by Ray Garton
“Sounds like I hit a nerve,” Brett said. She was not looking at him anymore, but up at the dead movie screen.
Carter frowned. “Not a nerve, exactly. It’s just...something I hear a lot.”
“What? That there’s something wrong with you because of the things you make?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
Brett sighed, squirmed in her seat. “You know, I really don’t want to see this movie.”
“Oh, relax, would you?” Alyssa leaned forward to look over at Brett. “At least try to enjoy yourself.”
“Not a movie lover?” Carter asked.
“I just despise horror movies. The pornography of violence. I think they’re sick.”
“Oh, okay. So you think I’m sick.”
She turned to him. “I didn’t say that.”
Carter put his lips together to say, But that’s what you meant, isn’t it?
“You’re awfully sensitive, Carter,” she said. “You should work on that.”
They engaged in the obligatory exchange to determine their families’ positions on the Hollywood food chain. Brett’s parents were animal wranglers. Her dad specialized in cattle, horses, and camels, while her mom handled insects, spiders and reptiles. Her older sister recently started working with dogs and cats.
Carter’s face brightened. “Hey, that’s cool!”
“You think so? How would you like it if your dad smelled like the entire custodial staff of the Los Angeles Zoo? All the time? And my mom...she plays with bugs for a living.”
He laughed. “Is that why you decided not to go into the family business?”
“That, and the fact that I hate animals.”
“What? You hate animals?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of animals?”
She wrinkled her nose. “All animals.”
“Whoa, wait a sec. You think I’m some kind of horrible person because of the things I make...but you hate animals? What about dogs and cats?”
“Especially dogs and cats.”
He shook his head, raised his voice a bit as he said, “Oh, you are one twisted individual!”
Adam and Alyssa stopped talking in whispers to each other.
“Something wrong?” Adam asked.
Carter leaned close and whispered. “Was this a setup? Did you plan for the four of us to go out so you could set me up with Ilsa, Nazi Queen of the Frozen North over here?”
“No, it wasn’t, I swear. This was totally unplanned!”
“Then can I sit in another row?”
“What? Why? What’s wrong?”
“She’s, like, not even human, or something.”
“Just ignore her. The movie’s gonna start and you’ll forget she’s here.”
“She hates animals, man! She’s like that sick fuck in Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, she’s got no feelings, no soul! And on top of that, she hates me, can you believe that? I mean, she hates me.”
“You mean, Henry?”
“Huh?”
“In Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. Is Henry the one you’re talking about?”
“Well, yeah, who the hell did you think I was talking about?”
“I thought maybe you were talking about Otis.”
“Who?”
“Otis. Henry’s dimwitted partner.”
The lights dimmed and several people applauded, hooted.
“Just watch the movie,” Adam whispered. He leaned toward Alyssa again. She snuggled against him under his arm.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just Carter having one of his fits of nervous self-consciousness.”
Carter hissed, “Lick me.”
The coming attractions began, and there was no more talk among the four of them.
* * *
Carter invited them to a barbecue at his house that night when they dropped Alyssa and Brett at the bookstore. Alyssa seemed hesitant to leave Adam but he smiled, assured her that he was fine, and promised to see her that evening.
“What do you want to do?” Adam asked as he drove away from the bookstore.
“I don’t know,” Carter said. “What do you want to do?”
“Anything.”
“We could knock over a liquor store.”
“Funny.” Adam had been unable to enjoy the movie because his mind had gone back into high gear, gnawed at him with all the dangerous possibilities ahead. Showed him his own death from a lethal injection. Or worse, in the gas chamber, strapped to that chair, waiting for the hissss of the pellets. In spite of the theater’s air conditioning, his train of thought had caused him to break out in a sweat in the theater and his clothes were still damp. “I’ve got some serious sweatage. I need to go home and take a shower, change my clothes.”
At the house. Carter went into the living room to watch some television on the flat-screen. Adam went upstairs to his room, wedged the chair against the door, turned on Brubeck and took a shower. As he scrubbed himself dry with a towel afterward, he heard shuffling outside the bathroom. Wrapped the towel around his waist, turned off the music, and charged out of the bathroom. “Goddamnit, Rain, would you stop—”
Michael Julian stood in the center of Adam’s bedroom holding the chair that had been propped against the door.
