Forward to Glory

by Brian Paul Bach

  Taking a nip of the sippin’ likker, Jana took the cue.

  Cut to LS of JANA and PEPPER – facing each other; parallel composition. Cut to CU of JANA’S face. Reaction. Cut to CU of PEPPER’S face. Waiting. Cut to the rising moon. Cut to LS of lodge exterior, with its lighted windows, one downstairs, and one upstairs, directly over it, under a great Secessionist-style gable. Cut to CU of JANA’S face. Resolve. Cut to CU of JANA’S bare knees and thighs; widescreen composition takes in whole spread. Hold shot as, at length, JANA slowly crosses legs. Cam dollies in to encompass the joined knees exclusively. Cut to CU of PEPPER’S face. A sip. Resolve. Cut to CU of JANA’S face. Tactic agreed upon.

  ‘Mmm, that’s smooth,’ purred Jana, downing the moon-golden syrup.

  ‘Come on over for refills – any time,’ replied the hostess, spreading her hand toward the trolley.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

  Legs uncrossed, rising, fuck-me boot-clacking over the hardwood (1899) floor to the bar, long but superbly shaped mechanism leading the way to sex, Jana had to lean slightly over to access the beverage canister.

  Pepper allowed herself to muse privately:

  ‘Doesn’t have much of a butt.’

  Her first non-leggy critique.

  In due course: Jana returned to her non-trademark sitting position.

  ‘So,’ she announced, as a director now, and because Pepper was taking the role of gracious passivity, ‘I am here because –’

  That sounded too political.

  Better: ‘I decided to follow this fellow way out here, because, well, it’s a long, long way out, so I figured I’d best touch base and all.’

  She reckoned that a few old-fashioned phrases might fit in with the 1899 ambience here. See all the efforts she was making, in order to link?

  ‘We’re not used to drop-bys…,’ Pepper began.

  Jana thought: ‘Oh please, make she and Prairie lovers after all; not ‘used’ to anyone; maybe I can skate by this hole without wanting to fall in…’ Then she said out loud, ‘Sorry for the inconvenience.’

  ‘But you are welcome,’ answered Pepper.

  It was the truth. She wasn’t trying to be coy.

  Jana knew it. This was an innocent household. Little Prairie was her protected one; who cared what the breakdown actually was. Enough to bring a tear to the eye. The world knew, she didn’t have anything like this in her life. Damn! All the more reason to be jealous. Oh, how did they do it? Live like this? Was it not glorious?

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jana out loud. ‘I thought, I’m probably intruding, but after all, it’s a bit of a business venture and all.’

  ‘I don’t wish to pry, but, um, may I inquire, what did you – how did you happen to –?’

  The formality was about to loosen up, thanks to Old Grain Race.

  ‘No, no, not at all. I’ll tell you. See, my friend Butterbugs here is participating in an enterprise in which we are partnered –’

  ‘See?? I told you they were an item!’

  ‘Prairie Browne! You get all the way up the stairs!’ Pepper sounded off. She did not, however, get up to make sure.

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ Prairie’s voice was consummately distant now.

  Naturally, the adults chuckled, which helped the easing-up further along.

  ‘That Prairie Browne! She’s a character!’ offered Jana, who displayed genuine affection for the girl.

  ‘All the time, too. She’s a wonderful one.’

  ‘What a treat to have her in your world.’

  ‘You know, she’s brought… so much… to this house…’

  Jana knew, but she bypassed the facts.

  ‘I’ll bet she’s a real boost. Say, where does she go to sch –’

  Naw, no reason to go there. Jana returned to her side of things.

  ‘But anyway, like I was saying. Butterbugs and I are in an arrangement wherein – and, ha ha, it’s not marriage or anything, but I’m required to tell him what – to do.’

  Somewhat relaxed herself, Pepper piped up with:

  ‘So what’s the deal? That is, if I might be so bold as to…’

  ‘That’s what I was leading to, Pepper. Oooh, like that name! Implies energy, action, fun! Sorta sassy, too. Anyway, OK. Butterbugs and I are making a movie.’

