Chapter 24

His phone awoke him late morning. He got the part. “How about Jennifer?” he asked. Apparently all three women he auditioned with would be his minions, though Jenny would get the biggest role. “Great!” he told them.

Not long after, Jenny received the good news directly. Both got call sheets via email, schedules for their scenes, beginning in a couple weeks unfortunately. Linda, apparently his manager and his agent, sent him the contract to e-sign, his pay for a couple weeks work, at least at the week rate, ended up a little more than what he got as star of his movie even with her percentage, small budget and first time actor compared to big budget and sort of veteran he figured.

Harry finally disposed of the condom which Jenny thought hilarious still attached to his penis when they woke, and they showered together, sensuous but not sexual, at least not enough to make use of his hardness developed just in her presence and exacerbated by her masturbatorial cleaning of it.

They had lunch with Melly before Melly dropped Jenny off where she’d left her car, timing it so that Harry and Melly could head to LAX to wait for Peg’s arrival, although they still had a couple hours wait. Harry brought the script for the audition the next day, and Melly brought her own reading.

The best thing about the script was working with his favorite hot Latina actress. It seemed the stars he knew had been at least the soonest source for potential auditions. And despite Linda rating the script with a lower letter, meaning less juicy, he thought it the juiciest. The lower rating he figured was because the script kind of sucked.

It had been written as a star vehicle for Trina Alvarez, his favorite hot Latina actress, and perhaps greenlighted because she was due, her being so often a memorable character actor in both critical and popular movies, sort of the bridesmaid never the bride. In this case, literally becoming the bride.

Her role was definitely in her wheelhouse, a tough, sexy broad, street smart and taking no shit. In fact her playing a lawyer with a crush in her small role in Harry’s film had been a departure from most anything she’d done before. This time her usual persona had been shoved into a meet cute rom com. It became a juxtaposition of clichés, the undercover cop that took no prisoners so to speak, rubbing abrasively against her boss’s boss’s attempt to contain her and hopefully fire her because of his own corrupt agenda, mixed with the boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl pattern. Harry’s role, as the mentor of the undercover cop becoming a drug addled drunken bum, who, despite his dissipated situation, against all of her colleagues’ wishes, continues to be the person she trusts most for advice, definitely had juice. The cute comes in the form of a defense attorney, thus her most profound enemy, a young up-and-comer, new to the area, who skillfully punches holes in her testimony when she’s deposed. Except, almost unbelievably, the heat of that exchange becomes visceral, sexual. And even more unbelievably, the attorney ends up being the long estranged son of the loser ex-cop.

Clichés notwithstanding, and what genre film, and especially a combination of two genres, isn’t riddled with them, but this script did little to counter them while mired in the complexity of the plot. It’s like it took the easiest route to get to the end. Perhaps the clichés would be swallowed by an audience which wasn’t all that unusual, even if critics might punch holes in it. But it made Harry want to fix it.

He pondered calling Trina when the text came in letting him know Peg had arrived.

Despite it only three days since he’d seen her, she seemed to shimmer when he saw her at the curb waiting for them. He hopped out, hugged and kissed her. “God I missed you,” he murmured to her.

“Back at you Big Guy, but maybe we should get my bags in the trunk and go.”

“Great idea!” he chuckled.

She seemed almost disappointed when Jenny wasn’t in the back seat. “We dropped her off at her car,” Harry explained. “I think she needs to process what happened.”

“Process?”

He detailed Jenny’s situation, the complicated response the audition had stirred, the confession it enabled, the role playing it generated and moving past it with a night of sex.

“I could see that would take a lot out of a girl,” Peg agreed. “Maybe we could talk to her tomorrow, see where she’s at, maybe have lunch together and I could get to know her while you’re auditioning.”

“We’ll see,” Harry shrugged. “You know I want to go see Sam tomorrow night.”

“Of course.”

“And Yolanda said she’d be there.”

“Then the usual problem with you, Big Guy,” Peg chuckled. “Too much of a good thing. So Yolanda would only be Friday night.”

“Yep.”

“And if Jenny doesn’t blanch being with this old lady...”

“Only in the sense that you’re my old lady.”

“You’re biased. If things go well, maybe we could join you.”

“Except the problem is Yolanda will probably need to get up early.”

