Little Kelvin’s cries of unhappiness suddenly changed pitch and became screams of pain. Jake continued not to watch. He knew that after the foreskin was removed there was some kind of a deal that involved a suction device and the drawing of blood. He didn’t want to see that shit either.
Soon enough, the deed was done and Kelvin’s little schwanz was wrapped up in some kind of dressing. While Sharon carried him off to nurse him, the rest of the crowd filed out of the actual synagogue and into the gymnasium of the religious school on the grounds, where a Seudat Mitzvah, or celebratory meal, had been set up. There were tables full of bread, meat (but no cheese), and vegetables, pots full of simmering soups, a salad bar, and, also in the tradition of Judaism, an abundance of alcoholic beverages even though it was only eleven o’clock in the morning.
Jake and Laura made themselves a couple of sandwiches, poured bowls of soup, and then, after setting these down, went to the bar and got themselves some properly chilled white wine.
“Mazaltov,” they told Nerdly and the Cohens as they passed. They then sat down and put some food and wine in their stomachs.
Greg and Celia, carrying plates and wine glasses of their own, came to their table and sat down across from them. This was the first time the four of them had been together since the wedding. Jake and Laura had come home from their honeymoon in New Zealand two weeks before, but Greg and Celia had been staying in their Palm Springs home and had only driven back to LA for today’s occasion.
“That was an interesting ceremony,” Celia whispered.
“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “You gotta hand it to the Jews. They can turn anything into a party.”
“So, how was New Zealand?” Greg asked them.
“It was beautiful,” Laura gushed. “The most beautiful place I’ve ever been in my life, really.”
“Oh yeah?” Celia asked.
“It’s gorgeous there,” she said. “Jake took me up in his airplane and we flew along the coast of the island. Huge, snowcapped mountains with glaciers that come right down to the water. It was incredible. And we even saw the southern lights from the hot tub at night.”
“That does sound beautiful,” Celia said. “Greg, we have to go there some time.”
“I’d love to show you two around the place,” Jake told them. “But if you want to go sometime when I’m not there, that’s cool too. You’re more than welcome to stay in my house up in the hills.”
“That sounds very intriguing,” Greg said. “Unfortunately, we’re starting preproduction of my new project next week and I’ll be quite busy from that point until filming is complete.”
“Oh yeah,” Jake said. “The cop flick, right?” He rather enjoyed seeing Greg wince painfully at that term.
“Yes,” Greg said through gritted teeth. “The cop flick.”
“What’s the name of it going to be?” asked Laura.
“Us and Them,” Greg said. “It’s a reference to the siege mentality that career police officers develop after working the streets for any length of time. Us being the cops themselves, Them being anyone who is not also a street cop.”
“That’s deep,” Jake said with a nod.
“It’s to be a very deep film,” Greg said. “Part of my preparation for production is going to be that I go to Chicago and do two weeks of ride-a-longs with some actual Chicago PD patrol units on the south side.”
“The south side of Chicago?” Jake asked.
“That’s right,” Greg said.
“I hear that’s the baddest part of town,” Jake told him.
Celia chuckled but Laura and Greg both missed the Jim Croce reference.
“That’s what they say,” Greg said. “I’m looking forward to the experience. As a method actor, such preparation is invaluable to getting into character.”
“Aren’t you worried about him, C?” Laura asked. “Riding around in a police car in one of the worst neighborhoods in the country?”
“I’m not really worried about that part,” Celia said. “After all, is there a safer way to explore the baddest part of town?”
“I suppose not,” Laura allowed.
“I am a little worried about Greg’s costar in the project, however,” she said.
“His costar?” Jake asked.
Greg sighed the sigh of a man who had been over a particular subject more than he cared to but was being called on to do it again. “It hasn’t been officially announced yet,” he said, “but Mindy Snow is going to be my costar in Us and Them.”
Jake, who had been taking a sip of his wine, sucked some down the wrong pipe as he heard this. He went into a brief coughing fit. Laura pounded him on the back a few times before he was able to get himself back under control.
“That was kind of my reaction as well,” Celia said sourly.
“Mindy Snow?” Jake said. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He then remembered where they were and blushed a little at his last swear. “Uh ... I mean oy fucking vey.”
“It was a casting director decision,” Greg said. “Her demographic appeal and draw compliments mine, I was told. This decision was not overridden by the producer or the director, even though I asked them to use those override powers once I was told she was being cast for the role. I was given the choice to withdraw from the project myself if I could not work with her.”
“That chick is very bad news,” Jake told him. “Maybe you should think about doing that?”
“I have thought a lot about doing just that,” Greg said. “But they’re offering me nine million dollars for the role, plus a percentage of video sales.”
“That is a nice chunk of change,” Jake had to admit.
“And the money is not even the important part,” Greg said. “I need another successful film role to finish out the restoration of my reputation after the Northern Jungle fiasco. This is the best role that’s been offered, the only one that will put me back on the A-list.”
“That’s right,” Celia said with a sigh. “And as much as that woman creeps me out, I have to agree with Greg. He’ll get through it.”
“Have you ever met Mindy Snow before?” Laura asked.
“Of course,” Greg said. “She dated my friend, Mike Stinson, for a month or so.”
“You know Mike Stinson?” Laura asked, amazed.
“He used to be my best friend,” Greg said. “He was the best man at our wedding. And he was one of my supporting actors in the Northern Jungle. He and Mindy hooked up right after she filed for divorce from her first husband, Scott Adams Winslow.”
“Right,” Celia scoffed. “And she dropped him like a hot potato as soon as the reviews for the film started to come out.”
“Whatever happened to him?” asked Jake.
“Who? Winslow?” asked Greg.
“No, Mike Stinson. He was a likable enough guy—for an actor anyway.”
“Be nice,” Greg said. “He’s still living up in Beverly Hills ... for now anyway. He never recovered from the Northern Jungle. Hasn’t been offered any roles since then. Last I talked to him he was drinking a lot and thinking about running for treasurer of the SAG. His money is running out, you see, and he might have to sell his place and get something down in the city. He’s actually quite depressing to talk to these days, truth be told.”
“He did play the cheesiest character in that flick,” Jake pointed out. He looked at Laura. “Remember, he was the bad guy, the one they went all over the top with?”
“I’ve never actually seen that movie,” Laura said.
“Really?” Greg asked. “Then how do you know Mike Stinson? Northern Jungle was his most famous role.”