I definitely didn’t want to get in the middle of all of this, but we had a roomful of people, and everyone’s time was being wasted, so I shrugged.
“I don’t know if--” I said.
“Take it from Gretchen’s line,” he interrupted and pointed to Allison.
“‘You know they had an anti-monarch rally today,’” Allison tried again.
I sighed long to buy time to get into character. I thought about this character of John and his motivation. He loved his country, and he wanted to serve it. But it was about to be torn apart by a civil war, and the seeds of discontent ran deep, dark, and dangerous. He was militant and ready to die for what he knew was right.
I tried to find something to relate it to, and then applied to our modern culture wars. What if, I thought, the ongoing culture war between conservatives and liberals erupted into an actual civil war? How would people on either side feel? How would I feel?
I thought about my place in the world to defend the law and how such a war would most definitely tear apart everything I personally stood for. I let the anger and passion well up inside of me.
Then I turned to Allison, and I felt my gaze burn hot as I stared her down. I even noticed her squirm just a bit under my gaze.
“I hate those fucking bastards,” I snarled the line. “Where do they get off? No government is perfect, but this is the best one this planet has ever seen. Where is their loyalty? They say they want this illusive ‘freedom’ but they don’t realize liberty requires roads, and buildings, and schools, and all of these things that have to be paid for by taxes. They don’t want to pay taxes to the Crown, but they want the King to build these roads, and take care of the poor, and keep them safe, blah, blah, blah. They sound like entitled whiny babies!”
I slammed the script down in disgust, and the room was silent for a moment before a unanimous applause broke out.
“That,” Jerry pointed to me, “is what we call acting.”
Right then, The Count peeked his head in the door. Everyone looked at him, and Jerry rose.
“Excuse me,” Jerry said. “If you guys can just go over your lines privately, I’ll be right back.”
Jerry slipped out into the hall, and we could hear them arguing.
“I’m sick of your bullshit, Alfred!” Jerry shouted.
The Count’s reply was unintelligible
“Oh, you did, did you?” Jerry replied. “I don’t need some hoity toity L.A. lawyer to … ” His words became muffled, and then Jerry came back in the room.
He avoided eye contact with me and leaned against a chair.
“Everybody,” he said, “we’re going to take an early break.”
Everyone in the cast looked at him with confusion.
“Go on,” he yelled. “Get the hell out of here. All of you.”
With that, everyone got up and started gathering things.
“I’m sorry,” Jerry tried. “I got a little hot. It’s not you guys at all. We’ll pick back up … it’s ten now, how about two? Yeah, we’ll break until two. Dumont and I have to work some shit out once and for all.”
“We most certainly do,” The Count huffed behind him.
I glanced at Vicki, and she shrugged and we walked out of the warehouse. In the parking lot, we ran into the mayor Andrea McClellan and head of the Performing Arts League Michael Knapp. The mayor had sold us our land, and Vicki had become acquaintances with her.
Andrea tossed Vicki a preoccupied smile. Andrea was a tall slender woman in her late thirties, with frizzy dark brown hair that ran down her back. Her dad was an old rancher, and she grew up with cows and horses, so she looked more comfortable in jeans than suits. But she compromised by edging her jeans up with expensive heels and high end blouses, which made her an instant magnet for Vicki.
“Something else in there, isn’t it?” Andrea mused to Vicki and shook her head.
“I would say a couple crayons short of professional, for sure,” Vicki answered.
“Yeah,” both Andrea and Michael said in unison.
“We’re thinking of pulling the film,” Michael added.
“I don’t think anyone would blame you,” I said as we joined their circle.
“Jerry’s already got a check. He sent us a budget proposal, for … ” Michael scoffed. “Well, we gave him the maximum we could budget for the film, and it was only about a quarter of what he asked for.”
“Geez,” I said. “What kind of film did he think this was going to be?”
“I don’t know,” Andrea said, “but I don’t think I can support this in good conscience. I’m all for looking at history from a different perspective, but as an elected public official, I can’t endorse the lengths he’s taking this.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I totally get that.”
“Anyway,” Andrea went on, “I’m not trying to cause an uprising. Do what you feel is right But, we’ll keep in touch.”
She clutched her keys, slipped on her shades, and then tossed us a slight smile and headed to her car. Michael got on the phone, presumably to talk to the arts league about pulling the film.
Vicki and I sighed and headed to our car.
“Well,” I said, “we’ve got three hours to kill. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know,” Vicki sighed as we got in the car. “What do you think about quitting?”
“If the arts league pulls it, the whole thing is moot anyway,” I mused as I pulled out of the lot.
“What do you think they would put in its place?” she asked.
“That’s probably why they haven’t done it this far,” I said. “They don’t have a backup in place.” Then I shook my head. “I’ve
