Dirty Movies (8 page)

Minutes
later, she tapped on his door. Keeping her eyes fixed on the steaming mug of fresh coffee, made to his exact specifications and brewed with the special beans Rachel kept locked away in her desk drawer, she managed to place it on his desk without spilling a single drop. No mean feat considering she was shaking like a leaf.

Stephen took a sip and smiled at her above the smooth, curved edge of the black ceramic mug.
‘Perfectly satisfactory. Keep this up Polly and you’ll go far.’

Polly stared at him in amazement. Was the man who regularly panned his Oscar-winning crew
bestowing
her
with faint praise? A good brew was hardly a Moroccan Palace set or a hand-stitched Bedouin costume but it was a start. Perhaps she had read him all wrong. Perhaps he was an ok guy after all.

‘Right then, let’s begin
,’ he said bossily, throwing his feet up onto the desk. ‘Firstly, I want you at my beck and call but I don’t expect you to be hanging around like a nuisance on set. There may be the odd occasion when I’ll be forced to phone you during unsociable hours but it is imperative you answer the phone.  I can’t and won’t abide being ignored…’

As he spoke, Polly’s pencil tore across the page of her notebook. Te
n minutes later, she wished she had taken up her mother’s offer of shorthand lessons. Stephen was maligned with a nasty case of verbal diarrhoea and she found herself wondering if she could claim NHS benefits for Repetitive Strain Injury in an index finger.

‘And most importantly
, please do not, under any circumstances, put unsolicited calls through to me,’ she heard him say. ‘I like to know exactly who is on the phone at all times because, more often than not, I won’t want to speak to them.’

Well
, at least he’s honest about it, thought Polly, making sure she underlined this particular instruction three times. Still, listening to him drone on and on had only enforced her earlier missive; that she didn’t much care for Stephen, no matter how brilliant a director he was. Then again, he didn’t seem the complete ogre that Rachel made him out to be either.

It was this false sense of security that caught her completely unawares when one of his temper tantrums hit her like a whirling dervish later that day.

On Stephen’s instruction
, Polly had spent the rest of the morning generating hundreds of autograph duplicates for his adoring fans. Stuck in the corner next to an over-heating photocopier, she didn’t realise her phone was ringing until Rachel hollered out to her.

‘Polly – phone! Quick!’

Mindful of Stephen’s distaste at excessive noise (rule number thirty-eight), she tore across the room, tripped over the trailing internet cable that their IT guy had forgotten to tape to the floor before his last cig break, and landed boobs down on her desk, arms flailing, as her forehead smacked into the phone unit. As a result, it shot off the desk and landed on the floor with a crash. With her head still dangling downwards off the desk, she scooped up the receiver.

‘Hello, hello, Stephen De Vries’ office
,’ she gasped, her head throbbing.

‘Hi. Say, did you just drop the phone?’ drawled a voice in amusement.

‘Umm yes, yes I did. I’m so sorry…’ Polly slapped her hand across the mouthpiece to block out Rachel’s peals of laughter.

‘Gee, I don’t fancy your chances
much as a star quarterback. Can I speak with Stephen please? It’s Michael.’

Sexy voice
, thought Polly, rubbing her bruises as she patched the call through.

Expecting the phone to ring out
, she was caught on the hop when Stephen snatched it up immediately.

‘What is it?’

‘Yes, err, hello, I’ve got a Michael on the line for you,’ she said, thoroughly flustered.

‘Get rid of him
.’

‘Right
.’

Alas, muddled by the new phone system
, Polly accidentally hit the transfer button by mistake. Realising her error, she frantically tried to retrieve the call.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, you stupid fucking thing!’ she hissed as her sweaty fingers kept sliding off the keypad.

‘Uh oh, what’s happened?’ asked Rachel, looking over in alarm.

Just then
, Stephen’s office door flew open with such force that it bounced off the adjacent wall and swung back in on itself. This did little to appease the director’s rage.

‘What the fuck did I tell you a few hours ago
, you stupid girl!’ he screamed at Polly, hurling his mug at her head. Polly ducked just in time and it smashed into the wall, showering her in tepid, expensive-smelling coffee. ‘Under NO circumstances do you put calls though that I DO NOT WISH TO TAKE!’

