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Posted on January 22, 2007
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He was recognized as one of the most influential motion picture directors in the town that cared about definitions like that. Important heads of state and religious figures were not averse to seeking his opinion on matters that should have fallen far out of the purview of a man whose primary occupation was to shepherd millions of people into a world of make-believe. He enjoyed the power and he enjoyed being in the presence of ones as glamorous as he. An insider would call such interactions ‘mutually beneficial,’ and an outsider would say ‘okay,’ while an insider-turned-outsider would call them parasites. Only problem was, identifying which one was the host.

It was the public face that everyone lapped up – a foundation that endowed gifted students with the ability to hone their craft; another organization that supported the needy while also delivering the message that members of the director’s faith did a great deal of good, even in the face of the evil that reigned over the planet. Most of all, the people loved the movies he delivered like clockwork, which dealt with issues or entertainment with a furrowed brow that quickly gave way to a cheerful smile so that all would know that the man knew how to work and play.

Few were privy to the work that went into ensuring that the image was always ‘just so’ with an efficiency that did not arouse any suspicions with the media. He took pride in saying, to his closest friends in the most private of settings that there were no photographers hiding in the bushes surrounding his property. One of his mates would dutifully retort that it had more to do with the electrified fence around his property than the fact that the tabloids did not consider him grist for their mill. Everyone laughed on cue and then another close friend would confirm what the big man had just said, “the paparazzi knew better than to waste their time” with a man as finely upstanding as their good friend.

Not enough of them actually believed this to be true but then again few could remember any rumours about the man in a town that was notorious for its inability to keep secrets close to anyone’s chest. So they all believed that he had no secrets, an assumption he was happy for them to adopt.

The truth about the big man was that he had a past as tawdry as some of the youngest aspirants to show business who were still living their terrible mistakes, unaware that someday it would all become material in a television special about their ‘shocking early days.’ One of his favourite things to say when lots of people were listening was, “everybody makes mistakes. I’ve just been more fortunate to have made fewer of mine in public.” It was as if a halo would descend around his crown as he said this and the people around him would hasten to provide the chorus of no ways as he nodded knowingly and smiled. One night during a similar performance he noticed her. She had that air of hunger younger women quickly developed in this town, yet she still possessed enough of her own unique character and sexuality to be able to mask her naked ambition from the more gullible among the men in the room.

She excused herself from a conversation with one such man to sidle over to the director and say, “You should really consider asking them to use Vaseline first.”

His brow furrowed but the smile never left his lips, “I’m sorry?”

She took a sip of a drink someone had clearly bought for her, “your ass must be really chapped from all that kissing.”

He was clearly taken aback. “I don’t think you need to concern yourself with my ‘ass’ Mrs…?”

“It’s Teryous. Ms. Teryous. And no we haven’t met before.”

With a smile that would have done La Gioconda proud she sashayed away, giving him a generous moment to admire her own ass undulating under the champagne sheath caressing her every sinewy curve as she was carried further away with every step. He shook his head, smiled and returned his attention to the rest of the gathering. All evening, as a parade of friends, family, business associates and members of the press wandered over for a quick hello, a short chat about potential future business enterprises or the political situation in some far flung land mass, he was aware that the girl in the gold dress was always just beyond the scope of his vision. Hovering like some being that wasn’t quite real. He cast a few quick glances around the room. Being a motion picture director he had become used to quickly figuring out when someone wasn’t quite playing their part in a particular scene but every scan of the room had revealed that everyone seemed to be playing this one strictly by the book. Everyone except for, her.

Three mornings later he was about to turn the corner and step into a high-intensity cardiovascular workout for sixty-five minutes when he nearly ran into the lady from three nights ago. She was wearing an outfit designed to entice and he did her the honour of admiring the display. “Well hello again,” she said with a smile, “wouldn’t imagine you for one to be getting exercise with the masses.”

