Chapter 6: Slices of Life

Los Angeles, California

December 8, 1994

The Ohr HaTorah Synagogue was on Venice Boulevard in the west LA neighborhood of Mar Vista, a middle class and working-class section of the city where Sharon Archer, formerly Cohen, had been born and raised. Sharon and Nerdly, along with Rob and Jill, her parents, were all regular attendees of the Saturday morning Shabbat services conducted by Rabbi Levenstein, the man who had donned a Star Trek the Next Generation admiral’s uniform in order to marry the Nerdlys in a Heritage city park on Halloween day of 1989. Nerdly and Sharon were among the top ten most generous philanthropists to Levenstein and his house of worship, particularly these last two years as KVA Records increased their personal income quite nicely.

Rabbi Levenstein was dressed much more traditionally on this day. He wore a neatly pressed three-piece suit and jacket with a pale pink tie. His black and white robe, open in the front, was draped over this. On his head was a yarmulke, as there was one on every male in attendance, be he Jew or Gentile. He recited from the Torah to the assembled group of special guests who had joined him in the main hall of the synagogue this day. The parental Cohens were there, Rob in his own suit, Jill in a very expensive dress that Sharon had bought for her. Stanley and Cynthia Archer were seated near the front row, the two of them looking quite snazzy as well. Greg and Celia were just behind them, Greg having to fight to keep from fussing with his head cover, Celia in a modest blue dress that covered her shoulders and displayed not so much as a millimeter of cleavage. Jake and Laura were seated directly in the front, as they would play a part in the ceremony that was to take place. Jake was wearing his best double-breasted suit and a conservative red tie. Laura was in a pretty green dress she had bought just for the occasion. Pauline and Obie sat just behind the newlyweds. Obie looked quite resplendent in his custom-tailored suit—the likes of which Jake had never seen the country musician wear before. Even the yarmulke looked good on Obie.

And on Jake’s left, sitting together, were Nerdly and Sharon. In Sharon’s arms was the reason for the gathering here today. Born on December 1, at 3:33 PM, forced out of Sharon’s womb by an intravenous oxytocin drip after her doctor got tired of waiting for her to go into labor on her own, was a seven-pound, nine ounce baby boy named Kelvin Stanley Archer, his namesakes the international base scale for temperature measurement in science (this name was selected after a compromise between Nerdly and Sharon—Nerdly’s first choice for a boy name had been Quantum) and his paternal grandfather. He was snoozing contentedly at the moment, dressed in a white gown, a blue head hat, and a disposable size small diaper. He was thankfully quite oblivious to what was about to happen to him. Since, on the day of his birth, he had been evicted from Sharon’s body prior to sunset, today was the day of his brit milah, the Jewish ritualized removal of his foreskin to seal his covenant with God.

The rabbi finished his prayers and blessings, and then introduced Dr. Fredrick Rosenberg, who was not only Kelvin’s pediatrician, but was also a practicing Jew who earned beer money by serving as a mohel for members of the Ohr HaTorah congregation. He was in his mid-fifties, had two children in college, and had performed more than fifteen thousand circumcisions in his career as both a medical and religious provider. He, like every other male except Kelvin, was wearing a suit and tie, but covering his was a robe even more elaborate than Rabbi Levenstein’s. His closed over his stomach area, nearly touched the floor on the bottom, and had a hood that came up over his yarmulke.

Dr. Rosenburg, carrying an old wooden box that contained his instruments, went to a table that had been set up just in front of the rabbi’s podium. He said a brief prayer and then asked that the child be brought to him. This was Jake and Laura’s cue. They were to serve as the kvater, their responsibility to take the child from his mother and give him to the father so he could then be brought to the mohel for the procedure. It was traditional, Nerdly had told them, that a childless couple be chosen for this role as performing it would instill an automatic blessing from God that they themselves would soon be fruitful and multiply.

“Now wait a minute here,” Jake had joked when told about this part. “I’m all about being fruitful, but I’m not sure we’re ready to multiply just yet.”

“I think God will understand that,” Nerdly assured him, “and not override your contraceptive measures.”

“Oh, well I suppose we can do it then,” Jake said. “You know something? Your Jewish God is all right.”