“Hmm. Okay. You get me tonight and Yolanda tomorrow night. After that, no holds barred.”

“So far that would be just Jenny with us,” Harry laughed.

“We’ll see,” Peg smirked. “Who knows who’ll you’ll bring home with your audition?”

“So I’m the stud who lures women into your bed.”

“Of course,” Peg grinned. “You complaining?”

“Only in that you’re enough for me.”

“Back at you Big Guy. But this is more fun isn’t it?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Returning to each other’s arms in bed proved as passionate and loving as expected.

When they came up for air, they decided to peak into Melly’s room to see about dinner. When she wasn’t there, Harry decided to check the garage, and found Melly washing Sissy’s Porsche hatchback. “Hungry?” she asked.

“I think Peg is looking through your fridge as we speak,” Harry grinned. “Sissy?”

“Family time this evening,” Melly shrugged. “Let’s eat.”

After she and Peg threw together a stir fry, and finishing it, they shared a joint, Harry sighed. “I should study the script for tomorrow.”

“We can keep each other company, right Peg?” Melly asked.

“Of course,” Peg agreed.

Once in his room, he decided to call Trina.

“Harry?” she asked. “Any problem with tomorrow’s audition?”

“I’ll be there. You too?”

“We’ll be reading together, and I have some sway on whose getting cast.”

“Cool. Producer?”

“It’s my project, so yeah.”

“Then you have some input on the script?”

“Only marginally since I’m not much of a writer. My co-producer found the script and another writer to work it up for me. Problems?”

“What do you think of it?”

“Like I said, I’m not much of a writer. Truth be told I kind of fell in love with it because of the interactions with your character.”

“Definitely the best part,” Harry agreed. “Otherwise ... Yeah, I think there’s problems.”

“Shit.”

“Not unsolvable I don’t think, even though comedy isn’t my forte.”

“Mine either,” she chuckled. “Which was another reason I liked it.”

“It’s more situational comedy anyway, though it could use some better witty repartee. The situations too could be less clichéd, but I think that’s just part of the genres you’re intermixing. Maybe more developed instead of a paint by numbers thing so they have time for surprises or at least making it something different. How do you get along with this co-producer?”

“Uhm ... Okay?”

He could hear her distress. “Shit.”

“Give me a second Harry,” she murmured, and must have walked somewhere private, away from her girlfriend. “So many deals with the devil in this town,” she practically whispered. “Like whoring, but instead of two bits it’s like millions of fucking dollars.”

“Did he approach you?”

“The same old bullshit about making me a star. You’d think I’d have learned by now, but it seems each step requires sex with assholes.”

“I fucking hate this town.”

“Me too, except it’s where I do what I love and make good money at it.”

“How often?”

“You mean ... Whenever he wants. Well, at least if I can’t talk my way out of it, which only goes so far unfortunately. Maybe once a week? Fridays seem to be his day. Sometimes I manage to skip a week with excuses.”

“Maybe I can be your excuse tomorrow?”

“Harry!”

“Not like that! I’m not interested in that.”

“Not what I remember.”

“As you could tell, I am interested in you, but never like that. It makes me sick just thinking it. No, what I mean is you and your girlfriend could go on a date with me and my wife, who’s in town, dinner and a show since I’m seeing Sam perform tomorrow night.”

“Sam?”

“The casting director for my movie? She’s actually a talented singer/songwriter.”

“The big boned blonde.”

“Yep.”

“Sounds fun. And maybe another excuse might be you doctoring the script with me? Maybe bring an example of improvement we can show the asshole? I can say you called me about it, and we worked up some changes together.”

“Except I’m going to be out of town next week.”

“You’ve heard of the internet, right? Emails and texting and such?”

Harry chuckled. “So when is this going into production?”

“Not for a couple of months.”

Which made sense for Harry, Linda giving him a project that wouldn’t conflict with their own, but at the same time didn’t.

“Why audition now?” he asked her.

“Getting all our ducks in a row.”

“Meaning?”

“You Harry. We needed an actor with gravitas and charisma. When Linda asked me about any scripts that might have a character for you, I thought it was meant to be. Truth be told, I wanted you contracted in, to build the actors from you, especially the guy playing your son and my lover.”

“I guess that makes sense, except it’s not like I’m a draw like the way my sister was in helping finance Stillwater.”

