Call the Shots (33 page)

A short while later and we’re all crammed into Uncle Doug’s tiny dining room — Nick, Evelyn, Val, Helen, Matt, Coop, and me. We’re still waiting on Pete and Tony, but Uncle Doug said we should just eat and they can join us when they get here.

“Start. Start,” Uncle Doug calls from the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Nick grabs hold of the sloppy bun with two hands and somehow manages to shove half of the sausage into his mouth, the chili spilling all over his hands and pitter-pattering onto his plate.

“Guess I’m off my diet today.” Coop follows Nick’s lead and goes for the hand-to-mouth method while Matt, Val, Helen, Evelyn, and me opt for our forks and knives.

I don’t know if it’s the stress of this whole situation or what, but I am absolutely ravenous. Still, I’m a bit wary of my uncle’s gloppy concoction. Beyond the fact that he keeps calling them his Dirty Dogs, there’s something about them — the shriveled sausages, the dark chili sauce, the Day-Glo Cheez Whiz — that looks . . . unappetizing.

I cautiously cut off a small bite, give it a quick sniff — lots of spice, pork, tomatoes, a hint of coffee — and then slide the goopy mess into my mouth.

It tastes pretty good, actually, and before I know it I’m eating way too fast and washing down mouthful after mouthful with generous gulps of tropical punch Kool-Aid, which, oddly enough, is the only drink — besides beer and whiskey — that Uncle Doug has in the house.

“Guess who we saw at Starbucks?” Helen asks out of the blue.

“Who’s that?” Coop says through a mouthful of chili-cheese chorizo.

“Miss Boobalas.” Valerie pushes a kidney bean around the plate with her fork. “Remember her? Bursting out of her dress at the auditions.”

Evelyn sits up like a meerkat that’s heard a hawk. “Oh, yeah. The sloppy strumpet.”

Coop forces a smile. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sure you do,” Helen says. “You couldn’t take your eyes off her.”

“Or, a certain
part
of her,” Valerie adds.

Matt just starts shoveling food in his mouth like it’s his job.

Coop, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Okay, look. We’ve apologized for that. Matt and I even took you girls out for ice cream as a show of our deepest regret for our appallingly caveman-like behavior. So do we never get to hear the end of this?”

Nick lets out a snort. “You guys obviously don’t know women very well.” He takes the last bite of his first chili dog and talks while he chews. “I have no idea what you did, but I can assure you, you’ll be punished for it for the rest of your lives. Or as long as you’re going out, anyway. Girls sheathe that shit and then pull it out to jab you with at random odd moments.”

Helen laughs. “We have to keep our cavemen in line somehow.”

“Santé.”
Valerie raises her glass in a cheers-to-that gesture.

Just then Uncle Doug tromps into the room, carrying a massive plate of food and an NFL souvenir cup filled to the brim with Kool-Aid. “So, what did I miss?” He plops down in his chair, the neon-pink liquid sloshing over the rim of his cup.

“Nothing.” Coop smirks at Helen. “We were waiting for you before we started talking about anything
worthwhile.
”

“Excelente.”
Uncle Doug hefts his loaded chili dog off his plate. “That’s how I like it. When the king arrives, the conversation thrives.”

Matt’s phone buzzes. He checks the screen, and his eyes go wide. “Oh, crap,” he says. “We’ve got a problem.”

It doesn’t take nearly as long as I’d hoped to get into the oversize monkey costumes. In fact, it could have taken the rest of the day and it wouldn’t have been long enough for me.

As it turns out, thirty-four minutes after we find out that Tony and Pete have bailed on us for a pickup basketball game, Nick, Matt, and me are dressed in the ill-fitting humanzee outfits and the whole crew is driving to the Elk Hills Country Club in Uncle Doug’s green rattletrap of a van.

“Everyone okay back there?” My uncle glances in the rearview mirror. He’s smoking his third joint since lunch, and I can’t believe he can still see straight, never mind pilot a car. But he’s driving just fine, which only means he’s probably got the pot tolerance of a Colombian drug lord.

“Sure,” I lie, from the second set of backseats. “It’s all good.”