Adam’s shock was a baseball bat to the forehead. It had been years since his dad had come to his room. Michael stood there with wet hair, in a forest-green bathrobe. Four fingers of his right hand hooked beneath the wood slat across the top of the chair’s back, holding it a few inches from the floor. Apparently, he had just come from the shower as well.
“How long have I been telling you about those Goddamned horror movies you’re always watching with Carter?” Michael asked. “Looks like they finally got to you, huh? Afraid some big scary guy’s gonna come in and hurt you?” He grinned, laughed. Put down the chair.
Adam gave no reaction. Just tucked his towel a little tighter in back. His face was blank. It was his Dad-face.
Michael’s smile jerked and twitched, crumbled. “What are you saying, you’re afraid of someone? You want a lock on the door? You can get a lock if you want. I just never thought we’d need locks. We’re supposed to be a family, Goddamnit. What are you afraid of? Huh?”
Adam stared right into his dad’s eyes, which never held still for an instant. Except for that, they were like the glistening acrylic eyes Carter put into the sockets of his severed heads—startlingly real in appearance, but empty. Dead.
“Rain’s been coming in here,” Adam said. What am I doing? he wondered.
“She has?”
“Yes.”
Michael shrugged. “So?”
“I don’t want Rain to come in here. Not unless she’s invited.”
A laugh snorted through Michael’s nose. “Why? Afraid she’s gonna show you her titties? Probably do you some good. I mean, do you even know any women?”
Adam did not move. Not even an eyelid.
Still grinning, Michael said, “Okay, what’s the problem with Rain? I don’t think there’s much chance of her coming in here in the middle of the night to rape you. But, uh—” Another laugh through the nose. “—that wouldn’t do you any harm, either.”
Still, Adam did not react.
Tilting his head back, rolling his eyes, Michael said, “Jesus H. Christ, Adam, when are you gonna get a fucking sense of—”
“She did that already.”
Michael’s teeth clacked together when his mouth closed. Eyes widened a little beneath his furrowed, bushy brow. He cocked his head and said, “What?”
“She raped me. Rain. At gunpoint.” He smiled inside and thought, Why not? Maybe I’ll feel better.
Taking a step forward, Michael said, “She...what?”
“She raped me at gunpoint. A loaded gun. She even fired it once to prove it. It wasn’t the first time we’d had sex. But I didn’t want to, so it was rape.”
Michael shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“You...what’re you...what?”
“See, I’ve been having an affair with your wife. Then when Rain moved in, I started having sex with her, too. It was against my better judgment, but it was...pretty incredible.” He chuckled, shook his head. “I mean, I’ve got some wild oats to sow, right?”
Michael’s darting eyes calmed down until they were still enough to meet Adam’s eyes.
“But I knew it would only cause trouble. And I was right. She’s sixteen, you know. A minor. The second we had sex, she had something on me. I mean, statutory rape. She’s done it before. To one of her mother’s boyfriends. He’s in a prison hospital now, undergoing rectal reconstruction. So she had me. What could I do? If she said ‘dance,’ I had to ask her which steps. And that...God, that got me in a lot of trouble. I...I ended up robbing a liquor store against my will. Can you believe that? A guy standing right next to me...he was shot with a sawed-off shotgun. Right there. He was a friend of Rain’s. See, she...Rain told me we were going to kill you and Gwen. The two of us, Rain and I. If I didn’t go along with it, she’d turn me in. She also told me her mother goes from rich husband to rich husband, all of whom end up dead. Said you were next.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know whether to believe it. I mean, consider the source, right? But this time, Rain wanted to kill her mother, too. So she told me I was going to help kill you and Gwen. She got this guy to help us. Some kind of, I don’t know, a bisexual thrill junkie. Claimed to be a hit man. Took me into a liquor store and pulled the guns. It was supposed to be a test to see if he could trust me. The Korean guy behind the counter pulled a shotgun and shot him. But the gunshot didn’t kill him. So I had to go to the hospital to...do it myself. But he died, so I didn’t have to. Then I learned something. I overheard Rain and her mother talking. And wouldn’t you know it? They’re in on this whole thing together.”