“Thanks to asshole, that’s not a problem. He’s like the money man for his studio, pulling in backing for projects and with a sort of Midas touch, though probably more silver than gold, no blockbusters, but profitable enough for him to have money to back this along with his usual connections, and with the studio behind it. It’s his first foray into being the front guy on a production, but with his track record ... I guess he’s always had a yen for me, thus his choice of making me a star supposedly.”

“His connections didn’t include a decent scriptwriter,” Harry pointed out.

“The original was amongst a pile of unsolicited scripts at the studio, one that had managed to rise somewhat to the top enough for a reader to hand it to him. The rewrite was by a veteran sitcom writer.”

“I can tell. Get the job done by plugging in the old clichés like he’d done all through his career I imagine.”

“Pretty stale, hunh?”

“Yep. I just worry if I can write funny.”

“There was some humor in your script. Was that you or Tom?”

“A bit of both I guess, but I did tend to lighten up what he wrote.”

“You know I might know somebody, a playwright who writes from the Latino perspective who’s really funny. Let me call him.”

“You’re friends?”

“We’ve double dated with his boyfriend.”

“How do we play that out if he gets on board?”

“Even easier since he’s my friend and I brought him in.”

“In other words, the truth.”

“Yep.”

Harry ended up staying up later than he wanted, double duty studying his lines and rewriting some passages. When he decided to finish, Peg hadn’t returned. He found her in bed with Melly, both chastely dressed and at least a foot separated their bodies. He debated waking her, instead slipping into the bed beside her, away from Melly.

He awoke to Melly telling a jealous Sissy, “Nothing happened. If it did would I be dressed in pajamas, and especially Peg, since you know if we’d done anything, she’d have been too gone to bother dressing?”

Harry couldn’t help chuckling.

“Shut up Harry,” Sissy muttered.

“It’s his fault,” Peg claimed. “If he hadn’t worked so fucking late, I’d have been in his bed instead of Mel’s, and sated instead of horny.”

“Get my things, Sissy,” Melly ordered. “Maybe punishment should be them watching you get fucked silly.”

“And we’d want to join in,” Peg said. “Come on, Big Guy.”

Harry happily followed Peg, and soon enjoyed her pussy while she enjoyed his cock despite not being washed, Peg swallowing and Harry urging her towards a third orgasm, getting hard by the time her fourth approached, followed by several more of hers while he fucked her from behind, the last one simultaneous to his finally cumming.

“Can’t move,” she murmured.

“I guess I’ll shower alone.”

By the time he’d relieved his bladder and colon of waste and stepped into the shower, she’d managed to get up, piss, and join him.

At breakfast with a sated Melly and Sissy he purposely stained his t shirt and jeans with egg yolk, coffee and maple syrup, left his hair uncombed and his face unshaved, though he brought a change of clothes in case it was too much.

Trina had called him later that night, wanting him to come early to the audition. During the drive there, he called Jenny.

“Hey,” she said, obviously cued into who called.

“Hi Jenny. Still interested in being friends?”

“Of course.”

“Any chance you’re free today?”

“I am.”

“I’m going to be busy today for a while, but there’s someone I’d like you to meet, if that’s okay.”

“Who?”

“Hi Jenny,” said Peg.

“Is that ... Peg?”

“It is.”

“Okay.”

“Melly can swing by and pick you up after dropping off Harry. Could you text your address?”

“I will. When would you be by?”

“I’m not sure.”

“An hour?”

“I imagine that won’t be a problem. Should I buzz you?”

“If I’m not out front.”

“See you then.”

It didn’t surprise Harry that Trina met him at the studio lot office building with just one man with her, Hispanic in his late twenties, small and slimly built with a handsome face and intelligent eyes. He moved gracefully but not effeminately, like a dancer.

“Are you a dancer?” Harry asked him, introduced as Oscar.

“Jazz and tap,” Oscar nodded. “A triple threat as they say, but also including choreographer, director and playwright.

“Musicals?” Harry asked.

“Sometimes. My boyfriend composes. Lately I’m focusing on comedy, a farce first, and last one was a comedy of manners, sort of a Latino Noel Coward. Or maybe a street smart Noel Coward,” he laughed.

“Have you had a chance to look through the script?”