“Yeah,” Nerdly said with a sigh. “I only wish I actually believed in Him.” Thus, was Nerdly’s dilemma. He enjoyed the rituals and covenants of being a Jew, and he deeply respected the message and culture of the world’s oldest monotheist organized religion, but his scientific and logical mind just could not quite make the leap of actually accepting the reality of an invisible, all-powerful superior being.

Jake and Laura stood and walked over to Sharon. Sharon kissed the bundled infant on the forehead and handed him to Laura, who took him in her arms, kissed him herself, and then handed him to Jake. Little Kelvin was now awake and not looking very happy about it. Soon he was going to be a lot less happy. Jake took two steps to the right and then leaned down and kissed the baby on the forehead as well. He handed him off to Nerdly just as he started to cry.

The ceremony was brief, and Jake did not really want to see it. He listened to the prayers by both Levenstein and Rosenburg, watched the doc put some wine in Kelvin’s mouth, watched him take out his instruments, even watched him apply a topical anesthetic to the baby’s little schlong (tradition dictated that no anesthesia should be used, as the ritual was supposed to be painful, but Nerdly and Sharon were not that orthodox), but when he broke out the scalpel, Jake found himself perusing the artwork on the walls and the vault where the holy scrolls were kept.

Little Kelvin’s cries of unhappiness suddenly changed pitch and became screams of pain. Jake continued not to watch. He knew that after the foreskin was removed there was some kind of a deal that involved a suction device and the drawing of blood. He didn’t want to see that shit either.

Soon enough, the deed was done and Kelvin’s little schwanz was wrapped up in some kind of dressing. While Sharon carried him off to nurse him, the rest of the crowd filed out of the actual synagogue and into the gymnasium of the religious school on the grounds, where a Seudat Mitzvah, or celebratory meal, had been set up. There were tables full of bread, meat (but no cheese), and vegetables, pots full of simmering soups, a salad bar, and, also in the tradition of Judaism, an abundance of alcoholic beverages even though it was only eleven o’clock in the morning.

Jake and Laura made themselves a couple of sandwiches, poured bowls of soup, and then, after setting these down, went to the bar and got themselves some properly chilled white wine.

“Mazaltov,” they told Nerdly and the Cohens as they passed. They then sat down and put some food and wine in their stomachs.

Greg and Celia, carrying plates and wine glasses of their own, came to their table and sat down across from them. This was the first time the four of them had been together since the wedding. Jake and Laura had come home from their honeymoon in New Zealand two weeks before, but Greg and Celia had been staying in their Palm Springs home and had only driven back to LA for today’s occasion.

“That was an interesting ceremony,” Celia whispered.

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “You gotta hand it to the Jews. They can turn anything into a party.”

“So, how was New Zealand?” Greg asked them.

“It was beautiful,” Laura gushed. “The most beautiful place I’ve ever been in my life, really.”

“Oh yeah?” Celia asked.

“It’s gorgeous there,” she said. “Jake took me up in his airplane and we flew along the coast of the island. Huge, snowcapped mountains with glaciers that come right down to the water. It was incredible. And we even saw the southern lights from the hot tub at night.”

“That does sound beautiful,” Celia said. “Greg, we have to go there some time.”

“I’d love to show you two around the place,” Jake told them. “But if you want to go sometime when I’m not there, that’s cool too. You’re more than welcome to stay in my house up in the hills.”

“That sounds very intriguing,” Greg said. “Unfortunately, we’re starting preproduction of my new project next week and I’ll be quite busy from that point until filming is complete.”

“Oh yeah,” Jake said. “The cop flick, right?” He rather enjoyed seeing Greg wince painfully at that term.

“Yes,” Greg said through gritted teeth. “The cop flick.”

“What’s the name of it going to be?” asked Laura.

“Us and Them,” Greg said. “It’s a reference to the siege mentality that career police officers develop after working the streets for any length of time. Us being the cops themselves, Them being anyone who is not also a street cop.”

“That’s deep,” Jake said with a nod.

“It’s to be a very deep film,” Greg said. “Part of my preparation for production is going to be that I go to Chicago and do two weeks of ride-a-longs with some actual Chicago PD patrol units on the south side.”

“The south side of Chicago?” Jake asked.

“That’s right,” Greg said.

“I hear that’s the baddest part of town,” Jake told him.

