he’d dropped in at the N.F.T. to check up on his wife’s adultery with Buck Skelton. The pudgy, stetsoned, middle-rank American star had once been shipped to London, on a tame producer’s whim, to play the part of special marshal from Arizona unexpectedly seconded to Scotland Yard.
The Rattler and the Rubies
, a comedy-thriller now being revived in a season called ‘The Clash of Genres’, included a brief scene where Ann, playing a cloakroom girl at a fashionable gaming club, indulged in some good-natured banter with a Buck who seemed to move through the sophisticated yet decadent gathering with a marvellous natural dignity.
‘Jest here for to put the rec’d straight,’ Buck began in confidential tones. ‘Always believe in man to man on these occasions.’ He was lying on a beach lounger at the edge of his swimming pool; Graham, ridiculously white-skinned, was squatting uncomfortably beside him on a shoe-shiner’s stool. A Pina Colada frothed at Buck’s elbow; behind him, a girl’s naked bottom suddenly broke the surface of the pool like a dolphin, waggled, and disappeared again. The sun was bouncing off the water into Graham’s eyes. Buck wore tinted shades whose density adjusted itself according to the brightness of the day; Graham could only just see his eyes.
‘Reason ah told you to drop bah,’ came the cowboy voice, ‘is jest fer to put you in the picture, as the movie producer said as he grabbed the starlet’s jugs, her her. Jest wanted to let you know what went on between your lil old lady and this here Buck. Know why they call me Buck? I figger you can guess.
‘Now, R
at tier
was a real bitch movie.’ He sucked up an inch of Pina Colada through an oval, candy-striped straw. ‘A re-al bitch. We had a cokehead director, a couple of fag writers, a screw-up a day with that actors’ union of yours. I didn’t let it get to me, of course. I’m a pro. That’s why I’m still in work. That’s why I’ll always be in work. The rules are easy, Gray-ham. Number one, always take what your agent offers. Number two, never piss on the script; just say your lines as best you can, even if they are written by a couple of sky-high ass-inspectors. Number three, never get hooched on set. And number fower, don’t start balling the leading lady until you know exactly when shooting’s gonna stop.’ He took off his shades and stared at Graham for a few seconds; then replaced them.
‘Now, it was Rule Number Fower that took me by way of your wife. There were these union screw-ups, and to tell the truth I didn’t really give shit about that beanbag they’d cast to play my girl pardner, and we jest didn’t know how long we’d be sitting around on our butts waiting for the Queen to go by, no disrespect. I’m a pretty manly sort of fellow at the best of times, and when it’s the worst of times, well, I guess that jest makes me a sight manlier. Couldn’t wait to get the old Rattler into somebody’s Rubies, seemed like more than a good idea.’
Graham stared moodily at Buck, taking in the slightly ridged nose, the ox-blood tan, the spurt of hair at the fork of his open shirt. One or two of the hairs seemed to be turning grey, but this only made him more threatening to Graham: he was boastfully adding maturity and wisdom to his obviously colossal virility.
‘Now, first time I set eyes on that little Annie of yours, I knew she was gonna prove a real firecracker. “Annie,” I says to her, “you play your cards right, and maybe you’ll get my gun.” Haw haw. Always a little joke like that at the start, something to get them thinking what might come their way. Let them turn it over for a couple of days, then they drop into the palm of your hand like a rahp pay-yaych. That’s old Buck’s philosophy, any road.
‘So, stranger.’ The actor suddenly became more businesslike, more distant. ‘So, I were jest giving her the old couple-of-days’ routine, waiting for the sherry wine to matoor in the caysk, so
The Rattler and the Rubies
, a comedy-thriller now being revived in a season called ‘The Clash of Genres’, included a brief scene where Ann, playing a cloakroom girl at a fashionable gaming club, indulged in some good-natured banter with a Buck who seemed to move through the sophisticated yet decadent gathering with a marvellous natural dignity.
‘Jest here for to put the rec’d straight,’ Buck began in confidential tones. ‘Always believe in man to man on these occasions.’ He was lying on a beach lounger at the edge of his swimming pool; Graham, ridiculously white-skinned, was squatting uncomfortably beside him on a shoe-shiner’s stool. A Pina Colada frothed at Buck’s elbow; behind him, a girl’s naked bottom suddenly broke the surface of the pool like a dolphin, waggled, and disappeared again. The sun was bouncing off the water into Graham’s eyes. Buck wore tinted shades whose density adjusted itself according to the brightness of the day; Graham could only just see his eyes.
‘Reason ah told you to drop bah,’ came the cowboy voice, ‘is jest fer to put you in the picture, as the movie producer said as he grabbed the starlet’s jugs, her her. Jest wanted to let you know what went on between your lil old lady and this here Buck. Know why they call me Buck? I figger you can guess.
‘Now, R
at tier
was a real bitch movie.’ He sucked up an inch of Pina Colada through an oval, candy-striped straw. ‘A re-al bitch. We had a cokehead director, a couple of fag writers, a screw-up a day with that actors’ union of yours. I didn’t let it get to me, of course. I’m a pro. That’s why I’m still in work. That’s why I’ll always be in work. The rules are easy, Gray-ham. Number one, always take what your agent offers. Number two, never piss on the script; just say your lines as best you can, even if they are written by a couple of sky-high ass-inspectors. Number three, never get hooched on set. And number fower, don’t start balling the leading lady until you know exactly when shooting’s gonna stop.’ He took off his shades and stared at Graham for a few seconds; then replaced them.
‘Now, it was Rule Number Fower that took me by way of your wife. There were these union screw-ups, and to tell the truth I didn’t really give shit about that beanbag they’d cast to play my girl pardner, and we jest didn’t know how long we’d be sitting around on our butts waiting for the Queen to go by, no disrespect. I’m a pretty manly sort of fellow at the best of times, and when it’s the worst of times, well, I guess that jest makes me a sight manlier. Couldn’t wait to get the old Rattler into somebody’s Rubies, seemed like more than a good idea.’
Graham stared moodily at Buck, taking in the slightly ridged nose, the ox-blood tan, the spurt of hair at the fork of his open shirt. One or two of the hairs seemed to be turning grey, but this only made him more threatening to Graham: he was boastfully adding maturity and wisdom to his obviously colossal virility.
‘Now, first time I set eyes on that little Annie of yours, I knew she was gonna prove a real firecracker. “Annie,” I says to her, “you play your cards right, and maybe you’ll get my gun.” Haw haw. Always a little joke like that at the start, something to get them thinking what might come their way. Let them turn it over for a couple of days, then they drop into the palm of your hand like a rahp pay-yaych. That’s old Buck’s philosophy, any road.
‘So, stranger.’ The actor suddenly became more businesslike, more distant. ‘So, I were jest giving her the old couple-of-days’ routine, waiting for the sherry wine to matoor in the caysk, so
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