“It ain’t gonna fuckin’ happen, okay?”
I glare at Mickey and cross my legs. He’s sitting behind his oversized desk and the thing makes him look like a fucking balding child. I want to get up and rip that stupid geometric tie off his smug neck but I know I still need him, despite being pissed with him.
“Did you talk with Franklin directly?” I ask him.
“Jackson, baby, listen to me: I fucking tried, okay? I called Franklin, I called Harold, hell, I even called fucking Holly’s agent, Dick, and that guy seriously is a fucking dick, you know?”
I groan a little and adjust myself on his cheap couch. “So it’s not happening,” I say.
“It’s not happening,” he says, and he seems genuinely sorry about it. “Look, I want everything for you. You’re a good kid, you work hard, it’s no bullshit with you. But unfortunately here, you have to play the game, and the game wants you to fake date Holly Hart.”
I glance over at the window and I know this isn’t going to get me anywhere. Mickey wanted this from the start, but I do believe that he’s trying to get me out of it. Mickey hasn’t lied to me before, and I don’t think he’d start now.
The door opens and Von steps in. Mickey looks up and curses. “Not right now,” he says.
Von smiles sweetly. “Iced tea for Mr. Hendricks.”
“Thanks,” I grunt as he hands me the drink.
“Did he ask for it?” Mickey shouts.
“No,” Von says.
“But it’s really good,” I say, taking a sip.
“Damnit, Von,” Mickey says, and he’s already starting to get a little red.
Von grins at me. “I think you should do whatever you want, and ignore this old blowhard’s advice.”
“I’m going to fire your ass,” Mickey screams, and Von laughs as he leaves the room.
I grin at Mickey. “That kid loves fucking with you.”
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Yeah, well, if he were smart he’d be kissing my ass instead.”
“I think he’s right though.” I stand up and put the drink down on Mickey’s desk. He instantly shuffles some papers around and tries to find a coaster for it. “I’m going to figure this out on my own.”
“Jackson, hold on, wait.”
I turn and go to leave, and Mickey is too busy trying to get a coaster under the drink to stop me. He cares more about his precious little desk, which doesn’t surprise me at all. That’s this whole fucking town in a nutshell: all flash, no substance.
But I have substance. And I know what I need to do.
Outside, I get into my car and start driving. I call up Mickey’s office and Von answers on the first ring. “Mickey Rains,” he says.
“Von, it’s Jackson.”
“Didn’t I just see you?” he asks me.
“Listen, what’s Franklin’s home address?”
He hesitates a second. “That old studio guy?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Mickey would kill me if I told you.”
“Isn’t that a good reason to do it then?”
He laughs a little. “Yeah, okay. But seriously, Jackson, you should take Mickey’s advice. He knows what he’s doing.”
“I know,” I say. “Address, please.”
“Just a sec.” He taps at his computer for a minute before reading me an address. It’s in a really nice part of town, which isn’t surprising.
“Thanks, I owe you one.” I hang up and plug the address into my GPS before taking off even faster.
My plan is pretty half-baked, but I hate waiting around for Mickey to make something happen. Clearly that’s not working, and I have something good with Tara, or at least I might. This new picture in the tabloids isn’t helping anything, but I think I convinced her that it’s all bullshit.
At least I hope so. Tara doesn’t seem like everyone else out here. I don’t think Hollywood has contaminated her like it has everyone else. She seems more interested in getting her work done and doing a good job than she does in networking and pretending to be everyone’s best friend. There are other people like her out here, of course, but they’re few and far between. The longer I’m here doing movies, the longer I realize that I hate Hollywood.
It has a stink to it. Everything reeks of plastic and cleaning agents. It’s all too smooth and perfect, but I know that’s just the image they want you to see. People out here are all façade and show, but there’s nothing underneath propping it all up.
Which is why I think I can convince this studio guy. He’s probably not used to an actor actually standing up for himself and demanding something. Sure, actors want little stupid perks, but when it comes to the big stuff, they always roll over and do what their master wants.