Blushing scarlet and dripping with liquid, Polly could do very little but mouth her apologies but he cut straight across them.

‘Sorry Stephen, it’s all my fault, Stephen, I’m a fucking useless twit, Stephen,’ he sneered. ‘Well, if you can’t do this job properly like all the other useless imbeciles Janie hires then you can piss off back to Idiotsville in Surrey, or wherever the hell you come from.’ And with that he stormed out of the office, aiming a swift kick at an unfortunate stray dog lurking in the doorway.

Polly stared down at the remnants of his black
and gold
I heart Oscar
mug and felt an overwhelming despair. Barely a day in, and she already knew with absolute, unredeemable, gut-wrenching certainty that she detested Stephen De Vries.

It took six beers, a double shot of vodka and the patience of a saint, namely one Rachel Matthews, to calm Polly down. Devastated by Stephen’s outburst
, she was all set for packing her bags and flying home immediately.

‘Three cheers for t
he industry’s most incompetent runner,’ said Polly gloomily, in the hotel bar later that night. 

Rachel did her best to contradict her but nothing
lifted Polly’s fug. She had never seen such hopelessness. This saint was definitely going to need another drink. Catching Danny’s eye over by the bar, Rachel indicated to her empty glass.

‘Polly listen, Stephen’s only ever been interested in winning Oscars, screwing hot women under the age of twenty-five
, and making the lives of his employees miserable. Whilst he may not have achieved the former, he certainly makes up for it with the latter. You’re in a very long line of people he’s upset this afternoon.’

Polly looked away and rubbed her face with her sleeve. ‘I’m n
ot crying,’ she said defensively, ‘I’ve got a stray lash.’

Not in both eyes you don’t
, thought Rachel.

Anyway, I think it’s high t
ime you addressed the positives.’

‘No job, no money, no life?’

‘Rubbish. Stephen’s not going to sack you …yet. He usually gives his runners a three-strike policy. At least now you know what you’re up against.’

Polly star
ed moodily into her beer. ‘Better ask my grandfather to dig out his old WW2 tin hat. He’d never have faced Dunkirk without the essentials.’

‘Oi Oi mugs ahoy!’ g
rinned Rachel. ‘I have to admit it, Stephen did seem exceptionally grouchy this afternoon. I have two theories,’ she said, holding up her thumb. ‘One, your little mishap forced him to make pleasantries with Michael, which is a bit like sticking a red hot poker up his bum, and two,’ she held up her index finger, ‘with that extra cast rehearsal this afternoon, he didn’t have time to factor in his requisite daily lunchtime fuck. Fortunately, our costume runners are usually only too happy to oblige, so with a bit of luck he’ll bang a couple tonight to make up for it.’

‘Can you sew,
check
, run errands,
check
, screw the director,
check
!’ Polly shook her head in amazement. ‘So what’s the story behind this Michael guy? Why didn’t Stephen want to take his call?’

‘It’s the age-old clash of testosterone, dicks at dawn, twelve paces and all that
,’ said Rachel dismissively. ‘Michael’s just been promoted to Exec status by Papa Wilson which Stephen and Vincent are none too happy about, plus he also happens to be a very attractive guy. Stephen’s such a narcissist. He hates anyone on set with bigger biceps than him.’

‘Have you met him before?’

‘I wish. Before his promotion, he headed up the Global Studios Development Department in LA, but Sally Bouvier, one of our Costume Designers, has. According to Sal, he’s all rugged and suntanned and turns up to meetings in board shorts.’

Polly instantly pictured a Matthew McConaghey type. ‘Yum,
he sounds heaven.’

‘Aw Polly,
I never knew you felt that way about me,’ grinned Danny as he plonked two fresh beers down in front of them.   

Rachel raised one eyebrow as he made to sit down. ‘Go away Danny, there aren’t enough chairs at
this table for you and your ego.’

‘There’s gratitude for you
.’

‘I’m serious. Girls only tonight
.’

‘Alright, alright, keep your hair weaves on
,’ he muttered, retreating back to the bar. 

