Chapter 6

Late morning Connie awoke with Joe gazing at her. “What?” she asked.

“Can I borrow your keys? I thought I’d get us some breakfast.”

“Sure. There’s a nice bagel place down the road.”

“I noticed,” he smiled, sharing a smelly kiss with her before getting up and throwing on casual clothes, not bothering with underwear.

“Hey,” he said to Lindy, sitting on a sofa in the living room, her laptop on the coffee table, her leaning over it, earbuds in her ear. She wore a tank top and sweat pants, looking sexy and comfortable.

“I made coffee,” she said quietly, gesturing to a mug. “I hope Connie won’t mind.”

“You should make yourself at home here,” Joe insisted. “I’m going out for bagels.”

“Sounds good,” she smiled and sipped from her coffee. Then more serious she asked, “Was I bad?”

“Besides hitting on my brother you were fine,” Joe told her, “And according to Connie quite entertaining.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

He went over to her and kissed her head, realizing she needed a shower. “You were fine,” he repeated.

“Okay,” she half smiled.

“Go take a shower, smelly girl.”

“Yeah,” she smirked.

By the time he returned with half a dozen bagels of various types, making sure two were favored by himself and Lindy, a couple plain ones just in case for Connie, with several packets of a variety of cream cheese, Lindy had the shower going and Connie was in her housecoat sipping coffee. His mug finished it off, and after a couple sips, he embraced and kissed Connie.

“How’s Lindy?” Connie asked.

“Surprisingly okay,” Joe told her.

“Probably better than me,” Connie confessed. “I took some aspirin and a big drink of water, so I’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

After another kiss, they made themselves bagels and cream cheese, sitting close at the kitchen table. “I should probably call Henry,” she said.

“You set up the meeting place.”

“Just to make sure he’s up and whether I should pick him up.”

“He’s got his own rental.”

“And the place is within walking distance, but I thought I’d offer.”

Joe nodded.

Henry ended up out, shopping at Rodeo Drive of all places, hopefully not spending all his first check, so they decided to meet at the restaurant.

“You don’t happen to know where I could get some sugar in town?” Henry asked.

“Sugar?”

“You know,” he sniffed, “Sugar.”

“No I don’t. I find it counterproductive.”

“Sorry to hear that. I thought the consulting might be more ... full service.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” she cringed.

“No really, any ideas?”

She did actually, though the drug had become less pervasive, it had its users. “We’ll see.”

His saying, “Good girl,” had her cringing again. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Good idea,” she muttered and ended the call. “Jesus.”

“I warned you,” Joe said.

“He better be fucking good.”

“He is fucking good, at least as a director. Everything else, not so much.”

“Fuck. Oh well, I do like a challenge.”

“And I’ll be here to salve your frustrations,” Joe offered.

“I’ll take you up on that,” she laughed and embraced and kissed him, which Lindy saw, walking in wearing a towel.

“Uhm, what’s the plan Joe?” she asked. “Going out or staying in?”

“I thought I’d work on my new project since we’re going out tonight. But that doesn’t mean you need to stay.”

“I suppose I could work on my lines, although as much as I worked on the script with you, I’m familiar with pretty much all of it.”

“Or you could be my buffer with Henry,” Connie suggested half seriously.

“With Henry, whatever female flesh is closest gets all his attention.”

“Why am I feeling like this is my least favorite assignment?”

“Henry can be charming as long as you ignore the slime factor,” Joe suggested. “Just make it clear of your professionalism.”

“Or if he doesn’t quit his horndog act or that I’m supposed to be his supplier of substances and I’m sure female companionship, I’m going to kick him in the balls or worse.”

“That’ll work,” Joe chuckled.

“Or you could give him a reward system,” Lindy offered. “If he’s a good boy, you get him something to play with after.”

“Aside from the fact that I’d prefer my clients not to be stoned or coked out, I already told him I don’t know anything about getting drugs in this town.”

“Which, since you’re a veteran of many years, specifically dealing with reprobates like him, I doubt he believes.”

“True. I just wish these creative assholes just appreciated their opportunity.”

“Believe me he appreciates it,” said Joe. “Finally getting what he’s hoped for for at least a decade, and not just hoped for but thought he deserved.”

