Until It's Time To Go

by Connie Bailey

  “So write it… but not until after you’ve finished my script.”

  Isaac glanced into Tony’s cup. “Would you like me to warm that up?” he asked as he picked up a bottle of cognac from the seat beside him.

  “No thanks, mate,” Tony said. “Had a spot of trouble in that area. Trying to stay out of it.”

  “I hear you.” Isaac poured a dollop into his coffee. “It oils my wheels.”

  “Why don’t I piss off and let you flesh out some of the things we discussed?”

  “Suits me. I’ll try and get the first scene hammered out. Hang on. What’s Lord Henry’s role?”

  “I feel like a real duffer forgetting him.”

  “Could we make him a top editor at some fictitious and excruciatingly influential fashion magazine?”

  “Oh God, yes. Make him as snooty and cutting as you like.”

  “I’m thinking I’ll model him on Oscar Wilde himself.”

  “I like it. Can’t wait to see what you come up with. We don’t want to merely bring the language up to date. I want you to recreate Dorian for a modern audience.”

  “I’ll do my best. And if this works, we can move on to Macbeth.”

  Tony laughed as he opened the door and stepped out. “After this film, they’ll either let us do anything we want, or we’ll never work in this town again.”

  Isaac shook his head as the door closed. Punkin sat up and glared at the noise. “The first day’s almost half over, Creature,” Isaac said. “And no one’s died yet.”

  The cat blinked and flopped back down onto his side. The laptop bounced a little, and Isaac put a hand on it. “Diet,” he said. “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter 2

  “ISAAC! There you are!” Tony called out.

  Isaac dropped the jelly doughnut and turned to see Tony coming toward him. He’d intentionally chosen a time when he calculated the craft table would be deserted, hoping to fill a plate with snacks and scurry back to the RV. The writing was going well, and only the intense pangs of hunger had driven him away from the keyboard.

  “Isaac—”

  “Don’t talk to me.” Isaac picked up his plate and moved away.

  “Hold it,” Tony said. “This is important.”

  “Does it concern my money?”

  “No, but—”

  “I don’t want to lose my train of thought. Tell me later.”

  “I’ll burst.”

  “I don’t care.” Isaac walked around Tony.

  “Colby Lightner wants the part of Dorian!”

  Isaac turned around. “This had better be a joke.”

  “A joke? I tell you the hottest young actor in Hollywood wants to do our film, and you call it a joke? I say break out the bubbly.”

  “I thought we were on the same page.”

  “We are.”

  “Then how could you even for one second consider hiring someone like Colby Lightner? He’s everything that’s wrong with Hollywood.”

  “Oh, come on now. I can’t take credit for everything.” A young man of average height and way above average looks stopped beside Tony and Isaac.

  “Colby!” Tony said. “I’m Tony Kendall. I spoke to you on the phone.”

  “Yeah, I remember. It was just a half hour ago.”

  “I didn’t expect you to drop by so soon.”

  “I don’t want impose myself, yeah? But I wouldn’t mind having a look around. I was fascinated as soon as I heard you were shooting at Haley House.”

  While Tony and Colby one-upped each other with their vast knowledge of architecture, Isaac studied the actor he’d seen so many times in film and photos. Colby Lightner looked exactly like himself, just a little shorter than Isaac had expected. He was Boho chic in tight black jeans, a fitted T-shirt, and a gray sweater that was coming unraveled in several spots. It was the sort of fashion statement that said, “I’m so hot, I make anything look good.” His blond hair was shaggy at the edges where it brushed the tops of his ears and his collar. With his enamel-blue eyes, small nose, and Cupid’s bow lips, he looked like Tom Sawyer as a college freshman. However, the gleam in his straightforward gaze said he wasn’t as innocent as he looked.