“The people in there would hardly be considered the masses my dear.”

She acknowledged the observation with a nod, “even so. Don’t you have an incredibly private, extremely high tech gym in your fancy mansion where you can work out without having to wait around for a machine to be free?”

“Well yes, yes and no. Yes I do own such a place, yes I do work out there and no I would not have to wait for a machine in here either.”

That got her to crack a genuine smile, “Successful and modest. What an irresistible combination.” He smiled and pointed at the room beyond her, “I should get going.” She stepped aside.

Just as he was about to push through the door and head off into the cool environs ready to sweat up a storm, she asked him a question, “do you ever eat?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Eat. Like a meal or a sandwich or a cola with ice cream?”

“The first two, sure; the last one, not so much,” and he patted his surprisingly flat stomach for emphasis.

“Would you like to get one with me sometime?”

“I’m married.”

“And not eating was part of your vows?”

“I guess it wasn’t.”

“Great. I’ll call you.”

“You don’t have my number.”

“How hard can it be to get?”

Several weeks went by and the motion picture director began to immerse himself in the pre-production of his latest opus. His crew worked like a well-oiled machine and this was just another project they would be turning out to keep the revenues, press clippings and awards collection going – that was the cynical viewpoint, one that would never be presented within earshot of anyone remotely connected to the man or his associates; which meant therefore that it was actually unsafe to offer that viewpoint anywhere in the world.

He was about to view the latest series of storyboards for a pivotal scene involving most of the principal characters when his cellphone rang, one whose number was only known to the most important people in the world. Several heads of state had to convince their favourite arms dealers to beg their current favourite mistresses who would need to convince their own husbands to part with the information. His assistant frowned at the phone’s display and whispered, “I don’t recognize the number.”

Mildly distracted by the unusual colours used to highlight key elements in the latest set of storyboards, he reached out for the phone and flipped it open to the surprisingly seductive voice from several weeks ago, “Apparently it’s very difficult.”

“I beg your pardon,” he was smiling.

“Getting your number. Very difficult. I could have spoken to the Pope, a rabbi and several Congressmen if I had been so inclined.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a very long joke. I hope you didn’t hurt yourself.”

“Sorry?”

“Trying to get this number.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“So it would seem.”

“So how about Saturday. Corner of forty-third and Cartagena? Noon?”

“What’s at forty-third and Cartagena?”

“I guess you’ll find out when you arrive.”

He smiled and disconnected. The assistant was informed about the change that would be required to the meeting scheduled with the Irish rock star. The director ‘sincerely hoped’ it wouldn’t throw the visiting musician’s schedule off too much.

Saturday came and so did noon and so did a limousine at the corner of forty-third and Cartagena. The only home at that address had a blue door with a copper knocker. The driver stepped out and rapped on the door. Her smile dimmed when she wasn’t greeted by the familiar face known by cinema fans the world over. The driver requested her to come to the car. Without thinking she picked up a purse and her keys and pulled the door shut behind her. He held the door open for her and she climbed in to find herself face-to-face with the man she had been expecting to see. She smiled, “apparently there have been revisions to the script.”

“Apparently.”

“I’m not really dressed for going out.”

“You look fine.”

“That’s definitely what every girl wants to hear.”

“So who are you really Ms. Tyreous? And what is this all about?”

“It’s surprising isn’t it, when a person’s life is not an open book in this town?”

“I wouldn’t know. Mine has been an open book for thirty years now.”

“I may be going out on a limb here but I’m going to hazard that you have a very good editor.”

He had to smile, “You have a great deal of exactly the kind of spirit this town needs. I can imagine you’ll get very far.”

“Why thank you. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me very much.”

“I don’t really know you.”

“And isn’t that how it should always be?”

She happened to look out the darkly tinted windows at this point and it occurred to her that she wasn’t very familiar with the landscape, “Where are we going?”

