Razzle Dazzle

by Morticia Knight

  “Jack, you all right in there?”

  “I’m almost done!”

  Geez. She sure is worried.

  He wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the bathroom. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him naked before. He and Nick had never got into it with Trixie—even though she’d expressed interest—but they had all seen one another sans clothes and performing sex acts on the job. Usually, Nick and Jack would fuck each other, and Trixie would blow the guy who was paying to watch. It was quick and easy cash, and Jack rationalised it by believing that they wouldn’t have survived otherwise, and that at least Nick wasn’t doing it with strangers anymore.

  “I ain’t got no clean clothes, Trixie, sorry.”

  “Never mind that. We can pick you up some duds on the way back to my place. But we need something extra special for tomorrow night.”

  Jack frowned. What did party girl Trixie have planned now? Ritzy gin joints and crazed coke parties were her usual fare, but a respectable studio get-together to help further her star status was a good bet as well. Not one of those options held Jack’s interest in the least. Although, if he was going to try to continue to make money acting, he would have to reconsider the studio gatherings. Just not yet.

  “Why? What’s happenin’ tomorrow?”

  “Ain’t you opened up your invitation I brought by the last time I was here?”

  Jack hung his head.

  “No. I just didn’t care.”

  “Well you’re gonna care, honey. Look at it.”

  He went over to the dresser where he’d tossed the fancy envelope. He felt the texture of the fine paper with his thumb, and noted how meticulous the calligraphy of his name was on the front. Someone had written this out with great care, especially for him. He took his small pocketknife that lay on the dresser top, and slid it under the wax seal of the enclosure. He pulled out the contents—a single paper with the same elegant script.

  The pleasure of your company is requested at the home of Roman Pasquale for a formal dinner party on the eve of Friday, August 29th, 8:00.

  It was so simple, yet spoke volumes. There was a sweat breaking out on Jack’s brow and he was afraid that if he turned around, Trixie would see that his face had flushed. Maybe it hadn’t been his imagination that the great Roman Pasquale had been staring at him, had wanted something from him. His hand shook a little as he refolded the note, and slid it back into the envelope.

  At last he faced Trixie.

  “That’s odd. Why would Mr Pasquale want to invite me to a dinner party?”

  “Well, before ya turned into a walkin’ bag of bones, he thought you was fine stuff.” Trixie snorted. “I’m gonna have to work extra hard to get ya ready for this shindig.”

  Jack gasped. “I can’t go!”

  Trixie folded her arms across her chest in seeming frustration. Her legs were crossed, and one slender limb bounced up and down. He knew she never sat still, but she seemed even more antsy than usual.

  “Jack Stone, I swear to all the saints, you are gonna give me a heart attack. Here you got the hottest movin’ picture star on the planet personally invitin’ ya to his home, and you’re actin’ like ya can’t be bothered!”

  Jack ran his hands through his hair—for once he didn’t have to worry about the pomade—and shook his head.

  “No, no, no. That’s not it at all. I just… He… It’s hard to explain. I would just be so embarrassed.”

  “Embarrassed? Whatchya got to be embarrassed about? He likes you. What’s the big deal? You know how everyone’s always fallin’ at your feet cuz you’re so beautiful. Those baby blues get people every time.”

  This time, the heat rising up Jack’s face would be unmistakably visible. “No they’re not Trixie, don’t say that.”

  She grunted a little. “Ya know, Jack, ya gotta quit with all that modesty shit. Why do ya think the studios want you in their pictures, huh? It ain’t cuz you’re ugly.”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it. I always thought Nick was the good-lookin’ one.”

  At that, she slapped her forehead. “And I don’t wanna hear about him no more. He was a handsome guy, but it was more of that rough and ready thing. You got that sweet boyish thing goin’ on. Lotsa guys like that.” She giggled. “Lotsa girls like it too.”

  She became more serious.

  “What about Roman? He’s good-lookin’, ain’t he? You were all excited about him when I first brought up his parties way back when.”

