by Sophie Lee
Alice sat up and rested against her suitcase. She swallowed, blew her nose, found a Band-Aid for her calf in the top flap of her luggage, and reached for her satchel.
First up, she'd pay her parking fines. She plucked them from the bottom of her bag and smoothed them out on top of her luggage. She knew she had just enough in her credit card to cover the money owing. Alice dialled the number listed on the back of the ticket, followed the prompts and paid both fines.
It was time for food. Alice opened her suitcase and withdrew a few items without disturbing the orderly piles. She slid into her favourite pair of men's Levis and a stripey T-shirt, stuffed her feet into her Ugg boots, pulled her hair in a ponytail and placed her phone in her satchel. She was dimly aware it had been ringing when she'd been crashing about like a leopard seal on the floor. How long had she been crying? She scrolled through the phone log, and unable to recognise the number, deleted the record of all four calls.
Alice decided to obey her pressing need for waffles and maple syrup, freshly squeezed juice and coffee.
20
Imagine her surprise when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the name 'Alice'!
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
As Alice descended the back steps, she marvelled at the LA weather. It somehow managed to be both warm and crisp and made her senses tingle. She could feel her life-force stretch out like a jungle cat. The sky above was blue, endlessly so, and full of promise. Alice reached into her bag for her car keys and was surprised to see a well-dressed older man standing at the bottom of the steps when she looked up.
'Alice?' he asked. 'Alice Evans?'
Alice stopped on the third to bottom step, clutching her keys. She recognised his face but could not place him.
'Yes?' she asked, standing perfectly still. Surprisingly, her voice sounded confident and clear. 'Can I help you?'
'I hope so,' the man replied. He looked out of place in the grubby carpark. 'I hope I'm not intruding,' he continued, withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his fingertips. 'Your manager gave me your cell number and address, but only because she knows me. Well, most people in the industry do, you know. I've been calling you since I got it, but there's been no answer, so I thought I'd come over. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I wasn't sure if you'd still be here.'
'I see,' said Alice. She stayed exactly where she was.
'Are you leaving? Can we sit down for a moment?' He looked around him with an expression of distaste he was trying hard to mask, 'I'd really like to talk to you.' He was a wiry man in his late forties who spoke fast and looked as though he had endless reserves of energy. He wore a natty blue blazer with gold buttons and expensive-looking loafers. His hair was almost certainly blow-dried and his nose twitched as he spoke. He looked like a Jewish version of the White Rabbit.
'I'm Elijah Schwartzman,' he said, finally introducing himself, 'We've already met. At the Lithium audition yesterday?'
'Of course.' Alice's heart thumped once as though an obstruction had passed through it from one ventricle to another. She willed herself to keep her gaze steady, and not to look down in shame. 'Are they going to arrest me for audition crimes?'
Elijah laughed – a series of staccato bleats. 'Audition crimes! No, no, they are not.' He smiled. 'Where are you going, Alice?'
'To find waffles,' she said simply. 'They are the single most important thing I can think of at this moment.'
'Huh. And where were you recommended?'
'I thought I saw a place over on La Brea.'
'Oh no, you can't go there,' he said quickly. 'Look, I know a place. They make the best waffles in the whole of LA. Trust me.' He looked at his watch. 'Now, I know you're a smart girl, and you're not going to get in my car just like that. Why would you, right?'
'Right,' agreed Alice. She shifted from one foot to the other.
Elijah continued. 'So why don't you follow me in your own car? We can have waffles and coffee, whatever else you want, and we can talk. I have something I want to discuss with you. It's a matter of business.'
Alice considered his proposal. This had to be something to do with yesterday. She clamped down her nerves. 'Did Conrad send you?' she asked.
Elijah snorted. 'Definitely not. I don't get dispatched on errands by directors. That's what PAs are for. I believe you called Conrad's a "poof" yesterday.' He pronounced the 'oo' as 'ew'.
'That was very wrong of me. And politically incorrect. Especially in this most puritanical of social climates,' admitted Alice.