  Pepper was in the midst of taking a sip, and despite Old Grain smoothness, she was tempted to snort. But she successfully repressed it, not as a reaction to her guest’s statement, but as an involuntary reflex to the heavyweight alcohol. So, she sat in silence and finished her process of recovery, keeping the door to Jana’s oral thoughts open.

  ‘You know, a picture show,’ Jana added, in case further vocabulary was needed, based on Pepper’s silence. ‘For theatrical release.’

  Where were the usual oohs and aahs?

  ‘Oh, I see. That’s nice.’

  ‘Nice? Let me tell you, girl, I’m heading up a €75 million production way out here! I’m expecting a much-needed cash infusion from China any minute now, and in ren-min-bee, too, doncha know!’

  She uttered this almost as if it were a joke, a burlesque, because the listener was supposed to provide more built-in respect than was apparent.

  Pepper took it seriously, though.

  ‘I understand. I have to tell you though, we don’t get much of that in our lives. Yes, ‘out here’. In fact, none at all. We’ve been off the grid for as long as I can remember. It’s our way of life, really.’

  There was a longing in her voice, not for what was missing, but for what was present to remain so, without additional weight or complication.

  ‘What is this, a nunnery or something?’

  Now Jana was joking, and Pepper got it.

  ‘Well,’ the hostess laughed good-naturedly, ‘it might seem so. That is, in comparison to what you do.’

  She looked out at the moon, perfectly framed in the upper left quadrant of the picture window, the shape of which matched the aspect ratio of the Cinerama screen exactly (3:1). She stood up and spread her palm out toward the scene.

  ‘That’s our picture show!’ she announced stoutly. ‘It’s different on every night’s showing.’

  The message was not lost on Jana.

  ‘Fucking-‘A’ shot!’ she muttered professionally, and whipped open her communicator.

  ‘Artie?’

  Cameraman Arling’s voice was at the other end.

  ‘Grab some establishing shots of that moonrise yonder, huh? You already did? You’re a treasure, Artie. We breathe the same air. Did you get the moon in the upper left quadrant? Could you please? Couple more? Lovely. Super Tech 70 should translate to proper proportion when shown in Cinerama halls, right? That’s what I thought.’

  Her canny eye checked the delineation out the window.

  ‘Swoop of that ridge is under it? Right. Nice line. Go, go, go. Love ya, Artie. Later.’

  Communicator snapped shut, Jana explained:

  ‘You see? We capture it – this moon – tonight. Captured.’

  ‘No longer free…,’ said Pepper softly, regarding the moon with sympathy.

  ‘What?’ asked Jana. ‘Well, anyway, you see now what I do. I’m a frikkin’ director, for God’s sake. And I guess today isn’t a total loss after all. My cameraman will lasso that moon and make it look better and more glamorous than you’d ever see it from here. Plus, it’ll be attached to a far more interesting story than ever goes on here, because –’

  She caught herself. Speaking of things no longer free, it was time her true feelings were released from captivity. Yet, she looked over at Pepper, who wasn’t intimidated in the least. If anything, her demeanor and poise were even more worthy of high regard, if not – heaven help her – worship.

  Suddenly Jana had a vision. It was wholly a filmmakers’ vision, lacking all spirituality except for any collateral effects that might be subsequently brought before a given audience in a given film; e.g. ‘for effect’.

  It was, Pepper on screen.

  The concept. />
  High-concept right now, but look: she, Jana, had always been a talent-spotter. If Butterbugs hadn’t come along, she would’ve nevertheless discovered him somehow. Or she would’ve manufactured him with her own bare hands between her own bare legs. There was certainly plenty of room for creation.

  She couldn’t resist. Her expert hands came up into the formation of a director’s frame, putting Pepper’s face, across the uncrowded room, into the upper left quadrant of the waiting screen.

  Then she remembered she still had her viewfinder on, around her neck. (Pepper thought it a particularly obnoxious bit of Zuni jewelry.) The Zeiss optics were specially designed for low light, and, she had to admit, Pepper looked absolutely stunning, with the brightening moon reflecting off her ravishing, alternatively-beautiful face. Think of what Wm. Daniels might do with such a face! Or even Michael Ballhaus! Was this a real discovery, sitting or standing here in the twilit background, beyond the moon’s rays?