‘Oh look, here comes Sally now
,’ said Rachel, perking up as a woman in a purple velvet mini-dress with bright green frills bee-lined straight for their table.

Polly took one look at the appro
aching stranger and wished she had her sunglasses handy. Sally’s dress clashed so violently with her red curls that it was wounding to both her fashion sensibilities and her retinas. Completing the ensemble, were two dead symmetrical, clown-style rouge-red circles of blusher on each cheek.

Slamming down her vodka and slopping most on the table, Sally threw herself int
o the spare chair next to her.

‘That awful, awful little man will be the death of me’ she declared, mopping at her brow with a bright pink polka dot handkerchief. ‘Hitler had nothing on our jumped-up little despot of a director!’

Polly gazed at her in amazement. She had never met anyone so effusive. Sally’s personality was rolling off her in great waves and she kept wriggling about as if her chair was one giant pincushion. Enjoying the theatrics too, Rachel was loath to interrupt. 

‘Sally, for god’s sake, stop for a sec before you
combust. Vincent will only sue you for breach of contract. Meet Polly, she has the unenviable task of being Stephen’s runner for the next few months.’

Sally turned her bright green cat’s eyes on her. ‘Gosh
, you poor thing! At least we costumiers can hide away in our wardrobe trailer when it all gets too much, but you, my dear, are really in the firing line.’ 

‘Perhaps Polly can come and hide in your trailer when it gets too much
,’ suggested Rachel with a grin.

‘Fabulous idea! But don’t tell anyone else our little secret or we’ll have the entire crew
clamoring to get in. Darling Nancy’s still there now bawling her eyes out.’

‘Shit! Joe said he was on his way to sort that mess out hours ago
.’

‘
Oh he’s still there, bless him. Eleven hours later, can you believe? He’s such a sweet, sweet boy. Have you met our exquisite 1st Assistant Director yet, Polly dear?’

Polly nodded.
‘Yes, last night. He picked me up from the airport, then we had a drink here.’

‘Aha!’ cried Sally excitedly. ‘You must be the girl all the make-up ladies were in a faff about this morning
.’

Rachel’s gossip antenna
went bananas. ‘What have you heard, Sal?’ she urged, eyes shining.

‘
Apparently
Joe couldn’t take his eyes off some pretty new thing he was drinking with last night. Everyone’s talking about it.’

Rachel whipped round and stared at Polly in amazement.

‘Rubbish,’ said Polly quickly, ‘they must be talking about someone else. I’m far too young. There’s no way he’d ever be interested in me.’ With a jolt, she realised she was fishing.

Rachel’s response was unflatteringly
skeptical. ‘She’s right. I’d be amazed if that was the case. The make-up department were most likely on their fifth bottle of red and counting pink elephants as well.’

‘W
ell I’m glad that’s settled,’ said Polly tightly.

‘Oh,
don’t take it like that. Everyone fancies you like mad! Danny’s practically tripping over himself to speak to you every chance he gets. The thing is, Joe’s different. He keeps himself to himself. No indiscretions of note. To be honest, we all thought he was gay until we found out about his wife.’

Polly tensed. ‘He’s married? I had no idea
.’

‘Gosh no
, not anymore darling,’ said Sally, ‘but that reminds me…’ She leant forward and beckoned the girls to follow suit.  Rachel sparked up another ciggie immediately.

‘Keep this between us girlies but my husband’s niece’s uncle used to be a colleague of Joe’s ex, Cassie
.’

‘Oh my god, what was she like?’

Polly glanced at Rachel. The coordinator was so riveted, she was hovering an inch above her seat and crouched low over the table like a champion skier. Any minute now, she would take off and slalom straight into the swimming pool.

‘Spit
it out Sal!’ she urged, puce with the effort of it all. 

‘I don’t know that much
really
. Only how she carked it.’

‘Joe’s wife’s dead
?’ gasped Polly.

‘Has been for yonks’ said Rachel. ‘At least six years
, isn’t it Sal? Besides, I already know how she died. Car crash.’

‘Says who?’

‘Danny.’

‘Then you heard wrong. I have it on good authority she topped herself
.’

Both girls rocked back in their chairs, horrified.

