Random Revenge

by William Michaels

  Surprisingly, Melanie turned away from Stevens, back in conversation with the bartender. Melanie didn’t seem too impressed, not like everyone else in the club, who were all surreptitiously eyeing Stevens, probably trying to figure out how to approach him. Which would be disastrous; famous actors hated being bothered in public, especially by wannabees. Now and then condescending for an autograph for a fan, sure, if in the right frame of mind. But being hit on by some talent, no way. A guy like Stevens picked who he wanted, it didn’t work the other way around.

  So Lenny was stunned when Melanie got up and headed right for Stevens. No, no, she was doing it all wrong, she’d blow her chance for sure. Lenny jumped up, he needed to stop her, tell her the error of her ways, she’d be so grateful for his help. He’d get her alone and explain how things worked. Stevens would be useless, he wouldn’t help her career.

  Two steps later Lenny realized he was too late. Stevens had already noticed Melanie, a slow motion train wreck unfolding. Lenny was already planning ahead, he’d give Melanie a shoulder to cry on, tell her how to do it next time . . .

  Lenny slumped against the wall, resigned to the inevitable. Even with the booming music the room seemed to hush, conversations drying up, all eyes on the table, where Melanie now stood talking to the men, half the crowd jealous of the attention Melanie was getting, the other half amazed at her balls. Lenny was pretty amazed himself; it was obvious that Stevens was captured by Melanie. Maybe not so surprising, come to think of it, she was that hot.

  Mixed feelings now: rooting for her, wanting her to be the one who could be different, who could approach a powerful man like Stevens in a roomful of people and get away with it, yet miffed, Melanie was his, or would be soon, Lenny was going to be her ticket, Stevens could spoil everything.

  Melanie turned, slowly walking away, the music louder, a hundred held breaths let out.

  She had failed.

  Lenny’s heart went out to her, she’d be so depressed, getting blown off in public. She’d need him now.

  Lenny stepped in front of Melanie as she left the back room. He wanted to reach out and hold her, she was so beautiful, her eyes dancing in the lights, not the look of depression that Lenny had expected. She moved to dodge him, so he took the chance and reached for her arm, the touch electric, his hand clammy, the skin on the back of his neck prickling. He wanted her so bad . . .

  Melanie turned her eyes on him, ablaze with annoyance, actually looking down on him. Must be the shoes giving her height, he wasn’t that short. Then the recognition, pleasing Lenny. She remembered him.

  “Take your fucking hand off me.”

  Not quite the reaction Lenny wanted, but he figured she was pretty upset about the whole Stevens fiasco. He jerked his hand away. “Hey, I just want to help.”

  “What are you doing here? You stalking me?”

  Lenny’s legs grew weak. “What? No, really. I hang here. Kinda, I told you I’m new.” He rushed, he didn’t want to miss this chance. “I saw what happened with Stevens, I can help with that.”

  “You know Stevens?” Disbelieving, but she didn’t walk off.

  “Not exactly. But I know what he’s all about. I’ve shot him.” Lenny lifted his camera. “I’m a photographer, remember? Listen, I know what you are trying to do, you’re trying to get discovered. I get it. I’m doing it too. We have that in common.”

  “I very much doubt we have anything in common.” She moved past him.

  “Look, I know you’re upset, getting blown off by Stevens in front of all these people.”

  Melanie spun on him. “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t get blown off.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. You had guts to try it. You need a break, you thought he’d be the one to help, you took your shot. Half the room wished they were brave enough to do what you did.”

  “You moron. They asked me to sit down.”

  “Yeah, right, Michael Stevens wanted you to join him and you walked away?”

  Melanie took a step closer to him, in his space now, Lenny delirious with her presence, her scent. “What I’m doing is none of your fucking business. Or anyone else’s around here.” Her eyes slid past Lenny.

  Lenny caught the look, seeing it for what it was, Melanie was worried about what the crowd had witnessed, it was his chance. “Give me five minutes and I’ll tell you a surefire way to get what you want, and you won’t have to suck up to Stevens or anyone like him ever again.”