Michael slowly lowered himself into the chair beside him, but never took his eyes from Adam’s. His lips were parted. Deep creases mapped his forehead. He appeared to be in pain. Cramps, maybe.
“They wanted to set me up,” Adam went on. “I’d think I was helping Rain to kill you to keep myself out of prison. But actually, they planned to fix it so I’d go to prison for the murder, or they were going to kill me themselves. Rain was pulling one over on her mom, though, because she wanted us to kill both of you. I think that’s why Gwen hit on me in the first place, because she suspected Rain was going to try to use me to kill her. Maybe Gwen thought I wouldn’t do it if we were...you know. Involved.”
Michael put his elbows on his thighs, his chin on the knuckles of his big knotted-together hands. “But...why?” Michael asked, voice low.
“For your money. What else? They’re hustlers, Dad. Both of them. They’ve had this in mind all along. The fire that killed Rain’s dad? Rain made some weird remark about that, and I’ve been thinking maybe there was no fire. Maybe there was no dad. I don’t know, you can’t believe a word either of them says. When I realized what they were doing, how they were using me, I guess I kind of...lost it.” Adam bowed his head a moment. His skin felt like it was rippling from all the crackling nervous energy just beneath. He had to move before his nerve endings sprouted through his flesh, wriggling like hungry maggots. Slowly, he paced a circle around his dad.
“First,” he continued, “I wanted to kill them. But...well, you probably won’t be very surprised to hear me say that we’ve never, you know, gotten along very well. You and me. You know that. I’m not interested in what you do. I hate what you do. And you’re not interested in...any thing about me. Besides that, you killed Mom. I don’t know how you did it, but it wasn’t an accident. Mom was a strong swimmer.”
Michael watched him circle until he could not see Adam anymore. Then turned to the other side and waited for him to come around again.
“You just couldn’t stand it, could you?” Adam asked. “You couldn’t stand the fact that she was more talented than you. That people liked her but couldn’t stand your guts. So you killed her. And for that...I want to kill you.” Adam’s breath shortened as he continued. He was mortified by what he was saying. Tried to breathe evenly, didn’t want to sound stressed. “So I’ve decided to kill you all.”
Adam stopped in front of his dad and they looked at one another. His voice was level, but kept skipping out like a distant AM radio station, so he swallowed or cleared his throat now and then. “So. Tomorrow. While you. And Gwen. And Rain. Are out on the yacht. It will blow up.” His throat felt thick, hot. “I hired a guy. A professional. Tonight, he’ll wire the yacht. With powerful explosives. Tomorrow. Out there on the water. You’ll all be. Vaporized.”
Michael did not even blink. It was the longest Adam could remember ever maintaining eye contact with his dad. The longest he had seen him hold still and remain silent. The longest his dad had ever listened to him. And it was the first time Adam ever noticed that he had his dad’s eyes.
Michael Julian rose slowly without looking away from Adam. “I don’t believe it.” He licked his lips, stepped forward.
Adam’s instinct was to step back immediately, but he did not move.
A bead of water from Michael’s wet hair zigzagged down his forehead. “Goddamned son of a bitch!” he shouted.
Adam teetered backward, a tree about to fall. Caught his balance.
“I don’t fucking believe it!” Michael’s hands pounded down on Adam’s shoulders and squeezed.
Adam made a small, whimpering sound in his throat, so terrified he wanted to cry.
“I really thought you didn’t give a fuck,” Michael said. He gripped Adam’s shoulders painfully hard. “I thought you...well, sometimes I thought you hated me. Didn’t care if I lived or died. I just, I can’t believe you were actually listening.” He flashed his teeth in that hound-like smile of his.
A frown moved in like a fog on Adam’s face, rolled over his features. What’s wrong with him? he wondered. Has he lost his mind?
Adam said, “Well, uh—“ He had to swallow again. Never finished.
“It’s incredible.” Michael said. “I’m amazed. Stunned. And you did it just like I told you. Write what you know, then add the honey. Sex, violence, tits. And fuckin’ teen tits! You know what that’s worth at the box office? At the video store, too.” He spun away from Adam and cried, “Jesus H. Christ!” He paced around the chair, around Adam. Ran fat fingers through his wet hair.