I actually feel pretty carsick. I don’t know if it’s nerves, or the fact that I’m sitting in the very back of the van and breathing in wafts of smoke through the rubbery stench of this monkey mask, but the chili-cheese sausages are starting to seriously complain to the tropical punch Kool-Aid about their current accommodations.

Not to mention I feel totally claustrophobic in this costume. I try to casually tug at my monkey-crotch, which is riding up and cutting in to my mansack.

“Hey.” Coop swats my furry leg. “Don’t play with your chimp-choad, dawg. Those costumes have to last for the whole shoot. We don’t need your simian semen gumming them up.”

“I’m not
playing
with anything. The costume’s a little big, okay? I’m adjusting.”

“Yeah, well, don’t adjust too vigorously.” Coop chuckles. “Someone else might have to wear that thing at some point.”

“Be my guest,” I say.

Coop throws up his hands. “Hey, we’ve already discussed this. I need to be behind the scenes to direct. This whole operation has to be perfectly timed or we’re screwed.”

“These costumes are hotter than an oven,” Matt says from the first set of backseats, his voice muffled by the mask.

“Yeah, but they smother your buck snorts pretty good.” Nick lifts his shaggy left butt cheek and rips a meaty rumbler. “Okay, well, maybe not that good.” He doubles over laughing.

The warm-wet-manure stench hijacks the interior of the van almost immediately.

“Oh, man. Come
on.
” As if I wasn’t feeling nauseous enough already. I shove my ape nose out the minuscule air slit afforded by the latched windows back here and sniff away, trying to replace the poo particles in my nostrils with the clean outside air.

Evelyn smacks Nick’s hairy head. “Real classy.”

“What? I’m just getting into character. Chimps are disgusting creatures. They fart just like truckers and hurl their own dukers. Isn’t that right, guy?” Nick grabs Matt’s neck and shakes him violently.

“Could you not, please?” Matt complains. “I’m hot enough in this thing.”

Valerie leans over and examines the seam between Matt’s mask and body. “Maybe we should have added some ventilation. We’ll have to see about that when we get home later.”

“All right,” Coop says, glancing down at his notebook. “Let’s go over the game plan. The Elk Hills’ website says the Rico Petrelli party is taking place in the Amethyst Room. That’s in the east wing of the club. It’s the only thing going on this afternoon, so it’ll be easy to find.”

“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” I ask. “I mean, it’s the poor guy’s sixtieth birthday celebration. Couldn’t we do this somewhere else?”

Coop cants his head. “Don’t be a schween. This is the perfect opportunity to get some real fear on tape. It’s exactly what we need to make our film stand out. Besides, my dad’s worked on this Rico dude’s Rolls-Royce and he says he’s a royal dingus. Getting mechanics fired for no reason, hitting on the young receptionists, throwing garbage out his window as he drives away. Basically, he’s a pig, so he deserves whatever he gets. But be careful. Apparently dawg’s got a bad temper. So we’re going to want to get in and get out as fast as we can.”

“Hey,” Nick says, “I had just had a great idea. Wouldn’t it be cool if the monkeys could talk? That way they could threaten the party guests. Write us some dialogue, Sean.”

“No. Absolutely not. Humanzees don’t talk.” Coop shakes his head.

“What about me?” Evelyn asks. “Shouldn’t I have some dialogue in this scene? Why am I at this party to begin with? What’s my motivation? Should I attempt to thwart the humanzee attack?”

“No. No. No.” Coop is looking panicky. “Don’t say anything. Nobody say
anything.
This is a key scene in the movie. It’s the very first outbreak. Nashira is there as a witness. So she can go back and report it to her brother. That’s all. Your motivation is to just take it in and be terrified.” He flips through his notebook. “Okay, now. I’m going to slip in the front door and head straight to the party. Acting all cazh. Like I’m there to partake in the festivities. Monkeys, I want you to sneak in the service entrance. Let’s hope you don’t run into anyone. It’s Sunday, so it shouldn’t be too busy. But anybody stops you, just say you’re a surprise for Rico Petrelli’s party.” He flips a page in the book. “Once you’re inside, don’t think, don’t hesitate, don’t waste any time. Just find the party and rush right in, roaring as loud as you can, waving your hairy arms in the air. If you can manage it, try and chase the people toward the emergency exits.”