  Isaac knew James Colby Lightner was twenty-six, once divorced, a former child star, and a party animal. He knew these things because it was impossible not to know them, thanks to the entertainment media monster constantly bellowing factoids. “Colby Lightner is Moviemax Magazine’s Sexiest Man on the Planet!” “Indie Princess Prudence Hall Says Colby Lightner is a Good Kisser!” “Superstar Colby Lightner Saves Puppy from Landslide in Private Helicopter!” It was enough to activate anyone’s gag reflex.

  Despite Isaac’s contempt, he couldn’t deny that Colby was an inordinately attractive young man. And he was a young man with the emphasis on young. Isaac’s memory reminded him that Colby was the same age Steve was when they’d met. This fact did nothing to sweeten Isaac’s outlook.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late,” Lewis said as he joined the group. “Had a hell of a time finding a place to park. A couple of old folks out for a stroll gave me the evil eye.”

  “Not everyone in the neighborhood is thrilled to have a film crew hanging around,” Tony said.

  “Hey, Isaac!” Lewis held out his hand, glanced at the plate and soda can in Isaac’s hands, and patted him on the shoulder. He chuckled at Isaac’s blank look. “I’m here to look after Colby’s interests.”

  “So your agency handles Colby Lightner?” Isaac replied.

  “Yeah, ever since he broke away from his old management—also known as Mom and Dad.”

  Even in his cave, Isaac had heard about Colby “divorcing” his parents. At seventeen, Colby learned that his mother and stepfather had spent almost all of his earnings, and he severed all ties with them. Their first act was to have a press conference where they tearfully begged Colby to come home while alluding to the ingratitude of children today. The tabloids portrayed Colby as a spoiled, greedy brat who didn’t care about anything but having a good time. They stalked him and printed pictures of him caught in midblink as evidence of drunkenness. It was brutal. When the truth came out in court, the tabloid media were strangely silent… for a while, anyway. At any rate, the smear campaign had little, if any, effect on Colby’s popularity. The millions of fans of his long-running Disney Network show were loyal and not the sort to get their news from the National Enquirer. And uncharacteristically, the network execs stood by their star instead of firing him.

  “You should sign with me again,” Lewis said. “I’ll make you famous.”

  “Sounds horrible. If you’ll all excuse me?” Isaac held up his plate. “I’m starving.”

  “I was looking forward to talking to you,” Colby said. “Another time, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Isaac was annoyed by how annoyed he was by the actor’s verbal tic of ending sentences with an interrogative affirmative. After all, he’d had plenty of affectations when he was Colby’s age. Maybe that’s why it bothered him so much. “Later.” As he walked away, he heard Tony say his name, but he didn’t stop walking.

  “Isaac’s not comfortable in a group,” the director said. “He has that social anxiety thing. Hell of a writer, though.”

  “My acting coach really liked The One-Eyed King,” Colby said. “I thought it was kind of… pretentious, yeah? But I love Quarter of Nothing. The dialogue is just so fucking… raw.”

  “Too bad it didn’t find a market,” Lewis said. “That really surprised me, considering the amount of sex in it. I think every character had sex with all the other characters at least once.”

  “It was my first grown-up movie,” Colby said. “My parents were really strict about what I watched. Anyway, that movie blew me away. I don’t know how many times I watched it.”

  “Such a pity the director faded out of sight,” Tony said. “Not many women are willing to be that in-your-face.”

  “Tell me about it,” Colby said, drawing a laugh from the other two men. “Say, do you think you could arrange for
me to talk to Isaac?”

  “You mean right now?” Tony asked. “I don’t know. He’s one of those broody types. Gets all bent if you disturb him when he’s working.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Colby said. “Could you just call him and see what the sitch is? Maybe he’s on a break.”

  “I guess he can’t type and eat at the same time,” Tony said. “Hold on.” Pulling out his phone, the director turned away from Lewis and Colby. “Come with me,” he said when he hung up. “Isaac says he can give you a few minutes.”

  “Lots of people would pay lots of money for a few minutes with Colby,” Lewis pointed out. “But I’m familiar with Isaac. He’s one of the few people I know who truly doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks about him.”

  “I like that in a person,” Colby said.