  Pepper was so caught up in her lunar dialogue that she missed out on Jana’s slam entirely. Instead, she refilled her thimble after topping off the others’, then approached the screen of the window, her shapely body clearly silhouetted against the moon glow. The others sat and watched, enraptured.

  ‘This is the time – well, times like this, I should say, when I like to turn down all the lamps and simply let the moon do all the work. She’s so happy to do so, anyway. It’s a time when the goodness of the world is particularly apparent. No distractions. When all our needs are met. When we are lacking absolutely nothing. Notice how the play of light has raised our awareness of how varied this landscape is. In the day – well, at high noon anyway, the same scene often looks flat and featureless. I love it then, too, but right now, it’s as if we’re seeing it for the first time. Aren’t first times wonderful? Don’t we all have them? Don’t you just want to say how glorious it all is? First times, third times, twenty-seventh times? This moon! She’s so experienced! But she’s patient with our obvious lack of it. She knows she’s way ahead of us, and she’ll wait for us to catch up. Come on! Let’s go! Come on, let’s get more of what she’s saying!’

  Pepper moved forward and opened a system of louvered vents, so that the salubrious, moon-drenched air flowed in and heightened their viewing experience yet more, with Smell-O-Vision.

  ‘Ah! You can almost track all the herbs of the night in one whiff!’ she marveled.

  Then she went over to Butterbugs, kissed him on the top of his head, and sat down in her loge again, savoring the spectacle, uninterrupted.

  Almost tearful, Jana put her viewfinder down when she saw the openness of Pepper’s contact with Butterbugs’ dome.

  ‘You know how I found him?’ she intentionally busted up the moon-idyll with a particularly nasal twang, while pointing directly at Butterbugs. ‘Huh?’

  It worked. Pepper looked at Jana in puzzlement.

  ‘No – er – how?’

  ‘Indeed! How?’ Attention attained. ‘This is such a – remote – kind of place.’

  Now she sounded a trifle trivial and even icky-poo, so intentionally disgraceful after the moony profundities she couldn’t possibly top. So, best to come off now as the world-balancing hot-shit moviemaker.

  ‘Well, you see, there’s this chip. This chip. I said chip. You probably don’t know about such things, but there’s a little chip that’s planted near where you just kissed right now.’

  She pointed again at Butterbugs.

  ‘Actually, it’s about a foot away from your lip-prints, girl. Left shoulder, I think. Anyway, it’s a fucking GPS chip. You know what that is? No? Well, the simplest way to tell you is that there isn’t a square meter of this universe where Butterbugs can’t be traced as far as his location is concerned. Really! That’s how we came to this place. We tracked him. We got him! Bup, bup, bup, Butterbugs! Watch out! We know where you are! Every second, baby!’

  She sounded like she was arranging an Easter dress party/fashion show or something. Jana at her most sickening. Then she backed off and adopted a more scientific and pragmatic tone.

  ‘We can track him to within 16cm, all due to our heavenly satellites above. Up by that moon of yours!’

  She did her own kind of gesture out the window, but with the moon so triumphant and the satellites so lacking in presence and personality, the effort fell pretty flat.

  ‘These chips can often save lives, too!’ she offered. ‘Or if your car’s stolen… you know…’

  Flatter and flatter.

  The others chose to still subscribe to the non-chip magic that was steadily progressing outside.

  So, they all sat in silence for a time.

  Time out for Jana. After about six minutes, she couldn’t take it anymore. She lit up a Marlboro Light and kept the lighter going, to successfully muck up the mood – as well as the moon shot, for as long as she could.

  Pepper was certainly taken aback at this obnoxious deed, but why buy into the obviously negative energy that was being generated in her own salon? She had successfully deduced that there was indeed a situation of rivalry in her midst, but there was nothing else for it but to let Jana make the moves. She was the Guest, and hospitality must be respected.

  Jana complied.

  ‘So, what’s with you?’ the tortured director burst out. ‘What gives you the right to upset things? What’s the fire in your eyes, Big Missy?’

  It was Jana’s eyes that were blazing.

  From her listening post, Little Missy Prairie couldn’t help but let out a giggle/scoff that luckily did not travel down the stairs.

