Black

Chapter 6

"It was last Thursday night, and it was going off, you know? Probably about midnight, and I was hanging out, chatting up some of the talent...and then I met these two guys and a girl. Preacher, Kevin, and Shelby. Shelby's stone hot, even by Hollywood standards. I mean, a full on big screen ten. Anyway, she and I start rapping, and it turns out she's going to be in a movie the two guys are producing. Low budget, but we had some drinks, and they explained their racket - they do an action or exploitation-type flick, make it for peanuts, put in some hotties who are willing to run around in bikinis or topless in exchange for the exposure, and sell it direct to DVD in foreign markets. Costs them sixty to a hundred grand, and they make four to five hundred. Investors get their money back up front from the first dollar, and then they get fifty cents of each profit dollar."

"I guess it's possible. Anything in this town's possible."

"Anyway, Shelby is telling me all this, because she's super excited because she's going to be one of the lead girls."

"What's the movie called?"

"The working title was Vampire Ho's from the Hood. Apparently vampires are hot, so a flick like that's easier to sell right out of the box. Anyway, everyone knows it's cheesy, but it's all about selling it to Korea or Malaysia or wherever, not producing Gone with the Wind."

"Classy. Sort of sings. Especially given that it's from the hood. Nice twist," Black deadpanned.

"Apparently since Twilight...look, let's not debate the merits of the movie, okay? Point is that it's a racket, and they've made something like a dozen of these films before, and they've all made a nice profit, even if they're junk."

"And you know this because...?

"I hooked up with Shelby that night."

"Really. It was an irresistible compulsion on both your parts?" Black asked. "Or did you feel like you'd won the lottery - that she was that far out of your league?"

"I guess more the second one. I mean, she was beyond a ten."

"Fine. So young love found its way. Did you go to her place?"

"No. I rented a motel. I couldn't bring her here."

"Of course not. Trust me, the Paradise Palms doesn't get the ladies squirming when they see it." Black looked over at Gracie. "No offense."

"None taken," Gracie said with a toast of her half-drained glass, her eyes now on the TV, where the horses had given way to a honey badger on a rampage.

"Anyway, after...we got to talking some, and it turns out that they only need ten more grand to be fully funded and go into production, and they had their final investor who had committed to that, and then got hit by a car or something. So there was a slot."

"Jared. Do you have ten thousand dollars to gamble on one of the most speculative plays aside from Russian roulette?"

"Of course not. And I told her that. I told her I only had five."

"The last honest man."

"Look, it's such a sure thing that she offered to put up the other five."

"Did she. I never saw that coming," Black said. He wished he'd taken Gracie up on her offer. "Let me guess. She was able to put together a meeting with you and the boys, they had a very professional looking contract with all kinds of legal mumbo-jumbo, and you, still flush with the chance of doubling or tripling your money, maybe with an associate producer credit, and of banging Shelby like a bongo at a jazz jam, signed and handed over your cash."

Jared nodded, his look bleak.

"And now she's not taking your calls, is she?" Black prodded.

"No. She said she had to go out of town for a week or two before shooting to see her aunt. Someplace in Louisiana. She's sick. But she hasn't picked up. It just rings."