Who's That 'Guy'

22 February

Colin had complied with my request. I didn't have to say goodbye that way. It wasn't like I wouldn't see him again, I just wouldn't be with him. It was easier knowing we had gone to sleep together and held on than to watch him prepare and walk out the door. I stayed in bed until ten just to assure myself I wouldn't have that event occurring. I'd spent Sunday and Monday and Tuesday back in that whirlwind writing mode. Whether I had unconsciously forced it on myself or not I left for the deep thinkers or some psychiatrist somewhere.  I'd spent last night going over and over and over pages and pages of script. I wanted this to be right to show at the meeting. I made five extra copies and prayed I had no need for any more than that. I collapsed back in my chair at the computer around four in the morning and had to be at Oxford House by nine.  I did manage to drag myself onto the bed in the guestroom turned office and set the small alarm clock for.....well, to be there on time I concluded I had to get up at seven. Seven-thirty at the latest. I would need to eat. I desperately needed a shower and the possibility existed that I was getting a damn cold on top of it all. That would come from the weather, the lack of sleep and the lack of nutrition to my body. I imagined in the last seventy-two hours - give or take - I'd slept about twenty - give or take. So when I'd gathered all my stuff, including the extra crap they had asked me to bring in emails and faxes the past two days, and got in my car to head over; I can say with total conviction I was damn miserable. By the time I had parked, loaded my arms with all the shit I had to carry and found the front door it was even worse. This had to be what hell felt like. My legs didn't want to move and I was forcing them. We won't even talk about my brain at this juncture. Especially when I slammed right into Tim trying to make two human bodies enter a single door.

"Wanker."

"Good morning Diane."

"If you say so."

He held the door for me. Good thing too. I couldn't get hold; my hands and arms were loaded down. I entered and let the door go behind me. It closed on his hand. I walked past Cindy, ever so slowly. Not that I intended too. I felt like my legs had weights on. Tim caught up to me walking towards the lift.

"I see you seem to have made progress."

I turned to him and stared him down with very tired and weary eyes.

"Of course I made progress. What the hell do you think I'm doing with my time here? Fucking off? Running around London getting pissed every night? You hired me to do a job damn it. I'm doing it"

"I hadn't meant."

"You hadn't meant what? What did you mean? And where the hell's this meeting anyway?"

When the lift doors closed I saw Cindy standing a few steps from her desk, though towards the lift, with her mouth agape.

"Nosey bitch."

So fine, I was being less than chipper, but I couldn't help it and I couldn't stop it. We exited the lift. I went left, Tim went right.

"Diane."

I spun around slinging half of my stuff to the floor.

"What? Fuck all."

"Uh....conference room."

"Swell...whatever."

He came over, one would surmise, to help me re-gather my things. I was having none of it.

"I'm a big girl. I can do this myself; thank you very much."

He let go a big sigh, that I ignored, disappeared down the hall and into the conference room. I finally got myself into the room and literally dropped everything on the large circular table, then collapsed into the chair. One thing I could see, I was the lone female again.

"You look terrible."

"Gee thanks Nick. I feel as good as I look too."

My body was relaxing. My brain wanted to sleep and I was working against it. It wasn't a fun task as I forced myself to sit upright.

"Don't you have any women on this production team? Somewhere? Some body you could have thrown in just to make me more comfortable?"

Then Colin walked in and found a seat directly opposite me. He smiled. I just let out a small sigh.

"You not feeling well? You look..."

"I already know how I look. Can we get started?"

I wanted this to go quickly. It wasn't. Eric and Tim and Colin and Nick were going on and on about something. Whatever it was escaped me. I could only focus on what I had to do and they were taking their time getting to it.

"So Diane, where's the problem?"

"Nick? Oh, my turn...finally?"

"Did you want some help here?"

I was at exhaustion and I hardly felt like speaking. It seemed to tone down my speech.

"Appreciate it, thanks. I have the re-written screenplay. It's almost done. Nick, look this isn't a noir, it never was. I mean I used what you wrote, but turned it. It just can't go that way."

He handed the others a copy and sat down placing his in front of him on the table.

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't have that particular vision in mind? I could have saved you, what appears to have been, hours and hours of work."

I sat back.

"Because you're you."

"Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately yes. But I came to a crossroads and I had to take it on. I couldn't let it go the way it was."

