliments of RATTS.” Marv pulled out a paper from his jacket and read for a moment. “You do get a full bar to choose from but the chef picks the meal. I hear it can be anything from Komodo Dragon to Mac and Cheese. Go, talk, hash out your difference, then come back here in the morning and I'll take the cuffs off.”

Connor was only half listening. She was trying to slide her hand out of the metal restraint. When that didn't work she focused on the lock to see if she could pick it. No go. She was left with only one last escape route; reason. An utter long shot with a studio executive.

“Marv, don't you think it's going to look weird for Sammi and me to walk into the most exclusive restaurant in the word chained together. I mean, Sammi, what's your husband gonna say?”

Sammi flinched slightly at the dig. “My husband does what's best for my career. Just like I do.”

“Yeah, I seem to remember that,” Connor grumbled and started to pull on her hand again.

Marv let out a rumble of a burp. “Too many late nights and take out. My gall bladder's in a twist. You girls enjoy the restaurant. It's costing me 20K so make the best of it. See you in the morning.”

Connor stopped pulling on her hand. She stared at him as he walked out the door. He left them chained together with ridiculously priced dinner reservations which could result in Connor consuming an endangered species or starch soaked in starch.

“This is Hell.”

“No, sweetie,” Sammi said softly and caressed Connor's face, “this is Hollywood.”

TBC

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