KW 09:Shot on Location Read Online Free PDF Page B

that’s all I get to do: be super. She gets to be the actual woman. She gets to act. I get to grunt now and then. She gets the close-ups, I get the crotch shots while I’m climbing up a tree. Not to mention she makes fifty or a hundred times more money. The whole thing’s so fucked up.”
    Jake looked for something to say but he was pressed back in his chair by Donna’s virulence.
    “Hey,” she went on, “she’s prettier than I am. I know that. I got eyes. But I don’t miss by much. A little knife-work, a little collagen. You think I miss by much?”
    Jake swallowed. “Actually, I think you’re great-looking.”
    “Great-looking. Okay. Not as good as beautiful, but I’ll take it, thanks.”
    She stubbed out her cigarette and turned over on her side. The towel followed her but not precisely. Lifting on an elbow, fixing Jake with a ferocious gaze, she went on. “It’s just that I’d be so much better in that part. I know that character inside and out. I
am
that character. When she’s treated like a girl, she gets pissed off and has to show how tough she is. When her toughness pushes people away, she wants to get all soft and be treated like a girl. She’s stuck in this pattern. Tomboy, pussycat. Pussycat, ballbuster. Back to pussycat, back to tomboy. I get it. I could play every little shred of it. I could win a fucking Emmy in that role.”
    Trying to be helpful, Jake said, “Maybe you’ll get to play a part like that sometime.”
    She picked a fleck of tobacco from her tongue and pushed forth a dismissive sound. “Fat chance. You don’t go from stunt girl to leading lady. That would take a miracle. And I happen not to believe in miracles. Except maybe the do-it-yourself kind. So there it is. But hey, you shouldn’t have to listen to me bitch all night. Tell me about you, what you’re doing here, your book. It’s about the show?”
    Jake leaned his head back and looked up at the stars. “Sort of. Not really. Yes and no.”
    “That clears it up,” said Donna.
    “You know Quentin Dole?”
    “Christ, that’s like asking if I know the Pope. He’s the man. He’s the franchise. They say he’s a genius. Has the whole series mapped out in his head.”
    “We just had drinks —”
    “You had drinks with Quentin? So you’re a bigshot after all.”
    “Not hardly. But we had drinks, we chatted, we’re trying to figure out what the book should be.”
    “Drinks with Quentin,” Donna said again. “You’re a bigshot but you hide it. I think that’s nice.”
    “Stop, please. But I have a question for you. Would you rather not ride the minibus tomorrow morning? Quentin’s sending a car to bring me to the set.”
    “A limo? That’s more like it.”
    “I doubt it. Just a car.”
    “Still beats the hell out of a minibus. I have to do anything to get this ride?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “You know.
Do
anything. I mean, this is show business, after all.”
    Slightly embarrassed, not sure if he was coming across more as a prude or more as a cad, Jake said, “No. No, nothing like that.”
    “See, you’re a nice guy. I could see right off you are.”
    “Just be ready by eight.”
    “I’ll be ready by seven,” she said. “Getting into character, you know.” And she gave a little laugh that dissolved in the blue haze above the pool.

8.
    Donna, all revved up, was awake at dawn and soon got down to her daily regimen of stretching and core work. By seven she was showered and dressed and rubbed with lotions that made her taut skin glisten. But then her morning had a setback. She couldn’t find the looseleaf binder that held her scripts. She was sure she’d left it on the wicker table in her tiny living room. Well, almost sure. Occasionally she read scripts out by the pool, fantasizing that some talent scout or bigshot might happen by and be fascinated. Or sometimes she read scenes aloud in the bathtub, playing all the parts, sloshing water as she gestured. Still, there were only so many places the