The Next to Die

JOHN S.: Anne Heche played it too light. Janet Leigh was much better…with all that guilt and angst.

PAT: Plus Janet Leigh has a better set of knockers.

KARLA: Who is this pig? I liked Anne Heche’s interpretation.

RICK: I don’t go to movies that star lesbians. Request private chat with Pat, regarding another Hitchcock film.

The following private mailbox discussion took place a minute later:

PATRIOT: What’s going on?

AMERICKAN: SAAMO high-ups not pleased over results of campaign to humiliate A.C…. Early reaction shows increase in his popularity due to video exposure…Very upsetting…Plans to enlist Leslie Bonita Stoddard to cooperate in another scenario are now a no-go…thorough background check on L. B. Stoddard shows she contributed $25,000 to handgun-ban campaign last yr. & also had abortion 3 yrs. ago.

PATRIOT: A bitch like that doesn’t deserve 2 live.

AMERICKAN: Exactly…new plans re: A.C. under way…Details follow…SAAMO Lieut. signing off.

Nine

SCENE 28: INTERIOR: RACHEL’S LIVING ROOM—NIGHT

Rachel is at her desk, hunched over piles of legal briefs and a fast food dinner that she didn’t finish. Enter Dianne. She comes behind Rachel and kisses the top of her head.

DIANNECome on, Rache. It’s getting late. Let’s go to bed.

RACHELIn a minute.

DIANNE (kissing the back of her neck)I know how important this case is. But so is our relationship. Now, take a break and come to bed.

Rachel surrenders, then turns and kisses her passionately. She unbuttons Dianne’s blouse and kisses her breasts.

Quick Dissolve to:

SCENE 29: INTERIOR: RACHEL’S BEDROOM—NIGHT

Rachel and Dianne are in bed, making love. Various shots show the two women in the throes of passion….

“Oh, shit,” Dayle grumbled, quickly closing the manuscript. She was considering the role of Rachel, the fictitious name they’d given to the real-life lesbian lawyer. This was Dayle’s first glance at the script, tentatively titled In Self-Defense.

For the past few days, she’d been trying to follow everyone’s advice, and stick to the business of making movies. She didn’t hire a bodyguard, but advised her chauffeur, Hank, that his watchman skills were required. She let him carry a 9-mm Glock. Hank assured her that he’d been practicing his marksmanship, and was ready for any kind of “protective service emergency.” In other words, he was just itching for someone to take a potshot at her so he could put his newly rehoned skills to use.

Nick Brock had called long distance from Estelle Collier’s old hometown, Monoma, Wisconsin. He’d left a brief message on Dayle’s machine: “Greetings from Dullsville, U.S.A. So far, all I got is that Estelle had a fat, miserable childhood. I hear later in high school, she was a pothead and bolted before graduating. Nobody knows where. I’ll try to dig up more. Ciao, Ms. Sutton.”

There hadn’t been any more incidents like the one up on her roof. But if things seemed calm for now, her playing a lesbian in this next film would be inviting trouble back. The trades had already reported her and Avery Cooper’s interest in the project.

Dayle had the script in her lap, open to the sex scene. She sat on the steps outside her trailer while the crew set up the next shot. It was a scene with Maggie McGuire, an Oscar-winning, forty-year film veteran, who played her mother. Maggie wasn’t averse to taking on small, juicy character roles like this one in Waiting for the Fall.

Her nose in a crossword puzzle, Maggie sat at Dayle’s side, in a “star” chair with her name on it. For seventy-one years old, the silver-blond actress looked great thanks to a few nips and tucks. Maggie had recently gained media attention by marching with her HIV-positive son in the Gay Pride Parade in Los Angeles. The two of them had landed on the cover of People.

Dayle reread the lesbian love scene and sighed.

“The script can’t be that bad,” Maggie said.

“Actually, it’s okay, but—well, here.” Dayle handed her the manuscript, open to the sex scene. “They want me for the role of Rachel.”

Maggie set aside her crossword puzzle and read for a moment. “Huh, I’d buy a ticket.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Dayle plucked the script out of her hands. “I mean, is this scene really necessary? Isn’t it enough that my character’s a lesbian? Do I have to prove it by making love to another woman on screen? Tom Hanks was gay in Philadelphia, but outside of a slow dance with Antonio Banderos, he hardly touched the guy. Meanwhile, I’m supposed to get naked and roll around with another woman to get the point across.”

Maggie gave her a world-weary smile. “Haven’t you figured out by now that heterosexual males call all the shots? Otherwise, there would be no wars, and we’d have a cure for breast cancer and AIDS.”

“And I wouldn’t have to kiss another woman’s tits in this movie.”

“Listen, you’ve got a gorgeous body. Why not show it off? As for the character, you’re a method actress, you know what to do. Talk to some lesbian lawyers. I can have my son introduce you to some women—”

“That’s all right, Maggie,” Dayle cut in. “In fact, the film’s based on a true story. This afternoon, I’m meeting the lawyer I play.”

“The breast-kissing Rachel?”

Sighing, Dayle nodded. “Her real name’s Sean Olson.”

“Something else about this movie bothers you,” Maggie said, studying her. She set aside her crossword puzzle book. “It’s not just this sex scene. What is it? Tell your mama.”

Dayle managed a chuckle, then shrugged. “Oh, maybe it’s the subject matter. It really seems to unnerve people. Stick your neck out, and someone always tries to chop it off.”

“No kidding,” Maggie said. “Certain folks have been grinding an ax for me since I appeared on the cover of People with my son. I’ve had a ton of hate mail. But that’s when I get on my high horse. No one’s going to tell me to shut up—especially when I’m defending the civil rights of my son. I’m a fighter, Dayle. I think you are too.”