Surfing Dude

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Surfing Dude Page 10

by Ed Nelson


  As I got ready to leave he presented me with a certificate which he had made up in advance celebrating my first solo flight.

  I couldn’t get home fast enough to share this with my family.

  It certainly was a more cheerful dinner than last night. Dad told us operation green stick was underway. Since Eddie had a green stick fracture, that had become the family code name for our revenge. We were under no illusions. This was revenge pure plain and simple.

  There was green stick school, the purchase of Tucker Academy, green stick elections to rid ourselves of the politicians, and green stick newspaper, the purchase of a competing paper and putting the local rag out of business.

  After dinner, I tore into my flight books with a renewed interest.

  Friday started with a good run through a slight misting rain. It was actually pleasant. It wasn’t one of those man oh man it pours. After breakfast, I decided to spend the morning on flight school and then go to my every Friday business update meeting.

  I had just settled in with my ground school books when Mary burst into my room. The door being open was probably the only reason that it remained on its hinges. Recently, she had become a high-energy kid. She wouldn’t walk if she could run. She wouldn’t run if she could ride her bike at breakneck speeds. I shuddered to think if she could drive.

  “Rick, Mum wants you to come to reception. You have a visitor at the gatehouse.”

  I stood up to go but she held up her hand for me to wait. She picked up my phone and apparently dialed security at the front gate.

  “Scott, this is Mary, what can you tell me about our recent arrival?

  “Oh, what is that?”

  “Okay what else?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Oh, okay, thanks.”

  Mary turned to me.

  “The man arrived in a car with a federal government license plate, but it is a pool car, so that is no help. He has a Virginia driver’s license. Scott says he doesn’t carry himself up tight like an FBI agent, so he is probably a spook. Since it is a Virginia license it is a good chance he is CIA.”

  “Squirt where and why did you learn to do this, and how do you know the names of the guards at the front gate?”

  “Mummy says that if possible you should know about new people coming into your life. You must know and be kind to your guards. They might save your life at the cost of their own.”

  I wondered what sort of girl Mum was raising.

  A quick glance in the mirror told me I was fairly presentable, so I headed downstairs to the front room we called the reception.

  When I entered there was Mum with a tall gentleman dressed in a suit and tie. His hat was on the table next to him. While I didn’t have that much experience with the FBI, he didn’t give off that aura. As a matter of fact, looking at him he was very bland. Must be a spook!

  Mum settled it quickly when she introduced me to Mr. Rip Robertson. He introduced himself in a soft Texas accent. While he held out his hand politely I had the impression that he didn’t care about meeting me, one way or the other.

  That impression was confirmed when he told me, “I have to train you to notice and be able to evade a tail. I don’t know why I was picked, but I want to get this done as soon as I can, so I can get back to my real work.”

  He wasn’t facing Mum when he made this statement, so he didn’t see her lips tighten.

  Robertson went on, “This will take every day next week, four hours a day. We will go from eight in the morning till noon. Be ready Monday.”

  Mums look had now turned to stone, but quickly changed to a smile as he turned to her.

  “Lady Jackson I don’t know what strings were pulled, but I will do the job and move on.”

  “I’m certain you will do a good job.”

  He nodded to her, and ignoring me, left. It was obvious he had never heard Mum talk before. When she told him he would do a good job it was not a compliment, it was an order.

  After he left she told me to be ready Monday, and that she had a few phone calls to make.

  I went back to my books, but it took a while for me to be able to concentrate. Spy Stuff! I did think to call the studio and let them know I wouldn’t be at the beach on Monday.

  Chapter 18

  After lunch, I drove down to my office. This time I had a key to the back door so it was easy to get in.

  There was a small crowd waiting. They had taken me up on my offer to have a meet and greet with their family and friends. Jim Williamson had talked to the studio, and they had a stack of pictures for me to sign and had sent a photographer along.

  It was a little awkward getting started. Despite many public appearances, I wasn’t used to walking into a roomful of strangers and meeting them. Jim helped a lot. He took me by the arm and introduced me to each worker. They in turn introduced me to their friends and family.

  We had half a dozen employees who had brought around four people each. This made for a group of thirty people. It took about half an hour for the introductions. While this was going on a dessert tray, along with a selection of soda pop, coffee and tea was unveiled.

  This gave people something to do as I met each group. The story about the tiger in the paper was an easy topic of conversation for all, that and what was my next movie. That made it a lot easier for me, I found quickly that people wanted to talk, but didn’t want to get personal with me. I was fine with that.

  After working my way around the room I sat at a desk with the pictures ready to autograph.

  Not that I really noticed, but there were several cute girls who looked the right age in the crowd. Actually, there were four of them, three brunets and one blonde. I would describe them as all as attractive and having good shapes. Not that I noticed.

  Three of the girls were standing in line together. They talked to each other, but spent a lot of time looking my way and flipping their hair. When their turn came each of them gushed at me. They were so thrilled to meet me. I was more handsome in person than on the screen.