  Jack did have a serious movie star crush on Roman, but after what had happened at the party, it would be too awkward. He didn’t know how to interpret Roman’s behaviour. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to put two words together in his presence. And he was especially not looking to be pursued romantically if that was the motivation behind the invitation. In his heart he still belonged to Nick, and nothing would change that unless Nick told him so.

  “I don’t know, Trixie. Were you invited?”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Hardly! I ain’t got the right equipment, honey.”

  Jack cringed. It sounded more and more like a bad idea. It was one thing to be invited to a respectable dinner gathering, but if he were to be the object of some sexual pursuit, he wanted no part of it. Jack had been through enough of the more sordid moments of Hollywood.

  “It was very nice of him to invite me, but I can’t go. I’m just not ready to go out yet, talk to people. Maybe another time.”

  Trixie sighed. “I think you’re makin’ a big mistake, honey. But, if that’s what you wanna do.”

  Jack could tell Trixie wasn’t too happy with him, but he couldn’t fully understand why. After all, it wasn’t as if she was going anyway.

  “I thought you said you had great news?”

  “Oh yeah, ain’t I the dumb Dora? Goldstein’s been lookin’ for ya. You need to get a phone line or somethin’. You can use mine for now. Anyways, he’s got another picture comin’ up, and there’s an even better part this time. Why don’t we get you some glad rags, and head down there before they give your spot to someone else. You don’t wanna have to do that other kinda performin’, do ya? Now that I’m outta it, I ain’t never goin’ back.”

  Jack shuddered. “No, Trixie, I don’t. We can go to the studio, that sounds good.”

  She stood up and carefully picked up a shirt that had been draped at the end of the bed. She held it away from her as if it might bite, and sniffed in its general direction.

  “This one don’t seem so bad. Let’s get outta here before they condemn the joint.”

  Jack chuckled, and it felt strange. He was experiencing an emotion that wasn’t utter despair. He stood up a little straighter, took a deep breath and made a resolution. He would pull himself together. How could he look for Nick if he was a wreck? And what would Nick do if he came back and saw what a mess Jack was? No, he would get better. He would become someone that Nick could love again.

  Chapter Two

  “Everyone, places please!”

  Jack was awestruck at being in the presence of so many motion picture greats. He was working with the famous director Erich Von Stroheim, and despite the lurid stories of sadist orgies that were written about his films in the scandal sheets, being on the set with him was unbelievable. He had spotted Gloria Swanson earlier. The whispered rumours were that she was not starring in this particular film, but that she had just stopped by to visit the great artiste Stroheim. The title had been kept hush-hush, and the only part of the story Jack knew about were the few scenes he would be in. As far as Jack could tell, no one was being whipped or chained during his moments on the screen.

  Jack took a seat behind the action, as his part wasn’t set to be shot until that afternoon. But he didn’t want to miss a thing. Everywhere thick black cords snaked around the canvas-backed folding chairs. Wooden tripods held up large box-shaped cameras that the operators would crank when it was time to film. Bright heat from enormous black disc-shaped lighting shone at all angles on the bea
utifully painted flats. And the great Stroheim sat clutching his bullhorn, ready to bark orders at the actors in his Austrian accent.

  As Jack waited for the filming to begin, he looked back on the week he had spent with Trixie. First they had gone shopping, with Jack helping Trixie to spend her newly acquired movie money on sparkling dresses and outlandish hats decorated with feathers and ribbons. She’d insisted on buying him a few items that she’d personally chosen. They were supposed to support his new movie star look that she had just invented with his help. He had been fine with her doing most of the choosing, since he had been wearing nothing but blue work shirts and denim for as long as he could remember. But he had nixed the more spectacular choices, and opted for an elegant sophistication instead. The type of look he admired on his favourite film stars, such as Roman Pasquale and Valentino.