Celia chuckled but Laura and Greg both missed the Jim Croce reference.

“That’s what they say,” Greg said. “I’m looking forward to the experience. As a method actor, such preparation is invaluable to getting into character.”

“Aren’t you worried about him, C?” Laura asked. “Riding around in a police car in one of the worst neighborhoods in the country?”

“I’m not really worried about that part,” Celia said. “After all, is there a safer way to explore the baddest part of town?”

“I suppose not,” Laura allowed.

“I am a little worried about Greg’s costar in the project, however,” she said.

“His costar?” Jake asked.

Greg sighed the sigh of a man who had been over a particular subject more than he cared to but was being called on to do it again. “It hasn’t been officially announced yet,” he said, “but Mindy Snow is going to be my costar in Us and Them.”

Jake, who had been taking a sip of his wine, sucked some down the wrong pipe as he heard this. He went into a brief coughing fit. Laura pounded him on the back a few times before he was able to get himself back under control.

“That was kind of my reaction as well,” Celia said sourly.

“Mindy Snow?” Jake said. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He then remembered where they were and blushed a little at his last swear. “Uh ... I mean oy fucking vey.”

“It was a casting director decision,” Greg said. “Her demographic appeal and draw compliments mine, I was told. This decision was not overridden by the producer or the director, even though I asked them to use those override powers once I was told she was being cast for the role. I was given the choice to withdraw from the project myself if I could not work with her.”

“That chick is very bad news,” Jake told him. “Maybe you should think about doing that?”

“I have thought a lot about doing just that,” Greg said. “But they’re offering me nine million dollars for the role, plus a percentage of video sales.”

“That is a nice chunk of change,” Jake had to admit.

“And the money is not even the important part,” Greg said. “I need another successful film role to finish out the restoration of my reputation after the Northern Jungle fiasco. This is the best role that’s been offered, the only one that will put me back on the A-list.”

“That’s right,” Celia said with a sigh. “And as much as that woman creeps me out, I have to agree with Greg. He’ll get through it.”

“Have you ever met Mindy Snow before?” Laura asked.

“Of course,” Greg said. “She dated my friend, Mike Stinson, for a month or so.”

“You know Mike Stinson?” Laura asked, amazed.

“He used to be my best friend,” Greg said. “He was the best man at our wedding. And he was one of my supporting actors in the Northern Jungle. He and Mindy hooked up right after she filed for divorce from her first husband, Scott Adams Winslow.”

“Right,” Celia scoffed. “And she dropped him like a hot potato as soon as the reviews for the film started to come out.”

“Whatever happened to him?” asked Jake.

“Who? Winslow?” asked Greg.

“No, Mike Stinson. He was a likable enough guy—for an actor anyway.”

“Be nice,” Greg said. “He’s still living up in Beverly Hills ... for now anyway. He never recovered from the Northern Jungle. Hasn’t been offered any roles since then. Last I talked to him he was drinking a lot and thinking about running for treasurer of the SAG. His money is running out, you see, and he might have to sell his place and get something down in the city. He’s actually quite depressing to talk to these days, truth be told.”

“He did play the cheesiest character in that flick,” Jake pointed out. He looked at Laura. “Remember, he was the bad guy, the one they went all over the top with?”

“I’ve never actually seen that movie,” Laura said.

“Really?” Greg asked. “Then how do you know Mike Stinson? Northern Jungle was his most famous role.”

“I know him because he dated Mindy Snow,” she said. “I used to be a big fan of hers, from all the way back in the Slow Lane days.” She giggled a little. “I remember liking him a lot better than I liked Jake when she was dating him, but not as much as Scott Adams Winslow.”

“Oh yeah?” Celia asked.

“Well ... you remember what I thought about Jake when we first met each other?”

“That he was a scumbag, girlfriend beating, ass-crack sniffing degenerate?” Celia said.

“Don’t forget Satanist,” Jake offered.

“Oh ... right,” Laura said. “Satanist too. But then I got to know Jake better and realized that I had he and Mindy reversed in my mind from who they actually were.”

“Reversed?” asked Celia.

“Well ... Jake turned out to be the nice guy and Mindy turned out to be ... you know ... the bitch.”

“That term does not even come close to covering her personality,” Jake said.