His smile was a different one, a more honest one, “You are an unknown quantity Ms. Tyreous. Are you really going to have me calling you that forever?”

“It’s my name.”

“What about a first name?”

“I wouldn’t call you by your first name out of respect. So I’m going to withhold mine out of an allegiance to a sense of old world mystery.”

“Mysterious old world women weren’t so forward.”

“Weren’t they? It appears that you were hanging out with the wrong crowd sir.”

“Touché my dear.”

“I still don’t know where we’re going.”

“Like I was saying. You’re an unknown quantity, an intriguing one but unknown nonetheless. It wouldn’t do for a wandering paparazzo or lunching studio executive to see me dining with a young woman as attractive as yourself without there being a reason for my doing so. My next picture has already been cast, everybody knows who my friends are and this town is notorious for taking two and two and making twenty two. I’d like to spare all involved the unnecessary circus that can accompany ever harmless gesture if the proper precautions are not taken.”

“This limousine is a precaution?”

“No, it was so that you wouldn’t feel like you weren’t being transported in style.”

“I’m flattered.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“So where are we going?”

“I own a little place in the hills. It’s where I go when I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Does your wife know about it?”

“Of course she does. There can be no iron-clad pre-nuptial agreement if all assets cannot be accounted for.”

“Really? And what about liabilities?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I don’t mean anything. I was just being flip.”

When they arrived, it was clear that the place was used more often than it might appear from its distance to all of the man’s other properties and holdings. She took in the modern façade and immaculate lawns and turned to him, “Wait a minute. I’m guessing there aren’t too many other people who know about this place?”

“Not too many people, no.”

“Like the press?”

“Oh definitely not.”

Inside, the place was decorated like a throwback to more decadent times. From the sixties-style furnishings and patterns on the wall to the sunken sofas and retro bar stools, she had the distinct feeling of having been transported through a time warp.

“Are these the furnishings from your last movie?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

She looked at him and then she understood, “You always had this place. The movie sets were replicas.”

“Beauty and brains.”

“Thank you. I inherited well.”

“So what are you in the mood for?”

“Sorry?”

“To eat.”

“Y’know I was cooking some Thai back home. I guess that’s what I will be eating tonight.”

“We can get Thai.”

“Really. You cook?”

“Yes. But I won’t have to.”

“Can I get the rest of the tour?”

“I need to make a couple of calls but feel free to look around. Guest bedrooms are on the second floor, master bedroom and study on the first. We should be ready to eat in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.”

With that she disappeared up the stairs and he allowed himself a moment to watch her go.

Twenty minutes elapsed, his phone calls were done and he had been informed that lunch was served. She was nowhere in sight. So he went looking for her. The guest bedrooms were empty, as were the bathrooms, there was no one in his den and even though he didn’t think she would be so bold, he checked the master bedroom and was surprised to find her staring at the large circular bed that held pride of place in the large mirrored space.

“Everything okay?”

“This is where it happened.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The orgies, from the time before your life became that open book.”

“I don’t know what you mean and I should warn you that there are security cameras everywhere. Please don’t do anything stupid. My driver can drive you home whenever you’re ready.”

She turned to him with the deathly calm of someone about to do something incredibly stupid or dangerous, “When she started losing her battle with Alzheimer’s, my mother kept reliving her nightmares of this place. Only thing was, she didn’t know how to find it. She had always been too drugged out of her mind to remember. Even though all the big players had been silenced a long time ago, there were memories and records, pictures and videos that could not be destroyed because their owners had left your circle of influence before that circle expanded.”

She took a deep breath and managed a smile.

“Prepare for your close-up Mr. Crenshaw. You’ve just led me to the missing piece in a forty-year-old jigsaw puzzle.”

Before he could react or say a single word, he became aware of the sound. Helicopters approaching fast and no doubt covering every inch of the hill with powerfully-lensed cameras.

The tabloid circus was taking to the hills and he was right in the middle of it.

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