  Pepper gazed at Jana, whose face, now that the lighter went out, was interestingly occluded by moonlighted smoke, which added to her assessment of emotional chaos this visitor communicated. It was she who now needed the director’s viewfinder, to make art out of chaos, if nothing else.

  ‘Are you trying to steal away my star? My star! The one who’s required to work for me right now, above all others?’

  Jana’s breath made even more intriguing patterns of smokescreen before her.

  ‘I am not a thief, Jana. I do not know you, and you do not know me, but I appreciate your frankness.’

  ‘There’s no other way. You’re so fucking ‘mysterious’.’

  The tone of her last line was openly mocking.

  ‘Well Jana, I don’t know if this is the way to talk about this subject. There’s no reason to be adversarial.’

  ‘No? Then what’s with that weak little peck on my star?’

  ‘You sound like you think you own him.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I do, baby. Right now I do. And I swear, if he thinks he can crack his contract open with me, he’s got a penis loose! That is, if it’s still attached. If someone else hasn’t grabbed it!’

  Reno cabaret humor wasn’t likely to get big laughs here, so she reverted to directorial propriety.

  ‘This is a big picture for me, and if he tries to throw it out of gear, I swear, I’ll take a baseball bat and –’

  Well now. Jana better simmer on down.

  ‘Jana? You simmer on down now.’

  It wasn’t Butterbugs who said these words. And it wasn’t Prairie Browne. It was Pepper Carlson, who’d risen up, and glided over to the worked-up director.

  Time froze. It was as if the moon herself had been commanded to stand still upon her course.

  And Jana simmered. She did not stew. She slowed down. She extinguished her cig in the liquor thimble instead of on the floor, as she’d first intended. She looked at the lamps that were now guttering as the moonbeams rose in their Kelvin power on the back wall. Then she turned about and gazed at the even-toned disc in the sky. She did not think of the moon as a SFX or as a brute spot filtered down for a night shot, but of the moon itself. The real moon.

  ‘Can it last…?’ Jana asked randomly, willingly drifting from anger into a longing for something past mere effect, mere picture shows.

  Appreciating her capable tone-change, Pepper kneeled down on the dhurrie next to Jan
a’s crossed knees.

  ‘The moment?’

  ‘Oh, I know the moment passes.’

  ‘Then, the mood?’

  ‘Oh no. That too passes.’

  ‘Then… what?’

  ‘The moon! Can it last long enough – for us down here – to get our shit together?’

  Pepper smiled, and the moon smiled on her. The radiance reflected back up to Jana, who was tempted to reach for her viewfinder, but did not.

  ‘We are mere mortals. That, out there – She – is bigger than we are,’ Pepper said softly, with true resolve in her voice.

  ‘Then,’ Jana flicked her hand, ‘everything out there is bigger than we are. Bigger is better, obviously. What can I do – anything I can do, it can do better. Oh, Pepper! I am ambitious, Pepper. I want to make statements. Cinematic statements. Here you are, content to live out here, bowing down to your self-relegated role as infinitesimal player in a huge landscape. Call me vain, but I wish just the opposite.’

  ‘I’m probably the vain one, thinking I can actually enact such a role.’

  ‘Oh, but you have obviously succeeded. You have roots, meaningful ones, and by their life-giving supply, you have flourished.’

  ‘More people who acknowledge what you do might be more fulfilled in this world if they at least tried some of the ways of the simpler life.’

  ‘Yeah, well, dream on, my dear. The vast majority of us have no intention of linking with your ways. Nor would they know what to do with them, be they dropped in their laps. They’d make a hash of it, and you know it.’

  ‘Learning. That would save them.’

  ‘Pepper, you may be an isolationist, but damn it, you’re an optimist, by cracky!’

  ‘To you, having been here only the briefest of times, I am an isolationist. But yes, I look to the land to save us from ourselves. Do you know, this spread, 179,000 acres of the primest land this side of the Mississippi, was put into nature preserve status in perpetua, despite the full rage of the most aggressive developers, probably in the world?’

  ‘You don’t say? You stood them off, Pepper?’

  ‘I was very much involved, yes.’

  ‘You get a gold star, Pepper.’

  ‘I take it you’re supportive.’