  “How would you know?”

  Lenny smiled, he had her. “Because I’ve helped an actress do it before. Come on, what will it hurt to listen?”

  Melanie’s eyes flicked back to the crowd, Lenny waiting, trying to relax. It was impossible, so close to her, he could feel her heat. Someone brushed by, a silicone blonde in a tight dress, Lenny feeling her eyes on Melanie, the chick shaking her head, a look that said loser, not to Lenny, but to Melanie. Melanie turned, her lip curling, it would have been ugly on anyone but her, Melanie’s hand coming up, maybe to slap the bimbo.

  Lenny grabbed Melanie’s wrist, surprised by her strength, barely managing to check her swing. “Not the scene you want to make,” he said urgently. He jerked his head to the back room. “You want the suits to see?”

  Melanie shook off his hand. “Fuck that bitch,” she said to the retreating woman.

  Lenny guided Melanie toward the bar. “I’ll give you a way to get what you want without having to fuck anyone,” he said. Except me.

  Lenny was confident now, because he knew what he was going to suggest to her would work. That, and the fact that the bimbo woman had actually helped him out. Melanie had an ego—everyone had to have one, in this business—but Melanie was acutely aware of public perception, she wanted the publicity, the adoration. It would rankle her that people thought she had struck out with Stevens. It fit perfectly into Lenny’s plan.

  Lenny was feeling the eyes on him, the crowd probably thinking he was Melanie’s main man, what a rush that was. He kept pace with her, not wanting it to look like he was following, she was with him, following him, that was the way it was supposed to be. He did a little skip to get ahead, beating her to the bar.

  No stools were empty, he was stymied trying to make some room. Melanie didn’t give him a chance, she just stood in front of two guys who were eying her, and they immediately jumped up to offer her a seat. Lenny was amazed, she didn’t even have to smile, such was her allure. Melanie took one of the stools, giving the guy a quick nod, but immediately turned away from them. Lenny took the other stool, ignoring the frown from the guys.

  “Five minutes,” said Melanie. “And only if it’s good. Otherwise I’m out of here. And I want a Black Russian.”

  “Sure, sure.” Lenny signaled for the waitress, the same one who he saw Melanie talking to earlier. “A Black Russian here,” he said.

  The waitress, whose name tag said Fiona, waited for Lenny’s order. He shook his head, he needed to keep his focus. The waitress glanced at Melanie, some kind of look passing between them, then she was gone.

  “Make it quick,” said Melanie.

  Lenny launched into his spiel. “Look around this place. Everyone here is trying to get noticed. Must be a few hundred people looking for a break. There are clubs and restaurants and modeling agencies and casting companies all over the country, filled with people like this, every one of them doing the exact same thing. You could win here, and still not make it, because there’s an ocean of people just like you. The odds just aren’t in your favor.”

  “So far you’re telling me what I already know. And I’m not just one of them, I’m better.”

  “Hey, I know that. I can see you got it. I lived in LA, remember? I know the scene. But even the suits here might not be good enough to recognize what you got, and even if they do, might not have enough pull to launch your career. You have to get into the big time, connected with the right people.”

  “You’re still telling me things I already know.”

  Lenny pushed
on, feeling the pressure. “You got to get to a place where people think you are in the A-list, where they associate you with the heavy hitters. It’s like a club, a private club. Once you’re in, you’re in, and people don’t care how you got in, they forget. But here in Marburg, you don’t have much of a chance to make the leap. You’re working at the right restaurant, you’re in the right hangout, you took your shot with Stevens, even with all that, the odds are a million to one, even for a woman as beautiful as you.”

  “And you can improve my odds?”

