Chapter 9: Countermeasures

Amanda, Mark and Sam casually strolled up the sidewalk to Sly's, an open-air restaurant with a park like atmosphere. Scanty clad waiters and waitresses quickly tended to the needs of the diners. They never stayed any longer than it took to write down the orders, fill the orders and replenish cups of coffee or stronger drinks. Hans Steiner sat at a table overlooking the foot traffic on the sidewalk. The diminutive man stared down at the passers by, a king surveying his kingdom.

He waved the three newcomers to seats. "Order," he told them.

"Burger," Amanda said.

"Burger," Sam said without hesitation.

"Er, burger, I guess," Mark said after a slight hesitation.

"Why do you eat filthy meat around me?" Steiner asked petulantly. "You know I am a strict vegetarian."

"Just to piss you off," Amanda answered, "And also because they make the best burgers in town or anywhere else for that matter. And I like hamburgers."

The producer sat in aggrieved silence for a moment and finally asked, "You have a working script for the first project?"

"Look Hans, cut the phony crap. You know and I damned well know you know I just got shot and roughed up. I barely have the concept, let alone anything blocked out. Send a studio writer out to my place in Benedict Canyon and we'll start working tomorrow. We'll open with happy shots of Mark and follow with classrooms at Rich Bitch High. Fade to The right reverend John Bob Stickum, the rich man's version of Elmer Gantry, and follow through with him groping a teacher."

"Great!" Sam cut in right on cue, "just absolutely great."

"Sounds too far fetched and commonplace. We need drama, action, and a hook to pull them in," Hans demurred, "What's the schtick?"

"I plan to begin slow, switch to scenes of a fat cop beating a street hooker, roughing up a drunk, all the while his partner looks on and laughs. Perhaps fade to a meeting as two officials in the city government discuss who will get the upcoming car towing contract. Roger Hedgecock recently let it out that the towing business in San Diego is all about kick backs and outright bribery"

"Then what? What are you building up to? So far we have a short version of every Mormon idea of high drama and sin ever filmed. Hans was honestly not buying what they had to offer.

"Title and credits roll over those scenes that take three minutes. Then the story begins with..."

Mark interrupted, "With a stupid and naive empty headed guy who is told God wants him to become a door knocker for Jesus. There are a couple of scenes of doors being slammed shut and finally the innocent missionary leaves his companion in the car with a sprained ankle and rings the bell at the gate of a nice house in a nice neighborhood.

"A voice calls out to come around back. When he does there is a nearly naked Greek Goddess of a woman lifting these impossible looking weights. Her knees are wide apart and she has a beautiful mound between her legs that seems all so impossibly exotic to his inexperienced eyes." He looked at Amanda. She stared open mouthed at him.

Hans said, "No, absolutely not. It sounds too contrived. That would never happen in real life."

"It's exactly what happened between Amanda and me. I had never seen anything like that before. She looked so awesome and otherworldly to me. I'd only seen two nude pictures of women before then. Both in a text book on what passed for sex education in that school."

"It would never work. There has to be a logical progression working up to the main theme." Hans seemed determined to sabotage the project before it got off the ground. He shook his head in the negative.

"Hans, Mark was there. I was there. You were not there. This is reality. Can you understand reality, the simple fact I was shot? Also, an obscenely fat San Diego cop nearly raped Mark and beat him and tried to kill us both. Look at my shoulder. Look at his poor face. We were there while you were up here guzzling vegetables."

He sniffed, "Great makeup job, Mister Cantrell."

"You fucking idiot!" Amanda raged. That is not makeup. The swelling and all the rest are real. This is a bullet hole in my shoulder. My house in San Diego was burned to all the way to the ground. This is not a plot to suck you in."

She stood. "Yes or no. Are you in or out? If necessary, I will do this as an independent. No, we. Mark and I, will do this as independents. It is not going to look too good if the great Hans Steiner stepped on his own schlong and turned down the deal that redefines documentaries. Thank you for your time and so long, it's been good to know you." She started to stand.