  Tony, Colby, and Lewis walked around the side of the three-story glass and concrete building to the large back lot. At one end of a two-story garage, three small motor homes were parked side by side. Tony knocked on the door of the one closest to the building.

  Isaac opened the door. “Just you,” he said, pointing at Colby.

  “See you later,” Lewis said. “Call when you need the car.”

  Colby stepped into the RV, and Isaac shut the door.

  “Sit anywhere you like,” Isaac said. “Want water or something?”

  “I’m fine. It’s a real pleasure to meet you, by the way.”

  “I assume you heard my remark about you.”

  Colby’s eyes widened for a split second, and then he chuckled. “I was going to ignore it.”

  “Why don’t we just be honest with each other instead?”

  “Because you’ll probably hurt my feelings?”

  Isaac ruthlessly snuffed the spark of liking that warmed his chest for a moment. “I don’t know you, but what I know about you, I don’t like. You’re real cute, and I’m sure you’re a charmer, but I’m not buying what you’re selling, okay?”

  “Fair enough. So tell me, did an actor fuck your wife or steal your dog or vice versa?”

  “I’m gay, and I have a cat.”

  “Another epic fail for Colby-Wan,” the actor said. “Do you think there’s anything I could say that wouldn’t offend you?”

  “It’s a real long shot, but you’re welcome to try.”

  “Why don’t we talk about Dorian?”

  “Fine.”

  “First, I’m wondering if you’re going to keep the homoerotic elements of the source material.”

  “Damn right, and nothing you can say will change that. If it bothers you, you can quit.”

  “Actually, I’m looking forward to doing something outside my usual safety zone.”

  “You’ll have to kiss a guy.”

  “I’m sure I can handle it.”

  “Really? Because you’re awfully careful to let people know what a lady-killer you are.”

  “Well, obviously I don’t want the audience to think I’m gay… not outside of the role, anyway.”

  “No, God forbid anyone thinks you’re gay.”

  “I wasn’t trying to insult you, yeah?”

  “Your existence is an insult to me.”

  “Wow.” Colby drew back a little. “You talk like your dialogue. This is great.”

  “Wow. You may be the least self-aware person I’ve ever met.”

  “Getting back to the film, I’ve got some ideas about my character.”

  Isaac screamed, making Colby jump.

  “What the hell, man?”

  “I vowed I would scream if you had ideas about your character,” Isaac said. “You look like you could use a drink.”

  Looking completely off-balance, Colby nodded. “Yeah, a drink would be nice.”

  “Then why don’t you go get one.”

  Colby grinned. “Damn. I’m starting to think you don’t like me.”

  “There might be something to that… yeah?”

  “I love it. You’re exactly how I thought you’d be.” Colby leaned his elbows on the table. “Now here’s what I was thinking. Wouldn’t it be wiggy if Dorian showed the film clip to people just before he killed them?”

  “Are you trying to turn this into a horror movie?”

  “It’s not a horror movie?”

  Isaac almost answered automatically, but when he thought about it, Dorian was an old-school horror story like Jekyll and Hyde. “How many people do you think he’s going to kill?”

  “Two, maybe three? Could be more, I guess. Sort of implied, not shown.”

  “Dorian kills one person in Wilde’s original. He stabs Basil to death.”

  “What about the chick?”

  “The chick? Oh, you mean the actress he drives to suicide.”

  “Yeah. Dorian could show her the clip, and she goes home and hangs herself or whatnot.”

  “So you want to waltz in and change the whole tone of the film?”

  “I just like being part of a creative process, yeah?”

  “You’re going to have to stop that. It’s incredibly affected.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The way you say ‘yeah’ at the end of your sentence like you’re asking a question. You’re not asking a question though, are you?”

  “Do I really do that?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Wow. We’re already down to the fuck yous. It usually takes a week or so for a writer to get to this point with me. You’re kind of sensitive… yeah?”

  “That was really mature.”

  “That’s the card you’re going to play?” Colby shook his head. “You’re the one that set the tone.”