“Jake told me the stories about his involvement with her,” Laura said. “That was the day we took the flight to get the soprano sax from Portland.” She smiled at her husband. “Later that night we had our first kiss. And then ... well ... some other firsts too.”

“Yes,” said Celia sourly. “We all heard those firsts.”

“The impetus behind Rule 17,” Greg said with a smile.

Laura looked at Jake and pointed her finger at him. “I told you they came up with that rule because of us!” she barked at him. “You kept saying it was because of the Nerdlys and their modem noise!”

“I was trying to protect your delicate sensibilities,” Jake said. “Of course they made that rule for us. You damn near broke a wine glass when you...”

“All right,” she hissed. “I get the picture.” She turned back to Greg. “Anyway, my point is you should be very careful with that woman. She’s nasty. I’ve never even met her before, but I know she’s trouble.”

“I’m aware of what she’s like,” Greg said. “Jake’s relationship with her aside, she is very well known in the inner circles as being a manipulative user, one who will do anything to shape her reputation, or get the role she wants, or get anything else she is after. I even heard that she somehow got Winslow to waive the prenup when she divorced him. How the hell do you pull something like that off?”

Laura and Jake shared a look with each other but said nothing. Nevertheless, just saying this seemed to spark a memory in Greg. “I seem to remember your name being tossed around a little when they were divorcing. Something about a New Year’s Eve party and her going to one of your concerts?”

“Uh ... yeah,” Jake said. “That was just the media spinning stories out of thin air.” This was true enough. The media had not possessed any facts about what had actually happened. He then told a blatant lie. “I had nothing to do with any of it.”

“Well, you can be assured that I will watch my ass around her,” Greg said.

“We’ve talked about this extensively,” Celia said. “Greg promises me that his interaction with Mindy will be professional and nothing more.” She patted her husband’s leg affectionately. “I believe him ... and I trust him.”

“Of course,” Jake said, thinking about the makeup girl in Alaska. The one who Greg had been unable to resist. The one who had undoubtedly been nowhere near as attractive or seductive as Mindy Snow.

“Oh look!” Laura said, pointing across the room. “Sharon and Kelvin are back.”

Everyone looked over to where the new mother, with new child in arms, were making their way into the celebration. Kelvin was no longer crying—at least not audibly.

“Come on,” Celia said to Laura. “She’ll need someone to hold the baby for her while she gets her food. I need a baby fix.”

“Right,” Laura said, standing up. “You two coming?” she asked.

“I’m going to finish my wine,” Greg said. “There will be plenty of time for baby holding later.”

“Me too,” Jake said. “Babies aren’t all that interesting at that age anyway, right?”

That earned him a few scowls of displeasure before the women trotted off, making a beeline for Sharon. Jake and Greg were now alone at the table.

Greg looked around a little bit and then leaned closer to Jake. “Listen,” he said softly. “You’ve dealt with Mindy on a much more ... oh ... intimate scale than I have.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “That is a true statement of fact.”

“Tell me what you think about this then,” he said. “There’s something I didn’t tell C about this whole Mindy being my costar thing.”

“Oh yeah?” Jake asked carefully.

“Yes,” Greg said. “You see, when Us and Them was first accepted as a project for Merrimack and Jerry Lancing agreed to produce it—this was months before my name was suggested as the lead role—the role of Lyndsay, the reporter, was offered to Mindy Snow. She read the script over and gave Lancing a polite ‘no thank you’, telling him that it was not the sort of project she was looking for at this time. She turned down eleven million and video royalties without even coming in for an audition.”

“Interesting,” Jake said, failing to see what this information had to do with anything. “How do you know this?”

“Johnny, my agent, is tight with Frank Graham, who is in charge of production at Merrimack. That was how I ended up being offered the role eventually. Johnny and Frank are drinking buddies.”

“Okay,” Jake said. “So ... Mindy changed her mind at some point, obviously.”

“Yes, she did,” Greg said. “That ‘some point’ was right after I was named as the leading man for the project. The very next day, in fact.”

“Really?” Jake said, raising his eyebrows.

“Johnny tells me that Mindy called up Jerry Lancing that very morning and told him that she’d reconsidered and would love to accept the role of Lyndsay if it was still available. He said that she called him personally to tell him this, did not involve her agent in any way. And that furthermore, she continued to call and lobby herself for the role until they officially offered it to her.”