"May I touch your lip, Mister Cantrell?" Steiner asked. Mark nodded and Hans touched it delicately. He jerked his hand back as if burnt, "Those are real! This is not an elaborate stunt. The newspapers and television stories are actually true. This is unheard of."

"Well?" Sam asked. "Do we talk or do we walk?" He looked as if he didn't care one way or the other.

"We talk," the suddenly defeated Hans Steiner conceded everything with those two words. "I can't get over it, you were shot, really and truly, actually shot with a real bullet. It just doesn't happen that way, not in any of my movies." Suddenly he sat straighter in his chair, "Who do we use to write it?"

"Mark and I plus one of the studio writers. Send someone out tomorrow and we'll get an early start. Also, we need an artist. I want to begin to rough block out the scenes as we write. We'll need two vans and four drivers. The new TV commentator and his photographer who interviewed us last night will be necessary to arrange stills on location and add technical support. I'm referring to Mike Kelley and Dirk. They have been involved since the first and will be invaluable when we start production."

They finished their lunch in silence, each of four of them lost in their own individual thoughts. Finally Amanda tossed her napkin down and stood. "Well? Are we on the same page or not?"

"Our people will begin to arrive at your house by ten in the morning. Why do you want to work way out there?" Hans looked at Amanda curiously.

"Two reasons. The first one is so we can have our privacy and we shall have security all rolled into one. The second reason is simply I hate to commute on a daily basis." Hans grinned knowingly and stood. Immediately eight tall, muscular blond women who looked enough alike to be clones of each other hurried up to the table. One handed him his hat and another a cane. They were uniformly undressed, wearing only pasties and extremely small mini G-strings. Greek style sandals adorned their feet. Hans grinned and told Amanda. "You do have some good ideas." With a flourish he threw three hundred dollar bills on the table and departed.

Mark stared after the short producer with the eight Amazon bodyguards, then looked open mouthed at Amanda, "Why do I feel I have just fallen into another universe?"

They left to go home. Mark looked out the window on his side at the passing parade of some of the strangest rich people in the world. "I don't think we're on Earth any more, Toto," he mumbled under his breath.

"What did you say, Babe?" Amanda asked him.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking aloud." He continued to stare as they drove up Rodeo toward Sunset Strip, then to Benedict Canyon.

"I wonder if we could convince Mike and Dirk to directly consult on the project," Amanda mused. "That damned Dirk is uncanny with a camera and Mike has a sense of proportion I find really great. I'll call him when we get back to the house."

"Amanda, I would like to plant a few flowers and some shrubbery around your house. It's beautiful, yet feels so lonely and neglected." Mark turned to look at her. "That big beautiful fountain should have a few exotic carp in it, or even common gold fish. Sun flowers and ice plant would improve the parking area."

"Sure, do whatever you like, Babe," he smiled indulgently at her. "Sam will get hold of a gardener for you and you tell him exactly what you want."

"No, Amanda, I'd like to do it all myself so I could honestly say, 'I did that.' Do you understand what I want?"

"I think so, but you must have someone to do the rough work. You don't know what a hard job it is to dig and plant in this area."

"Okay," he said, as he hid his disappointment. He had wanted to do it all, make the whole thing his personal project.

When they came around the sharp bend in the driveway, the first thing they saw was a crew of men laying sod over a shallowly dug area around the parking area. The big double gates were open wide. Sam parked and they caught glimpses of more sod being laid in the front yard. "What is going on here?" Amanda wondered. Then she stopped and exclaimed, "That damned Hans. That guy just has to put his stamp on the place."

"Why? What are you talking about?" Mark was completely mystified.

"Hans gave me exactly what I wanted when he gave in. Now by landscaping the place where we will do the work, in his own mind he still asserts a certain authority. It also gives him bragging rights." Amanda laughed and told him, "You better find out who the boss of the yard crew is and talk to him about what you want done."