  “That’s… true,” Isaac said. “Look, I’d really like to get back to work. How about I tell you that your idea is intriguing, and you go away?”

  “Okay.” Colby stood. “So, same time tomorrow?”

  “What?”

  “We should get together once a day to discuss things.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “You just said my idea was intriguing.”

  “To get you to leave.”

  “You’re amazing. You know I can destroy your career and yet you talk to me like that. I love it!”

  “First of all, I already destroyed my career, and second….” Isaac’s voice trailed off. “No idea what I was going to say next.”

  “You really don’t give a shit, do you?”

  “Good-bye.”

  “Bye. See you tomorrow.”

  “Please slam the door on your way out. I want Tony to think it was me.”

  Colby closed the door as though it was made of crystal.

  “Asshole,” Isaac said as he turned back to his laptop.

  Punkin came out of the back of the motor home and jumped from the bench seat to the tabletop. He stalked back and forth on the small area between the keyboard and the edge of the table, dragging his tail under Isaac’s chin.

  “Is it that time already?” Isaac glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen. “All right, keep your pants on,” he told Punkin as the cat meowed loudly. “I’m going.”

  The orange tabby jumped down and followed Isaac into the small kitchen area. Tail twitching, he kept a careful eye on the opening of the bag and the transfer of the contents into his bowl. Not until the bowl was on the floor did he relax his vigilance.

  “It really isn’t a bad idea,” Isaac said as he watched Punkin chow down. “Dorian as serial killer.” He took the bottle of cognac from the cabinet and poured some into a coffee cup. Throwing back the shot, he closed his eyes as the alcohol warmed everything on its way down. “Yeah, that does the trick,” he said.

  Punkin polished his bowl and looked up at Isaac, clearly wondering where the rest of his dinner was.

  “I told you,” Isaac said as he poured more cognac. “Diet.”

  Punkin meowed plaintively.

  “Did I say it was fair?” Isaac took the coffee cup over to the table and sat in front of the laptop. He was not at all surprised by the furry bomb that
dropped on him just seconds later. Pulling the cup out of harm’s way, he shielded the laptop with his body. Punkin hit the table and slid off the other side onto the opposite seat. It was some time before the cat stopped pretending to wash his paws, and Isaac got quite a bit of work done.

  AT THE morning meeting, Isaac showed Tony and Callie the revised outline. Tony liked the serial killer idea but worried that the script would skew toward Jack the Ripper.

  “We don’t want that,” Callie said.

  “I completely agree,” Isaac said. “I really like the idea that he drives them to suicide… except Basil, of course.”

  “You came up with this last night?” Tony asked.

  “No, Colby Lightner did. It’s his concept. I just fleshed it out.”

  “So he’s not completely useless, then?” Tony said.

  “Not completely.”

  “Glad to hear it, mate. Colby’s invested a fair bit of money in this proj.”

  “That explains why you’re putting up with his shit. What I don’t understand is why you put up with mine. I’m nobody.”

  “You’re the only writer I wanted for this.”

  “Yeah, I know why you say you’re putting up with it. I hope you don’t think for a second that I believe that bullshit.”

  “Well, thank you very much,” Tony said. “I happen to be sincere. If you’ll excuse me, the fumes in here are making my eyes water.”

  “Is he hinting I drink too much?” Isaac asked after Tony was gone.

  “You do,” Callie said.

  “Maybe by your standards.”

  “There are fish that think you drink too much.”

  “That was sort of funny. Maybe you should write.”

  “No thanks. I might become like you.”

  “Okay, that one hurt.”

  “Good. I like you, Isaac. I like interacting with you grown-up to grown-up. So I’d appreciate if you’d act like a grown-up more often.”

  “This is me. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’d leave it if I didn’t know that’s exactly what you want.”

  “How could you possibly know what I want?”

  “Maybe I wasn’t with my Steve as long as you were with yours, but I’m sure it hurt just as much when I lost him.”