PULP & POPCORN

Page 26
“Fine,” he growled. “I’ll do it right after the meeting at Fox.”
“The potential client said you were recommended by a friend for your discretion.”
“That doesn’t sound like me,” he answered, not in the mood to play games with
anyone.
“He also said if you can be there by 10:30, he’ll double our daily rate. He said to be
very specific and to tell you that you are his ‘only hope.’”
The entire drive over to the studio lot, Felix brooded, worrying about David. Good
old reliable David. Always punctual. Never the best detective, but a huge asset to the
company because he could sell anything to anyone, and he was the bait they used to reel in
clients. They felt safe with him. It was just something about his manner. Felix did not like
the idea of something having happened to his partner, but he also hated the idea of
somehow screwing up the good work that David had already done in trying to get inside the
studio system. Each of the studios had fixers on their payroll, people who could take care of
situations quietly, and it was good work if you could get it.
When he pulled up to the main gate, he was waved through immediately. They had
clearly been waiting for him. They had a space for him right outside the executive building,
and he was met at the front door by a young assistant in a cleanly-pressed suit. In an upstairs
hallway, they walked past over a dozen actresses all waiting to read for someone, all of them
rehearsing with the same script. Even hearing it over and over, Felix couldn’t make out the
middle of the sentence. It sounded like “Help me, obeeblahbeeblohbeee, you’re my only
hope.”
The halls were decorated with posters for some of the studio’s biggest movies. It
took a moment for Felix to recognize that they were all films by Peter Fleming. Mickey
Rooney in Shane. Rita Hayworth and Fred McMurray in Fatal Attraction. Abbott and Costello
in Back To The Future. One of his Oscars was in a case in the waiting room that Felix walked
through. Several of the waiting actors looked annoyed by his intrusion, ready to get into the
room so they could become stars.
When Felix stepped into Peter Fleming’s office, his assistant stayed outside. Fleming
sat perched on the edge of his desk, a rehearsed nonchalance about him. Felix began to look
around the office, at the books and scripts and photos on the shelves, practically daring
Fleming to speak first.