Vampyres of Hollywood by Adrienne & Scott Barbeau Page A

made it across the room in two strides and ripped the phone cord out of the wall. Thomas spun around, something foul bubbling across his face, then dying when he saw it was me. Watching his lips curl from spite to smile was like watching a sidewinder curl across the desert.
    “Ovsanna, what the hell…? That was an important call—”
    “Why are you standing, Thomas? Something wrong with your ass?”
    Confirmation flickered in his widening pupils. “What are you talking about? You just hung up on Rodrigo Garcia. You know how hard I’ve been trying to get him to direct Satan’s Prayer —you hung up on him!”
    “Yeah? Then you’d better make sure you’re still here when he calls back. Sitting down. That’s what I pay you for. And you’d better teach Miss Von Dutch logo out there not to rat you out when you leave work in the middle of the day to get your rocks off. Better yet, save your S&M scene for after business hours.” I poked him in the chest, allowing a tiny tendril of my strength to show through, emphasizing each word with another poke. It was going to leave a bruise. “But you are just one stupid prick.”
    DeWitte tried for bluster. “Oh, get off it, Ovsanna. You can’t threaten me. You need me.”
    “I need you? For what? To hire your coked-up little lover boy to screw up my movie? I’m here to tell you that he’s off the set, Thomas. And if I have my way, I’ll see he’s off every set in Hollywood. And get rid of that brainless piece of beef you’ve got standing guard out there. What if the Japanese had come in? What was he going to do, open fire?”
    “He’s a bodyguard, Ovsanna. And he’s licensed to carry. People are getting killed all over town. We’re in danger and I’m not taking any chances.”
    “The only person you’re in danger from is me, Thomas. Fuck up one more time and you’re gone. Gone and never coming back. I want this merger to happen and you’re not going to screw it up because you’re thinking with your cock instead of your brain. Get Travis out of the picture and replace Anthony with someone who can think and talk at the same time. And while you’re at it, get a real secretary.” I turned and walked out.
    The tomboy must have kept an extra key downstairs because she was back at her desk when I went through the outer office. Her cheeks were bright pink and it wasn’t makeup. She’d heard the whole thing. I ran my tongue over my teeth to make sure I didn’t frighten her any more than I already had.
    “I am a real secretary,” she whispered, then cleared her throat and tried again. “I am a real secretary. I’ve got a certificate.”
    She had guts; I admired that. Maybe she would survive in this business. “Well then, start secretarying. And welcome to the Wonderful World of Movies.”

Chapter Eight
     

     
    SANTA CLARITA
2:00 P.M.
     
    If I hadn’t become a cop, I’d have worked in the movies.
    My mother is the only person I know who knew the business from the inside and still wanted her kid to be an actor. She loves movies. She grew up in Hollywood during the glory days of the studio system and had dreams of being a contract player but never got that far. She appeared in a couple of movies in the fifties, though: in the crowd in the café in Summertime, in the crowd in the store in The Long, Hot Summer, and in the crowd in the hospital in Suddenly Last Summer .
    Then television came along and she had a bit more success: she did Merv Griffin’s series Summer Holiday. I’m not kidding. Then she played the “girl in the bar” in Rawhide, the “woman in the bar” in Bonanza, and the “woman behind bars” in The Untouchables. We still tease her about being typecast.
    Whenever she wasn’t working, she was going to the movies. She loved them and she wanted me to love them, too. As soon as I was old enough to stay still for two hours, she sat me down in front of the TV and showed me her pirated 3 /4" copy of The Sound of Music on our Sony Beta