cb.coldheart canyon-第10章

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ortioned　face；　and　she　can　turn　a　line　with　the　snappy；　East…coast　smarts　of　a　young　Katherine　Hepburn。　She's　wasted　here。　Or；　more　correctly；　our　time　would　be　wasted　here　were　she　not　in　the　movie。〃
　
　 The　premiere　audience　didn't　seem　to　mind　it。　On　occasion　there　were　audible　gasps　and　loud　laughter　（perhaps　in　truth　a　little　over…loud；　a　little　fake）　for　the　jokes；　but　there　were　several　long　stretches　in　the　Second　Act；　when　the　movie　seemed　to　lose　their　interest。　Even　in　the　Third　Act；　when　the　action　relocates　to　the　orbiting　space　station；　and　the　special　effects　budget　soared；　there　was　very　little　real　enthusiasm。　A　few　scattered　whoops　of　nihilistic　delight　when　the　villain's　planet…destroying　weapon　actually　went　off；　against　expectation；　and　Washington　DC　is　fried　to　a　crisp。　But　then；　as　the　smoke　cleared　and　Todd；　as　the　new　Gallows；　proceeded　to　finish　off　the　bad　guys；　the　audience　became　restless　again。
　 About　fifteen　minutes　before　the　end　credits　rolled　a　member　of　the　audience　got　up　from　his　seat　on　the　aisle　and　went　to　the　bathroom。　A　few　people　caught　a　look　at　the　man's　face　as　he　looked　back　at　the　screen。　It　was　Todd　Pickett；　lit　by　the　light　of　his　own　face。　Nobody　got　up　to　ask　for　his　autograph。
　 Pickett　stared　at　the　screen　for　a　moment　only；　then　he　turned　his　back　on　it　and　trudged　up　and　out　of　the　cinema。　He　didn't　go　to　the　restroom。　Instead　he　asked　one　of　the　ushers　if　he　could　be　allowed　out　of　the　back　of　the　building。　The　usher　explained　that　the　area　around　the　back　had　no　security。
　 〃I　just　want　a　quiet　smoke　with　nobody　watching　me；〃　Todd　explained。
　 The　usher　said；　sure；　why　not；　and　led　Todd　down　a　passageway　that　ran　behind　the　screen。　Todd　looked　up　at　his　reversed　image　on　the　screen。　All　he　could　remember　about　the　scene　that　was　playing　was　how　damn　unfortable　his　costume　had　been。
　 〃Here　you　go；〃　the　usher　said；　unlocking　the　doors　at　the　end　of　the　corridor；　and　letting　Todd　out　into　an　area　lit　only　by　the　ambient　light　from　the　Boulevard。
　 〃Thanks；〃　Todd　said；　giving　him　a　twenty…buck　bill。　〃I'll　be　back　out　front　by　the　time　the　credits　roll。〃
　 The　usher　thanked　him　for　the　twenty…note　and　left　him　to　himself。　Todd　took　out　a　cigarette；　but　it　never　got　to　his　lips。　A　wave　of　nausea　overtook　him；　so　powerful　and　so　sudden　that　it　was　all　he　could　do　not　to　puke　down　his　own　tuxedo。　Up　came　the　scotches　he'd　had　in　the　limo　as　he　drove　on　down　to　the　premiere；　and　the　pepperoni　pizza；　with　three　cheeses　and　extra　anchovies；　he'd　had　to　add　ballast。　With　the　first　heave　over　（something　told　him　there　were　more　to　e）　he　had　the　presence　of　mind　to　look　around；　and　confirm　that　this　nasty　little　scene　was　not　being　spied　on；　or　worse；　photographed。　Luckily；　he　was　alone。　All　he　had　for　pany　back　here　was　the　detritus　of　premieres　past；　piles　of　standees　and　gaudy　scenery　pieces　designed　to　advertise　movies　gone　by：　Mel　Gibson　against　an　eruption　of　lurid　flame；　Godzilla's　eye；　the　bottom　half　of　a　girl　in　a　very　short　dress。　He　got　to　his　feet　and　stumbled　away　from　the　stench　of　his　vomit；　making　his　way　through　this　graveyard　of　old　glories；　heading　for　the　darkest　place　he　could　find　in　which　to　hide　his　giddy　head。　Behind　him；　through　the　still…open　door；　he　could　hear　the　sound　of　gunfire；　and　the　muted　sound　of　his　own　voice：
　 〃e　on　out；　you　sonofabitch；〃　he　was　yelling　to　somebody。　By　now；　if　the　movie　had　been　working；　the　audience　would　have　been　yelling　and　screaming；　wild　with　blood…lust。　But　despite　the　over…amped　soundtrack；　nobody　was　yelling；　because　nobody　gave　a　damn。　The　movie　was　dying　on　its　feet。