“Might have to juice it up a little,” he said. “That hospital scene sounds like a good place for a whammy. Maybe we could blow it up, I like that. I don’t think anybody’s ever blown up a whole hospital in a movie before, especially one full of people. Your character has to kill this guy, you’ve already got access to explosives because you’re planning to blow up the yacht, so you use it on the hospital. Yeah. Good spot for a health insurance joke, too. Shit, that’s good! That idea’s got room for plenty of fucking honey! It’s classy, too, high-end. Still needs a third act, but that’ll come. Shit, we could get...y’know, I bet we could get Jennifer Love Hewitt. Finally get those juicy tits of hers out in the open where they belong.” He glanced at Adam occasionally as he paced, eyes wide and fiery. “She says she’ll never do nudity, but you know what that means, don’t ya? It means the same when any of ’em say it. It means they’ll never do nudity till somebody gives them enough money and perks or they’re desperate for work. Give ’em enough money and perks, they’ll show you how many weights they can dangle on clamps from their pussy lips.”
Adam had turned to stone. Cold and hard and coarse. No organs, no soft tissue, just stone throughout. If he tried to move, he would shatter into a cloud of pebbles and dust.
“How about the father?” Michael asked. “Whattaya think of Kevin Spacey, huh? Women love that little faggot. You know, that’s who this movie’s gonna pull in, the fucking women. You make a movie about water boiling in a pot and put some tits in it, men will break down the Goddamned theater doors. Women wanna see something that’ll make ’em think, give ’em a challenge, something s
mart to talk about, and Spacey’s got that written all over his dick-sucking lips, he just brings it to the table with him. Jesus, thinking and talking. That’s all women ever wanna do. Wish they could do both at the same fuckin’ time.”
Adam had stopped breathing. No longer had lungs. Or a heart or stomach. Only his eyes still worked. A paralysis of stone. Rock on.
“Nah, what am I thinking, it’s too early for casting. Got anything on paper?”
Adam did not respond. Could not. The slightest movement would shatter him.
“Once we got a script, who knows who the fuck could be right. Hell, for all we know, it could end up being a Schwarzenegger picture.”
The name sounded like a deafening gong in Adam’s mind. He willed himself to move. Suddenly, he wanted to explode. Disappear. Cease to be. Schwarzenegger?
“He’s looking for meatier roles. Doesn’t matter, the fuckin’ Kraut can’t act, but he’s still a hell of a draw. I mean, if that piece of devil shit didn’t kill his career, he ain’t goin’ nowhere. But maybe he’s—” He froze. Put a hand on top of his head, as if to keep it from popping open. Turned slowly to Adam. “Oh...oh, Jesus, what if...what if we could get Tom Hanks? Tom fucking Hanks! He’s been talking about trying something new, something besides that Jimmy Stewart shtick of his. Shit, what’m I talking about, it’s too soon for that.”
Michael turned and charged toward Adam, open arms outstretched.
Adam wanted to jump onto his bed, bounce once on the mattress, dive headfirst through the window and shatter his body on the concrete below.
“We’ve gotta get this on paper,” Michael said, clutching Adam’s upper arms. “We can pound out a treatment on Money Shot, have it done by the time we get back. I’ll set up a meeting with, uh, lessee, maybe we should take it over to Harvey Weinstein at Miramax. That ugly fuck owes me one. And it’s got a Miramax kinda feel to it, don’tcha think? But we need that treatment. And, uh...well, it’s incredible, Adam, really, a fanfuckingtastic idea. But we’ll have to make a few changes, y’know? I mean, it’s perfect that you used us as a model. That’s what I was talking about, write what you know, and that’s what you fuckin’ did, you sneaky bastard, and you did it beautifully. This is one of those ideas where everything just falls into place, I’m not kidding, you just wait, this’ll slide out smooth as shit through a duck. But we’ll have to make the father, I don’t know, something else. People don’t like movies about people who work in the movies. Too inside, too inaccessible to the general public, they don’t understand. We’ll make him something hot, something current, maybe a...Bill Gates type? Lots of money and power. Jesus, this is incredible!”