Devilcountry (12 page)

In the six months we’d worked together he’d said
no more than two words to me.  
One of them being a curse
word.
He had no idea who I was; he’d never used my name in a sentence,
and was what I called an amnesiac. He performed the greatest of insults on
me and others
.  Refusing to remember that we’ve already
met therefore causing a re-introduction to take place.  In acting
circles, which is
what he was pretending to be, this was a
cardinal offense because it says to the person, “even though we’ve already met,
it left so little of an impression on me we must go through the formality of
reintroduction once again.”  It is basically a giant FUCK YOU.  
A way of telegraphing to anyone and everyone lesser that they don’t
matter.
 It’s a horrible feeling to have to be around people of
this ilk.  
Their own sense of aloofness being their
greatest weapon.
 It is
fool-proof
.
 Anyone exposed to it loses.   I had met Gino well over a dozen
times.  Every time it was the same.  Him acting like I’d just asked
him for his autograph.  He would then ask my name but as I would say it
you could see his eyes and attention drift off.  “It’s nice to meet you,
I’m Gino.  Unload the sodas.”  I was always a stranger. My imprint
never took.  I was and always would be a stranger to him and to so many
like him.  I didn’t want to be near him.   It shouldn’t have
bothered me so much but it did.  I knew he was a scumbag, yet for some
reason beyond me I wanted him to remember who I was.  Guys like Gino
revealed to me how creepy and removed some people are.  Dickie had no
recognition of me whatsoever and Gino was a true prodigy.   It was
disturbing and disrespectful.  Gino was a miserable, vapid, empty animal
who was now possibly half-naked and skid-marking my queen’s couch. I didn’t
want to be there.  As I entered the family room behind Carin I tried to
voice my rejection, and make an exit.  

“That’s very kind of you but I should probably
get back to the store.”

 
         
 
“Oh come on! Sit down.  Take a load
off.  I got all this food here an’ someone’s gotta eat it, right?”
 She walked to the coffee table where Gino had his feet up.  All the
food balanced in her arms.  It was a shaky process, to which Gino offered
no assistance.  She placed the pizzas and cake on the table next to a huge
bottle of Johnny Walker Black.  I followed her into the room, reluctant,
yet mobile, vocalizing protest.  “Let me call the store,” she mumbled.
 “I’ll tell them I need you for somethin’…” her voice trailed off.
 

“The phone needs batteries! Remember?” Gino
yelled.  He looked at me and nodded his head as if to say,
stupid
bitch.  
Carin paused.  Stumped.

 
         
 
“In the bag next to the food,” I said.
 Gino gave me a slight look of betrayal.  

Carin piped up.  “That’s right! I told
Pudgie to get me batteries.”

 
         
 
“Pudgie!” Gino turned back into his cell
phone.  “Fuck you, Pudgie!”  Pudgie’s high- pitched voice could be
heard coming through the other end.

 
         
 
“Are you on with Pudgie? Is he at the
store?”  Carin asked.  Gino nodded but refused to make eye contact.
 “You tell Pudgie that we’re keeping…” she looked at me puzzled.  She
had no clue what my name was (a point against, but I was willing to let it
slide).

“Craig.”

“...Graig, for a while.”

Gino threw the phone at Carin.  “You tell
him!”  Carin picked up the phone, which had fallen through her hands and
clanged against the table.  She mumbled some curse words, steadied
herself, and all of a sudden she sounded totally sober.  “Hi, Pudge, its
me.”  She had a nice sing/song tone in her voice.  You’d never know
she was just crawling around in her own filth just an instant before. “Yes,
we’re fine, sweety, listen we’re gonna keep Graig for a while, okay?”
 That was another point off.  “…
yeah
, I need
him to move some stuff for me…what?  About an hour…thanks…oh the food is
great…yeah and we got the batteries…oh, Pudgie?  Did Geraldo get back to
the store yet?  He didn’t? Okay no big deal…no…it’s nothing.”  She
paused for a moment.  She seemed a bit shaken.  “
okay
…thanks...What?...you
what?...You want to get drinks?
With me?
 Oh,
honey, you’re sweet, I’m afraid you are too much man for me, baby.
 Okay...talk soon.  
bye
!”  Carin hung
up the phone.  “God, he’s creepy.”