“The deserved part’s probably the problem, making him less humble and probably less willing to work hard in order to prove himself.”

“Just remind him he can still fuck up and end up back making commercials in Minneapolis,” Joe offered.

“Maybe. You know what? Fuck him. I’ll give him a leash, and if he chooses to hang, I’ll just let him dangle, just quit and let someone else deal with his crap.”

“You can do that?” Lindy asked.

“Yeah. Part of the deal of working one on one the way I do, I can opt out if I find I can’t work with the person.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Joe let Connie know. “It’s my screenplay and Lindy’s great opportunity, and I know you’re the best assistant he can have, knowing the business here better than anyone.”

“You should tell him that too,” Lindy agreed. “Maybe less about Joe and me since he’s a selfish asshole and more about you being his best bet in getting this off the ground.”

“How do you know I’m the best?”

“Confidence and experience? Nabbing Joe at first opportunity and realizing what you got?”

“What’s that... ?”

“Just don’t show Henry any of that doubt you just showed,” Lindy interrupted. “Be vigilantly confident.”

“Yes Lindy,” Connie chuckled.

“Lindy’s full of surprises,” Joe grinned proudly.

“Yes she is.”

“And I’m about to spring another if I don’t change,” Lindy smirked, tugging at the towel.

“I wouldn’t mind that surprise,” Connie admitted.

“You’re bi?” Lindy asked.

“Been known to enjoy the softness of female flesh. You?”

“Nope. Maybe a little bi-curious,” and she let the towel drop.

“A preview of tonight,” Joe chuckled.

“Uhm,” Connie gulped, gazing at female perfection. “Oh you mean the strip contest.”

Giggling at the attention, Lindy knelt to grab the towel and started to leave, “I’ll go change.”

“Something for outside,” Joe decided. “I feel like being a tourist, enjoy Hollywood since we’re right here.”

“Sounds good,” he heard her say while dashing away.

He sat down and Connie sat in his lap. “I get her charm,” she said.

“You’re really bi?” Joe asked her.

“Almost always one on one you naughty boy,” she laughed. “It’s almost a predatory fantasy a guy watching girl on girl action, my brief experience early on, being the other girl, made me realize it was mostly his voyeurism, along with it being divisive in his and the girl’s relationship. The only exception would be if the girl is essentially lesbian, and then why have the guy even around? But maybe you’d be different Joe, appreciative of us getting off with each other rather than being spectator to a fantasy.”

“I’ve never had a threesome nor have I really fantasized about it,” Joe informed her.

“Really?”

“Really. If I fantasize it’s one girl, some hotty I might meet or pass by or in some glossy magazine. In porn, I suppose the extra pulchritude of two girls has its charm, but I guess seeing them fucked has more of a sympathetic impact, imagining the feel of her around my cock or tasting her pussy and getting her off with my tongue.”

“So sharing Lindy... ?”

“I’m sure I would enjoy it as much as you except for a couple things.”

“Which are?”

“Her fucking Henry without protection, she needs to get a clean bill of health. And, like you mentioned, I’m concerned about your jealousy.”

“Considering her being so much younger and having a near perfect body and of course you having a long term relationship, it makes sense. But I have no illusions that if we marry I’d have you to myself. Sharing a woman younger and with a better body than me would actually be a perk. Like I said, it’s about legitimizing a daughter, and the sex, as long as you were willing to make love to this aging body...”

“I told you the way you keep in shape and care about your body, I can’t imagine that will be an issue.”

“If you say so, but there’s also the part where I like you and you like me and we enjoy each other’s company.”

“There is that,” Joe grinned and pulled her into a soft kiss.

“Uhm,” Lindy once again interrupted them standing in the same spot wearing a pretty flowery short sleeved blouse and lilac slacks, “You ever do make-overs Connie?”

“No but I know someone who does. Let me see if she’s available,” and Connie grabbed her smartphone, scrolling through her contacts and finding the number. “Stell? You busy? I have a friend who needs your magic. Now? Okay. Meet you there in an hour. Thanks.”

Connie hopped onto her feet. “I guess I have something to do before meeting up with Henry, and you have something to do, Lindy, for the afternoon, and Joe can work on his script. Let me get showered.”

