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 3

Connor could barely keep up with the pace of activities once the plane landed. A swarm of people met them at the VIP exit. There was a hair designer, a clothing designer, several make up people, a driver, and a caterer. She was measured and pushed and fed and led through halls and tunnels as Saul barked instructions between the frantic team working on the three travel weary displaced bohemians and some unseen associate on the other end of his cell phone.

"Saul, look at this one!" A painfully thin black woman next to Connor demanded. "I hate everything about her!"

"Fix her, Belva. You have twenty two minutes with her when we get to the boutique, not one minute more," Saul waved off more protests as he returned to his phone call.

Connor glanced over her shoulder and saw Benjy and Joyce were suffering as much as she was. Perhaps, Joyce was suffering a bit more because she had no tolerance for criticism even though she was always the first to dispense it. Most often in liberal doses.

The entourage was hustled into a waiting bus. Not just any ordinary bus, a Ratt's Studio bus.

"Shit, this place is bigger than our apartment," Benjy gasped as he was shoved into a barber chair.

Joyce, who broke free of her handlers to attack the buffet table, managed to mumble, "And, the foods better too,"

"Never stopped you from cleaning out our fridge," Connor shot back as she was settled into the chair next to Benjy.

"No fighting, children," Saul announced. "The three of you are to be on your best behavior during this trip. Are we clear on that?"

An unenthusiastic yes rose from the three.

"Good. In that case, I'll let you watch some TV while you get all spruced up," Saul gave a smile and a wink as he sat in the largest chair available.

Six or seven TV screens came to life around the bus. The familiar tones of Nightly Entertainment, a daily run down of Hollywood happenings, filled the air. Connor let herself start to relax with the idle ramblings about the top movies in the country as her hair was fussed with.

"And, now on to our 2H'ers watch!"

Connor's heart nearly stopped.

"Cool, we got our own segment," Joyce snorted between bites of caviar.

Connor was certain her heart stopped then.

"We talked early this morning with Sammi Gregory about her 2H'er status."

All the screens flipped to a beautiful, dark haired woman barely containing an infectious smirk, "To be perfectly honest, I wasn't invited. So, I guess my reputation for being as dumb as a post has spread beyond the confines of my own family."

"Oh no, Sammi, you didn't get to see the film? It can't be true?" the interviewer feigned sympathy.

"Nope, it's true. I'm the only person in Hollywood who hasn't seen the thing apparently," she gave a big grin.

"Well, you're certainly the only one to admit it," the interviewer patted her on the back. "And, worse news for you we hear. Your show has been cancelled after six seasons."

"What can I say, I'm having a bad week," the woman burst out in a full bodied laugh. "And, they say it never rains in LA."

"I'm so glad we didn't invite her," Joyce stuffed her mouth with patae. "Her show was stupid anyway."

"Shut up, Joyce!" Connor warned.

Joyce seemed stunned, "What? Don't tell me you watched her dopey cop show?"

"Joyce, Connor did a bit on that dopey cop show," Benjy reminded her. "So let it go."

"Oh yeah, I remember. They cut all your dialogue. Were you even in the final edit?" Joyce snorted before downing a finger sandwich.

"Joyce," Saul growled. "Give us all a rest or you'll be walking back to New York."

The bus fell silent with his threatening tone.

* * *

"Welcome to Ratt's Studio," a distinguished, gray haired gentleman came out from behind the huge walnut desk to greet them.

After hair and make up were completed in the bus, they were taken to a boutique for clothes. Connor had lost all sense of time but realized the shop was open late. Just for them. Following the expedited fitting, Saul hurried the trio back onto the bus and they set off for a late night meeting with Marv Rattenbury.

The man stood before her now and all Connor could think to do was extend her hand and say, "Hello."

He smiled and shook her hand before motioning for everybody to sit. He saved his biggest greeting for Saul. The pair embraced in a full hug.

"I knew you'd hit gold again. I never doubted it," Marv spoke with confidence.

Saul shook his head as he sat, "It only took me twenty years."