  Then Trixie had taken him to a little house in East Hollywood—not far from his motel—where a Mexican woman served homemade food from her kitchen window. They’d sat on her patio, and Jack had eaten his first burrito. Now he was hooked, and had been bugging Trixie every day for another one. They would play cards and drink gin fizzes in her living room every night. On the days she worked, Jack tagged along, trying to soak up as much as he could of the business of making pictures. The idea of going back to set building and painting had been completely erased by the previous week’s jaunts.

  And now it was his turn. He would be getting another hundred bucks for his few scenes in Stroheim’s film, and Goldstein, the studio’s casting director, had invited him to lunch with the studio heads the following day. With the studio’s habit of turning out pictures as fast as it could get them in the can, Jack’s little scene that he’d filmed in Trixie’s first big film had already been shown in the theatres. Fans were writing in to find out who the light-haired boy was in the wedding scene.

  “This is it, honey!” Trixie had squealed, “You’re gonna get a contract. I just know it!”

  “You think so, Trixie? Are you sure it was really me those people wanted to know about? That other guy in the scene with me had light hair, and he looked very handsome.”

  “Knock it off, sugar. It was you. That guy was a hundred years old. I don’t know where they dug him up.”

  Jack laughed. “He was not. Probably only fifty.”

  Trixie had smacked his arm. “You silly goose. It was you all right. Just you get ready to start livin’ it up.”

  Without Nick, ‘living it up’ held no interest for Jack. But he did want to be able to take care of himself so that if Nick came back, he could show him that he wasn’t such a burden anymore. He had decided he would save money so that they could get a nice place together after all. And he would be able to keep paying for the motel each week so that Nick could always find him.

  “Ready! Action!” Stroheim yelled in such a frightening manner that Jack hoped he wouldn’t actually faint when it was his turn to be up there under the lights. Hiding in the shadows, he was taking the opportunity to absorb and become completely at home with the unfamiliar surroundings. Someday he imagined it would be second nature, but today was not that day.

  From what he could tell with what he’d read of his scenes, the film’s story centred on two star-crossed lovers. Jack’s part would be the twin brother of the beautiful star. In his best moment, Jack would have to cry and beg her not to leave to be with her lover. He’d already planned on how he could make the tears real. It wouldn’t be all that difficult.

  “Nein! Stop, you imbeciles. How can I set the mood of my story with this dummkopf looking as though he were filled with joy that his precious daughter is about to marry an insane man? Enough! Out! Everyone out until I decide what to do.”

  There was a low murmur as everyone scurried away as quickly as they could. Being at the rear of the set, Jack was certain he could make an easy escape.

  “You!”

  Jack started, then turned around. Stroheim was a mere few feet away, and pointing right at him.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I know I wasn’t supposed to be on set yet, but I wanted to watch.”

  “Of course you did. Only idiots with no grasp of artistry sit in front of a mirror gazing at their own imagined greatness. You will replace the father in this scene. Go change into another outfit, and save that one for your other scenes.”

  Erich Von Stroheim actually knew who he was?

  “Absolutely, sir, but, I’m still playing her brother, right?”

  “I shall pretend you didn’t ask me that. Now do as I say and be back here in ten minutes. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Humph.”

  Stroheim turned and marched off in his brown jodhpurs, leather field boots and open cut tweed jacket. It was a miracle the director could even think straight in that outfit, let alone control his temper under the scorching lights.

  Trixie was already over the moon that he had a part with the great Stroheim. Jack couldn’t wait to tell her the rest of the story. But first, he had to be sure he wouldn’t mess everything up. That meant a speedy trip to costuming to get prepared. The wardrobe mistress was a little miffed at how insistent he was, but she got over it fast when he mentioned that Mr Stroheim had personally requested it. He was dressed, and sent back to the stage, where makeup was hurriedly applied. Before he’d even had a chance to think about it, he was standing in the marked spot where the father character had been but a few minutes before, and weeping over his lovely sister’s fate, pleading with her to reconsider. The lines on the dialogue card were perfectly interchangeable with the two characters.

  “Cut!”