Joe decided to accompany them, knowing it probably wasn’t going to be all that entertaining for him, but he wanted to witness it, the process of transformation.

They met the remarkable Stella at the huge cosmetics store on Hollywood. Another blonde, though mostly her head was bald with a broad Mohawk she gelled for dramatic effect, a three inch high brush, Stella looked to be as old as Connie and about the same height minus the hair, but she couldn’t have been more different. Studs adorned a nostril and her tongue and several slim hoops pierced through her ears. Mostly she looked tough, dykish, with her attitude and her leather vest constricting her substantial breasts and her ragged denim jeans worn like Bermuda shorts reaching just past her knees, army boots splattered with paint covering feet up to most of her calves.

Meeting outside the doors, Stella examined Lindy in sunlight before they entered fluorescent lighting of the store. They followed her as she picked up various items, reaching a particular area where different make-up and lipstick adorned Lindy’s lower arm. Deciding on four shades created a tray, which she added to the basket, and they went to nail polish, Lindy actually chipping in on the discussion and three more items filled the basket. “Okay,” Stella growled, “Who’s buying?”

Lindy overruled Connie and Joe.

“Good girl,” Stella praised her. “We girls should never be bought.”

When they stepped outside, Connie said, “I should get going and Joe should come too. We need to pick up your car.”

“Oh okay,” Joe said.

“I’ll drive you back here to Stella’s studio.”

“Later,” said Stella. “Come on, cutie. I’m just a couple blocks away.”

Connie handed off her car keys to Joe. “We’ll start our meeting in the back seat,” she explained. “You remember your way back to Venice beach.”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

While Joe drove, Connie contacted Henry via Bluetooth so Joe heard. “I hope you’re ready.”

“Almost,” said Henry.

“Meet us out front.”

“Okay.”

They waited five minutes for the nervous man to emerge, eyes revealing his condition. He slid into the back seat with his shoulder bag. “What are you doing here Joe?” he asked.

“Driving,” Joe shrugged.

“Move over,” said Connie having gotten out of the passenger seat and opening the back seat. Once settled in, she muttered, “I’d hoped you’d be sober.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean? Can you function coked up?”

“I’m not...”

“Don’t fuck with me. I’m not your fucking mother. And don’t say what you’re about to say. Can you function?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“We’ll see. I need your brain cells fully functioning. Let’s go Joe.”

Joe headed to the highway which would lead him to the highway taking them to the beach.

“Let me see how you work,” Connie asked Henry.

Henry, ready for further upbraiding after being called out for his coke use, brought out his working script with trepidation and handed it to her. He’d pasted the script into a large spiral bound notebook, separating scenes by a couple pages, the one facing it containing the main notes about what the scene would need and the other pages for deeper ideas or possible changes.

“Good,” she praised him. “Very good. You’re writing’s even readable.” She handed him back the notebook, pulling a legal pad and pen for herself. “Read to me the descriptions of each scene, whether it’s interior or exterior and whether the exterior has to be location, the general set-up, how many characters would be needed and how many different shots would be required. Okay?”

“Sure. It’s okay if I make notes as we go? Going at it like this might bring up ideas.”

“Of course, and you can tell me if they’re relevant.”

“What do you mean relevant?”

“My job has to do with cost and logistics, dealing with cast and crew and changes in set-ups. Personnel involved and time in which they needed to be paid. Also sets built or location.”

“Okay.”

He went through the scene as scripted, at least the descriptive part, and the notes he’d written on the other side of the page.

“How many actors?” she asked.

“Actors?”

“Featured, character and extras.”

“I didn’t note the number since they’re in the script.”

“Not all of them, and it’s good to have the list easily seen.”

“It’ll take a minute.”

“Take your time, and list them out loud.”

“Yes of course.”

After listing the actors on the first page, he started paging forward. “Just name the ones in each page,” she told him.

“Oh okay. And if they’re on the next page?”

“Just any new ones in the scene.”

They went slowly through each scene, Connie asking questions about the set, getting specific, asking him to tell her what the ideal shot would look like in detail, the lighting, the color, any effects he might have as far as focus and the light or darkness of it, the angles he would shoot the characters and so forth.

“Why so specific?” he asked at one point, his voice sounding purely curious to Joe.

“I think it will help us with which cinematographer we get.”