  Fiona returned with the drink, giving Melanie a little smile. Lenny waited for her to leave before he went on. “I can. I’ve done it.” He told Melanie about his success in LA, the photograph, blurring over some of the details, and not mentioning it was a one time thing. “So just hooking up with Stevens, a lot of girls try that, you know a single actress who got anywhere from it?” He went on before Melanie had a chance to reply. “That’s because no one did. He uses them and spits them out. You’ve got to turn the tables on him.”

  “Spit him out?” Melanie took a sip of her drink, her voice even.

  Lenny didn’t know if she was teasing him, he marveled at how she could turn his mind to sex. “Something like that. Here’s a question for you. What good is it if you sleep with Stevens? Nobody will know, and if they do, nobody will care. On the other hand, if there was someone else we could get you next to, not quite in a compromising position, but in a photo that would go viral, you’d be noticed. Instantly. No more trying to hope the stars align to bring the right actor or suit in your orbit so you can make your pitch. No long road to getting just a shot. It will happen like that.” Lenny snapped his fingers. He couldn’t hear the snap over the music, but he thought he had made his point.

  Melanie turned, her face registering some kind of emotion, Lenny could feel the connection, they were on the same side. She was thinking about it, he was getting somewhere.

  “Of course,” Lenny added, trying to sound matter of fact, “we’d have to find a way to get you in the right place at the right time.” Already talking like they were a team.

  Melanie’s eyes went to the table where Stevens and the other men were still sitting, Lenny holding his breath. He’d taken his shot, he didn’t want to blow it now by pushing too hard. After an eternity Melanie turned back to him, meeting his eyes full for the first time, then downed her drink. “I’ll think about it.”

  Melanie nodded toward the bartender and flicked her head toward Lenny. Fiona smiled, coming over. Melanie gracefully slipped off the stool and walked away, Lenny staring at her ass, that amazing body, not believing his luck, he was almost there, so much faster than he had expected. She was just trying not to appear desperate, she’d come around.

  Fiona tapped him on the shoulder. “Thirty six dollars.”

  Lenny forced his mind off of Melanie’s ass. “For a Black Russian?”

  “She had a tab.”

  Lenny stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out what remained of his mother’s cash. He might just be able to cover it, but there’d be nothing left for the groceries, his mother would be pissed. “Fuck me.”

  “In your dreams,” said Fiona.

  CHAPTER 5

  Melanie kicked off her heels as she unlocked the street side door that led up to her apartment, ignoring the pebbles that bore into her bare feet. It had been a long day, she had a major league buzz going, and there was no way she was going to walk up a steep flight of stairs in four inch heels, Jimmy Choo or not.

  The overpowering scent of curry filled the stairway, courtesy of the Indian restaurant on the first floor, her crappy apartment even worse because the food there sucked. A dim yellowing bulb on the landing was the only light, but Melanie knew these stairs even in the dark—it was the only time she was here. If she hadn’t been so focused on Jason she would have lined up a guy to sleep with tonight, someone with a fucking elevator.

  The loose lock rattled as she turned the key. Melanie wondered why she bothered with it, her shoes were the only things worth stealing, and she had those with her all the time. Inside, the room was surprisingly bright, the thin curtains no match for the streetlight which glared into her window.

  Melanie dropped the shoes on the floor, and her purse and the copy of the local Herald, which she had lifted from the entrance to the Indian restaurant, on the kitchen counter. Kitchen being a bit of a misnomer, the appliances stacked against one half wall in an ell. Though she had a separate bedroom, the apartment was really just a studio; she’d sweet talked a guy into illegally walling off the bedroom area. Even in Marburg a studio was all she could afford, every dime she made burned up going back and forth to New York for screen tests, what little was left spent on clothes. If the restaurant didn’t let her eat for free she’d probably have starved to death by now.

  Standing in front of the open fridge, Melanie pulled the top of her dress away from her skin, trying to cool down, the refrigerator her only source of air conditioning. Two cans of beer, a wrapped half sandwich and an opened pint of yogurt. Melanie grabbed a beer and the newspaper and padded back to the couch, not even bothering to turn on a light. She would’ve turned the tv on, out of habit, but the cable had been shut off two days ago. Melanie peered at an ashtray on the coffee table but there was nothing in it worth trying to smoke.