‘But that’s awful!’ Polly was appalled. 

‘Ghastly
,’ agreed Sally. ‘Joe found her body in the tub. Looked like a horror scene, apparently. Bit ironic considering she was the Art Director on
Nightmare vs Halloween Avenue: Part Twelve
.’

‘Imagine coming home and finding your wife like that
,’ whistled Rachel. ‘Six years did you say? It must have around the time of Stephen’s first picture for Global…’

‘…And the first time the pair worked together
,’ finished Sally. They looked at each other, speculatively.

‘So within two months
, Joe lost his darling wife
and
gained a dickhead of a brother. Poor bastard. I’m surprised he didn’t climb into the tub himself.’ 

‘What do mean
gained
’ asked Polly.

‘They hadn’t spoken for years.
They’re only half-brothers really. Daddy was some big-shot diplomat who spent as much time zipping in and out of women’s beds as he did zipping round the world.’

‘They’ve never been close
,’ added Sally. ‘I put it down to the trials and tribulations of an eight year age gap. Not an easy one in the best of circumstances.’

‘It might as well be eighteen years with the way Stephen treats him
,’ said Rachel angrily. ‘It’s disgraceful the way he’s always putting him down in public.’

‘I agree
, but it
was
decent of him to reach out to Joe after Cassie died. He gave him a job, kept his mind occupied…’

‘Stephen…
compassionate
?’ The coordinator snorted so hard a stream of beer came shooting out of her left nostril. ‘I don’t buy him in Jesus robes for a second. He never wears beige, says it reminds him of baby vomit.’

‘So why do you thin
k he did it, Rachel?’ Polly was riveted. Death, tragedy, sexy, sparring siblings. This was proper Shakespearean stuff. Global Studios were missing a trick here. They could make a fortune by flogging the De Vries life story.

‘Stephen’s
number one motivation of course: self-interest. His films were straight-to-DVD mush before Global snapped him up. After years of razzie nominations, the pressure to deliver a piping hot product to the biggest studios in the world must have had him quaking like a turkey on Christmas Eve. Think about it,’ she said warming to her subject. ‘He’s got a string of flops, he needs an ally, preferably one who’s adored by the industry. Hey presto, there’s fiercely loyal baby brother grieving away, who also just so happens to be the best 1st AD in the business. Here’s what I think… He manipulates Joe’s heartache by convincing him the best way to get his life back on track is to throw himself into work. Preferably with him!’ She concluded all this by crashing her fist down on the table and sending everyone’s drinks flying.

‘You and your theories
,’ tutted Sally, dabbing at a splash of vodka staining her awful outfit. ‘Anyway, those make-up girls have really got it in for you now. They’ve been trying to lasso Joe for years but he’s never shown a blind bit of interest. I don’t know why they’re bothering. He’s clearly got his dead wife on a pedestal ten stories high. No one else stands a chance!’

‘He was only looking out for me on my first day
,’ agreed Polly reluctantly. Her spine-tingling chills at Joe’s rumoured interest were nothing more than inconsequential quivers now, especially in the wake of Sally’s revelations. ‘Besides, I have a long-term boyfriend,’ she added casually.

‘You never said!’ cried Rachel, outraged by this atrocious oversight. ‘Once you’ve got another round in you’re not leaving this table until
I hear ALL about him.’

Forcing a smile, Polly shot off to the bar.
What a silly fib to tell, but her feelings were pulling her in two directions and causing all kinds of traffic chaos. Either way, the odds of competing with a dead woman for Joe’s affections didn’t look favourable from any angle. Sensing trouble, she picked up the drinks tray and headed back to her table. 

‘Fill me in on Michael, Sal
,’ she heard Rachel ask as she sat back down again. ‘Polly says he’s got a gorgeous voice, but does his body do it justice?’

Sally grinned and produced the latest copy of the weekly gossip magazine
,
Hot! Hot! Hot!
from her bright orange handbag. She tossed it into the middle of the table.

‘Turn to page five
, girlies, and judge for yourself.’

Rachel did as she was told and let out a whistle. ‘Oh wow, he’s sexy as…’

‘Lemme see, lemme see.’ Polly bent over to catch a glimpse.