curly hair, and he wore horn-rimmed glasses. His unconstructed linen jacket hung from his thin, slightly hunched shoulders. He seemed nice enough, she thought. But after an hour of trying to cultivate conversations of this nature with people who were total strangers, her patience was starting to shred.
"You gotta be able to state the whole concept in a single sentence." Spencer gulped more of his tequila sunrise. "One goddamned lousy little sentence."
"Sort of like an advertising slogan."
"Exactly." He looked morosely pleased at her perception.
"Must be tough."
"Hollywood scriptwriting is for morons who don't have any vision and who don't care that everything they do is going to get turned over to some committee to rewrite. I've got vision. That's why I do independent stuff."
"What was your vision for Fast Company?"
Spencer paused for dramatic effect. " 'Once you start running in fast company, you can't stop.' It became the tag line for the film."
Elizabeth nodded. "An unhappy ending, I take it?"
Spencer frowned. "A realistic ending."
"Right. Realistic. There must be a lot of pressure on a scriptwriter like yourself."
"Awesome pressure."
"I imagine everyone involved with a film has an idea or two he or she wants to contribute," Elizabeth said delicately.
Spencer snorted in disgust. "More than an idea or two. You wouldn't believe what I went through with the script for Fast Company. Everyone tried to get into the act. Shit, I had to completely rewrite the female lead for Vicky."
"Vicky?"
Spencer gave her a quizzical scowl. "Vicky Bellamy. Dawson's wife."
"Oh, sure. Vicky." Elizabeth smiled brightly. "Why did you have to rewrite the part?"
Spencer gave her a look that told her she had just asked either an incredibly stupid or an astonishingly naive question.
"I had to rewrite it because her husband is Dawson Holland," he said with extravagant patience. "Holland held the purse strings on Fast Company. He put together the finance package that bankrolled the film just so his wife could star in it. Naturally, he got whatever he wanted. Or, in this case, whatever Vicky wanted."
"I see." Elizabeth smiled weakly. "Actually, the only reason I'm here tonight is because I'm a friend of one of the investors."
Spencer contrived to look both cynical and knowing. 'The money guys."
"Yes." Elizabeth searched for an opening. "Did any of them try to influence the script the way Vicky and Holland did?"
Spencer made a face. "Some of 'em hung out on the set a lot Made nuisances of themselves. One tried to put his two cents in a couple of times, but I ignored him. I mean, what does a guy like that know? He was just some little nerd from Seattle who wanted to pretend he was a player."
Elizabeth choked on a swallow of her mineral water. She sputtered wildly. "From Seattle, you say?"
Spencer took another swallow of his tequila sunrise. "Guy named Page. Tyler Page."
"Oh, yes, the producer."
Spencer rolled his eyes. "Page got the credit, but Dawson Holland was the one who put the deal together. Takes a lot of cash to make a film, you know, even a small one. There are usually several investors."
"But Page got sole credit on Fast Company. I wonder why."
Spencer looked bored. "Probably put up the biggest chunk of cash. Or maybe he did a deal with Holland. Who knows? Some of those investors will do anything to get their name in the credits."
Without warning, Victoria Bellamy swam out of a nearby shoal of guests.
"Spencer."
Her voice was as glamorous as the rest of her, Elizabeth thought. Husky, low, throaty. Lauren Bacall in The Big Sleep. She watched Victoria exchange air kisses with Spencer.
"Nice party, Vicky," Spencer said.
"So glad you could make it." Victoria turned to Elizabeth with an inquiring look. "Introduce me to your friend."
Spencer's eyes glazed for the moment. It had probably just occurred to him that he didn't know her name, Elizabeth thought. She smiled at Victoria and extended her hand.
"I'm Elizabeth. A
"You gotta be able to state the whole concept in a single sentence." Spencer gulped more of his tequila sunrise. "One goddamned lousy little sentence."
"Sort of like an advertising slogan."
"Exactly." He looked morosely pleased at her perception.
"Must be tough."
"Hollywood scriptwriting is for morons who don't have any vision and who don't care that everything they do is going to get turned over to some committee to rewrite. I've got vision. That's why I do independent stuff."
"What was your vision for Fast Company?"
Spencer paused for dramatic effect. " 'Once you start running in fast company, you can't stop.' It became the tag line for the film."
Elizabeth nodded. "An unhappy ending, I take it?"
Spencer frowned. "A realistic ending."
"Right. Realistic. There must be a lot of pressure on a scriptwriter like yourself."
"Awesome pressure."
"I imagine everyone involved with a film has an idea or two he or she wants to contribute," Elizabeth said delicately.
Spencer snorted in disgust. "More than an idea or two. You wouldn't believe what I went through with the script for Fast Company. Everyone tried to get into the act. Shit, I had to completely rewrite the female lead for Vicky."
"Vicky?"
Spencer gave her a quizzical scowl. "Vicky Bellamy. Dawson's wife."
"Oh, sure. Vicky." Elizabeth smiled brightly. "Why did you have to rewrite the part?"
Spencer gave her a look that told her she had just asked either an incredibly stupid or an astonishingly naive question.
"I had to rewrite it because her husband is Dawson Holland," he said with extravagant patience. "Holland held the purse strings on Fast Company. He put together the finance package that bankrolled the film just so his wife could star in it. Naturally, he got whatever he wanted. Or, in this case, whatever Vicky wanted."
"I see." Elizabeth smiled weakly. "Actually, the only reason I'm here tonight is because I'm a friend of one of the investors."
Spencer contrived to look both cynical and knowing. 'The money guys."
"Yes." Elizabeth searched for an opening. "Did any of them try to influence the script the way Vicky and Holland did?"
Spencer made a face. "Some of 'em hung out on the set a lot Made nuisances of themselves. One tried to put his two cents in a couple of times, but I ignored him. I mean, what does a guy like that know? He was just some little nerd from Seattle who wanted to pretend he was a player."
Elizabeth choked on a swallow of her mineral water. She sputtered wildly. "From Seattle, you say?"
Spencer took another swallow of his tequila sunrise. "Guy named Page. Tyler Page."
"Oh, yes, the producer."
Spencer rolled his eyes. "Page got the credit, but Dawson Holland was the one who put the deal together. Takes a lot of cash to make a film, you know, even a small one. There are usually several investors."
"But Page got sole credit on Fast Company. I wonder why."
Spencer looked bored. "Probably put up the biggest chunk of cash. Or maybe he did a deal with Holland. Who knows? Some of those investors will do anything to get their name in the credits."
Without warning, Victoria Bellamy swam out of a nearby shoal of guests.
"Spencer."
Her voice was as glamorous as the rest of her, Elizabeth thought. Husky, low, throaty. Lauren Bacall in The Big Sleep. She watched Victoria exchange air kisses with Spencer.
"Nice party, Vicky," Spencer said.
"So glad you could make it." Victoria turned to Elizabeth with an inquiring look. "Introduce me to your friend."
Spencer's eyes glazed for the moment. It had probably just occurred to him that he didn't know her name, Elizabeth thought. She smiled at Victoria and extended her hand.
"I'm Elizabeth. A
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