and unable to tell up from down. Uninsurable in an industry that won’t cut a fart without taking out a policy. Bingo: You’ve got Thistle Downing.”
“This year’s model,” I said.
“That fucker Rodd,” she said. She tore the napkin in half. “Goddamn television directors. What have they got? The best technical crews and the best journeyman actors in the world.Pretty good writing, as good as they could appreciate, anyway. And it’s all about
them
, the genius directors. They’re fucking
auteurs
. D.W. Griffith, Murnau, von Stroheim. Nobody as vulgar as Hitchcock or Spielberg.”
“I’d like to feed him his viewfinder.”
“He’s too dumb to know that Thistle, whatever shape she’s in, is the most talented person he’s ever been in a room with. If she hadn’t fucked herself up, she could be one of the biggest stars in the world. I mean, she could have been on a career path that would have kept her working until she was eighty. Instead, here she is, doing …” She crumpled the napkin with both hands and threw the wad over her shoulder, and went, “Puh.”
We were at a coffee shop on Ventura, about a mile from Palomar Studios, the complex Trey had bought and was using for
Three Wishes
. Trey had gone back to adding assets to her newly legitimate empire, and Rodd was probably looking at his reflection through the viewfinder. A couple of people from the crew were due to join us and bring me up to speed on what had been happening, but Tatiana was still steaming from the encounter with Rodd.
“And what’s with that second ‘D’?” she said, loudly enough that people were looking at her. “One isn’t enough? Maybe we ought to pronounce it that way. Hi, Rod-d. Morning, Rod-d. Or start doing it to other words. That’s rid-diculous. Sorry, Rod-d, I d-didn’t hear you. Honestly, Rod-d, d-don’t you think that’s red-dund-dant?”
“Do it with other letters,” I suggested. “F-frankly, Rod-d, I d-don’t give a d-damn.”
Tatiana started to laugh, and then cut it off. “Why do I trust you?” she said, leaning forward across the table to look at me more closely.
I’m not actually fond of being looked at closely, but I held my ground. “Got me. Why shouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know anything about you.” She picked at a cuticle,and I noticed that they’d all been worked ragged. “This movie, if you can call it a movie, has more intrigue behind the cameras than the Italian Renaissance. I know you’re with Trey, who I sort of like, but as we all know, she’s made out of ice. I guess I don’t know which side you’re on.”
“If there’s a side that wants to see Thistle treated like a human being, that’s the side I’m on.”
“That’s better than nothing,” she said. “Rod-d would run over her with a truck if he thought it would cap a scene.”
“And you don’t like that.”
“I like talent. There’s never enough of it. I grew up with her. On TV, I mean. She’s one of the best things I ever saw, and she did it week after week, up to those last couple of years.”
“What happened then?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. She ran out of steam. She’d been, and I hate to use this word because nobody ever means it, but she’d been unique. Even the last couple of years, she was better than most actresses on their best day. And then there’s the movie itself. It’s bad enough that she has to be making this piece of shit without her being treated like a bagged-out crack whore.”
“I’m with you.”
“Not that it’s a
total
piece of shit,” she said. “I’ll give it to Trey. I’ve worked on real porno, and this isn’t it. I mean, she got an actual writer, she got Rodd, who, for all that he’s the dickwad of the century, has directed some good actors. She got a cameraman—camerawoman, I mean—Lauren Wister, who’s shot a couple of independent features, and I think it’ll be easier for Thistle with a woman behind the camera. And the second-line
“This year’s model,” I said.
“That fucker Rodd,” she said. She tore the napkin in half. “Goddamn television directors. What have they got? The best technical crews and the best journeyman actors in the world.Pretty good writing, as good as they could appreciate, anyway. And it’s all about
them
, the genius directors. They’re fucking
auteurs
. D.W. Griffith, Murnau, von Stroheim. Nobody as vulgar as Hitchcock or Spielberg.”
“I’d like to feed him his viewfinder.”
“He’s too dumb to know that Thistle, whatever shape she’s in, is the most talented person he’s ever been in a room with. If she hadn’t fucked herself up, she could be one of the biggest stars in the world. I mean, she could have been on a career path that would have kept her working until she was eighty. Instead, here she is, doing …” She crumpled the napkin with both hands and threw the wad over her shoulder, and went, “Puh.”
We were at a coffee shop on Ventura, about a mile from Palomar Studios, the complex Trey had bought and was using for
Three Wishes
. Trey had gone back to adding assets to her newly legitimate empire, and Rodd was probably looking at his reflection through the viewfinder. A couple of people from the crew were due to join us and bring me up to speed on what had been happening, but Tatiana was still steaming from the encounter with Rodd.
“And what’s with that second ‘D’?” she said, loudly enough that people were looking at her. “One isn’t enough? Maybe we ought to pronounce it that way. Hi, Rod-d. Morning, Rod-d. Or start doing it to other words. That’s rid-diculous. Sorry, Rod-d, I d-didn’t hear you. Honestly, Rod-d, d-don’t you think that’s red-dund-dant?”
“Do it with other letters,” I suggested. “F-frankly, Rod-d, I d-don’t give a d-damn.”
Tatiana started to laugh, and then cut it off. “Why do I trust you?” she said, leaning forward across the table to look at me more closely.
I’m not actually fond of being looked at closely, but I held my ground. “Got me. Why shouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know anything about you.” She picked at a cuticle,and I noticed that they’d all been worked ragged. “This movie, if you can call it a movie, has more intrigue behind the cameras than the Italian Renaissance. I know you’re with Trey, who I sort of like, but as we all know, she’s made out of ice. I guess I don’t know which side you’re on.”
“If there’s a side that wants to see Thistle treated like a human being, that’s the side I’m on.”
“That’s better than nothing,” she said. “Rod-d would run over her with a truck if he thought it would cap a scene.”
“And you don’t like that.”
“I like talent. There’s never enough of it. I grew up with her. On TV, I mean. She’s one of the best things I ever saw, and she did it week after week, up to those last couple of years.”
“What happened then?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. She ran out of steam. She’d been, and I hate to use this word because nobody ever means it, but she’d been unique. Even the last couple of years, she was better than most actresses on their best day. And then there’s the movie itself. It’s bad enough that she has to be making this piece of shit without her being treated like a bagged-out crack whore.”
“I’m with you.”
“Not that it’s a
total
piece of shit,” she said. “I’ll give it to Trey. I’ve worked on real porno, and this isn’t it. I mean, she got an actual writer, she got Rodd, who, for all that he’s the dickwad of the century, has directed some good actors. She got a cameraman—camerawoman, I mean—Lauren Wister, who’s shot a couple of independent features, and I think it’ll be easier for Thistle with a woman behind the camera. And the second-line
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