“You have a list?”

“I know a few available. There’s one I think you might like who I think is as talented and hungry as you. He came out of USC nearly formed and ended up shooting commercials and some second unit work which mostly dumbed down his creativity to match the main unit’s work.”

“You have samples?”

“Yes, and samples of others. I might have my preference but you’ll be the one working with them. I also wanted to find out how imaginative you are, or maybe visionary is the better word. You know directors storyboard, and while you already sort of have that with Joe’s panels, they aren’t shot by shot.”

“I suck at drawing. Maybe I can have Joe help with that.”

“You could do that, and the dialogue might even help, but I think you’re the type who has it all up here,” she tapped her temple. “It’s a matter of communicating it with the various directors, and I think you’re capable of clarity.”

“He’s not vague with actors either,” Joe put in.

“I’ve always worked with amateurs,” Henry explained, “either fellow students who have never been filmed or models used to only get their attractive faces and bodies shot, so I’ve learned to give specifics about the situation, analogies to their own life if I can.”

“That’s great, Henry,” Connie approved.

When Joe arrived at the public parking at Venice Beach and found his Toyota, he felt reluctant to leave them having learned much from Henry’s methods of readying his script to be shot.

“If you want, Henry, I could make up storyboards for you,” Joe offered.

“That would be useful,” Connie encouraged.

“Maybe bring Lindy along as muse?” Henry snarked.

“Sure,” Joe went along with it.

“How much are you working with me?” Henry asked Connie.

“I thought like what we’re doing today: afternoons. How about we meet up at my apartment at six and we can discuss our collaboration?”

“Sure,” both Joe and Henry agreed.

Joe got out of the car, handing Connie her keys. In turn Connie handed him a ring of two keys. “My apartment,” she told him, pulling him down for a quick kiss.

“Thanks,” Joe smiled after.

Henry moved to the passenger seat while Connie adjusted the driver’s seat to her much shorter legs.

Both cars headed back to Hollywood, Connie stopping at a sandwich place to get sandwiches and sodas to go, after which she drove them to a small park for a picnic and work.

She had given Joe the address to Stella’s studio and he’d mapped it and let the female voice guide him there. Once buzzed in at an old storage building converted to lofts mostly for artists, he took a large service elevator to the third floor and down the hall to an open door. Entering the door cautiously, he saw a space filled with intense, dark, expressive paintings, figurative paintings with an abstract expressionist technique, most at least six feet high. In the back corner by windows facing the street almost as an afterthought was a vanity mirror set-up, the kind with lights bordering the mirror, a barber’s chair in front of it, Lindy occupying it, a towel shoved into her collar and in a barber’s smock. A wooden desk chair sat empty beside the barber’s chair, the short butch make-up artist hovering on her feet and directing Lindy’s application of make-up.

“We’re nearly done,” said Stella. “Take a seat.”

“Mind if I look at your paintings?” Joe asked.

“Knock yourself out.”

Though dark, even scary, his close examination revealed real skill in shading like the best modern artists created: Pollock, Klee and Miro, the thick applications also reminding him of German expressionism. “These are really great,” he told her.

“Thanks. Unfortunately they’re a bit too dark for most.”

“You’ve had gallery showings?”

“Three so far without a lot of sales. Though I have one hanging at the Getty.”

“That’s cool,” Joe said.

“Yeah.”

“Connie has one in the guest room,” Lindy told him.

“It scared you honey, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, at first,” Lindy admitted. “But I kept looking and it’s pretty amazing.”

“Thanks. Now shush, you and concentrate.”

“Yes Stella.”

“You should show us your painting at the Getty,” Joe suggested.

“Sure honey. It’s actually free admission today and open late.”

“Unfortunately we have plans,” Joe informed her. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“I have work early in the morning and another late in the afternoon, but between then...”

“How early?”

“They open at ten so we could meet there.”

“Lindy?”

“Sure.”

“You’re staying at Connie’s you should probably head out early.”

“Where is it?” Joe asked.

“Malibu.”

“Okay.”

Lindy soon finished and Stella dramatically tossed the smock aside, having Lindy stand and turn around. Her hair had been cut perfectly, the length framing her face and lengthening in the back. The make-up too, emphasizing her amazing eyes and making the best of the rest of her face, her lips looked especially kissable for some reason. “You look gorgeous,” Lindy,” he told her.