Elijah shrugged his shoulders. 'We can't say and do the right things all the time, can we?'
'I can't seem to,' mumbled Alice. She managed a smile, though the pain provoked by recent events was still fresh.
Elijah waited for a response to his request.
'Well, that should be fine,' she said, cautiously taking the last three steps down to the carpark. 'I'll follow behind. What type of car have you got?'
'A Toyota Prius. White, parked out front on the street. I'll wait for you to . . . What?'
'Nothing,' Alice smiled. I just didn't see you as a Prius man . . . I guess I thought you'd be driving a . . . I dunno, a Porsche Cayenne or something.'
Elijah grinned uncomfortably. 'You got me,' he conceded, playfully miming a handgun with his right hand. 'I do have one of those as well, but I thought I'd have a better chance of appealing to your good nature by bringing the Prius,' he explained. 'What a chump, huh!' he laughed, revealing a crowded mouth of shiny white teeth. He looked at his watch.
Alice smiled back, still mystified as to why he was suggesting a meeting.
'I'll follow you then, Mr Schwartzman,' she said. 'My Daewoo behind your Prius. But I have a flight to book and other things to organise quite soon so these waffles had better be good.'
'Trust me,' he reassured her, scurrying down the driveway to his vehicle.
Alice and Elijah stood together at the entrance to an upmarket diner in Century City. It was adjoined to a gigantic mall complete with cinema complex and supermarket. The room was large and bright, had a parquetry floor and massive windows that framed a view of the surrounding streets. Traffic whizzed past under the sun's glare. The tabletops gleamed and hordes of efficient waiters moved skilfully amongst the wealthy clientele. The floor manager had seemed to recognise Elijah immediately and made a fuss of showing them to a privileged corner booth.
'Sit,' he commanded, and gesticulated at a waitress.
Alice sat and perused the gleaming laminated menu. It was overflowing with possibilities. 'Um . . .' she began.
'Can I order for you Alice?' Elijah suggested, turning to the waitress. 'She'll have the American waffle special with honeycomb butter, sunrise juice and coffee. Okay, Alice? Did you want a side order of bacon with your waffles?'
'Oh no, I don't eat the pig,' she replied. 'And a latte would be great,' she said to the waitress. This place was a million miles from Duke's on Sunset.
'The usual, for me,' said Elijah. 'Jewish?' he asked Alice.
'Catholic. I just like pigs way too much to eat them.'
The waitress moved hastily to recover the menus.
'So,' he said, gesturing around him. 'You like it here? It's an institution, this place.'
'It's lovely,' said Alice, 'great.' She shifted in her booth seat. She was beginning to feel pins and needles from restrained curiosity.
Elijah seemed to read her mind. He cleared his throat and began to speak so fast, Alice wondered when he found time to breathe.
'As you know, my name is Elijah Schwartzman,' he began. 'I am one of several co-producers on Lithium but I also head up a company called Flash Entertainment. We have a number of scripts in development, and I am always on the lookout for great pitch ideas to take to the biggies.'
'Biggies?' interjected Alice, feeling as though she were in danger of de-railing a freight train.
Elijah paused briefly before replying. 'Paramount, Touchstone, New Line – a
nd those are just some of them. I basically have contacts everywhere. Anyway, I sometimes discover a real-life tale, in the newspaper, on the internet for example, mould it into a great bite-sized story nugget and pitch it as a script idea. If I have an interested party, they will pay me for the rights to option this idea and from there it goes into development.' He paused and took a sip of water. 'Or development hell,' he laughed, putting down his drink.
'I see,' said Alice, feeling thoroughly confused.
'Now, believe me, I am real sorry.'
'About what?'