"Water under the bridge," Marv grinned as he returned to his side of the desk. "Lets move on with the here and now. You folks made a little movie that needs a big distribution. My studio can make that happen."

"Why should we hook up with you? The picture's doing fine on its own," Joyce questioned.

Connor wanted to run, screaming from the room. It was hard enough pretending the movie existed but for Joyce to try to play hard ball with a seasoned studio executive was unbearable.

"Joyce," Saul's voice carried a warning.

Marv gave a wink, "It's okay, Saul. She should question what I can do for her, for all of you. The fact is you don't need my studio to promote this film. You've done a great job of that on your own. Brilliant strategy, by the way. No, what I'm offering you is a career after DUMBSTRUCK."

"What kind of career are you talking about?" Benjy asked.

"Movies for you to direct and Connor to act in and for Joyce to do whatever it is she does," he gave a gentle smile. "I've taken the liberty to send a dozen or so scripts to you hotel suite. Read them, discuss them, find one that you can work on together. Once you pick your next vehicle, we'll get the suits to draw up a package to distribute DUMBSTRUCK and map out our future projects. I think a four picture deal is in order. What'd say?"

"Sounds absolutely delicious darling," Joyce giggled.

Benjy nodded agreement.

"Connor, what about you," Saul asked.

"Me? Oh, I'm..., okay. I'm a bit tire. Sorry. My head is splitting," Connor felt like passing out.

"Fair enough. I'll have my private car meet you at the entrance. We can talk more tomorrow after you've had a chance to settle in and get some rest. Doesn't that sound good?" Marv encouraged.

"Yes, sir. Sounds great," Connor whispered.

* * *

Connor wakened with a start. She was in a darkened room; laying naked on a queen sized bed. It took her several minutes to get her bearings.

"Oh God, we're getting in deeper and deeper," she muttered.

She grabbed the jeans and t-shirt she had worn on the plane. Somebody had left them neatly folded on the chair across from her bed. She stumbled slightly as she made her way to the bedroom door.

"It's refreshing to find somebody so candid about this," the voice on the TV intoned. "Are you always this honest?"

"I should hope so," Sammi Gregory chuckled back to the interviewer. "I mean it isn't a matter of life or death. It's just a movie...,"

"A movie you were too dumb to be invited to see young lady," Joyce cackled as she shut the TV off.

"...and you still haven't shut your mouth," Connor grumbled as she walked between the chairs holding Joyce and Benjy in the suite's sitting room. "Benjy, what are you doing?"

The young man stretched and yawned before answering, "We sat up reading scripts. You know, trying to find something we can work on."

"Any luck," Connor forgot her misery for a moment at the prospect of work.

Joyce interrupted, "Oh, they're all so pedestrian. Nothing to match the caliber of our previous collaboration. I mean, the plots are weak, the dialogue juvenile, the spelling is a disgrace...,"

Connor had finally had enough. She turned on the blabbering woman and took two strides toward her. Joyce fell silent.

"Do you know what you are, Joyce? You are mean. And, you enjoy being mean. You're a balloon popper. Whenever somebody else has an idea you come running right along to ruin it. You're always the first one to say something's not good enough, or big enough, or light enough, or heavy enough or safe enough. You're the kind of person who'd get lawn darts banned even though hand guns are legal. Or, keep a town from building a playground because swings are dangerous leaving the kids to play in a field with broken bottles and jagged cans. You'd call the FCC about an indecent TV show then complain there's nothing interesting to watch. You eat up the drivel about politicians' private lives then piss and moan because they don't talk about the issues. You yell about tolerance when the store clerks wish you a Merry Christmas but you screech about PC when they extend a Happy Holiday. You're the first to criticize and the last to offer a solution. You are only happy when you're tearing down somebody else's accomplishment."

Joyce, her cheeks beet red, sat staring at Connor for several minutes before asking in a somber tone, "Is that it?"

"No, I have one last thing to say," Connor shook her head. "I'm sick of balloon poppers, Joyce. I'm sick of you."

Connor turned and went back into her bedroom.

TBC

Return to the Academy