  Stroheim never said another word to him that day, but Jack was validated by the fact that he also didn’t ask for another take, and left the set right after his scene was done. Jack went to the room at the back of the soundstage that he shared with some of the other lesser actors, and pulled out the apple and hunk of cheese he’d brought with him. Trixie had been on him to eat more, but his appetite hadn’t fully returned. It seemed to be okay if he was distracted enough—like the excursions with Trixie—but left to his own thoughts with hours between shoots was a hunger killer.

  Thankfully, no one else was there with him, so he wouldn’t be obligated to converse with strangers. Sharing anything about his personal life was something he stayed far away from. Having Trixie in his life was such a blessing. She already knew all there was to know, and only cared about making him feel better. Mid-bite of his apple, the door came crashing open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Jack dropped the piece of fruit where it rolled across the floor.

  “You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve, you little prick!”

  Jack turned away from his dirt-caked lunch, and looked up at the beet-red face of the man who had been thrown off the set, and whom Jack had subsequently replaced. He jumped up, and backed away from the lunatic. The backs of his legs hit the one dressing table they all shared, and there was no way past the advancing man. He was effectively trapped.

  If Nick were here, he would protect me.

  Jack shook his head as if he were dislodging the thoughts from it.

  You gotta knock that off. You’re by yourself now. You have to deal with it.

  Jack considered the out of control actor. He was upon him now, and there was just enough time for Jack to see the fist flying at him, and to duck down out of the way. Glass shattered behind him along with the shrill cries of the injured man from where his punch had connected with the now broken mirror. Jack’s only advantages—his small size and speed—allowed him to whisk through the legs of the infuriated attacker, and bolt out of there.

  He made it outside to where the crew typically gathered to smoke during breaks, and was blinded momentarily from the sun. He shielded his eyes, out of breath, and was about to explain to the curious onlookers what was going on, when the raging maniac burst through the door Jack had just come out of, and pounced on him. They both tumbled to the ground, and Jack did what Nick had taught him.

 
“Listen, Jacky boy, you ain’t never gonna win a street fight. If for some reason I’m not there, you curl up in a ball and protect your head until they stop or someone comes and helps.”

  He had only been sixteen, and it had been way before they’d become lovers, but even then Nick had been worried about him. He must have seen the scared look on Jack’s face, because he had ruffled his hair and said, “Aw, it’s fine. I’ll always be there. I promise.”

  But Nick wasn’t there, and Jack did exactly what he’d said. They rolled in dirt and rocks, and Jack inhaled the grit. He choked and coughed, but kept his head and face covered. His studio clothes were being destroyed as the man grabbed and tore at him, punching futilely at his sides. He could hear the excited yells of the crew members, and at first, he thought they were cheering the enraged actor on. But he could feel the hands of the men yanking him free, and saw others pulling his attacker away.

  “You okay, kid?” asked the one who had brought him to a standing position.

  Jack looked down at his torn clothing. Stroheim was going to have a complete fit.

  So much for my acting career. Carpentry, here I come.

  Just as long as he wasn’t fucking for money, he’d be fine.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Another of the group came over to Jack and put his hand on his shoulder.

  “What the hell happened? You not share your joy powder with him?”

  Jack frowned, and looked over at his assailant. He was still writhing and yelling. Four strong men were having a hard time keeping a hold of him.

  “Is that why he’s like that?”

  “Think about it. Nobody gets that upset over a little acting part. Besides, he has a reputation around here. He was on his way to becoming a leading guy, but the cokey is all he cares about anymore.”

  Flashes of the nights when he, Nick and Trixie would go to men’s homes and perform went through his head. Trixie had shown them how the cocaine could help get them through it. She used it all the time, and she’d assured them there was no harm. Jack had never seen her act all crazy. She always seemed fun and bubbly. It helped her to be social, and to go up to strangers and charm them—the very thing that terrified Jack. He hadn’t used it since the last time they’d been with a customer, and he could now see why it might not be such a good thing after all.