　 Another　wave　of　nausea　rose　up　in　him。　He　reached　out　to　catch　hold　of　something　so　that　he　didn't　fall　down　and　his　outstretched　hand　knocked　over　a　cardboard　cut…out　of　Tom　Cruise；　which　toppled　backwards　and　hit　a　cardboard　Titanic；　which　in　turn　crashed　against　a　cardboard　Mighty　Joe　Young；　and　so　on　and　so　forth；　like　a　row　of　candy…colored　dominoes；　stars　falling　against　ships　falling　against　monsters；　all　toppling　back　into　a　darkness　so　deep　they　were　an　indistinguishable　heap。
　 Luckily；　the　noise　of　his　vomiting　was　covered　by　the　din　of　his　own　movie。　He　puked　again；　twice；　until　his　stomach　had　nothing　left　to　give　up。　Then　he　turned　his　back　on　the　vomit　and　the　toppled　idols；　and　stepped　away　to　find　a　lungful　of　dean　air　to　inhale。　The　worst　was　over。　He　lit　his　cigarette；　which　helped　settle　his　stomach；　and　rather　than　returning　inside；　where　the　picture　was　two　minutes　from　finishing；　he　walked　along　side　of　the　building　until　he　found　a　patch　of　street…light　where　he　could　assess　himself。　He　was　lucky。　His　suit　was　unspattered。　There　was　a　spot　of　vomit　on　his　shoes；　but　he　cleaned　it　off　with　his　handkerchief　（which　he　tossed　away）　and　then　sprayed　his　tongue　and　throat　with　wintergreen　breath…cleanser。　His　hair　was　cropped　short　（that　was　the　way　it　was　in　the　movie；　and　he'd　kept　the　style　for　public　appearances）；　so　he　had　no　fear　that　it　was　out　of　place。　He　probably　looked　a　little　pale；　but　what　the　hell？　Pale　was　in。
　 There　was　a　gate　close　to　the　front　of　the　building；　guarded　by　a　security　officer。　She　recognized　Todd　immediately；　and　unlocked　the　gate。
　 〃Getting　out　before　it　gets　too　crazy？〃　she　said　to　him。　He　smiled　and　nodded。　〃You　want　an　escort　to　your　car？〃
　 〃Yeah；　thanks。〃
　 One　of　the　executive　producers；　an　over…eager　Englishman　called　George　Dipper；　with　whom　Todd　had　never　worked　before；　was　standing　on　the　red　carpet；　his　presence　ignored　by　the　press；　who　were　standing　around　chatting　to　one　another；　or　checking　their　cameras　before　the　luminaries　reappeared。　George　caught　Todd's　eye；　and　hurried　over；　dragging　on　his　own　cigarette　as　though　his　life　depended　on　its　nicotine　content。
　 There　was　scattered　applause　from　inside；　which　quickly　died　away。
　 The　picture　was　over。
　 〃I　think　it　played　brilliantly；〃　George　said；　his　eyes　begging　for　a　syllable　of　agreement。　〃They　were　with　us　all　the　way。　Don't　you　think　so？〃
　 〃It　was　fine；〃　Todd　said；　without　mitment。
　 〃Forty　million；　the　first　weekend。〃
　 〃Don't　get　your　hopes　up。〃
　 〃You　don't　think　we'll　do　forty？〃
　 〃I　think　it'll　do　fine。〃
　 George's　face　lit　up。　Todd　Pickett；　the　man　he'd　paid　twenty　million　dollars　to　（plus　a　sizable　portion　of　the　back…end）　was　declaring　it　fine。　God　was　in　His　Heaven。　For　a　terrible　moment　Todd　thought　the　man　was　going　to　weep　with　relief。
　 〃At　least　there's　nothing　big　opening　against　it；〃　Todd　said；　〃So　we've　got　one　weekend　clear。〃
　 〃And　your　fans　are　loyal；〃　George　said。　Again；　the　desperation　in　the　eyes。
　 Todd　couldn't　bear　to　look　at　him　any　longer。
　 〃I'm　just　goin'　to　make　a　quick　getaway；〃　Todd　said；　glancing　towards　the　theater　doors。
　 The　first　of　the　crowd　were　emerging。　If　the　expressions　on　the　first　five　faces　he　scanned　were　an　omen；　his　instincts　were　right：　they　did　not　have　a　hit。　He　turned　his　back　on　the　crowd；　telling　George　he'd　see　him　later。
　 〃You　are　ing　to　the　party？〃　George　said；　hanging　on　to　him　as　he　headed　down　the　carpet。
　 Where　was　Marco？　Todd　thought。　Trusty　Marco；　who　was　always　there　when　he　was　needed。　〃Yes；　I'll　pop　in　later；〃　he　said；　glancing　back　over　his　shoulder　at　George　to　reassure　him。
　 In　the　seconds　since　he'd　turned　away　the　audience　spilling　from　the　theatre　door　had　jumped　from　five　to　a　hundred。　Half　of　them　saw　him。　In　just　a　few　seconds　they'd　be　surrounding　him；　yelling　his　name；　telling　him　they　loved　this　and　they　hated　that；　touching　him；　pulling　on　him…