“And what are we doing while all this is going on?” Helen asks.

“You take a whack of still photos as the guests run outside,” Coop says. “As many as possible. Try to get people’s horrified expressions. We can edit those into the movie. It’ll make a cool effect. Like a running photographer’s record of the first outbreak or something. Evelyn and Val, you’ll come with me. Val will run camera while I direct. And Evelyn, we’ll get you to mingle in the party. Sit at one of the tables at the front if you can. Try to stay inconspicuous. We don’t want anyone to be suspicious. And Uncle Doug, you keep the getaway vehicle running in the parking lot with all the doors open, ready for us to make our escape.”

Uncle Doug raises his smoky joint. “Righty-oh.”

“Once we’ve got our shots,” Coop continues, “everyone get the hell back into the van, stat. No screwing around. We’ll have maybe a minute, two minutes max, where everyone’ll be too confused to know what the hell’s going on. But eventually someone’s going to call the cops, and we want to be long gone by the time they arrive.”

“You’re damn straight,” Uncle Doug chimes in. “I’ve got a pillowcase full of yerba maté in the boot of this bad boy. And I definitely don’t need the fuzz finding that.”

“H
ERE WE BE,” UNCLE DOUG SAYS
, turning the van into the parking lot of the Elk Hills Country Club. The building looks sort of like a squat, elongated White House. It’s definitely high-class, for sure. And absolutely no place we should be going dressed up like feral monkey-men.

Uncle Doug drives around back to the service entrance, parks between two trucks, and lets the engine idle. I can’t stay in this smoke-and-fart-filled sardine can any longer, so I push past Coop, yank open the side door, and am the first to leap out.

I breathe as deep as I can through the golf ball–size hole at the back of my monkey-mouth. The fresh air — as fresh as it can be, filtered through the plastic of my mask — eases the nauseous feeling that churns my gut. Thank God. I thought I was going to lose it there for a moment. But I’m okay now. My head’s still swimming a bit, but I’m no longer at code orange.

I quickly scan the area. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around outside, so that’s good.

Coop, Matt, and Nick hop down from the van and huddle around me.

“Remember,” Coop says. “The louder and scarier you are, the more crazed the people will be and the more realistic it will seem. Really get into the roles you’re playing. Keep in mind the situation you’re in. You guys are pissed off because you’ve been turned into zombie-vampire-chimpanzees. And these people are having a freakin’
party.
They don’t care. But you want to
make
them care. You want to infect the world so that everyone can feel your pain.”

Val, Helen, and Evelyn step out onto the pavement. Helen checks the settings on the DSLR while Evelyn slips on a chain-draped jacket.

“I just got this the other day,” Evelyn says. “I thought it looked like Nashira. What do you think?”

“It looks . . . great,” I say, wondering where she lifted it from. “Definitely Nashira-esque.”

Coop grabs the video camera and hands it to Valerie. “We’ve only got one shot at this, so let’s get it right.”

“As long as there are no big-boobed girls in the room to distract me”— Val smirks as she hoists the camera onto her shoulder —“I should be fine.”

Coop flashes her a screw-you smile, then turns to us. “Okay, humanzees.” He points to the service door. “Get going. Before someone sees you.”

“Wait a second. I almost forgot.” Helen grabs her purse from the backseat. She removes three dark-red capsules and hands one to each of us monkeys. “They’re filled with stage blood. You just bite down on them and the blood will spill from your mouth.”

“Cool.” Matt holds the little pill between his thumb and forefinger, examining it.

“That’s brill, Helen. Great work.” Coop grabs my furry shoulder and pulls me aside. “Just to warn you,” he whispers in my ear. “If you see Leyna and Hunter in there, don’t freak. I asked them to mingle at the back of the party.”

I nearly drop a load in my monkey suit. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Don’t make a scene,” Coop hushes. “It’s chill. I’ll have Evelyn hang at the front of the room and once the rumpus begins, Leyna and Hunter will be the first ones out. We need to get them on tape for this scene. It’s too big a part of the movie.”