  The girl’s in their own way let me know they were available for dates. Each of them in their own way totally put me off. I was polite and signed the pictures as they requested, but did not take any of the offers extended.

  While I was signing I noticed a cup of coffee had appeared on the table so I took a sip. Whoever did it knew I liked it black. It was a small cup, more like a tea cup rather than the large mugs I used so it went quickly. When it was empty, a small hand replaced it with another full cup.

  I glanced up, it was the fourth girl. She gave me a shy smile and turned away.

  After the signing which took almost an hour because not only were there requests from those present, they wanted others made out for family and friends who weren’t there.

  Next was the photography session. This was done with family groups and individuals. It took another hour. I didn’t know Sam Nielsen the photographer had been sent over, but he seemed to have his act together. He had a screen set up for us to stand in front of and lighting set up. It reminded me of how prom pictures were done.

  He had a note book and as each shot was taken, he would write down the name of the person at the office who would receive the pictures; once developed they would be returned to the office to be handed out. After that distribution to individuals was the responsibility of the office worker.

  When the three babbling nitwits as I thought of them, had their pictures taken I had to actually move their hands to prevent highly inappropriate pictures from being taken. The studio photographer saw what was going on and stopped the action and staged their shots.

  Afterwards, I thanked him for his help. He told me that it was a common problem with sessions like this. The last thing the studio wanted was salacious pictures to get out, at least ones that they wouldn’t profit from. That bit of cynicism made me laugh.

  As he was starting to put his equipment away I saw the young lady, who had been pouring my coffee standing in a corner by herself. I realized that sh
e had not had her picture taken with me.

  I asked the photographer to wait.

  I walked over to her and apologized first for not getting her name. She looked me in the eye and told me, “Emily Weeks,” As she did this she held out her hand and gave me a firm handshake. Why had I thought this girl shy?

  “Emily, you haven’t had a picture with me, would you like one.”

  “Not really, no disrespect, but I’m not a fan. Not that I dislike you, I just haven’t paid attention to your work, so I don’t see the point in one.”

  “Well I certainly won’t try to force one on you. May I ask, what does interest you?”

  “Right now, I am studying for my pilot’s license. I’m almost ready to start flying.”

  I think I’m in love. That started the conversation. I quickly found out that Emily is in the tenth grade and sixteen years old. She goes to Santa Ana High, which is south of LA near Disneyland. She plays the clarinet in the school marching band.

  Her aunt had invited her along, and she came as it got her out of school for the day, not that she cared about meeting me. After she said that she blushed.

  “That didn’t come out right, Rick.”

  “That’s okay I understand what you were saying.”

  We then proceeded to discuss our flying lessons, preferences in planes and why. She was happy right now with a high wing, single engine, while I was leaning towards a low wing with twin engines. We both agreed that tricycle landing gear was better than a tail dragger.

  We had been talking for about fifteen minutes when I remembered that there were other people here I should be talking to. Before I left her, I got her home phone number. She told me that her parents would let her take calls up to nine o’clock on school nights.

  As I was leaving her, she changed her mind about an autographed picture. She wanted it to show her friends that she had met me. I signed it to a fellow pilot.

  I rejoined Jim and finished making the rounds and talking to people. Jim made the comment.

  “That is a cute young lady you were talking to.”

  “Yeah, that is Emily Weeks, her aunt Alice works here.”

  “I know who she is Rick, from the time you spent with her I think our employee relations will be good there.”

  I blushed red.

  I muttered, “Doing my job.”

  He let me off the hook with that. I did make a point of talking to Alice Thompson. She was a little reserved with me, but was polite. The event wound down. Jim thought it was a great success with my employees. He did give me a five minute rundown on the financial end of things. Our burn rate of cash was not faster than our income. From that I took it that we were making money.

  I thanked him for all his efforts. I realized that he was acting more as the office manager than just an accountant. I made a mental note to discuss giving him a promotion. I needed to talk it over with Dad.

  After returning home I dug into my flight manuals with a renewed vigor. I needed to get my license.

  I did change the pace after dinner and did some school work. I was on track to finish the tenth grade by the New Year. I didn’t want to lose my momentum.

  Later in bed I read about the murder of a fetologist and was pleased with how Baley and Olivaw solved it.

  I had no plans or commitments for Saturday, so I planned on a lazy day. I started out with an easy five mile run and did all my exercises. After a shower and breakfast, I decided I should touch up my tan, so I headed to the elevator to go to the tower.

  When I got to the elevator the sign was out, so decided to go to the public basement and shoot pool. When I went into the room there were five little girls with hula hoops. My plans for the day changed once again, and I took a drive down to the pier at Santa Monica. I tried not to picture Mum up on the tower, now Anna and Sharon were a different story.

