Show Business is Murder

“What can I do for you?”

“Listen, I’ve got a-”

“Hold on one second. Sorry to interrupt. Just hold on.” Arthur held on. He heard Bill put the phone down, get out of bed, pad softly away. In the distance, a little while later, a toilet flushed. The footsteps returned. “I’m back. Sorry about that. Twice a night these days, rain or shine. Shoot.”

“What I wanted to say is, I saw a girl today. Her name’s Lisa Brennan. She was in Telling Lies, you remember that one?”

“No.”

“With Goldie Hawn…?”

“No. I don’t. But I’ll take your word for it.”

“It was out, I don’t know, four years ago. She was Goldie’s sister.”

“Okay, fine. Go on.”

“She’s also done soaps, small things here and there, nothing big since Telling Lies.”

“And?”

“She’s good. She’s really good, Bill. I saw her today-” I saw her today, made her take her clothes off, told her I wasn’t going to hire her, and then she left. “I saw her and I had her read, and I’m telling you, this girl has got it. She could be-oh, I don’t know. Hillary Swank. Cate Blanchett. Any part they do, this girl could do. But she’s good looking, too, so it’s the best of both worlds.” Then, because there was only silence on the line, enough silence for Arthur to start asking himself, “Why are you doing this?” he added, “You’ve got to see her. I’m telling you, she’ll be a star. With you or with someone else, she’ll be a star. I’d rather it was you, Bill. You wait too long, she’ll be with CAA or ICM, making the fat cats fatter.”

“Who is she with now?”

“Jennifer Stein.”

More silence, and lots of it.

Finally: “You screwing her, Arthur?”

“I’m not screwing her. I never even touched her.”

“So what’s the real story?”

“I told you the real story.”

“Jennifer Stein rents bimbos out to Italian directors who want to remake Caligula, Arthur. Jennifer Stein supplied the cast for Caged Women. Don’t tell me Jennifer Stein has found herself a real actress. Jennifer Stein couldn’t sign a real actress to save her life.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Arthur said. “Did I say you’re wrong? No, you’re right. I agree completely-nine times out of ten.”

“Please-”

“Maybe ninety-nine out of a hundred. But this is the one time, Bill. I’m telling you this based on thirty years in the business: She’s got it like no one else I’ve ever seen.”

“Come on. You’re calling me at two in the morning to tell me about some girl you saw once in your life? Give me a break, Arthur.”

“Trust me,” Arthur said. “Write down her number. Give her a call. See her. You’re going to thank me.”

“I can’t believe you called me up in the middle of the night just to tell me about some girl.”

“Would I-tell me this, Bill, I’m serious-would I call you in the middle of the night if she were just some girl? Don’t I have better things to do in the middle of the night? I couldn’t sleep.”

“You couldn’t sleep.”

“Please. Write down her number.”

“Okay, fine,” Bill said. “Give me her number.”

Arthur heard a pencil scratching against paper as he read off Lisa’s phone number.

“Arthur, are you using her in Goin’ West?”

“No,” Arthur said. Then: “She’s too good for Goin’ West.”

“Well, listen,” Bill said. “If she’s as good as you say she is, which I still don’t believe, but if, I’ll see what I can do about getting Corey to do the film for you.”

“That’d be great, Bill.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

“That’s fine,” Arthur said. “I know you’ll do your best. That’s all I can ask for.”

When Bill had hung up, Arthur dialed the number written on the back of Lisa’s headshot. An answering machine clicked on, spieled, and beeped.

“This is Arthur French calling,” Arthur said. He paused. “I’m sorry about what happened today. I passed your headshot to William Fitch at ASC and I think you’ll hear from him soon.” He paused again. “I told him I had you read for me today and that I was very impressed. So if he asks, go along with it.” This time he took a deep breath before proceeding. “If I could have cast you in Goin’ West, I want you to know I would have. But I’m just a hired hand. I have to do what they tell me.”

As an afterthought, Arthur left his phone number. “In case you need to reach me,” he said.

“THAT WAS BILL,” Arthur said as he replaced the receiver in its cradle. “He says hello.”

“Did he say if he’s made a decision?”

“It’s only been a week.”

“I know.” Lisa stood up, walked a lap around the office, and fell into the chair again. “I’m just anxious.”

“You should be anxious. Fitch is a dealmaker. If he decides that you’re going to be in a movie, you’re in it.”

“Do you think he will?”

“Yes,” Arthur said.

“Pale Moon?”

“I’d put money on it. If not Pale Moon, it’ll be something else. He’s already said he’ll handle you. It’s just a question of which project he places you in first.”

Lisa turned her chair, back and forth, back and forth.

“You want to know what I said to myself the last time I walked out that door?” she said.

“Probably not.”

“I said to myself, ‘If that little prick ever calls again, I’ll hang up in his face, I don’t care who he is.’ ”

“Well, I deserved that,” Arthur said.

She stopped turning. “Then you called. I was lying in bed listening to my machine, and when you said your name, I started crying.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you don’t understand. I was crying because in that instant I thought, ‘He’s calling to give you the part after all,’ and I was so goddamned grateful. And I hated myself for feeling that way. I hated you for making me feel that way. I wanted to kill myself. I didn’t even hear the rest of your message until later, when I played it back. I almost didn’t hear it at all. I almost pulled the tape out and threw it in the garbage.”

“Good thing you didn’t.”

Lisa paused. “I still don’t understand why you did this for me.”

“You mean, what’s in it for me? No, that’s a fair question.” Arthur took a file from the stack on his desk and from the file retrieved a photo of Corey Dunn. “He’s going to do Goin’ West, ninety-nine percent certain. Why? Because I sent you over to Bill Fitch and he liked you.”

“But you sent me over without knowing if I was any good. You sent me over blind.”

“So? What did I have to lose? Dunn wasn’t doing the picture. Fitch wasn’t returning my calls. So you go over there and bomb. Dunn’s still not doing the picture and Fitch still isn’t taking my calls. What could I have lost?”

“You told him I was good. You could have lost your credibility.”

“Don’t make me into a white knight,” Arthur said, thinking to himself, credibility? What credibility? “I took a shot and it paid off. If it hadn’t, I’d have tried something else.”

“You could have taken a different shot. The fact is, first you were a real asshole to me, and then later the same day you helped me out when you didn’t have to.”