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"Weber? Is that you?"
"Hi, Sash. Yeah."
She came in smiling widely. "The results of some of my tests came back today, and the doctors were really positive."
"That's good news! Oh, Sash, I'm glad to hear it."
"Something else, too! I guess I should let Wyatt tell you, but he keeps saying he will and then he doesn't. He went to the lab and had a blood test when you were in New York. His blood count is the best it's been in almost two years!"
Ever try looking happy when you were suddenly scared shitless? Good luck trying. Sasha's news sent a hundred ants crawling over me. Their better health had to be linked to what we were doing. But what happened if we failed? What happened if the new scenes were lousy, or 'only' good, and didn't reach the level that had been prescribed?
"You know, the strangest memory came to me today. After I got back from the doctor's, I felt like seeing a film, something positive and hopeful. First I put on Fellini's Amarcord but then realized I wasn't in the mood for that. So I put on your film Babyskin. I forgot how fu
"The scene at the end when the two old people go swimming naked in the moonlight? God, that went straight through me! But you don't feel sorry for them. You know why they're there and that it was inevitable, but you just want them to be happy swimming and face what has to come later.
"But that's not what I wanted to tell you. About halfway through, you have a scene where they put the party hat on the old man's dog –"
"That was Nicholas Sylvian's idea. The one where he goes into the man's room and wakes him up with licks?"
"Yes, but you know what it reminded me of? When my father was dying he told me one day that the sicker he got, the more his breath smelled like our dog's. When I remembered that, it was like someone threw a rock through a window in my head. It's always so crazy what sets off memories."
The same thing happened to me a few hours later. I don't look at my films very often. If I do, I see only mistakes and missed chances. But Babyskin was my first "European" film and had all the glamour and excitement that goes with that phrase. I worked with a superb team; my life was heavenly.
That night I'd pla
I couldn't have watched more than fifteen minutes before I saw something that made me jump up, eject the film, and slide in Midnight Always Comes in its place.
After searching, I found that clever scene where Bloodstone walks into the young couple's bedroom with a small tape recorder. Turning it on, we hear the very loud, unmistakable sound of people having a great time fucking.
"He took that from me!"
Out came the Strayhorn tape, in went the Gregston.
The night of the old woman's birthday. Her husband goes outside to piss, or so he tells her. He's given her no present that day and she's heartbroken. Suddenly from out there we hear very faintly the sound of Bix Beiderbecke's orchestra playing "That's My Secret Now." The woman, scared but curious, gets up and goes to the window. Her husband is outside on the lawn, kneeling next to the gramophone he's bought for her birthday.
"He took that from Babyskin! I'll be damned."
I put his film back in and watched the tape recorder scene again. Same blue and blinding white lighting, Paul Delvaux shadows, room set up exactly the same way. . . . It was the whole look and mood of my scene.
"I'll be damned."
What else had he snitched? Was that the right word, or was I only miffed at myself for not having realized it till now? Filmmakers steal from each other like pirates, but this rubbed me the wrong way somehow.
It was one in the morning. When Finky Linky came in at four, I was still watching Midnight movies and taking notes.
"Why didn't you tell me about your blood test?"
"Because I don't know what it means. I've had more remissions than Loretta Young's had face lifts."
"But you heard about Sasha's results?"
"Yes. I know there's probably a co
"Listen, I was with a friend tonight who has AIDS. You know what's most pathetic about him? His hope.
"He's heard they've found a cure in Czechoslovakia using carrots. Laetrile is back in if you have the money to go to Mexico for the quack treatments; he's considering it. And he has a friend who's considering getting injections of Interferon in his brain because he heard that's how they cure rabies sometimes. Can you imagine making that kind of insane co
"I don't want to be like this guy, crazy with hope and strange possibilities. I was like that when I first got cancer, but they're not good friends to have in this situation. That's what I've been telling Sasha: You can be optimistic, but don't be hopeful."
"What's the difference?"
"Optimists know they're going to die, but they look everywhere for a cure right up until the end. People who're hopeful are convinced there's a remedy; they just have to find it. That's why they're so bitter when they realize it isn't always true."
"You mean you're a realist?"
"Hell, no. A realist knows when he gets leukemia he's going to die."
I told him about the similarities between Phil's films and my own and showed him some samples. He was amused.
"So? He knew a good thing when he saw it."
Early the next morning Sasha woke me because there was an urgent phone call from the police. It was Dominic Scanlan asking if I'd seen Charlie Peet.
I might have slept two hours. "Dominic, who the fuck is Charlie Peet?"
"Blow Dry, asshole. That's his real name. Have you seen him?"
"No, why?"
"Because he didn't go home last night and didn't report for duty this morning. He doesn't do things like that."
"He was at rehearsal yesterday afternoon."
"We know, but that's the last anyone saw him. All right, Weber, I'll get back to you if anything comes up. Hey, how is he as an actor, anyway?"
"He's playing Bloodstone, you know. He'll probably be perfect."
"You ain't kidding! He's the real thing. Take it easy."
Trying to go back to sleep was impossible. I lay there thinking about the dead actor who'd gone around impersonating Strayhorn until he ended up looking like a French fry left in the microwave too long. Then I thought about the psychopath at the graveyard the day of Phil's funeral who got his fifteen minutes of fame doing Bloodstone with a blank pistol. Next came the kid in Florida who'd killed two kids a la Bloodstone in one of the films. Now the disappearance of Charlie Peet.
Can evil be created, or does it always grow alongside the road like some poisonous mushroom, waiting to be picked and eaten?
Had Phil created evil by inventing Bloodstone?
I got out of bed again and went back to the television room. The windows there faced onto the small backyard where a redwood picnic table and two benches sat under a palm tree. I heard quiet voices and recognized Sasha's and Wyatt's.
She was asking him why we were so concerned about finishing Midnight Kills. Wyatt said because all artists want their work completed, even if it's a horror film.
Even.