HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout (33 page)

.

“Remember,” said Larry, as Ralphie held the
door open, “um, what did we say again?”

“Buyers for a film company,” said Lori.

“Oh yeh,” said Larry, stepping out of the
Lincoln. “Thanks, Ralphie,” he said, as he waited for Lori, who put
on sunglasses after climbing out of the car. A fit, 60-something
Asian woman stood at the doorway to Kashabara’s.

“Welcome,” said the woman, as Larry and Lori
approached.

“Hi, we’re from a film company,” said Larry,
smiling broadly. “We work in the movies.” After a moment, he added,
“Uh huh…, yeh.”

Lori groaned.

“I won’t hold that against you,” said the
woman.

Larry pointed to the sign. “Are you...
Kash-a-ba-ra?”

The woman looked silently as Larry, turned
and walked into her shop.

Lori shook her head, as she followed Larry
inside.

“Oh, this looks like the treasure chest,”
said Larry.

Lori looked around and with each item she
picked up, seemed more at ease, more interested and more impressed.
“You have really good taste, Mrs. Kashabara.”

“Ms.,” said the woman. “There is no
Mister.”

“Oh,” said Lori, with an immediate
correction. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “I’m not.”

Larry swaggered in an exaggerated John Wayne
walk, almost knocking over a bamboo divider after bumping it with
his hip. “This is some pretty good stuff, but we’re gonna need a
lot more then what’s here.” He idly picked up a lamp, and, without
looking at it, put it down a moment later.

Larry’s phone buzzed. “IDIOT DIRECTOR,” read
the screen. “Oh, look, it’s the director calling.” He took the
call, pressing loudspeaker.

“Hal-lowww,” said the accented voice. “Tres,
Tres von Sommerberg, from Denmark, the director,” said the voice,
as Larry held the phone up and walked to within a short distance of
Ms. Kashabara.

“Yes, Tres,” said Larry. “Good to hear back.
It must be about the movie.”

“Right,” said Tres. “Look, just to tell you,
the Royal Troupe will be sending an emissary....”

“That’s fine,” said Larry. “I’m at a shop
now and I think I’ve found most of what the prop people will need
for the film.”

“Prop people?” said Tres, “For the
film?”

“Yes,” said Larry. “Remember, your
film?”

“My film. Well, yes, as Lena
explained….”

“The funding is all here,” said Larry.

“Are you kidding?” said Tres.

“That’s why we’re buying props,” said Larry,
lifting a bamboo umbrella, turning it and setting it back down.

“But the Dogme95,” said Tres, “the manifesto
is clear about props.”

“Emma is soon going to be ready to resume
filming,” Larry added.

“Is it true?” said Tres. “This is
amazing.”

“Anyway, I have to go,” said Larry. “This
store is perfect.”

“But the manifesto….”

Larry hung up. He looked at Lori, who
silently glared back. “What?” Larry put his phone away and turned
to Ms. Kashabara. “You know, this is going to be a huge production,
and our people are going to want everything you have.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ms. Kashabara, “but
exactly what do you mean by everything?”

“All of this,” said Larry, with a wide sweep
of his arm. “All of the items in your store.”

Ms. Kashabara turned to Lori, who smiled
briefly.

“And, if you have any other items, say, in a
warehouse,” said Larry, smiling. “Everything.”

Ms. Kashabara crossed her arms. Larry sat
down on a tall, dark stool.

“Get out!” said Ms. Kashabara.

“What?” said Larry.

“I don’t know what you game is, but get out
of my store.”

Larry stood up and began to back towards the
door, as Lori drew close to him and did the same. “This isn’t a
game. I’ll pay whatever price you name,” said Larry.

Ms. Kashabara went behind the counter and
picked up a long-handled broom, which she pumped up and down,
before grabbing with both hands. “Get out!”

“But…,” said Lori.

“Before I call the police.”

“But….”

“Out!”

Chapter Twenty

A Shot at London

Lori opened the second refrigerator in the
Lincoln, moved cans and bottles, and pulled out an unsweetened iced
tea.

“You know there’s a safe in that
refrigerator?” said Lori, as she opened her tea.

“That’s where I keep my cold cash,” said
Larry, smiling lamely. “Ralphie put it in for me. I paid for it,
though.”

“Be careful about this whole thing, Bix.
People get killed for a few bucks here in the real world.” Lori
took a sip of tea. Her phone rang.