　 〃Here；　boss！〃
　 Marco　called　to　him　from　the　curb。　The　limo　door　was　open。　God　bless　him！　Todd　raced　down　the　carpet　as　people　behind　him　started　to　call　his　name；　cameras　started　to　flash。　Into　the　limo。　Marco　slammed　the　door。　Todd　locked　it。　Then　Marco　dashed　around　to　the　driver's　seat　with　a　remarkable　turn　of　speed　given　his　poundage；　and　got　in。
　 〃Where　to？〃
　 〃Mulholland。〃
　
　 Mulholland　Drive　winds　through　the　city　like　a　lazy　serpent　for　many　miles；　but　Marco　didn't　need　to　know　where　along　its　length　his　boss　wanted　to　be　taken。　There　was　a　spot　close　to　Coldwater　Canyon；　where　the　undulating　drive　offers　a　picture…perfect　view　of　the　San　Fernando　Valley；　as　far　as　the　mountains。　By　day　it　can　be　a　smog…befouled　spectacle；　brown　and　gray。　But　by　night；　especially　in　the　summer；　it　is　a　place　of　particular　enchantment：　the　cities　of　Burbank；　North　Hollywood　and　Pasadena　laid　out　in　a　matrix　of　amber　lights；　receding　to　the　dark　wall　of　the　mountains。　And　moving　against　the　darkness；　the　lights　of　planes　circling　as　they　await　their　instruction　to　land　at　Burbank　Airport；　or　the　police　helicopters　passing　over　the　city；　spitting　a　beam　of　white　light。
　 Often　there　were　sightseers　parked　at　the　spot；　enjoying　the　scene。　But　tonight；　thank　God；　there　were　none。　Marco　parked　the　car　and　Todd　got　out；　wandering　to　the　cliff…edge　to　look　at　the　scene　before　him。
　 Marco　got　out　too；　and　occupied　his　time　with　wiping　the　windshield　of　the　limo。　He　was　a　big　man　with　the　bearded　face　of　a　bear　recently　woken　from　hibernation；　and　he　possessed　a　curious　mixture　of　talents：　a　sometime　wrestler　and　ju…jitsu　black　belt；　he　was　also　a　trained　Cordon　Bleu　cook　（not　that　Todd's　taste　called　for　any　great　culinary　sophistication）　and　a　twice…divorced　father　of　three　with　an　encyclopedic　knowledge　of　the　works　of　Wagner。　More　importantly；　he　was　Todd's　right…hand　man；　loyal　to　a　fault。　There　was　no　part　of　Todd's　existence　Marco　Caputo　did　not　have　some　part　of。　He　took　care　of　the　hiring　and　firing　of　domestic　staff　and　gardeners；　the　buying　and　the　driving　of　cars；　and　of　course　all　the　security　duties。
　 〃The　movie's　shit；　huh？〃　he　said　matter…of…factly。
　 〃Worse　than。〃
　 〃Sorry　'bout　that。〃
　 〃Not　your　fault。　I　should　never　have　done　it。　Shit　script。　Shit　movie。〃
　 〃You　want　to　give　the　party　a　miss？〃
　 〃Nah。　I　gotta　go。　I　promised　Wilhemina。　And　George。〃
　 〃You　got　something　going　with　her？〃
　 〃Wilhemina？　Yeah。　I　got　something。　I　just　don't　know　whether　I　want　to。　Plus　she's　got　an　English　boyfriend。〃
　 〃The　English　are　all　fags。〃
　 〃Yeah。〃
　 〃You　want　me　to　swing　by　the　party　and　bring　her　back　up　to　the　house　for　you？〃
　 〃Suppose　she　says　no？〃
　 〃Oh　e　on。　When　did　any　girl　say　no　to　you？〃
　 Todd　said　nothing。　He　just　stared　out　over　the　vista　of　lights。　The　wind　came　up　out　of　the　valley；　smelling　of　gas　fumes　and　Chinese　food。　The　Santa　Anas；　hot　off　the　Mojave；　gusted　against　his　face。　He　closed　his　eyes　to　enjoy　the　moment；　but　what　came　into　his　head　was　an　image　of　himself：　a　still　from　the　movie　he'd　fled　from　tonight。　He　studied　the　face　in　his　mind's　eye　for　a　moment。
　 Then　he　said：　〃I　look　tired。〃
　
　
　TWO
　 Todd　Picket　had　made　two　of　his　three　most　successful　pictures　under　the　aegis　of　a　producer　by　the　name　of　Keever　Smotherman。　The　first　of　them　was　called　Gunner；　the　kind　of　high　concept；　testosterone…marinated　picture　Smotherman　had　been　renowned　for　making。　It　had　made　Todd…who　was　then　an　unknown　from　Ohio…a　bona…fide　movie…star；　if　not　overnight　then　certainly　within　a　matter　of　weeks。　He　hadn't　been　required　to　turn　in　a　performance。　Smotherman　didn't　make　movies　that　require