“She really is a gem in the rough,” Stella agreed.

Lindy surprised Stella by giving the tough woman a hug. “I hope we can be friends,” Lindy told her.

“You won’t be getting rid of me easily,” Stella chuckled when the hug ended. “I’m going to be doing the make-up for your film.”

“That’s great!”

“Connie recommending you?” Joe asked.

“The best for the money,” Stella shrugged.

“That’ll do it,” Joe chuckled.

“Want to see my portfolio?”

“Of course,” Joe said, Lindy saying something similar.

They sat on an old, worn couch, Joe at the center with the large book and the ladies beside him.

“Prosthetics?” Joe asked looking at some sci-fi work.

“I have a friend who works miracles forming plastic. She does a lot of convention work.”

The photos showed an impressive variety, from normal but flattering to exotic. “Connie has my work on her computer,” Stella explained once they finished. “It has some video files as well, my work in action,” she chuckled.

“How much do we owe you?” Joe asked.

“It’s a favor for Connie,” Stella responded. “Sometimes I think she gets me more work than my fucking agent.”

“Maybe get another?”

“Naw. She’s okay, just a little lazy. And she’s pretty hot and isn’t scared of me.”

“You hit on her?” Lindy asked. “I mean ... if...”

“I flirt but it’s all in fun. She’s married with a couple kids, and I’m married too.”

“What’s your wife like?”

“Want to see?”

“Sure.”

Stella extracted a wallet like a man would have from her back pocket and showed a photo of a beautiful blonde (of course). “She’s what you’d call a lipstick lesbian. She’s a defense lawyer at a prestigious agency. Gets hit on by the newbies, even in her late thirties, until I show up and scare them away. We actually met when she helped defend this rich asshole’s rich kid who had beat me up for being a dyke, helped get him the minimum, like a month in jail and a hefty fine, basically paying for my hospitalization. I didn’t blame her, especially with her at second chair. She didn’t have to go at me in the witness stand like her arrogant asshole colleague, and I could see her cringe when it was happening, so I guess that gave me an introductory line,” Stella laughed.

“Talk about silver linings,” said Lindy.

“Definitely.”

“Kids?” Joe asked.

“Paul,” she answered, showing them a photo of a handsome young blond man around twenty. “From when Gail had been raped by her boyfriend, which made her finally embrace her sexuality. She decided to keep him, delayed entering college for a year. Fortunately she’s brilliant enough for them to delay her scholarship. Her parents weren’t too thrilled with her keeping her kid or her choice of lovers, although she didn’t have time for lovers then. She has a cool aunt though who let them stay at her place and help raise her kid. The aunt married a rich asshole and ended up doing quite well in the divorce, able to work at home doing illustrations freelance. Not a lot of money, but she didn’t need the money. After we realized we were in love, we got a house and Paul moved in. He still had the aunt look after him sometimes or he’d stay here at the studio when I wasn’t on a gig until he was old enough to look after himself.”

“Do you do many makeovers here?” Lindy asked.

“Some. Not a lot. I have a site on the internet but don’t really push it much on the search engines. Word of mouth mostly. I get busy around prom time for Hollywood High kids. I put up a flyer there, but again a lot sisters tell sisters about me or even moms tell daughters. I also do the occasional low budget film, the kind kids do on the fly, and they’ll use this studio for make-up and even rehearsal.”

“We should probably go,” said Joe.

“Thanks Stella,” Lindy embraced her again. “See you at the Getty tomorrow?”

“See you then,” Stella smiled. Anything gruff about her had disappeared.

“Do we need to be somewhere?” Lindy asked when they arrived at the car.

“Not for another hour or so,” Joe replied as they got into their seats. “I thought we’d leave her to her work.”

“Probably. I like her Joe.”

“And she did a great job. Of course she had a great canvas to work with.”

“Thanks,” Lindy blushed and took his hand.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Rodeo Drive? Something to wear with my new looks?”

“That you can afford?” Joe chuckled. “How about I buy you something I can afford?”

She brought out her smartphone and mapped Rodeo drive, saying, “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to, and I did just get the biggest checks of my life.”

