Horror Show by Greg Kihn Page A

strategy when dealing with Landis Woodley.
    His voice quivered slightly as he said, “Ah, Mr. Woodley, actually I was going to take Becky Sears.”
    Landis snapped back without dropping a beat, “Becky Sears? Are you crazy? She’s just a script girl, a nobody. Lana Wills is a star!”
    Tad sat in the uncomfortable chair and put his elbow on the tiny tabletop. He could sense his mother upstairs listening. The old lady really loved to eavesdrop. It was the only way she ever got any information on her son.
    â€œBut I like Becky Sears,” Tad whined.
    â€œTough shit. You’re taking Lana Wills and that’s that. I’m sending a limo over to pick you up, and you better be ready.”
    Tad could hear his mother wheezing on the landing above him; the cramped house and narrow staircase carried sounds like a hollow tube. “Jeez, Mr. Woodley, what am I gonna tell Becky?”
    Landis laughed. “I don’t care. Hell, tell her the truth; that you have no say in this, that you’re a piece of shit, and that I made you do it.”
    â€œBut she’s such a sweet girl, it’s gonna break her heart.”
    Landis sighed. “Kid, you’re hopeless, you know that? Have you seen Lana Wills? She’s built like a brick shithouse. Jesus, Tad, every other guy in America wants a piece of that. The boys over at RKM insist that she go with you. She’s in Son Of Tarzan , and they want her name out there for everybody to see.”
    â€œI just can’t tell Becky … it’s gonna break her heart. She’ll cry.”
    Landis sighed again, this time deeper and with more resignation than usual. “Okay, I’ll tell her. What’s her number?”
    â€œWould you? Jeez, that would be great! Mr. Woodley, you know I’d do anything for you.”
    â€œCut the crap, kid. I’ll do your dirty work, but don’t think you can get away with this shit forever.
    â€œHere’s the deal. I can only afford one limo, so it’s gonna be for both of my stars. Get this, you’re double-dating with Luboff. The grand master of horror and the young apprentice, going off to the party of the year together. He’s taking some bimbo from Paramount, and you’re with Wills. I’m gonna send a photographer over to get some shots of you getting ready, you know, combing your hair, stuff like that. ‘Star gets ready for fright night bash!’ Brilliant, huh?”
    Tad blanched. The thought of sharing a vehicle with the dirty old man made him queasy. “Luboff? Aw man, do I have to? Shit, the old man’s always getting loaded and putting his hand on my knee. Plus he smokes those disgusting cheap cigars.”
    Landis cut in. “I bought him some good ones for the party. Can’t have the star smoking garbage in public.”
    Tad stopped. He knew he had no choice. “All right.” He sighed. “What time is the limo coming?”
    â€œEight. Be ready. I’ll tell Luboff to keep his hand out of your lap.”
    â€œYou’ll call Becky?”
    â€œSure.”
    Tad heard the phone click. Landis never said good-bye—he just ended a conversation like he was picking up a phonograph needle. Tad had grown used to it. He owed Landis Woodley his professional life and didn’t complain about the hundreds of antisocial, crude, and humiliating things he did all the time.
    Would Landis call Becky? Tad hoped so. He really liked Becky, but was too spineless to call her himself. He eased the receiver back into its cradle and stood up. His mother called from upstairs, “Thadeus? Are you going out somewhere?”
    Tad shouted up the stairs, a darkness creeping into the voice that he saved exclusively for her. “Yes, Mother.”
    Landis Woodley smiled wickedly . All seemed in readiness. Tonight’s party was going to be his best yet. He would really give these people something to remember. The king of low-budget horror was