“That is very interesting indeed,” Jake said slowly. She’s up to something, his mind insisted.

“I know I have a bit of an ego,” Greg said.

“You? An ego?” Jake said with a smile. “Get the hell out of town with that shit, Greg!”

Greg shook his head and smiled. “I suppose I deserve that,” he said. He then turned serious again. “Anyway, even if my ego is taken out of the equation, I cannot help but feel that Mindy suddenly changing her mind about the role has something to do with me being named as the lead. True, I’ve only met her a few times in my life, but still ... this cannot be a coincidence, right?”

“It could be,” Jake said, “but I think you’re correct. It’s not. She’s up to something.”

“What could she possibly be up to?” Greg asked. “We hardly know each other. The times we have met I’ve never sensed any kind of ... you know ... connection between her and I. You know her, Jake. What do you suppose her game is?”

Jake shook his head. “I can’t even begin to imagine,” he said. “But I can assure you, there is a game afoot. Mindy doesn’t fart unless there is an ulterior motive for it.”

Greg blinked. “A rather crude but highly expressive analogy,” he said. “In any case, it doesn’t matter what her game is, I won’t be playing it.”

Jake sighed and took a sip of his wine. “Tell me, Greg ... will there be any ... you know ... sex scenes in this flick you’re going to be doing with her?”

“In this film,” Greg said, emphasizing the word, “there are several nude scenes and two sex scenes between my character and the Lyndsay character scripted, one of them quite provocative.”

“I see,” Jake said.

“A sex scene is nothing,” Greg scoffed. “True, it can be a bit awkward, particularly when full nudity is involved, but it’s far from a romantic or even alluring situation. There is a complete film crew surrounding you, for one thing. There’s a director shouting instructions and judging your acting. There are lights shining down on you. And every move that is made between the two actors is carefully choreographed.”

“Uh huh,” Jake said. “Yet, despite all that, you’ll be pressing your naked body against Mindy Snow’s naked body, feeling those magnificent titties of hers pressing into your flesh, maybe having her put her hands on your ass while she’s sticking her tongue in your mouth?”

“Well ... yeah ... that is all quite likely,” Greg admitted.

“Have you seen those titties?”

“Well ... not in person, of course,” he said, “but she has displayed them quite shamelessly in her last few films. I might have had occasion to take a glance at them in that context. They’re quite attractive, I will admit, but when you come right down to it, Celia’s are much more appealing.”

That is true, Jake thought to himself, but of course he could not say this. Greg did not know that Jake had seen them in the flesh—and he never would. “That’s not the point,” Jake said.

“What is the point?” Greg asked.

“They’re still nice titties. Believe me, I know. And Mindy is a hot piece of ass. Are you seriously telling me that if she is pressed naked against you and sucking on your tongue and feeling your ass and you’re supposed to be thrusting yourself against her to simulate fucking her, Little Greg isn’t going to want to poke his head up and take a look around?”

“Little Greg? What does...” He flushed as it cleared his circuits and then shook his head sternly. “No, it doesn’t work that way. A sex scene is just another take of the action. A little more awkward than some, but still just a take. ‘Little Greg’ will keep his head down where it belongs.”

“If you say so,” Jake said doubtfully.

“I say so,” Greg assured him.

“Forget the sex scenes then,” Jake said. “I just want you to understand how devious, how conniving, and how ... well ... seductive she can be.”

“None of that can have any effect on me if I don’t allow it to,” Greg insisted.

“That is true,” Jake allowed. “But ... all the same ... I think I should tell you a little story about her, just so you can appreciate the depth of her scheming and the sheer complexity of her planning.”

“Okay,” Greg said.

Jake looked around again, saw no one within earshot. He then turned back to the actor. “A few minutes ago, when we were talking about my involvement with Mindy and Winslow’s divorce and his decision to waive the prenup ... well ... I wasn’t being truthful.”

“You weren’t?” Greg asked. “You’re saying that you did have something to do with their divorce?”

“I had nothing to do with why they got divorced,” Jake said. “I’m sure Mindy had been planning that long before I came back into her life. But I had everything in the world to do with why Winslow waived that prenup.”

“Explain,” Greg said.