“Just once, enough to see it’s shit.”

“Did you make any changes?” Trina asked Harry.

“A few,” Harry shrugged.

“Let’s step into the audition room then.”

Harry sat between the other two, both sitting close so they could read his script, Trina effectively teasing him, not being able to help herself.

Midway through his changes, Oscar adding improvements, Harry finally said, “I’m really trying to concentrate.”

She gave him a quick kiss and giggled, “Tough shit, Harry.”

“Uhm,” Oscar reacted.

“It’s our thing, Oscar,” Trina explained. “Simone knows.”

“Okay.”

Once done with that scene and another, Trina asked, “Anything else?”

“The meet cute?” Oscar offered.

“You mean the deposition?” Trina asked.

“I mean after.”

“Don’t they just fuck?”

“Exactly. Definitely a missed opportunity.”

“You mean on the way to fucking?”

“Yep. Look, they hate each other, in just what they do for a living right? Why not air that out, some cutting barbs, some attitude, you know? Right up to when they get naked, maybe even past it.”

“That’s great!” Trina exclaimed.

“Brilliant,” Harry agreed.

They worked on that for a while, getting into the headspaces of the two diametrically opposed characters. All three contributed to the dialog, Trina surprising herself at how much she contributed.

Harry noticed her beaming. “You did good kid,” he said.

“I just never thought ... I was always shit at improv.”

“Because you thought you were,” Oscar told her. “You’re a confident actor, but you don’t give yourself credit beyond that, and that in itself takes intelligence, studying your character, situational and textual awareness and so forth. And after a drink or two, once you get past yourself, you’re as smart as any of us, including your teacher, soon to be tenured professor girlfriend.”

“No way.”

“You think she’d put up with a stupid woman as her mate?”

“I guess not.”

“As smart as any of us, understand?”

“If you say so.”

“I mean so.”

She grinned at Harry. “I did good! Want to fuck?”

“You sure you talked to Simone?” Oscar asked.

She shifted her eyes to him. “She knows I’m bi, and sometimes ... Look, I need it right now. No questions, okay?”

“Uhm, how long do we have?” Harry asked.

“Is that a yes?”

“Uhm.”

“About an hour. Come on. Be back soon, Oscar. Maybe work on it some more?”

She’d pulled Harry to his feet and led him out the door.

“Where?” he asked.

“Bedroom set. I know they’re not shooting today.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m busy today.”

They passed a couple large studio buildings before stopping at a side door, Trina pressing in a code and unlocking the door. Once closed, turned on the lights and pressed a button. “Studio version of a do not disturb sign,” she giggled.

She led him to the bedroom set, pulled the covers off the bed, stripped and got in. “Hurry up,” she demanded.

“Just appreciating your sexy body.”

“Appreciate it closer up. Please tell me you have a condom?”

“I do.”

“Thank fuck.”

He set the condom aside and stripped and as usual headed face first between her taut thighs.

“You know I have a lesbian lover,” she moaned.

“A challenge!” he declared between licks.

Her moan had somewhat of a giggle to it.

When she came sooner than she thought, she murmured, “Okay, you proved yourself. Please fuck me.”

“Not yet.”

Having gauged her tells nearing orgasm, he teased her towards the next one, pulled from it a couple times, waited for her pleading to reach a level of need before he began his sudden push into her depths, a slow journey because of her tightness, not virginal but enough to take care, and by the time they grinded together it set her off intensely. He commenced a slow fucking within her ecstasy, elongating it and when it faded, began building her to the next. Her strong legs embraced him pulling him into her, accepting the pace, and her arms urged him to bring his mouth to hers for a kiss that persisted until his thrusts quickened and his fingers worked her nipples and she needed to pant. The break had his mouth move to her nipples and his hand move her hand to strum herself. Thrusts quickened even more, and with more force when it impacted her. Truth be told, he was rushing to his own climax hoping hers would precede it, and when it did, he pushed deep and let her inner throbs and shimmers milk the cum from him. The result was both of them experiencing as intense an orgasm as possible.

He moved her atop him and assured his condom remained on his faded erection when it withdrew from her wet hole. “Mmm,” she cooed. “So much better.”

“I’m glad,” he responded, kissing her damp scalp.

“You know how he fucks me?” she sniffled. He could feel a tear dampen his chest.