“Maybe we could make you over too.”

“I doubt it’s possible, and probably not affordable, but we can try. Can you program in...”

“Already done. Turn right at the intersection.”

The female voice on the smartphone led him the rest of the way.

They found a cute and sexy lightweight dress which was sort of affordable. Nothing Joe saw for himself seemed worth the price, but Lindy was happy with her gift.

They made it just in time to Connie’s where they found her sitting close to Henry looking at her laptop in the living room. Both looked fine with their proximity, not looking intimate, more like colleagues hard at work.

Looking up, Henry crooned, “Wow babe, you look amazing.”

“Stella’s great,” said Lindy. “Thanks Connie.”

“You’re welcome, but I had my reasons. I wanted Henry to get a taste of her skills.”

“You’re recommending her as my make-up artist?” Henry asked. “You have some of her work?”

“I do, but that’s for later. One thing at a time. You guys want to order delivery?”

“Sure,” said Joe.

“I posted some choices on the fridge.”

“Pizza sounds good,” Lindy decided after a brief perusal.

Connie grabbed her phone, going through her contacts and opening the one for pizza. “Here Joe. They’ll have the address. I like anything except anchovies.”

“Me too,” said Henry, “Though I’m not all that fond of Hawaiian.”

“No anchovies, no pineapple, no ham, got it,” said Joe, taking her phone and bringing it to the kitchen, matching the number to the ad which listed their specials. “Anything else anyone wants?”

“Maybe a large salad,” said Lindy.

“Drinks?”

“I’ve got a six-pack of beer in the fridge,” Connie told him.

“Everyone want beer?”

Everyone did so he made the call, ordering the extra-large deluxe pizza which seemed to have everything on it except what they didn’t want, and the large salad. “Blue cheese okay?” he asked, and with no response he ordered it. “Forty-five minutes,” he let them know when the call ended.

“Want to see what Joe bought me?” Lindy asked.

“Sure,” said Connie distractedly.

Lindy skipped into the guest room with the garment bag.

“Could you close the curtain?” Connie asked. The problem with facing west was the sun pouring in light as it approached setting. Joe did, leaving the door to the lanai uncovered. He wanted to sit out there and read some of his new purchases, waiting to ask Lindy to join him once she modeled the dress.

Which she did, getting appreciative words from the ones on the couch, Henry the louder and cruder. While Connie praised her lovey choice, Henry exclaimed, “You look fucking hot in that, babe.”

“Uhm thanks,” Lindy blushed.

“You do look lovely and sexy,” Joe told her quietly. “Why don’t you change back, grab a book and join me on the lanai? Let those two work.”

“Okay Joe,” she smiled.

Once back in the room, he asked Connie, “Mind if we occupy the lanai? Can I hear the door when the pizza arrives?”

“I’ll take care of it Joe.”

“Okay.”

He went into her bedroom and found one of the locally published graphic novels he’d bought and brought it out onto the lanai. Though a bit bright he loved the view of the city below him, the ocean beyond it, and just being outside. When Lindy emerged from the apartment she wore one of Joe’s chambray shirts she’d purloined, the sleeves rolled up, and a casual heather green skirt which managed to match her eyes. After gazing out at the city like he had, a hand cupped over her eyes, she settled into the seat beside him, at cross angles from him but still away from the sun. She leaned against him, and he brought her a soft kiss, not sexual, but one of friendship and intimacy. She read the borrowed book from Connie’s library while he began reading and looking at the dark and bloody horror of the comic.

It seemed like less then forty-five minutes and was actually ten minutes less when Connie popped her head out, announcing “Pizza’s here.”

She left the pizza and salad on the kitchen table, paper plates and bowls beside them, but everyone brought the food and drinks to the coffee table, “Coasters please,” Connie demanded, and watched the news on the large, flat wide screen TV. Nothing much good, but nothing directly life threatening. Best news was the weather which would be a pleasant spring day for Saturday when Joe would be playing tourist with his brother’s family.

“Uhm, did you tell Henry about our plans tonight?” Lindy asked Connie during commercials.

“I thought you should ask.”

“Ask what babe?” Henry inquired, his word for Lindy like an unpleasant chalk board screech not just for Joe, but for Lindy as well, and their expressions gave Connie discomfort.