'About your dad and his prostate.' He shook his head. 'I went through the same thing with my dad fifteen years ago, and I remember it clear as day. Thing is,' he paused momentarily, fixing his gaze on her and speaking louder, 'that was one hell of a pitch in there, young lady.' He laughed staccato-style again. 'I mean, your audition was a disaster, but that story you told?' He whistled appreciatively. 'I could visualise the entire thing.' He lifted the glass of water to his lips then set it down without taking a sip. He leaned forward. 'Your struggle to triumph over adversity . . . working opposite a talking horse, taking on some terrible contemporary theatre show off-off Broadway instead of a role in a science fiction breakaway success . . . by the way, please tell me it wasn't the lead you turned down. Starmap 3000 is going to be a gigantic ratings winner . . .'
Alice winced. 'It was,' she said quietly.
'That blows.' Elijah continued. 'Living with your parents in some terrible backwater . . . working in a cake shop with an adorable smudge of flour on the end of your nose. It's Bridget Jones's Diary meets Waiting for Guffman . . . with profiteroles!'
'Oh,' said Alice. She did not have the heart to tell him that they didn't stock profiteroles at the Tasty-Time Cake Shop.
He glanced at his notebook and smiled. 'I mean, Citrus Days of the Marzipan Pig?' He emphasised every word and laughed again. 'Huh? The empty theatre seats, the heartbreak, trying to recover the budget . . . coming to LA and being ambushed by cats. It's gold, and let's face it, Aussies are hotter than hot right now.'
Alice's coffee arrived and she picked up her teaspoon and clutched it to her chest in confusion.
'Look,' he continued, 'I'm pretty sure I could package up the whole thing and sell it. Furthermore, I'm confident I could get you somewhere in the region of ten thousand dollars when we do, with more to come when the movie actually gets made. And I have no doubt it will. So Alice, my question to you is . . . would you be interested in selling me the story?' He twitched, sat back in his chair and waited for her response.
Alice was aware her mouth had dropped open. She closed it and swallowed. 'Ten thousand dollars,' she gasped in amazement.
'We got the whole story on tape. I made sure of it,' he said.
'You are serious?' she asked.
'Deadly,' he answered, smiling.
Alice sat back and took in the grandeur of the Century City diner. It suddenly dawned on her that this was her first bona fide 'meeting' in Hollywood. She was about to accept his offer outright when she had an idea. She paused for a moment to think how she would suggest it, then sat forward and took a deep breath.
'Elijah, thank you very much for your proposal,' she began, placing the teaspoon carefully on her saucer. 'But could I just say that I'd love to be a bigger part of the process.'
He leaned back in the booth. 'Oh, boy, you want to play yourself in the movie? I won't bullshit you. That could be tricky because they would have to . . .'
'No,' said Alice firmly. 'I would not like a part in the movie.' She paused. 'Elijah, I'd like to assist you in developing the script idea, rather then completely signing it over. Do you think that would be possible?'
Alice was aware she was putting the offer in jeopardy and held her breath, waiting for his response. She held her gaze steady and hoped she looked calm.
Elijah hesitated for a moment, and then looked again at his watch. 'You got a writing background?'
Fuck it, thought Alice, jumping in the deep end. 'I've written a one-woman show, and I have some other projects in development back home,' she answered.
'Really?' He seemed to mull it over. 'Well,' he began, 'it wasn't the way I saw the deal being structured but it could work, I suppose. We'd need to put something in the contract and your up-front fee might be marginally less. You're represented by Amoeba, right?'
'Actually, I'm not. I am currently seeking representation,' Alice replied, flinching.
'Oh, I can help you with that,' Elijah assured her, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. 'Let me introduce you to some people. You need a cutting-edge writer's agent. Like Endeavour or Gersch.'
'That would be much appreciated,' Alice replied. An agent!
'It's easy, I'm telling you, I know everyone in this town,' said Elijah, raising an eyebrow. His blow-dried hairstyle shone under the eatery's chandelier.
'I believe you,' she replied, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. She pinched her thigh to make sure this was real. 'Shake?' she offered, sticking out her right hand.
He took her hand and shook it with his. His grip was cool and smooth, like a surgeon's.
'Before you make your travel plans, let me get back. I'll have something in writing for you at the end of the day, Alice. I just need your contact details, and to set up a meeting with you sooner rather than later, if that's okay with you? Once that's done I can arrange some meetings for you at those agencies I mentioned. Introduce you to some of the right people.'