  I kicked around at the pier, but couldn’t get interested in anything so went back home. In my room, I noticed a note on my dresser. It was Emily Weeks phone number which I had dropped there when I emptied my pockets.

  On a whim, I called her home. After identifying myself to her mother, I was allowed to speak to Emily. We told each other how much we enjoyed our meeting. She made the comment it would be nice to see me again.

  Now I am as dense as any other teenage boy, but some signals can’t be missed.

  “Emily would you like to go out next Friday?”

  I won’t say squeal, but there was pleased excitement in her, “Yes!”

  She immediately calmed down and let me know that she was only allowed on a car date on a double date and that her curfew on weekends was eleven o’clock.

  That works for me. Do you know another couple we could double date with? I asked her that because the only person I knew to ask would be Sharon Bronson. First of all, it would be too childish for Sharon, and second Emily’s parents would have kittens.

  Fortunately, Emily’s best friend would be able to go. We agreed on a dinner date and movie, dinner being a hamburger place and then a movie. I told her it would be my treat for everyone.

  Later that night I thought to tell Mum and Dad that I had a date next Friday. Now I had been living in California on my own, was in business, and basically used to living my own life, so didn’t think it would be a big deal.

  Before the questions ended I was just glad Mum hadn’t got out the rubber hoses which I was certain she had hidden somewhere.

  They weren’t upset or anything. This was just a new departure for me and they wanted to know as much as they could. Out of nowhere Mary announced she could always drink hot chocolate.

  That answered that question. Mum did have the grace to look away for a moment. I winked at Mary, who giggled.

  Then I was back to my studies, as Dad said, “No rest for the wicked.”

  Chapter 19

  Monday after my run and exercises I contacted the studio to let them know that I would be missing in action from the beach. I also made the point that I would work at home on keeping my tan. I also asked them to pass a message to the stunt yard that I had a change of plans, but should be in next week.

  I was dressed and waiting at the front entrance for Mr. Robertson who was punctual. We went downtown LA and he proceeded to teach me how to spot a tail. The biggest trick was to look behind you without it being noticeable that you were looking. This meant using every reflective surface possible and being unobtrusive when turning around.

  This was combined with looking at who was behind you and remembering them for second looks. This part was the hardest for me. I hadn’t realized how little I really looked at my surroundings. He called this situational awareness. While training me, he was rather focused and a little short tempered as he dropped into an instructor mode.

  I couldn’t believe how mentally tired I was when he dropped me off at Jackson House.

  His parting words were, “There will be a real tail tomorrow so you must pay attention. Though I think teaching you is a waste of my time.”

  That statement certainly made me feel better. I must really be wasting this man’s time for him to have such an attitude.

  After lunch, I went up to the tower and thankfully there were no signs posted so I sunbathed for an hour to keep toned up. I then drove over to the studio to see if anything was going on. I was no sooner in the stunt area than I was drafted into being an extra in a movie. They needed someone my height to be a Roman soldier. It was that or a shorter guy stand on a box, which they could do, but part of the scene was marching the prisoner along and it would take a while to set up.

  Last week I spent five minutes getting into costume and ten minutes in makeup. This time it was almost no time getting dressed and five minutes in makeup. The scene took all of ten minutes to shoot. I asked why they were a person short. The director’s assistant pointed to a corner where a drunk was sleeping it off.

  “He was celebrating his career in movies. This was his first and now last opportunity.”

  I was heading back to costume
to disrobe when an office boy found me.

  “Mr. Monroe heard you were here. He wants you in his office right now.”

  “Give me a minute to change.”

  “He told me right now, so change later.”

  We headed over to Mr. Monroe’s office. His secretary Donna told me to go right in.

  As I went past her I heard, “I always like a man in uniform.”

  I looked back to see a smirk.

  When I entered the office Mr. Monroe looked up. From the startled look on his face you could tell he had not been expecting me to be in costume.

  “Aren’t we paying you enough Rick?”

  “Yes Sir, I mean you are paying me enough. They were short an extra so I filled in. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even sign the paperwork to get the standard day rate.”

  “Do that before you leave or you will never see the money, you know how those studios are. Why didn’t you change before you came over?”

  “The guy you sent wouldn’t let me take the time.”

  He shook his head at that.

  “I asked him to ask you to stop by before you left. These young kids get so wrapped up in things and don’t listen.”

  “You realize that young kid is probably ten years older than I am?”

  “He may be older in years, but that’s it. I need to hire more mature people. Anyway, I asked you to stop by because the team would like to invite you to their next presentation a week from Friday at three in the afternoon. They have fully implemented the core team concept you helped them develop.”

  “I know you really developed it, and then led them to discovering the concept themselves. You know I can never repay you for that. They have blossomed as a team. It is all coming together. I can tell you this we now have recovered from the financial losses caused by having to sell our theaters. It has put us ahead of the competition.

  “Not that the competition are dummies. Rick, you may have single handedly saved the movie industry, or at least given us a business model that works.”

 

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