Free Hollywood is an All Volunteer Army by Steven Paul Leiva Page A

wanted....”
    â€œYes...?”
    â€œI wanted to ask you some questions, but...?”
    â€œThe job is over. I believe I can agree to a few questions.”
    â€œWas that really Walter Cronkite? Because, you know....” He pointed to the remains of “Charlie Wise’s” face that I still held in my hand.
    â€œDoes it matter?”
    â€œI’m curious.”
    â€œYe—if that satisfies.”
    â€œWhat? My curiosity, or—”
    â€œSomething deeper and darker?” He had no answer—and neither did I. “Anything else?”
    Lapham looked around him at our very reasonable facsimile as it began to dissipate. “I can see all of this has been expensive, but a million dollars?”
    â€œDo you ask this question when the studio is paying the bill?”
    â€œYes, I do,” he asserted.
    â€œDo you have any idea what it costs to arrange a blizzard?”
    â€œYou arranged the blizzard?”
    â€œHow else was I going to camouflage the city to get Jordan here instead of the actual studio without him noticing?”
    â€œYes, well, but arranging a blizzard?”
    I just smiled as Roee walked over.
    Lapham shook his head. “You do like adding to your legend don’t you?”
    Another smile. The most innocent one I could manage.
    â€œHow Hollywood of you,” Lapham stated.
    Was it a curse or a compliment? I decided not to ask.
    â€œI suppose you’ll send me an itemized bill?”
    Roee answered, “I suppose you’ll just forward two million dollars to Norton Macbeth within three days. He’ll find the proper way to account for it in your tax return.”
    â€œAnd if I decide that a million in expenses is not justified and I refuse to pay the full amount, you’ll— ”
    â€œArrange for you to have the legal right to use handicap parking spaces,” I stated it as a mundane point. “Right?” I asked Roee.
    â€œOh, absolutely. Debilitating physical damage. At least that’s what we’ve always done in the past.”
    â€œIt always seems to have worked.”
    â€œYes, no reason to innovate now that I can see.”
    Lapham looked at us. I could tell he really wanted to laugh, but whether it was at us, with us, or existentially, I hadn’t a clue.
    ~ * ~
    Getting back to the hotel was a major task, but then, of course, that was my own damn fault. Nonetheless we made it, got into our suite, sat by the fire, I with a vodka tonic, Roee with what he considered to be an adequate Merlot, and allowed ourselves to toast (in two ways) and feel satisfied.
    â€œI enjoyed that,” I said.
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat particular aspect about it did you enjoy the most?”
    â€œSometimes we are but a circus of clowns.”
    â€œIndeed?”
    â€œTo be the ringmaster in a circus of clowns.”
    â€œYou find that enjoyable?”
    â€œI find it amusing. I enjoy being amused.”
    â€œYou don’t miss the blood of lions?”
    I looked at Roee. He is often so damn perceptive. “Well—I don’t miss the lions. They are not amusing.”
    â€œAnd the blood?”
    â€œSay, that reminds me, I’m hungry.”
    We ordered lunch—Roee was only slightly critical of it—and watched the blizzard slowly die away. Petey had promised a clear day for tomorrow, and I was hoping he would deliver.
    ~ * ~
    The next morning was bright and clear and I decided to move Petey from minor to major divinity. The view I had of Central Park from my bedroom window was stunning in the Winter Wonderland aspect of it all. The sky was a blue beyond human comprehension. The deep-in-the-center feeling of joy at being alive was overpowering. It made me very hungry. For many things.
    ~ * ~
    Roee was off to meet with Tom, a stunningly handsome young man I had met but once, but had immediately liked. A Midwestern boy charmed by that which was exotic in Roee. Hearts,