Larry opened a refrigerator and pulled out a
root beer.

“Hey, coach,” Lori said. “What? You are
kidding, right? I gotta take one, too? That won’t be a problem,
but, when? Like now? Okay. Will do.” Lori looked at her phone after
hanging up.

“Everything okay?” asked Larry, opening the
root beer and taking a sip.

“Can we go to Santa Monica? I gotta take a
drug test,” said Lori.

Larry coughed, spraying root beer across the
cabin. “You? A drug test!”

“Jeeze, Larry.”

“Aww, man… I got it on the seat.”

.

“You’re Lori Lewis, aren’t you?” asked a
teenager, as Larry and Lori sat in the waiting room of a lab in
Santa Monica.

“Yes,” said Lori.

“I met you in San Diego,” said the teen. “My
dad’s army… Bahrain?” The girl smiled.

“Right. My cheering squad,” said Lori,
warmly. “Your dad doing okay?”

“He’s good,” said the teen. “Are you here to
test, too?”

“Following orders,” said Lori.

“My brother, too. They’re doing all the
men’s finalists and the top non-qualifiers.”

“My coach said the finalists have been
tested and they wanted me to test,” said Lori.

“Good luck,” said the teen, waving and
returning to sit with her brother.

“Lewis,” said an orderly,” holding a
clipboard.

.

The Lincoln glided smoothly in the car pool
lane, as cars in the lanes next to them moved at a snail’s pace, in
bumper-to-bumper traffic on the southbound 405 freeway.

“You are aware that you promised to finance
that Danish director’s movie,” said Lori.

“It’s not like I put it in writing,” said
Larry, drinking a Cactus Cooler.

“C’mon, Larry, you heard his voice. The only
thing he didn’t do was cry. You need to call him and tell him that
you’re not gonna do it.”

“Okay,” said Larry, putting his soda down.
Larry scrolled through “received” calls, found von Sommerberg’s
number and pressed the green button and put the call on
speakerphone.

“Hal-lowww, Larry!” said the accented voice.
“I am so glad to hear again from you. I told Lena the fantastic
news and she immediately told the Artistic Director at the Royal
Ballet. Now, it is all the way up to the Queen! To the Queen! I
cannot wait to tell Ingeborg’s family the amazing news.”

“Oh,” said Larry.

“And I promise you that we will be gentle
with Emma Mathilde,” said Tres. “Will Miss Lewis also be available?
If we must, I will write a part for her friend. Whatever is needed
to make this happen. Absolutely anything… even if you insist on
props. I can just sign the manifesto papers and say they were part
of your home. For you, I would do that.”

“You would?” said Larry. “I wouldn’t want
you to get in trouble.”

“You are not making problems for me,” said
the director. “You have solved all my problems.”

“Oh,” said Larry.

“Lena and I can be there in three days. Is
that too soon?”

“W’ull, uh….”

“Say what you must,” said Tres. “I am ready
to hear anything.”

“Anything?” asked Larry.

“You have made a dream come true for many
people, and, so from you, anything yes.”

“Right,” said Larry. “Um, yeh….”

“This will be really great, Larry,” said von
Sommerberg. “Everyone told me I could not finish this film. I am
the luckiest man in Denmark!”

“Um….”

“Lena and I will see you in a few days,”
said von Sommerberg. “Tousand tak, Larry!”

The phone went blank and Larry dropped the
phone into a cup holder.

“Good thing you told him, Larry,” said Lori.
“Jeeze, now they’re gonna expect us to be in this movie. And maybe
Dee.”

“They told the Queen.”

“Great job, Larry.”

.

The Lincoln pulled in to the roundabout just
outside the main lobby of Long Beach Memorial. Ralphie held the
door for Lori and Larry, who, after saying thanks, continued into
the lobby, past lingering families, to the front desk.

“Van der Bix,” said Larry. “We know the
room.”

“Van der Bix, Calvin… is not allowed
visitors,” said the info clerk, reading from a screen.

“I’m not here to see my dad,” said Larry.
“Here for my grandmother, Emma.”

“Oh, yes,” said the clerk. “She is allowed
visitors.”

Larry and Lori rounded the corner, to the
main elevators, where a man waited, holding the hand of a girl,
perhaps 10, who was hugging a stuffed giraffe, with a bow tied
around its neck.

“So are you gonna actually finance this
idiot’s film?” asked Lori, pushing up. “What is it? Millions of
dollars?”