 
         
 
“I was still talking to him!” Gino shouted.

 
         
 
“He has to work.”  Carin’s head fell
down. And she brushed a hand through her tussled hair.  It was the
performance of a lifetime for her and now she was spent.  It used to be so
much easier to ask for things, she thought.  She sank into the deep,
overstuffed lazy chair.  “So let’s eat!” she demanded.  I sat down
with hesitation. Gino started to laugh as he unwrapped his peppers and onions.

 
         
 
“Man, you’re in for it now, bro!
 I’m Gino, what’s your name?”
  
I stared back in disbelief.

 It was going to be a long fucking
night.
 
 
I was right about the no pants thing.

LISA

When
Lisa walked into The Big Pizza the first time it was a beautiful summer day.
 I remember it well.  The view from outside bounced off the freshly
409’d shiny white tiles of the counter.  Clouds rolled by and there was a
gentle, warm breeze in the air acting as her entourage.  Sometimes I feel
people write the weather as they see fit, in order to suggest a mood.  
In order to enhance the entrance.
 Lisa had this power.
 A day I will never forget.  When Lisa floated in it was as if a
cloud had dropped her off.  The first time I laid eyes on her I, Craig,
became conscious of everything.  
My beating heart, my
brittle bones, my knotted stomach, my sweat.
 I couldn’t believe
her.  Nobody else saw it, except maybe God.  God and myself, we were
the only ones.  A fetching beauty, simple like no other.

Up until that moment The Big Pizza had been an
exercise, a training maneuver, an orientated, choreographed movement of bodies
at work and play, and I had survived the journey into The Blackened Kingdom.
 When she walked in, the placid outside winds coaxed up her beautiful
black hair and in that moment everything mattered and became real to me.  I
realized  I’d
never get a chance with her.
 I’d never be introduced and we’d never be able to see each other eye to
eye.  In an instant I was in love, heartbroken, shattered, and attempting
to move on.

 
         
 
Romance needs two players.  
Two players willing to dance with each other.
A dash of
drama, then tragedy, war, reunification, then happily ever after can occur.
 All this would occur for her, just not with me.

 
         
 
Romeo (me) eyed Juliette (Lisa).  
Juliette,
however longed for Pudgie (struggling actor using
Lisa for her Hollywood contacts).  Juliette had no clue
who
Romeo was.  Romeo was stunned Juliette could find the village idiot
(Pudgie) attractive.  Romeo stormed off the set to find the director.
 The director was busy working on a pilot for HBO.  Romeo prayed for
Pudgie’s quick death and holy martyrdom.  A portrait of him will lie above
the bedpost of their wedding bed…

 
         
 
It sucks when people’s melodramas don’t
line-up.  It gets awkward.  You’ve got a mean game of Shakespeare
going on, while she’s crotch-deep into Harry’s big, hot
Potter
.

 
         
 
Lisa was there to see Pudgie.  You
could tell he had something she needed.  
An energy
she fed on.

From then on it was bittersweet working with
Pudgie.  With the exception of Gino he was one of the worst employees The
Big Pizza had.  He was loud, stupid, ignorant, unpleasant, self-serving, kind
of evil, and terrible with customers who weren’t famous or famous-adjacent.
 Even with with Donnie.  I don’t know how Donnie was able to deal
with it.  He and his father would sit there most days with Pudgie fawning
all over both of them.  As if it would lead to bigger things for Pudgie.
 Yet, they seemed to never waiver.  Donnie’s dad had been retired for
some time, maybe Pudgie’s pestering acted as a sort of Methodone for him.
 Donnie and his daddy
were
the king of making
deals.  They were Jedis at thinking fast and on their feet.

