Free The Big Bamboo by Tim Dorsey Page A

called The Talent. We’re The Crew. The people who put deals together over lunch are The Suits. On the set, The Crew isn’t allowed to speak to The Talent. In fact, it’s better you don’t even look at them. Who knows what’ll tick them off? One word from Cameron and there’s a new carpenter the next day.”
    “Sounds like a nasty place to work.”
    “Actually it’s not. The Talent gets mobbed all the time on the street—they just want to work in peace. What you do if you’re The Crew is act like they don’t exist. The breaks between shoots can get pretty long. They’re people, too. Sometimes they just want someone to talk to. They strike up a conversation with you, and you go ‘uh-huh,’ and keep on working, like
they’re
the pests.”
    “So in a way,” said Ford, “when you’re on the set, you’re an actor, too.”
    “I never thought of it that way.”
    “Could I get into props?” asked Ford.
    “Definitely. Right now there’s a couple temp openings, but with the turnover, you’d be full-time before you know it.”
    “Maybe I can show someone my script?”
    Pedro laughed again.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “Everyone in this town’s carrying a script around with him.”
    “Really?”
    Pedro reached in his back pocket and pulled out a stack of pages folded lengthwise. “Here’s mine.”
    Ford took it and began reading.
    “Just don’t be pushy,” said Pedro. “When you’re in the right place, act like you’re reading something really fantastic and make them curious. When they ask, tell them they can’t see it. That’s how this business works.”
    “I have a lot to learn,” said Ford, flipping Pedro’s script back to the cover and looking at the title in big, bold letters:
Nailed!
“What’s it about?”
    “This good-looking standby carpenter is drafted to act in a key scene by a desperate director after one of the stars has a fatal accident on the set. And he steals the show! Sounds far-fetched, but that’s how Harrison Ford got his break, except the fatal part. But here’s my big twist in the climax that puts it over the top: Turns out the carpenter is the one who sabotaged the drawbridge that fell on the other actor in the first place!”
    “I like the title.”
    “Works on multiple levels,” said Pedro. “There’s the obvious carpentry meaning, then it refers to the first actor getting killed, and finally the stand-in
nails
his role. Think it’s too intellectual?”
    “Audiences want to grow.”
    “That’s what I thought.”
    Ford handed the script back. “Any interest?”
    “Oh, sure. All the people at the parties say they’re in love with it. But I’m not releasing the option unless I get to play myself. It’s going to be my
Good Will Hunting
.”
    “Sounds great.”
    “Really think so? And you’re a writer, too, so that means a lot more. Everyone who reads it at the parties can’t believe it hasn’t already been scooped up. Actually, they don’t read it. They just look at the first couple pages like you did, and I tell them the rest while they eat finger food. That’s those grease spots. Everyone’s absolutely crazy about it!”
    “Only one thing…” said Ford.
    “You hate it. I knew it! Just like the people at the parties. They
said
they loved it, but then talk filtered back to me later. This fucking town…”
    “No. You got me wrong. It’s—”
    “It’s what?”
    “The carpenter needs to be sympathetic.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Right now he’s just an asshole. The audience will side with the dead actor, no matter how good the carpenter performs. Word of mouth will kill the second weekend receipts.”
    “How do I fix it?”
    “Backstory the first actor as a jerk, so the audience already hates him. Then they’ll cheer the sabotage, which is revenge for something the actor did to the carpenter in a flashback. But it has to be a really big screwing-over to justify murder. Like something involving his family.”
    “Or a smaller