“Tens of millions.”

The doors opened and the child entered the
elevator. As the man passed Larry and Lori, he looked at them and
said, “Everyone in Hollywood is an idiot,” and stepped in.

.

“Jesus, Ed, you don’t waste any opportunity,
do ya?” said Lori, as she and Larry entered the room. Ed sat,
holding Emma’s hand, who was sitting upright with in the bed angled
up. She smiled at Larry and Lori but did not turn her head. Sitting
next to Ed was a bombshell brunette, in a low-cut top and a great
deal of make-up.

“Turns out Gina speaks Swedish, too,” said
Ed. “Who knew?”

Larry stood next to Emma and put his face
close to hers, kissing her cheek.

“Your friends have been with me since I woke
up,” Emma told Larry.

“I’m so glad you are up, Farmor!” said
Larry, hugging his grandmother.

“Careful,” Emma told Larry. “Don’t break the
merchandise.”

Gina laughed. “She’s funny.”

Larry dragged his chair next to Ed, who
scooted closer to Gina.

“What is she saying?” asked Lori.

“She thinks you’re going to do well at the
Olympics,” said Gina.

“Yeh,” said Larry.

“Where is my son?” asked Emma. “It surprised
me that you and he would visited together.”

“No,” said Larry. “It wasn’t exactly like
that.”

“It’s okay,” said Emma. “You’re not his
keeper.”

“The movie people are eager to finish their
film,” said Larry.

Emma placed her hand on Lori’s. “Maybe I
should pretend to still be sick.”

Gina giggled.

“What?” said Lori.

“She’s funny.”

.

Larry stood alone at the railing of Calvin’s
gurney, holding his hand. “Excuse me, but you’re not supposed to be
in here,” said a nurse in surgical scrubs and wearing a mask.

“This is my father,” said Larry.

“This is critical care,” said the nurse.
“You’ll have to leave.”

.

“Bix!” yelled Lori, as Larry walked slowly
up the hallway, towards the main lobby. “Bix! I’m in! I’ve got
another shot at London!”

Larry smiled.

“Oh…. Oh, jeeze… your dad? Is he…?”

“Yeh,” said Larry, glumly. “He’s still
alive.”

Lori gave a double take and stepped up to
Larry, silently hugging him. Larry hugged her back.

“What do the doctors say?”

“They told me to get out,” said Larry.
“Let’s go in there,” he said, pointing to a door labeled, “Chapel.”
Inside, was a small, empty room with stained glass, wood paneling,
several rows of pews, and no clear sense of which faith or
denomination the setting was meant to suggest. They sat.

“So you are going to London?”

“No, I get to compete at the nationals, in
Nebraska, at the end of June,” said Lori, excitedly. “The two
finalists in the 800 tested positive and were knocked out of the
rankings, so I moved from fourth to second in the regionals.”

Larry studied a pane of stained glass.

“The coach thinks I should go to the Olympic
Training Center.”

Larry looked away from the stained glass, to
Lori. “Will you?”

“I can’t,” she said. “How on earth can I
stay away for a month and….”

“If it’s money, I’ll pick it up,” said
Larry.

“I know you would, Bix, and I love you for
that,” said Lori, “but, you know, there are things that are just
about what I can do all on my own.”

“That’s not how you do it, in the army,”
said Larry. “That’s not how you compete on a team. You have to
count on people all the time. People who aren’t on the front line.
People who will never compete for a medal. We’re just part of your
team,” said Larry. “Team Lori.”

Lori looked up to the stained glass. “Team
Lori,” she repeated, quietly.

“December’s on your team,” said Larry.

“Yeh,” said Lori.

“Your parents. Your coach. That old lady,
Pat.”

“Pat McCormick is my god,” said Lori. “She’s
the first one who told me I could be a champion.

“She’s on your team. And me, I can help,
now. And I want to.”

Lori placed her hand on Larry’s, as they sat
in silence, in solitude.

.

“Dude, are you back on hand-holding duty?”
asked Ed.

Larry nodded.

“Great. Me and Gina are meeting Anekee, so
we’re out’ta here.”

“Anekee?”

“She wants to shoot some photos and then
take her kid to Disneyland,” said Ed.

“You’re going with her to Disneyland? With
Ane?”

“It’s mostly for the kid, but Gina’s never
been there, either,” said Ed. “I’ll save the receipts.”