So the legend goes, Donnie’s daddy walked into
Nate and Al’s where he sat with Lew Wasserman.  Both of them up and coming
forces within Hollywood, and over the course of a fifty minute working lunch
the two of them architected out the careers of some of the most famous
filmmakers and actors in Hollywood by expanding on the concept known as
“packaging” in which a writer, an actor, a director and anyone else they chose
would be included in a deal with a studio, thus creating a precedent where
agencies began to walk on even footing with the studios they provided talent
for.  Wasserman would later take over Universal Studios and become one of
the most powerful men in entertainment.  It was a watershed moment.
 Over pickles they were discussing percentages.  By the time the
Turkey Reubens arrived five top-shelf directors had new deals and seven
up-and-coming actors all of whom are now household names were officially in the
book.  The check was split, Wasserman’s usual waitress was tipped
appropriately from each party, and both were on their way into their respective
places in history.  The entire Hollywood landscape would be changed forever.
 The suit styles and restaurants may have changed, but the deals are still
the same.  The way improvisation was one of the great tools of
Coltrane,
Donnie’s daddy was a genius at riffing his way
into the impromptu deal that was worth millions.
Flying
through treacherous terrain like an eagle soaring through the clouds.
 In a cosmic visionary instant a whole new world was created for Donnie’s
daddy and Donnie alike. Or so the legend goes...

Pudgie just knew that Donnie and Donnie’s daddy
were dealmakers.  He was hoping through some sort of osmosis some of
Donnie and his daddy’s good fortune would rub off on him.  He didn’t care
how, as long as it came.  He felt the same way about Lisa.
  Pudgie was hoping for her good luck to rub off on him as well.
 She had sold three scripts in less than a year. The last one was only a
pitch.  There was no script to speak of.  It was an idea that came
blasting into her head as she sat down to a meeting with a studio executive who
wanted to hire her to write a pilot. The conversation began to shift and in an
instant she had an idea.  

“Oh my god, I just got the most amazing idea!”
 She blurted out with a soft enthusiasm that anyone would have locked
onto.  She was telling the truth.  The idea had hit her from beyond.

“Well let’s hear it.
”
said the studio executive.

She spoke for two minutes straight. No pauses,
no interruptions.  
Her audience of one speechless.
 It was about the rise and fall of a retarded male exotic dancer who dies
tragically.  

“It’s
Rainman
meets
Footloose
with a dash of naked
Goodfellas
and
The Color Purple
in it.”  The studio executive loved it.
 Within five business days they had couriered a certified check for
$650,000 in her name to her apartment.  Off of one hundred and twenty
seconds of spoken text, Lisa had single-handedly created a small empire for
herself.  Four months and thirteen days later, she turned in an
eighty-four page
script that was complete crap.  It has
sat on a shelf ever since.  It was insane that something like that could
happen.  But it did.  Pudgie knew it, and wanted in.  

For me at the exact moment she was pitching her
idea I was sitting on a toilet getting an image in my head of a half-naked
Channing Tatum wearing a helmet and waving a gun around while running through a
cotton field owned by Whoopie Goldberg.  Lisa became a millioniare for
what she was able to grab out of the ether.  I got a prescription for
Zoloft.  That is the way
of  Devilcountry
.

It was her instantaneous ability to not only
receive
a vision of that magnitude but to capitalize on it
immediately that made me want her.  That and her soft, supple, gorgeously
feminine Jewish-y shell made me totally jello-legged and speechless around her.
  

It drove me mad that Lisa was there to see
Pudgie.  But I must confess
,
Pudgie had a bit of
charm to him.  Mostly because upon meeting Pudgie he had for some reason
committed my name to memory. He was not an amnesiac.  Which to me, said a
lot.  He’d say something like, “God, Craig, you are hilarious!” My face
would go flush with the flattery, but before I knew it I was picking up a gram
of white in a back alley off Sunset for him.  Upon my return he’d try to
sweeten it up by handing me a twenty and saying something like, “You’re
awesome, bro’.  You want a handjob from Aida Turturro? Say the word, I’ll
hook you up.”  But it was never as good as it seemed.  
Aida Turturro, a lovely character actress of note whom I had a
standing handjob fantasy about would be replaced by the Manicurist for Aida
Turturro
.  Looking past my own desperation I met up with her
anyways.  She looked like a very attractive Alice Cooper with palsy.
  I passed on the sexual act, but we sat and chatted for a while
about her two years in porn. In all honesty I found her fascinating and my nails
have never looked more fabulous.  She’s my regular girl.  Thus, it
all worked out.  So, knowing Pudgie had its perks.  
In a backwards sort of way.
 Still, if I wanted to
catch a glimpse of my Juliette it could only be from afar.  I would grin,
bite my newly flourished nails and bear any pain necessary for just the
slightest taste of attention.