Run With the Hunted (57 page)

Jon had the Black and Decker with him. It was wrapped in a dark green towel. We walked into the Firepower building together. The elevator took us up to the lawyer's office. Neeli Zutnick. The receptionist was expecting our arrival. “Please go right in,” she said.

Neeli Zutnick was waiting. He rose from behind his desk and shook hands with us. Then he returned, sat down behind his desk. “Would you gentleman care for some coffee?” he asked.

“No,” said Jon.

“I'll have some,” I said.

Zutnick hit the intercom button. “Rose? Rose, my dear … one coffee, please …” He looked at me, “Cream and sugar?”

“Black.”

“Black. Thank you, Rose … Now, gentlemen …”

“Where's Friedman?” Jon asked.

“Mr. Friedman has given me full instructions. Now …”

“Where's your plug?” Jon asked.

“Plug?”

“For this …” Jon pulled the towel away revealing the Black and Decker.

“Please, Mr. Pinchot …”

“Where's the plug? Never mind, I see it …”

Jon walked over and plugged the Black and Decker into the wall.

“You must understand,” said Zutnick, “that if I had known you were going to bring that instrument I would have arranged to turn off the electricity.”

“That's all right,” said Jon.

“There's no need for that instrument,” said Zutnick.

“I hope not. It's just … in case …”

Rose entered with my coffee. Jon pressed the button on the Black and Decker. The blade sprang into action and began to hum.

Rose nervously tilted the coffee cup just a bit … just enough to spill a touch of it on her dress. It was a nice red dress and Rose, a heavy girl, filled it nicely.

“Wow! That
scared
me!”

“I'm sorry,” Jon said, “I was just … testing …”

“Who gets the coffee?”

“I do,” I told her, “thank you.”

Rose brought the coffee over to me. I needed it.

Rose exited, giving us a worried look over her shoulder.

“Both Mr. Friedman and Mr. Fischman have expressed dismay at your present state of mind …”

“Cut the shit, Zutnick! Either I get the release or the first piece of my flesh will be deposited …
there!
”

Jon tapped the center of Zutnick's desk with the end of the Black and Decker.

“Now, Mr. Pinchot, there is no need …”

“THERE IS A NEED! AND YOU'RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME! I WANT THAT RELEASE! NOW!”

Zutnick looked at me. “How is your coffee, Mr. Chinaski?”

Jon squeezed the trigger of the Black and Decker and held up his left hand, little finger extended. He waved the Black and Decker about as the blade furiously worked away.

“NOW!”

“VERY WELL!” yelled Zutnick.

Jon took his finger off the trigger.

Zutnick opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out two legalsized sheets of paper. He slid them toward Jon. Jon walked over, picked them up, sat back down, began reading.

“Mr. Zutnick,” I asked, “can I have another cup of coffee?”

Zutnick glared at me, hit the intercom.

“Another cup of coffee, Rose. Black …”

“Like in Black and Decker,” I said.

“Mr. Chinaski, that isn't funny.”

Jon continued to read.

My coffee arrived.

“Thank you, Rose …”

Jon continued to read as we waited. The Black and Decker lay across his lap.

Then Jon said, “No, this won't do …”

“WHAT?” said Zutnick. “THAT IS A COMPLETE RELEASE!”

“All of clause ‘e' must be deleted. It contains too many ambiguities.”

“May I see those papers?” asked Zutnick.

“Certainly …”

Jon placed them on the blade of the Black and Decker and passed them over to Zutnick. Zutnick took them off the blade with some disgust. He began reading clause ‘e.'

“I see nothing wrong here …”

“Delete it …”

“Do you really intend to cut off one of your fingers?”

“Yes. I may even cut off one of yours.”

“Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?”

“Consider this: I have nothing to lose here. Only you have.”

“A contract signed under these conditions can be considered invalid.”

“You are making me sick, Zutnick! Eliminate clause ‘e' or my finger goes! NOW!”

Jon hit the button. The Black and Decker sprang into action again. Jon Pinchot stuck out his little finger, left hand.

“STOP!” screamed Zutnick.

Jon stopped.

Zutnick was on the intercom. “ROSE! I need you …”

Rose entered. “More coffee for the gentleman?”

“No, Rose. I want this entire contract revised and run out again, but eliminate clause ‘e,' then return it to me.”

“Yes, Mr. Zutnick.”

We all just sat a while then.

Then Zutnick said, “You can unplug that thing now.”

“Not yet,” said Jon. “Not until everything is finalized …”

“Do you really have another producer for this thing?”

“Of course …”

“Do you mind telling me who?”

“Of course not. Hal Edleman. Friedman knows that.”

Zutnick blinked. Edleman was money. He knew the name.

“I've read the screenplay. It seems very … crude … to me.”

“Have you read any other of Mr. Chinaski's works?” Jon asked.

“No. But my daughter has. She read his book of stories,
Cesspool Dreams.
”

“And?”

“She hated it.”

Rose was back with the new contract. She handed it to Zutnick. Zutnick gave it a glance, stood up and walked it over to Jon.

Jon reread the whole thing.