“I don’t want to know.”

“I know, but...”

“Go ahead.”

“He just stares at me and masturbates. Some ED or something, probably waiting for the Viagra to kick in. When it does he rolls on a condom, fucks me, his cock so hard it hurts, and when he cums, he masturbates again, though sometimes he stays kind of hard, turns me over and fucks me for a long time doggy style until he’s finally done with me. Then he withdraws, paws me, gives me a slap on my butt, dresses and leaves. I know to put lube in me, and all that friction, I do get stimulated enough. I never cum, and I don’t even pretend I do. He doesn’t seem to care, just fucking his bronze skinned starlet he bought.”

“Maybe you should have rode me,” Harry suggested.

“It was perfect, but if you have another...”

“I do,” Harry chuckled. “In my bag.”

“Change of clothes too,” she grinned and grabbed a shirt to clean his penis off, some Kleenex in her purse enclosing the condom. Setting the new condom aside, she straddled his mouth and sucked him. Once hard, and near cumming herself, she covered his cock and rode it, finding the angle to get off before continuing the ride. His hands worked her nipples while she strummed her clit, eventually bouncing almost violently atop him for her next climax.

She lifted off his hardness, looking almost disappointed.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I’m good. It takes a while for me to cum the second time especially with a woman on top.”

“I could...,” she started, moving to a doggy position beside him. He urged her back atop him.

“Honestly Trina, I’m fine. More than fine actually. I enjoyed every moment of it.”

“Me too,” she grinned and kissed him. “Maybe I can tell him I’m too sore to fuck, some nasty disease or something,” she smirked. “Or that you fucked me sore much better than he ever could.”

“Probably not a good idea.”

“Probably not. I still need the fucker, and I need you.”

“Any chance we could clean up?”

“Of course. Leave the bed open to air out. Follow me.”

He did, enjoying the movement of her full, strong ass. The studio had a shower and even some fancy shampoo and conditioner which he applied and she purred. He kept his hair unwashed, keeping somewhat of an illusion of being a bum despite being clean everywhere else. She went out naked once they dried off, tossing the towels in a bin, and put on her panties before sitting in a make-up chair, hers at it turned out, with her brush and a hair dryer. He dressed while she dried, and she dressed when she finished.

“You know there’s a distressed shirt that might fit you,” she realized.

“Only if it’s short sleeved.”

“It is. An excuse to come here just in case.”

He put it on, a light blue patterned shirt a little too tight at his chest, but leaving it unbuttoned worked.

“Perfect,” she decided.

They returned to the office building moments before the asshole producer arrived, handsome in a sort of generic way, a bit of a pot belly despite his efforts to keep in shape, looking to be in his fifties. Light brown hair and blue eyes continued the generic Caucasian businessman look. Business casual with his slacks and dress shirt sans tie and opened at the throat. Beside him strolled a man in his late twenties, the intern, looking put together and disheveled at the same time with his lanky straight brown hair reaching his shoulders and his eyes reddened by either a hangover or being high. A full bodied brunette in her forties, retaining prettiness if not her figure, in a pantsuit which retained the jacket despite the heat outside, was the casting director.

After introducing Harry, Trina requested a private meeting with the asshole and including Omar, only introduced in the audition space. “You look especially lovely today,” the producer commented, and Harry wasn’t the only one to cringe.

“Please sit,” Trina asked. “Let me show you why Omar is here along with Harry.” She placed Harry’s copy in front of the asshole, opened to the first corrections. “As you may not have known, Harry is not only a great actor, but a screenwriter as well. Omar is a friend and a wonderful playwright, and especially skilled with comedy.

“What’s this” the asshole asked.

“Corrections,” Harry decided to speak. “Reading the script, I found it flawed to say the least. Clichéd and generic. I figured this project is meant to give Trina an opportunity to star, and wouldn’t it be better if it was the best script possible.”

“It really is much better,” Trina insisted.

“Hmph,” the man grunted. “Not too bad,” he finally concluded. “Any other changes?”

“There’s more to work,” Harry said. “There’s another we worked on, but ... Omar?”

Omar brought the man the page they’d worked on, on a blank page across from the scene in which the characters first fuck. “We’d like to include this scene for the meet cute,” he explained.

The man actually laughed several times.