"I've the rest here, did you want to have a look and make changes?"

"Not especially, no. Can you just see what I've done and follow it, make whatever changes?"

"I'm certain I could."

"You two done?"

"Oh, sorry Eric. Didn't mean to take away from the main purpose here. Though I imagine my part is over. I have what you asked for, shall I just leave the folder?"

"No, no, stay. We need the input directly."

I grabbed the remaining folder and slapped it open smoothing the prepared pages and the pictures I'd gathered at their request; then rested my elbows on the table.

"So who have you got?"

"You know Eric, I can't get a grasp on why you people have even been interested in my input on casting recommendations."

"Sorry?"

I sat back staring at the three would be producers and looked at each one of them half-perplexed.

"You guys have gotten me into so much rubbish that I have no expertise in, nor interest. I'm doing this to fulfill a wholly unwanted and unwelcome contract. Why do you suck me into it even further each time?"

"Diane, you're a part of the production team, in theory. It's your movie we're doing here. Wouldn't you appreciate this input? Doesn't it concern you how we structure this? To make a decent film, with more than good acting and marketability?"

I glared at Eric.

"I'd imagine it would be amenable to you, would it not?"

"Shut up Colin. I don't give a rat's ass about any of it. Truth be told, I'd love to acquire the services of a dynamite line-up of talent, have the shoot set for a certain time, have it delayed and then nobody is available. Then it could be shelved indefinitely, like until I'm dead."

I looked around the table from one stoic face to another. Maybe they thought I was joking, I wasn't. Eric cleared his throat and threw a clearly aggravated glance at Tim; then a somewhat apologetic turn at Colin. Why was that? I shrugged my shoulders as I kept my hand on the folder and waited for somebody to say or do something. Eric got more uncomfortable looking as the silent seconds ticked off all of our clocks.

"I suppose I'll own it."

"Own what Eric?"

He leaned forward and crossed his hands on the table, peering right into my eyes.

"From the first I felt you had great potential, a keen sense of all this. I haven't been disappointed at any turn. As such, your input is welcome at any time."

I shook; then scratched my head in disbelief.

"Okay, sure, if you say so. Can we get this over?"

I looked at them all again and pulled out the first picture and held it up with the bottom resting on the table.

"I figured Cal can be any age you want to make him. Well, not over fifty, ok? So I grabbed some in different age groups."

I peeked around and noticed no form of dissent so far; then read my first info sheet.

"James Patrick Stuart - 37 - various and sundry US TV appearances - eight made for television movies - seven theatrical movies including: 'Pretty Woman,' 'Gettysburg' and 'Gods and Generals.' Agent: Roklin Management, West Hollywood."

Not a word. I passed the photo to Nick so the others could see it.

"The rest of his info and more details are on here. Ok, next?"

"Go on."

"Ah...Julian McMahon - also 37 -  you probably know him. Anyway, six television series, one TV movie - seven theatrical releases including 'Magenta,' 'Fantastic Four' and 'Prisoner.' Agent: Creative Artists, Beverly Hills."

Then I sent his stuff around. I waited a few only to see Colin starting a pile of the stuff, apparently not of interest. Why was I doing this anyway?

"Anymore Diane?"

"Yeah Tim, give me a minute."

I breathed hard, this just felt like an exercise in futility now.

"Hmm. Scott Cooper - 32 - not a lot of work so far. Only since 1998. Two TV guest appearances. Nine theatrical movies, ah, one of the Austin Powers gigs, 'Rain,' 'God and Generals,' 'Attitude.' Agent? Well I couldn't find one, but I figured this was just an effort in pointlessness anyway. Giving me some busy work. I hadn't thought...well..."

"More?"

"Yes, just one more, if you can bear it. I doubt you'd care for him, but he's more in line with the age I have in my head for the part."

"Let's have a look then. You never know how these things will work out."

"Okay, here."

I stood up and handed each of them a different picture. I had a few on my computer from another time.

"Name's Guy Ecker."

"Who?"

"Yes, I suspected that reaction."

"How many of these pictures did you say you have?"

"I don't know Colin, eight or ten. Forgot I did, but he struck me as what you, more seriously, are looking for."

"He did? Which was?"

"A good actor that fits the criteria and is relatively unknown. Now can I get on with this? With his credentials?"

