compliment, young man, put your chin back up, and do as Fritz commands. The martinis. You?ll soon see, I?ve worked no wonders on what comes next.? She turned her slender profile to call quietly toward the projection room. ?Jimmy?
The lights dimmed, the screen hummed, the curtains parted.
The rough cut flashed on the screen, with a partially finished musical score by Miklos Rozsa.
As the film advanced, I snuck glances at Fritz and Maggie. They looked as if they were bucking on a wild horse. I did the same, pushed back in my seat by a tidal wave of images.
My hand stole one of the martinis.
?Thatsa boy,? whispered Fritz.
When the film finished, we sat silently as the lights came up.
?How come,? I said at last, ?you shot so much of the new footage at twilight or night??
?I can?t stand reality.? Fritz?s monocle blinked as he glared at the blank screen. ?Half this film?s schedule now is sunset. Then, the day?s spine is cracked. At sundown, I heave great sighs: survived another day! I work until two each night, without facing real people, real light. I had some contact lenses made two years ago. Threw them out the window! Why? I saw pores in people?s faces, my face. Moon craters. Pockmarks. Hell! look at my recent films. No sunlit people.
Maggie Botwin stirred despondently in the shadows and unpacked her hand camera.
I cleared my throat. ?Must my narration paper over all the holes in this script??
?Cover Caesar?s ass? Yes!? Fritz Wong laughed and poured more drinks.
Maggie Botwin added, ?And we?re sending you to discuss Judas with Manny Leiber.?
?Why!!??
?The Jewish Lion,? said Fritz, ?might enjoy eating an Illinois Baptist. He might listen while he pulls off your legs.?
I slugged down my second drink.
?Say,? I gasped, ?this isn?t half bad.?
I heard a whirring sound.
Maggie Botwin?s camera was focused to catch my moment of incipient inebriation.
?You carry your camera everywhere??
?Yep,? she said. ?No day has passed in forty years that I have not trapped the mice among the mighty. They don?t dare fire me. I?d cut together nine hours of damn fools on parade and premiere it at Grauman?s Chinese. Curious? Come
Fritz filled my glass.
?Ready for my closeup.? I drank.
The camera whirred.
32
Manny Leiber was sitting on the edge of his desk, guillotining a big cigar with one of those one-hundred-dollar gold Dunhill cigar cutters. He scowled as I walked in and around the office, studying the various low sofas.
?What?s wrong??
?These sofas,? I said. ?So low you can?t get up.? I sat. I was about a foot from the floor, staring up at Manny Leiber, who loomed like Caesar, astride the world.
I grunted myself up and went to collect cushions. I placed three of them on top of each other and sat.
?What the hell you
?I want to look you in the eye when I talk. I hate breaking my neck down there in the pits.?
Manny Leiber fumed, bit his cigar, and climbed back up on the desk rim. ?Well?? he snapped.
I said, ?Fritz just showed me a rough cut of his film. Judas Iscariot?s missing. Who killed him??
?What!??
?You can?t have Christ without Judas. Why is Judas suddenly the invisible disciple??
For the first time I saw Manny Leiber?s small bottom squirm on the glass-top desk. He sucked his unlit cigar, glared at me, and let it blow.
?
?What!? I exploded, jumping up. ?This film is being released next Easter, right? That week, one million Baptists will see it. Two million Lutherans??
?Sure.?
?Ten million Catholics??
?Yes!?