  She flipped idly through the paper as she took a hit on the beer. One headline caught her attention: Mayor To Announce Filming In Marburg, that being what passed for big local news. She skimmed the article, the only useful tidbit being the mention of a press conference the next day.

  Melanie put the beer on top of the paper and laid her head back on the couch, the night replaying in her mind like a TMZ clip. The only thing missing was a microphone stuck in her face. Jason, always a bit full of himself, now a full fledged pompous shit after getting cast in the new series Shock and Awe. Still looking good though, maybe even better. Her time with Jason in the sack had its fun side, although even there he was more into himself than into her. She giggled at her own stupid joke, realizing she was a little drunk. She’d worked her restaurant shift through dinner and so had done all her drinking on an empty stomach.

  Meeting Stevens was somewhat unexpected. Melanie knew he and Jason would be on the same show, but usually the big star didn’t want to be seen in public with the newbie, unless it was arranged by the publicity department. But running into Stevens could be a real turning point for Melanie, although she’d have to achieve what all his other women had not. Her whole plan had been to leverage Jason, but maybe Stevens could fit into the picture. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d slept with a guy old enough to be her father, if she thought he could do something for her.

  Lenny. Disgusting troll. Oblivious to how common he was, a guy who hung around the actresses, trying to score. But even a troll could have a good idea. A timely photograph with the right person, in the right situation, one that might be viewed as scandalous, or at least newsworthy, could get Melanie some good publicity. Maybe even on TMZ.

  Jason or Stevens, which one to use?

  She picked up her beer, the cold can leaving a ring right around the word Shock in the newspaper article, and all at once, as if it was destined, she had her answer.

  The press conference. Lots of people, celebrities, press. The perfect place to get attention. It would take some planning, but Melanie was confident she could pull it off. Who should she be photographed with, Jason or Stevens?

  And who would take the picture? It was unlikely Lenny Gruse was the right photographer for the job. Melanie would want a proven commodity. Someone who had the skills, the connections, but also was enough of a sleaze to do it for the right reason.

  Someone like Tim Tazik.

  Taz had done some publicity photos for Melanie, always at a significant discount, usually free. What he really wanted was to get in Melanie’s pants.

  “You are quite a work of art,” Taz had said during the first photo shoot.

  Melanie knew it was th
e usual photographer bullshit, trying to get the subject to feel good, but she played along. “And you’re the artist who’s going to make me famous?”

  “Hey, I’ve shot plenty of women. They don’t come close to you.”

  “Better switch to boots,” said Melanie. “It’s getting thick in here.”

  “Just telling it like it is. We can go far together, you’ll see.”

  Taz had pushed a little harder in each shoot, Melanie managing to keep things professional. Taz was married, and for the most part, Melanie had drawn the line there, the last thing she needed was some deranged wife coming after her. But Taz would be perfect for this.

  Melanie rummaged through her purse for her cell phone and checked to make sure she still had Tazik’s private number, the one he said his wife didn’t know about. He’d given it to Melanie in the hopes she might change her mind about hooking up. Too late to call him now. Tomorrow. Using the private line would give Taz the idea that she’d finally succumbed to his charms, which was just what she wanted anyway. At least until after he did what she needed.

  Melanie awoke stiff, a crick in her neck from falling asleep on the couch. She pulled at her twisted dress, unzipping it, letting it drop to the floor now that it was hopelessly wrinkled. She ate the rest of the yogurt as she heated up some instant coffee and opened her one working window, greeted by curry tingled humid air. Not even mid morning and it was already hot.

  As she sipped the coffee she was flicking to Taz’s number on her phone. Just as she would for a screen test, she took a few moments to get in character. She was playing the part of a coy vixen, negotiating with a potential lover, using her feminine wiles to get him to break his bonds of matrimony . . .