I saw something in his eyes I wasn't expecting and I thought back quickly to his question, but bypassed it. It was silly after all.

"Guy Ecker - 46 - six foot - born in Brazil...."

"We don't need all his details, just credentials."

"Well I know more about him. I might as well spew."

"We can read it later."

"Colin, let her get a word in."

"Thanks Eric. Most of his work has been in Spanish novellas."

I heard Colin start to snicker and I threw him a scowl.
"Well, he's won a critics acting award." I peeked back at him. "Has to count for something."

And leaned forward trying to get the rest of it out.

"Three movies and had a recurring role on the TV series 'Las Vegas.' They killed off his character there after season two though and the way they had his hair styled? Well, it was just all wrong."

"But he's from Brazil? Doesn't that present an accent problem?"

"For whom Colin? By the way, his parents are American and he speaks unaccented perfect English. Along with wonderful Spanish - also flawless and...."

So this was mean, but he was being a bit of a tosser.

"Portuguese."

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms.

"Any other questions gentlemen?"

Tim set his picture on the table.

"Certainly has the look I think you've conveyed to us all along and described in your novel. Agreed I've not heard of him. Is he at all any good?"

I could feel silent daggers almost digging into my whole body and the body language of the man directly across that table from me was, simply put, jealousy. It was flattering really.

"He's a wonderful actor. That's all I can say and all I will. I'm certain you have your own list. I'll leave all this here. The rest is your call."

I closed my folder and then my eyes. Mistake, I could have fallen asleep in two seconds right now as I relaxed and the weariness started to resettle.

"Oh wait, sorry, forgot. His agent is...let me look. Boutique - Universal City - Nancy Schmidt."

"Do you know his shoe size?"

"No, should I?"

I glared at Colin. That wasn't even funny.

"Look, guys. I need to go. I need some sleep and...I have a script to finish. Let me know if it needs any changes.... Don't get up."

"You're not in any shape to be driving I think."

"I'll make it Nick. I'm not that far."

They all stood up anyway.

"We're done here. Nick or Colin might give you a lift. I think he's right. We can get your car to you later today, just leave your keys.'

I filled my cheeks with air as I looked for and found the keys in my attaché and slapped them onto the table.

"Fine, toss a coin, I'm leaving."

I got to the door and turned back almost running into the two of them.

"I forgot the female leads, they're in the folder....um, if you're at all interested. Let's go Marks and Spencer."

The ride down in the lift was quiet but uneasy. Just before we reached the ground floor Colin started what could be construed as nothing more than nonsense.

"You know quite a lot about that actor. What was his name? Guy? I'd thought my name was ridiculous."

I rolled my eyes and looked at Nick. Then he looked at Nick and made a definitive pronouncement that was taken as a serious dictate.

"I'll run her. You've had to deal with her long enough. I've a need to pick up a package at Harrod's. Might as well. More on my drive home than yours."

Somehow there was an understanding as the lift opened and Nick got off first.

"It's not a bother Colin, though I am to meet Amanda for dinner. I'll be a bit early, but it's rather better than being late. And I've got to head down the hall here for a moment before."

He kissed my cheek and winked, then whispered in my ear.

"You may be tired, but don't attack him now."

I opened my mouth in shock as he walked away. Then Colin started back in. If Cindy didn't believe Colin before I'm sure she did now.

"Where did you find this..this Guy! How long have you known about him?"

"What?"

"You heard me? Who the hell is this anyway?"

"You three are the damned ones that wanted my opinion.... And you ought to be glad I didn't add Hugh Grant to that list!"

We kept walking past her and stopped at the door.

"I didn't ask for any of this shit. I really would rather be home than stuck holed up in that damned flat."

"You got yourself into it. Not to worry, you can leave soon. We won't bother you with any of this nonsense again."

I stormed out of the door screaming.

"So it's we now? Since when did you work for Working Title as a top exec? You're so full of yourself with this producer crap. Damn!"

He stormed off and came back a few minutes later, stopped and opened my door from the inside.

"Get in!"

"Is that a command or a request?"

He put both his hands back on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. I knew he wasn't going to say anything else, nor was I. I got in and slammed the door shut. I got my seat belt on just in time for him to pull away from the curb, and faster than he should.