Hollywood Tough (2002) by Stephen - Scully 03 Cannell
Authors: Stephen - Scully 03 Cannell
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see Nicky Marcella."
"He's casting today. Is Mr. Marcella expecting you?" "No, sir, you'll have to call."
The guard went into his wooden shack and picked u p t he phone. Shane could see past the gate into the studio lot. Hollywood General occupied one large city block and had five or six soundstages. There was also a construction mill and some postproduction facilities. The guard came back and nodded, leaning toward Shane. "You know where Building Six is?"
"No, sir."
"Go through the gate, turn left, and find a visitor space along the front of the administration building. Then walk north toward the low one-story building at the end of the lot. Mr. Marcella's office is number six forty-five, end of the hall."
"Thank you."
Shane did as instructed and found a parking place in front of the ranch-style administration building. He got out and locked his car, then looked around. The studio buildings were mostly one-story stucco, with slanted slate roofs. The warehouse-size soundstages loomed above them. Everything was painted a strange reddish-brown color, and the little patches of grass that were part of the meager landscape plan were now engaged in a desperate struggle for dirt with some kind of wiry, weedlike growth.
As he walked toward Building Six, he passed a new maroon Bentley convertible parked across two stalls. One of the blocked stalls read: Nicholas Marcella.
As soon as Shane entered the corridor, he could see perhaps twenty beautiful young girls sitting in metal chairs that had been placed along the walls. They were all dressed in short-shorts, heels, and halter tops despite the cold wind whipping around outside.
As he moved down the hall, he could see that most of them were studying their audition scenes from miniaturized Xeroxed script pages, which he remembered a casting director once had told him were referred to as "sides."
Shane walked past the line of actresses who were sitting outside Nicky's production company, identified by a gold relief of a coliseum bolted to the door--and under that a gold sign:
CINE-ROMA PRODUCTIONS
NICHOLAS MARCELLA, CEO
Shane continued through the door and found himself in a very commodious reception area. Several huge posters of hit movies that Shane knew Nicky had nothing to do with hung on the walls. A very pretty young girl with coal-black hair was typing with two fingers on a computer keyboard. She glanced up in frustration as he approached her desk.
"I'm Shane Scully, here to see Nicky Marcella."
"Mr. Marcella is in a reading right now. I'll tell him you're here once the actress is finished with her audition. We never interrupt a reading."
"Right," Shane said, "wouldn't want to do that," and he sat on the beige leather sofa.
One of the short-shorts and halter tops came in and hovered next to the receptionist's desk. "Excuse me, I'm Donna Daring and I have another appointment across town at three. Is it going to be much longer, or would it be possible for me to read next?"
The receptionist looked up at her and scowled, then picked up a casting sheet. "Your time was two-forty, Ms. Daring. We're running about fifty minutes behind. That's all I can tell you," she said, clipping her words, pissed Off at the request.
"Okay," the girl said. "Can I use your phone to call my agent?"
"Sorry, I have to keep these lines open. You should carry a cell."
The actress scowled, then teetered out of the office, her long dancer's legs tapering down into five-inch fuck-me pumps that forced her to stumble along, leaning slightly forward.
A few minutes later the door to Nicky's office opened and Shane could hear men laughing at something a girl said, then a particularly beautiful blond actress teetered out in stiletto heels and butt-clinging booty shorts. She had tears running down her face but a smile on her lips. Sh e g ave the receptionist a thumbs-up, then handed her a slip of paper.
"Mr. Marcella wants me to get some new head shots and suggested I should use this photographer.
"He's casting today. Is Mr. Marcella expecting you?" "No, sir, you'll have to call."
The guard went into his wooden shack and picked u p t he phone. Shane could see past the gate into the studio lot. Hollywood General occupied one large city block and had five or six soundstages. There was also a construction mill and some postproduction facilities. The guard came back and nodded, leaning toward Shane. "You know where Building Six is?"
"No, sir."
"Go through the gate, turn left, and find a visitor space along the front of the administration building. Then walk north toward the low one-story building at the end of the lot. Mr. Marcella's office is number six forty-five, end of the hall."
"Thank you."
Shane did as instructed and found a parking place in front of the ranch-style administration building. He got out and locked his car, then looked around. The studio buildings were mostly one-story stucco, with slanted slate roofs. The warehouse-size soundstages loomed above them. Everything was painted a strange reddish-brown color, and the little patches of grass that were part of the meager landscape plan were now engaged in a desperate struggle for dirt with some kind of wiry, weedlike growth.
As he walked toward Building Six, he passed a new maroon Bentley convertible parked across two stalls. One of the blocked stalls read: Nicholas Marcella.
As soon as Shane entered the corridor, he could see perhaps twenty beautiful young girls sitting in metal chairs that had been placed along the walls. They were all dressed in short-shorts, heels, and halter tops despite the cold wind whipping around outside.
As he moved down the hall, he could see that most of them were studying their audition scenes from miniaturized Xeroxed script pages, which he remembered a casting director once had told him were referred to as "sides."
Shane walked past the line of actresses who were sitting outside Nicky's production company, identified by a gold relief of a coliseum bolted to the door--and under that a gold sign:
CINE-ROMA PRODUCTIONS
NICHOLAS MARCELLA, CEO
Shane continued through the door and found himself in a very commodious reception area. Several huge posters of hit movies that Shane knew Nicky had nothing to do with hung on the walls. A very pretty young girl with coal-black hair was typing with two fingers on a computer keyboard. She glanced up in frustration as he approached her desk.
"I'm Shane Scully, here to see Nicky Marcella."
"Mr. Marcella is in a reading right now. I'll tell him you're here once the actress is finished with her audition. We never interrupt a reading."
"Right," Shane said, "wouldn't want to do that," and he sat on the beige leather sofa.
One of the short-shorts and halter tops came in and hovered next to the receptionist's desk. "Excuse me, I'm Donna Daring and I have another appointment across town at three. Is it going to be much longer, or would it be possible for me to read next?"
The receptionist looked up at her and scowled, then picked up a casting sheet. "Your time was two-forty, Ms. Daring. We're running about fifty minutes behind. That's all I can tell you," she said, clipping her words, pissed Off at the request.
"Okay," the girl said. "Can I use your phone to call my agent?"
"Sorry, I have to keep these lines open. You should carry a cell."
The actress scowled, then teetered out of the office, her long dancer's legs tapering down into five-inch fuck-me pumps that forced her to stumble along, leaning slightly forward.
A few minutes later the door to Nicky's office opened and Shane could hear men laughing at something a girl said, then a particularly beautiful blond actress teetered out in stiletto heels and butt-clinging booty shorts. She had tears running down her face but a smile on her lips. Sh e g ave the receptionist a thumbs-up, then handed her a slip of paper.
"Mr. Marcella wants me to get some new head shots and suggested I should use this photographer.
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