Alice felt she was looking upward, seeing light at the top of a very dark well. 'Thank you, that's very kind.' She took a sip of velvety coffee and set down her cup. 'What would you call this story? My story?' she asked, stirring in more sugar for good measure.
Her waffles arrived on a porcelain plate of splendid proportions. Elijah's phone started ringing.
'Oh, that's a no-brainer,' he replied, pulling his Vertu cell phone out of his pocket. 'Alice in La La Land. I think they call that inter-textuality.' He smiled proudly at her breakfast. 'Please begin, will you excuse me? That's my wife on the line.' He rolled his eyes. 'We're in the process of organising a bat mitzvah for our eldest.'
'Not at all,' said Alice. She lifted a mouthful of American waffle in honeycomb butter to her lips. It was so good she began to hum.
By way of celebration, Alice treated herself to popcorn and a movie in Century City. She bought large sticking plasters at a drugstore and returned home to investigate return flights to Sydney. She decided that once her contract was signed and she had met with these potential agents, she would spend some time with her father, returning to LA later.
Alice skipped down the hallway to the office and dialled Auntie Bev's. Her father answered.
'Dad!' cried Alice. 'I expected Bev to answer.'
'She and your mother are out, love.' He sounded relieved.
'How are you feeling, Dad? How was the new doctor?'
'He was great, Alice. We've decided to go ahead with him. The operation is scheduled in a month's time, so we're heading back to Wollongong tomorrow.'
'A month, huh? Well, that's interesting.'
'Why's that?'
'I think I may be able to repay you by then.'
'Alice,' growled her father, 'I told your mother not to . . .'
'I know, I'm sorry, Dad, but I'm so thrilled to be able to give you back the money, so just don't rouse on me, okay?'
Alice could hear him grumbling.
'So they finally woke up to themselves and gave you a job, did they?' he asked.
'Sort of, Dad, but it's a different sort of job and I couldn't be happier.'
Alice could hear her dad fidgeting on the other end of the phone. 'Christ, they're back. They're on their way through the front door,' he said. 'That's brilliant, love. I'm very proud, you know that.'
'I'm coming home to see you for a week or two, Dad. Once I've signed a contract.'
'Oh, now that's the best thing I've heard in weeks. That's bloody brilliant! Let me get your mum!'
Alice heard the ensuing scuffle while she imagined grocery parcels of mutton and mango raining down around her father.
She could hear him explaining, 'It's Alice, love. She's got some good news.'
'Darling?' said her mum. 'What's happened?'
That night, long after Alice had fallen asleep in her blue-and-white-striped pyjamas, there was a knock on the wall.
'Uh, Alice, are you awake? There's something goin' down with those cats.'
Alice roused herself and listened for feline chaos. Sure enough, she could hear sound of a cat disaster coming from the bathroom.
'Shauna, you're back. I missed you, homie,' she mumbled sleepily, sitting up in bed. 'Now, I don't mean to speak out of turn here, but did you do something to them? It sounds as if they're drowning in the bath.'
Shauna giggled. 'Uh-huh, well, not on purpose or anything, but I shut the door on 'em when I found 'em in there. For God's sake, one of them was peeing in my makeup kit. I swear!'
Alice listened. 'Okay, but why are they in there with the shower running?' she asked.
'Uh, it's called teaching the little fuckers a lesson. I had about two hundred dollars worth of brand new limited-edition Christian Dior makeup in my case and that shit ain't cheap, so maybe they can take a little sauna and have a think about that.'
'I see,' said Alice.
'Uh, Alice, don't worry. Go back to sleep, I'll let 'em out in a half-hour. That should scare the bollocks off 'em. Night.'
'Night, Shauna.'
Alice yawned and hugged a pillow to her chest. The events of the last twenty-four hours tumbled about inside her as if in a front-loading washing machine. Her sense of relief fed every last blood cell and allowed her to finally get some perspective on the past few weeks.