“Very well.”

He walked it over to the desk, bent over, signed it. Zutnick signed for Friedman and Fischman. It was done. One copy each.

Then Zutnick laughed. He looked relieved.

“The practice of law gets stranger all the time....”

Jon unplugged the Black and Decker. Zutnick walked to a small cabinet on the wall, opened it, pulled out a bottle, 3 glasses. He sat them on his desk, poured around.

“To the deal, gentlemen …”

“To the deal …” said Jon.

“To the deal,” the writer chimed in.

We drank them down. It was brandy. And we had the movie again.

I walked Jon to his car. He threw the Black and Decker into the back seat, then climbed into the front.

“Jon,” I asked from the sidewalk, “can I try you with the big question?”

“Sure.”

“You can tell me the truth about the Black and Decker. It will never get further than this. Were you really going to do it?”

“Of course …”

“But the other parts to follow? The other pieces. Were you going to do that?”

“Of course. Once you begin such a thing there is no stopping.”

“You've got guts, my man …”

“It is nothing. Now I am hungry.”

“Can I buy you breakfast?”

“Well, all right … I know just the place … Get into your car and follow me …”

“All right.”

I followed Jon through Hollywood, the light and the shadows of Alfred Hitchcock, Laurel and Hardy, Clark Gable, Gloria Swanson, Mickey Mouse and Humphrey Bogart, falling all around us.

—
H
OLLYWOOD

the wind blows hard tonight

and it's a cold wind

and I think about

the boys on the row.

I hope some of them have a bottle

of red.

it's when you're on the row

that you notice that

everything

is owned

and that there are locks on

everything
.

this is the way a democracy

works:

you get what you can,

try to keep that

and add to it

if possible.

this is the way a dictatorship

works too

only they either enslave or

destroy their

derelicts.

we just forget

ours.

in either case

it's a hard

cold

wind.

 

The shooting was to start in Culver City. The bar was there and the hotel with my room. The next part of the shooting was to be done in the Alvarado Street district, where the apartment of the female lead was located.

Then there was a bar to be used near 6th Street and Vermont. But the first shots were to be in Culver City.

Jon took us up to see the hotel. It looked authentic. The barflies lived there. The bar was downstairs. We stood and looked at it.

“How do you like it?” Jon asked.

“It's great. But I've lived in worse places.”

“I know,” said Sarah, “I've seen them.”

Then we walked up to the room.

“Here it is. Look familiar?”

It was painted grey as so many of those places were. The torn shades. The table and the chair. The refrigerator thick with coats of dirt. And the poor sagging bed.

“It's perfect, Jon. It's
the
room.”

I was a little sad that I wasn't young and doing it all over again, drinking and fighting and playing with words. When you're young you can really take a battering. Food didn't matter. What mattered was drinking and sitting at the machine. I must have been crazy but there are many kinds of crazy and some are quite delightful. I starved so that I could have time to write. That just isn't done much anymore. Looking at that table I saw myself sitting there again. I'd been crazy and I knew it and I didn't care.

“Let's go down and check the bar again …”

We went down. The barflies who were to be in the movie were sitting there. They were drinking.

“Come on, Sarah, let's grab a stool. See you later, Jon …”

The bartender introduced us to the barflies. There was Big Monster and Little Monster, The Creeper, Buffo, Doghead, Lady Lila, Free-stroke, Clara and others.

Sarah asked The Creeper what he was drinking. “It looks good,” she said.

“This is a Cape Cod, cranberry juice and vodka.”

“I'll have a Cape Cod,” Sarah told the barkeep, Cowboy Cal.

“Vodka seven,” I told the Cowboy.

We had a few. Big Monster told me a story about how they had all got in a fight with the cops. Quite interesting. And I knew by the way he told it that it was the truth.

Then there was lunch call for the actors and crew. The barflies just stayed in there.

“We'd better eat,” said Sarah.

We went out behind and to the east of the hotel. A large bench was set up. The extras, technicians, hands and so forth were already eating. The food looked good. Jon met us out there. We got our servings at the wagon and followed Jon down to the end of the table. As we walked along, Jon paused. There was a man eating by himself. Jon introduced us.

“This is Lance Edwards …”

Edwards gave a slight nod and went back to his steak.

We sat down at the end of the table. Edwards was one of the co-producers.

“This Edwards acts like a prick,” I said.

“Oh,” said Jon, “he's very bashful. He's one of the guys that Friedman was trying to get rid of.”

“Maybe Friedman was right.”

“Hank,” said Sarah, “you don't even know the man.”

I was working at my beer.

“Eat your food,” said Sarah.

Sarah was going to add ten years to my life, for better or worse.

“We are going to shoot a scene with Jack in the room. You ought to come watch it.”

“After we finish eating we're going back to the bar. When you're ready to shoot, have somebody come get us.”

“All right,” said Jon.

After we ate we walked around the other side of the hotel, checking it out. Jon was with us. There were several trailers parked along the street. We saw Jack's Rolls-Royce. And next to it was a large silver trailer. There was a sign on the door: JACK BLEDSOE.