Dirty Movies (29 page)

For the first time that morning, Joe smi
led.

‘I thought you’d never ask
.’

Michael watched him swing into the passenger seat.

‘How d’it go?’

‘Promising, but she won’t give us an official nod until she reads the script. I left a copy with her.’

Michael grinned. ‘Then it’s a done deal, that baby’s faultless. Let’s go find one of those cutie
-pie English pubs and celebrate.’

‘Take a left at the ro
undabout. I know just the place.’

Michael crunched the car into gear. ‘
For fuck’s sake! You sure they didn’t have any automatics back at the rental place?’ he yelped, swerving to miss a squirrel.

‘Positive
, and its fifty points for Squirrel Nutkins.’

‘
Who? Man, I wish I coulda seen the look on Christine’s face when you told her about
Memoir.
’

‘Like all her Christmases had come at once
.’

‘New Years Eves
you mean. More time at the bar.’

‘I’m not so sure anymore.
Christine was looking pretty together. Best I’ve ever seen her.’

‘That’ll be the rehab security blanket. Wait ‘til she’s back in the real world. Still, if we can hold her together enough to see this thing through
then that’s good enough for me.’ He jumped as the first pellets of rain hit the windscreen. ‘Mind if I switch on the radio?’

‘Be my guest
, but only if the music’s cheesier than a four seasons.’

‘Jesus
, Joe, your taste sucks!’

It was bad enough that station was broadcasting a celeb special on Maisie and Stephen
, reflected Joe. It was even worse that the stupid presenter had a humungous crush on his brother. The last thing Michael needed to hear, on top of the news that his ex had shacked up with Stephen, was that his love rival was a certified genius who could most likely cure cancer, wipe out Aids and bring about world peace if given half the chance.

A horrible silence lingered long after the bulletin switched to Bryan Adams
. The rain was starting to really tip it down now but a white-faced Michael still had the wipers on intermittent. Joe was just plucking up the courage to say something when Michael swerved the car to a standstill, cutting up an old dear on her silver mobility scooter and narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a bright red post box.

The driver’s door
was booted open.

‘That two-faced bitch!’ exploded Michael,
jumping out and aiming a hefty kick at the hire car’s side panel. The old dear, thinking he was referring to her, was so shocked she drove her scooter right off the pavement and clipped a holly bush.   

Joe jump
ed out after him. ‘Michael stop, she’s not worth the hire car excess!’

‘SHE IS TO ME! I want the truth now
, Joe, and not some watered-down, censored-for- fucking-radio horseshit. How long has Stephen been screwing my girlfriend?’

‘Six
years’ said Joe quietly, and for the second time that day.

Michael
was dumbfounded. ‘Son of a…. You knew all along didn’t you?’

‘I’m sorry Michael,
I truly am.’

‘Who else?’

‘Polly. She walked in on them at the beginning of the…’

‘
Polly?
Jeez, no wonder she could never look me in the eye. When I think back to all those stupidly long press junkets, all those late nights when I thought she was rehearsing …’

‘We’ve all been played like fools, Michael. You, me, Christine…’

Michael stopped abusing their hire car, sat down on the bonnet and put his head in his hands. The rainwater running in rivulets down his fingers looked like an endless stream of tears.

‘I
’m the biggest fool of all’ he groaned. ‘I was gonna ask her to marry me.’

Joe shivered
, and it wasn’t anything to do with the weather. ‘I now it hurts like hell now but things will get easier.’

‘That’s just some throwaway line from a
movie and you know it.’

Michael had a point. His
longing for Polly hadn’t lessoned in the slightest.

‘Think of it as ammunition then
,’ he went on, hastily. ‘We have a movie to finance and two days to put together a good enough pitch to seal the deal with Christine.’

‘Ah, your
rousing
Braveheart
speech. I hate to break it to you, Joe, but it really is more convincing when delivered from a horse.’

‘Well
, I’ll have to make do with horsepower then,’ he persisted, slapping the hire car’s bonnet.

‘What’s the point?’ muttered Michael, ‘I doub
t we’ll get distribution anyway.’

‘That’s bollocks and you know it
.’

Michael looked away and frowned
. Joe was right. Just then, the rain began to peter out and bright beams of sunshine started nibbling at the edges of the clouds. He stood up suddenly, fumbled in his jacket pocket and pulled out a very small, very exclusive-looking jewellery box.

‘How much do you reckon our Production Office will cost to set up?’ he asked
Joe, rolling the box between his fore fingers and thumb.

‘Depends. Soho’s always a safe
, but ultimately pricey bet. Still, we’ll have the post-production houses on our doorstep. We should aim small and super tight.’

‘Then this should cover it
.’ Michael lobbed the box at Joe. He caught it easily and inspected the contents.

‘You crazy bastard! T
his thing could buy us a dozen production offices.’

‘Good. I’ll have the
pleasure of telling Maisie one day that her engagement ring helped fund the film responsible for irritating the hell outta her boyfriend.’

Joe grinned. ‘Well, when you put it like that…’

They spent the next two days holed up in Joe’s flat, sweating buckets over their budget and tweaking the script until every line flowed like runny honey.

On the eve of Christine’s deadline, Michael was still wrestling with the synopsis for the Start of Picture press release when Joe walked into the room with two cartons of Chinese take-out and a six-pack. He unhooked one of the cans and chucked it at Michael before selecting one for himself.

