Free What Movies Made Me Do by Susan Braudy Page B

big hug.
    I smelled soap in his beard. A minute later he sat next to me on the couch balancing a coffee cup and saucer. He was a manic and gleeful movie genius, and he reminded me of a huge yellow bear who’d tamed himself down for rare human interaction. We almost murdered each other during the time we lived together. He was the only man I’d lived with since my ex-husband.
    “Nice sweater,” I said.
    He tugged at the front of his argyle sweater. He was growing too much girth. “Went home last week,” he said without looking at me. He was Italian, from South Philly.
    “Fun?”
    “Nope.”
    Former lovers are a surprise bonus in life. I patted his wrist. I was remembering the secret pact we’d made that we’d be sitting on rocking chairs on a porch together in our old age.
    Michael Finley sat down on the arm of the sofa near Sam. He slapped Sam on the back. “When you leaving, boy?” he shouted boisterously.
    “I’m not signed, so don’t call me boy,” Sam muttered, stirring the coffee with his finger.
    Michael bent over, forcing laughter. Sam hated authority figures. He’d once choked another head of production who parked in his space in the Burbank lot.
    “It’s just a formality.” Michael stopped his fake laugh.
    “More coffee,” Sam muttered.
    “Allow me.” Michael rushed toward the kitchen and disappeared. I calculated I had two minutes.
    “How can you talk to that asshole?” Sam wrapped one arm around my neck.
    “Judas.” I pulled away.
    “What?”
    My throat closed with self-pity. “You negotiated with Michael behind my back.”
    “Oh, God.” He scratched his beard with both hands and sucked in his lips nervously.
    “You’ll never film Jesus as a radical.”
    “We’re all in the business.” His eyes raked my face. “Anyway, don’t be such a tight-ass intellectual, Carol. I think it’s really an opera of human sacrifice.”
    I had sixty seconds left.
    “If Anita goes, I lose my job,” I said carefully.
    “God, I never thought of that.” He looked away.
    I almost believed him. “I guess Anita won’t like sharing directing credit.”
    “Huh?” He jumped up.
    “The Guild will rule, but she’s completed most of the principal photography.”
    “I’ll slit her throat.” He glared at me.
    Michael approached him with two sugar packets and a fresh cup of coffee.
    “I don’t share credit,” Sam told him in a menacing voice. He flapped sugar into his cup, then laughed apologetically.
    “Let’s call the Guild.” Michael dived at the telephone.
    Sam stood over him. “You didn’t check it out?”
    Michael looked at him and hung up the phone. “Sure, sure,” he lied, “but the only thing is, the secretary’s in Palermo and he’s unreachable.”
    Sam sat again, shifting his weight until the couch rocked. “I’m unreachable until I hear from the Guild.”
    “I want you in Israel next week.” Michael looked ready to kill.
    “Two weeks at the earliest.” Sam faked a yawn.
    I know when to say nothing. But I was elated. I had bought myself two weeks to make things go my way.
    “Just don’t make it bloody,” I teased Sam.
    “
Please
don’t tell the man how to work.” Michael took several steps toward me, his teeth clenched. He hates me talking during meetings.
    “She’s the only woman who bosses me around.” Sam smiled sheepishly.
    “Don’t forget your sainted mother.” I hit him in the ribs with my elbow.
    Michael squatted in front of him. “Hey, you can handle Jack, right?” I felt punched in the gut. Sam hated Jack; I knew he was jealous of Jack’s reputation with women.
    “How would
you
handle him?” I asked sarcastically.
    Sam shot me a sideways glance. “I directed the guy when he was first starting out.” He handed his cup and saucer toMichael and raised both arms straight up like a blessing preacher. “I love the guy, love him. The secret is, treat him like your co-director. I mean, God, you have to respect him for never making a false move in