“I’ll need to discuss it with my assistant. I believe we set aside some funds for a script doctor. Are you two...?”

“Collaborating,” Harry said. “Trina as well.”

“I’m fine not being paid for that,” Trina said. “I’m sure those two will do the bulk of it anyway.”

“Probably not a lot anyway, but this really is better. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll need the director to see this. He wasn’t all that fond of the script either, and was on the fence about doing it. Maybe this and you Harry will assure him it’s worthy of his talent,” he chuckled.

“Cliff was on the fence?” Trina asked.

“I know he needed this what with his past couple debacles, but maybe he worried this might be his third strike.”

“Who’s this Cliff?” Harry asked.

“Cliff Denton,” Trina explained. “Did an independent that was the talk of the town, followed it with a Hollywood film that did well too, and a third that did okay financially but the critics loved it, at least some of them. I worked with him on the two Hollywood successes, but after that...”

“His ego got to him,” the asshole continued. “Thought he could do anything and his backers thought so too, but a ship bound romance comedy with a bit of Marx Brothers thrown in and a fucking glitzy musical? Both going way over budget?”

“He tried to stretch past what he did best,” Trina added, “which is an urban milieu with some grit.”

“He agreed to some restraint, and likes Trina, and Trina promised him ... well ... you.”

On cue, a knock on the door and a nerdy looking, soft bodied, bespectacled brown haired man in his thirties slipped through. “Apologies,” he said. “Had a hard time getting out the door.”

Harry chuckled at the way the man expressed his reluctance.

“You’ll feel better after you read this,” the producer told him.

“Trina,” Cliff nodded.

“Cliff,” Trina responded.

“Harry Lynch,” Harry said.

“Ah, Trina’s savior.”

“In more ways than one it seems,” the producer chuckled. “Come sit.”

Cliff did and the producer slid the two scripts in front of him. “To be honest, I’m not comfortable with package deals. Trina’s fine, but this ... Harry? And the script...”

“Read!” the producer commanded.

“Okay, but I’m just saying...”

“Omar, could you bring my intern and Nadine in?”

“Sure,” Omar agreed.

The intern switched on some lights and moved behind the video camera. “Could you...?”

“Harry?” Harry offered.

“Yes. Could you move in front of the camera? A couple steps back. That’s good.”

“Do you have a monologue?” Nadine asked.

“Sure.” Harry had a few, from classic Shakespeare to modern classics and even one of Tom’s. It had helped occupy his time in prison and he had a good memory. But he chose the one he’d recently done, written by Lizzy. Being a bum, it seemed appropriate.

When it ended, Nadine remarked, “I’ve never heard that.”

“A friend of mine wrote it for me.”

“Talented.”

“She is.”

“Trina?”

“Could we use chairs?” Trina asked. “I mean we can start with us standing, but most of the scenes we’re sitting together.”

“Sitting’s fine. How about we start with scene 28.”

“Sorry,” said Trina, pulling the script from underneath Cliff’s eyes.

Cliff stopped her. “Use mine?”

“Sure.”

He pulled it from his bag, already bound to be a workbook. She handed it to Harry who found the scene, one that he’d memorized already. “Do you know it?” he asked Trina.

“I don’t need the script,” she smiled.

It began with her coming to the bench and sitting, which she did. “Just a second,” the assistant said. “Let me open the lens a bit. Okay. Try it again.”

She did, and didn’t bother checking with the assistant, just getting right into the scene.

Both knew they nailed it despite being the first time through.

“Scene fifty eight,” said Nadine.

This one was a lot more intense. “Script?” Trina asked.

“Nope,” said Harry, already getting into the scene.

Trina took a minute to get in. Nodding, they nailed it again. Afterwards, taking a moment of silence, the scene done, she cried, Harry holding her. Tough chicks like her character don’t cry, but getting into it affected Tina.

“Anything else?” Harry asked.

“No, we’re good, right Nadine?” the producer asked.

“We’re good,” Nadine smiled.

“Fine, I’ll direct and you’re in Harry,” Cliff announced. “Finish fixing the script.”

“Yes sir,” said Harry.

“Speaking of which,” both producer and Trina said, Trina pushing through, “Harry and Omar and I need to figure out our times and Harry promised me a dinner and a show this evening with his wife.”