‘I think I’ve found us a production office
,’ he said, taking a slurp. ‘It’s just off Lexington Street. It’s small but should fit five desks easy. Most importantly, it’s cheap.’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘It’s above a fantastic sandwich shop so it’ll mean a lot of overtime at the gym. Still, it looks ok from the outside.’

‘Fantastic
,’ whooped Michael. ‘Let’s organise a viewing for tomorrow afternoon once we’ve seen Christine. I’ve always enjoyed a flirt with presumption.’

Joe took another sip and considered his next question carefully.

‘How do you feel about seeing her again?’

‘Who, Christine?’ Michael paused, can to mouth. ‘I guess it had to happen sometime. I was pretty wrecked that night so it’s not like I’m
gonna look at her and remember her naked or anything. Do you really think she’s changed? I don’t think I’ll able to handle any tantrum crap this time around.’

‘As I said before, I don’t think we need to worry
.’

Michael said nothing as he peeled back the lid of his chicken chow mien. He’d had a gutful of Christine in Morocco and was more than a little dubious that she, like one of her ghastly leopard print dresses, could
have changed her spots so drastically. Still, Joe seemed pretty convinced.

‘We need to come up for a name for our new production company
,’ said Joe, hovering up his Peking duck.  ‘I was mulling it over earlier and I have an idea. What about
Harper Films
? A fitting first nod to Tommy, if you like?’

‘Not bad, not bad at all
,’ said Michael, testing it out in his head. ‘I’ll register it tomorrow as a Limited Company. I’m sure Christine wouldn’t want her mansion repossessed if our venture goes tits up.’

‘I think she’d be willing to lose a lot more than bricks and mortar if it meant seeing Stephen run out of Soho
.’

‘I’ll drink to that
,’ smiled Michael, raising his beer, ‘and to Harper Films.’

‘Not to mention all the bruised and bloody survivors of the great GBA train-wreck’ added Joe. ‘
Here’s to you, me and Christine.’

‘And to anyone else we manage to rescue along the way
.’

‘Right. To Danny and Polly
.’

‘And Lily and Lucas
,’ finished Michael quietly. 

Christine was waiting in reception as they pulled up to
Serenity Heights
the following day. Waving her arms about like a jet-propelled windmill, she flew down the stone steps as fast as her red-soled Louboutins would allow and had her hand on Joe’s door before Michael had put the handbrake on.

‘Joseph
, darling, the script’s wonderful, absolutely bloody wonderful!’ she cried, yanking him out of the seat and pulling him into a rapturous embrace. ‘Now, i’ve called my bank manager to let him know I’ll be making an extremely large withdrawal in the next few days, and Freddie my wizard accountant is standing by to help cook us some books!’

Joe stumbled sideways, propelled by the G-force of her enthusiasm. Michael climbed out of his side and did a double take. Who was this woman with the shiny eyes, porcelain skin and classy Chanel Suit? More importantly
, what had she done with their drunken old soak of a cash cow? Christine caught him staring at her and flashed him a coquettish smile.

‘Hello Michael, good to see you again.
I’m rather relieved to see you’re wearing your clothes this time.’

‘Likewise
,’ he said, shocking himself by contemplating a rematch. Christine hadn’t just changed her spots, she had morphed into an entirely different species. Suddenly, a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. The final jigsaw piece of Harper Films was slotting into place.

‘
I take it you’re interested in joining our little GBA refugee assemblage then?’ said Joe, recovering his balance. 

‘I prefer to think of us more as
glorious pariahs,
’ she said, sealing the deal with a smile.

‘Not to be confused with piranhas
,’ drawled Michael.

‘Oh I don’t know. I’d be more than happy to sink my
fangs into Stephen’s ball sack.’

Both men winced.

‘Oh relax,’ she tutted, reaching for the car door. ‘I’d rather flambé my darling Coco than go near THAT again.  Now are you boys coming? Or do I have to make this movie myself?’

Christine wasted no time in stoking the smoldering embers of their script
with enough rocket fuel to fire them straight into pre-production.

Establishing the back seat as a makeshift office, she was
soon dialing her accountant to register the business with Company’s House. Next was a call to her PA, and by the time Michael had dodged another potential wildlife massacre two miles down the road, they had a list of reputable insurance brokers and another viewing for an office in Soho. Michael and Joe sat in the front, winking at each other and grinning like idiots. At this rate their movie would be done and dusted in time for a Premiere at Cannes.

‘Michael darling, take the next left, that’s the entrance to my little house over there
,’ she shrieked suddenly, as he mistook third gear for first. The car screamed in protest and Christine rubbed her neck. Flicking through her Rolodex, she quickly dialed Carman, her masseuse.

Meanwhile
, Michael was struggling with her concept of size. There was nothing remotely ‘little’ about the house. The gates had swung open to reveal a magnificent oak-lined driveway bordered by emerald green paddocks and fat, greedy ponies in matching red halters. Glinting in the distance, like a magpie’s cache, lay a very regal Renaissance-era mansion.

‘I didn’t realise you were the Queen, Christine
?’ he drawled.

‘Silly-billy, Queenie’s down the road
,’ she replied airily, waving her arm in the direction of Windsor. ‘Hello, Carman darling, it’s me. Can you fit me in for a sesh tomorrow morning?’

Joe, who had
seen the driveway a billion times before but had always likened it to the road to hell, or rather the road to a hellish evening of put-downs, could finally sit back and admire its beauty. With Carman booked and Michael too in blissful awe, spirits were sky high for all three as they approached the grandiose front porch. It quickly soured when they came across a large removal van and four burly men loading an expensive-looking sideboard into the back of it. Christine was out of the car in a flash.