“This needs to stay between us,” Jake admonished. “Laura knows this story, and the principals involved here know it, but no one else does. I want to keep it that way, for reasons which will become obvious.”

“You have my word,” Greg promised.

“Fair enough,” Jake said with a nod. He trusted Greg. “This happened when I was younger, and dumber, and ... quite frankly, drunker than I am these days. Still, I wasn’t a naïve person even then, and I fell into Mindy’s trap as neatly as could be. It started when I was flying back from New Zealand after I’d been there to take care of some business regarding my property and the house I was having built. There were no direct flights back to LA, only flights that stopped in Fiji, so I decided to spend a day there and relax on the beach a little, enjoy a little tropical sun.”

“Fiji,” Greg said. “That was part of the story, I remember. You and Mindy met up there by chance, right?”

“Right,” Jake said. “That part was true. It was a complete coincidence that we met up there. But we did. And that’s when the game started. We had some drinks together on the beach and ... well ... my better judgement sometimes takes a vacation when I’ve been drinking and, when that happens, Little Jake starts to make my decisions for me.”

“And Little Jake made a decision that day?” Greg asked.

“He did. I went up to Mindy’s hotel room with her and we spent all night getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies.”

Greg’s expression darkened a bit. “You were ... uh ... still with Helen at that point, weren’t you?”

Jake nodded. “I was,” he confirmed. “That was after the Jenny Johansen deal, after they arrested her skulking around Helen’s property with a gun, handcuffs, and a freaking blowtorch, so Helen was in the midst of her going nutty stage and we were having problems and we were well down the road to the breakup, but ... yeah, we were still together at that point.”

“I see,” Greg said.

Jake told him the rest of the story, omitting nothing. He told of how, after the breakup with Helen, Mindy had quite literally shown up on his doorstep one afternoon and he stupidly invited her in. A hot, torrid sexual affair developed in earnest at that point. Jake knew Mindy was married to Scott Adams Winslow, of course, but that did not stop him. Mindy displayed nothing but contempt for her husband. She openly mocked him on every occasion, deriding his skills in the bedroom, the size of Little Scott Adams Winslow, even his skills as a director. On one occasion, a New Year’s Eve party at the Winslow mansion, Mindy had even enticed him up into her very bedroom and fucked him on their marital bed while Winslow was downstairs entertaining the other guests. She then told Jake she was going to get Winslow to eat her pussy out while Jake’s spend was still marinating inside of her.

“That is disgusting,” Greg said, appalled.

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “I’m certainly not proud of that.”

He continued with the story, explaining how the climax (as it were) of the affair took place one night at the home of Darla O’Banion, Winslow’s personal makeup artist and the woman Winslow had been having an affair with for six months. Mindy had known about the affair and hadn’t given a shit. What Winslow had not known was that Mindy and Darla had been having a little affair of their own. Mindy had a touch of the bisexuality bug in her. She would not let women kiss her, or put their mouths on her in any way, and she would not do this for them, but she was not averse to having a woman touch her in a sexual way. And the word touch, as Jake found out on the night in question, covered a lot of territory. He and Darla had ended up double penetrating Mindy on Darla’s bed—Jake using Little Jake for his part, Darla using an eight-inch strap-on dildo for her part. At one point, Winslow had called Mindy on her cellular phone and she actually answered and had a conversation with him, all while instructing her partners to keep on fucking her.

“That is so incredibly depraved,” Greg said in awe as he heard this part of the tale.

“Yeah,” Jake said with a nod. “It was quite the experience.”

As it turned out, however, many of the private sex sessions between Jake and Mindy, and between Jake, Mindy, and Darla, were not really private. On multiple occasions, virtually every time they got it on anywhere besides Jake’s house, Paul Peterson, the sleazy paparazzi who had been hounding Jake ever since his first official relationship with Mindy, had been sequestered in a closet or some other place of hiding, snapping away with his Nikon.

“He took pictures of you and Mindy having sex?” Greg asked, horrified at the thought.

“Hundreds upon hundreds of them, I’m told,” Jake said. “Mindy had been planning this all along. She had been boning Peterson off and on for years, usually when she needed him to take some of his sleazy shots. For all I know, she’s still boning him. Anyway, he printed up the shots and gave them to Mindy. She gave them to Winslow when she told him she wanted a divorce.”