To Mary, it didn’t seem like the kind of password a girl involved in pornography (if she was) would use. Then again, maybe some women liked that coquettish behavior before slipping on the trashy lingerie and getting in front of a camera.
Mary logged onto Facebook, entered Nina’s email and password, and studied the home page when it came up.
There was virtually no activity on Nina’s page. A few innocuous status updates, a few messages from friends, and that was it. The most recent update was almost two weeks ago and that was from a girl asking about going to the mall.
Well, that was disappointing, Mary thought.
She closed Facebook and opened Nina’s email account. It was filled with junk mail. Mary had to scroll down almost three weeks’ worth of messages to get to an actual real person.
It was from an email address called GagMan@gmail.com.
GagMan.
Cute, Mary thought. What was he, some kind of Porno Super Hero?
She opened the email. It was simply an address with no message.
Mary jotted down the address on a note pad.
She checked Nina’s Twitter account and another email account, both of which yielded no useful information — other than the fact that Nina had been discovered by nearly every pornographic spam account there was. Mary had never seen so many porn products and penis enlargement emails in her life.
She was so sheltered.
Mary closed down the computer just as her cell phone rang.
“Mary, come and pick me up,” Kurt said. “From work.”
She checked the clock. It was only 8:30 in the morning. Awfully early for a comedy club to be open.
“Where?” she said.
“You know that Ralph’s Supermarket on Lincoln, about a half mile from your place?”
“Yeah,” Mary said. “Is there a club near there?”
A pause.
“Would you like paper or plastic?” Kurt responded.
And then a dial tone.
Oh, Mary thought.
13
Thirteen
Kurt emerged from the Ralph’s Supermarket wearing dark slacks, a red polo shirt with the Ralph’s logo, and a black apron.
He got into Mary’s car.
“I don’t even want to hear it,” Kurt said.
“Is this some kind of work-release program?” Mary said. “Do they pay you in produce?”
“Hey, I need the cash,” Kurt said. “And they were hiring, without much in terms of background checks. End of story.”
Mary decided to let it drop.
“So where’s Jason? Does he have some kind of secret part-time job too? Manning the perfume counters at the mall?”
“He did go through a phase. .” Kurt said, but then stopped himself. “No, he’s going to meet us there. How are we on time?”
Mary glanced at the car’s dashboard clock.
“We’ve got time,” she said. “But now we have to stop at this clothing store up here, unless you’ve got some explanation why an international pornography director is walking around in a Ralph’s Supermarket shirt.”
Kurt contemplated for a moment. “Maybe I’m filming an orgy in the produce section,” he said. “You know, cucumbers being used as sex toys, pieces of ham being made love to — a”“I so enjoy hearing you brainstorm,” Mary said. “It’s like watching Einstein solve equations, but I’m not buying any of it.”
She turned into the clothing store’s parking lot and shut off the car.
“Time for your makeover, Grocery Boy.”
14
Fourteen
The structure was a towering, white office building, one of the few in downtown Santa Monica. It stood on the corner of Ocean and Wilshire.
Mary stood with Kurt and Jason on the sidewalk in front, the bright, direct light from the sun making her “cast” look even more pathetic. She gave each of them one last look.
Kurt was dressed in a maroon velvet blazer, knockoff designer jeans, and pointy shoes made of purple imitation leather. Mary thought he looked like a gay mental patient.
Jason had on his normal clothes: jeans, a dark-blue T-shirt, and the stench of pot. The only thing they’d added was a shiny sport coat from the Magic Johnson collection. The coat’s tails went all the way down to the back of Jason’s knees.
“Jesus, you guys look like a Vegas lounge act gone terribly wrong,” she said.
“Oh yeah? Look at you,” Kurt said. “You look like an overworked and underpaid Holiday Inn hooker.”
Mary did glance at her reflection in the windows of the office tower’s foyer. She had on a tight, black leather skirt, stockings, red platform shoes, and a red leather half-jacket.
“More like an upscale escort, working in Beverly Hills,” Mary said.
Jason snorted.
“Where do you take your johns, the Four Squeezin’s?” Kurt said.
“Oh Christ,” Mary said. “Let’s go.”
She led them inside and punched the elevator to the twenty-third floor.
“Just follow my lead,” she said. She looked directly at Kurt. “No improvising. I’m working here, not fucking around.”
Kurt nodded. “Got it. You’re the boss. The Head Hooker.”
The elevator doors opened, and Mary found the front desk of “Global Talent Management.”
She asked the young male receptionist, dressed entirely in black with a Bluetooth earpiece, to see Trey Williams.
“You have an appointment?”
“Yes, I do. Please inform him Tati Rivers is here to see him,” Mary said. She had decided to skip the Italian accent. “He is expecting me.”
The young man nodded and said into his earpiece, “Tati Rivers is here to see you.”
Kurt whispered in Mary’s ear. “Tati? Tati the Hottie?”
“Shhh,” Mary said.
The young man stood.
“Right this way, please,” he said.
Mary followed the man first. She noticed the framed certificates on the walls. Grammys. Emmys. Photos of celebrities with people she assumed were the agents. You could tell because the stars were good-looking, the agents, not so much.
They were led into a surprisingly small office where a man in a black suit stood with his back to the door, looking out the windows that made up ninety percent of the office’s wall space. Over his shoulder, Mary could see the Hollywood Hills.
“Mr. Williams,” the secretary said, “your three o’clock is here.”
Trey Williams turned to face Mary. She was shocked. He looked like he was about twelve years old. He had short, brown hair, a baby face, and a watch so big she wondered how he was able to lift his arm.
“Come in,” he said.
Mary took the chair directly opposite his desk. Kurt sat to her right, and Jason to her left. She glanced at the various piles of paperwork and folder on the desk. They were all neatly arranged and separated into groups.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us, Mr. Williams,” Mary said.
“My pleasure, Ms.-”
“Tati Rivers,” Mary said. She gestured toward Kurt. “And this is my director, Patrick Bishop,” she turned to Jason, “and my lead actor, Austin Lee.”
“Niceto meet you all,” Williams said. “I understand, Ms. River, that you’re looking to cast a new film?”
“Please call me Tati,” Mary said.
“The hottie,” Kurt said.
“Okay. Tati.” He smiled at her.
Mary felt like taking this kid’s milk money and hiking his underwear up.
“We are about to embark on an incredibly tight production — ” Mary began.