Getting Garbo by Jerry Ludwig Read Free Book Online

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    He sidles up to me. We’re dressed like twins in identical clothes. The resemblance ends there. I’m fairly tall, he’s not. He’s on the porkier side, and I sweat every pound. But he’s a bull. Kenny winks at me. I know what he wants before he asks.
    â€œHey, sport, you gonna be using your trailer?”
    â€œNow?” I shrug. Making it tough on him. “No, I thought maybe I’d work a little. How ’bout you?”
    â€œThen it’s okay I use the trailer.” He waves reassuringly to a little dirty blonde extra, waiting for him nearby, giggling.
    â€œYou leave a mess, I’ll kill ya, Killer.”
    He smiles reassurance. “I always leave everything the way I find it.”
    â€œThe A.D. notices your playmate isn’t in the street scene, he’s gonna fire her ass.”
    Kenny Lomax shrugs. “Well, that’s the chance she takes.”
    â€¢ • •
    We’re back at work. A big part of my job is ignoring people. There’s always a crew of dozens behind the camera, and on a street shoot like today there are platoons of gawkers and fans lurking behind the ropes. I have to pretend none of them exist.
    The scene we’re doing is a walk-and-talk. Camera dollies in front of me and Dave Viola, who’s my comedy relief sidekick in the series. Kind of Gabby Hayes to my Hopalong Cassidy. We’re strolling down the street, babbling facts the audience has to know, mixed in with the scat lines that comprise our relationship. I don’t like the character much, and I like Dave Viola even less. He’s a graduate of the Borscht Belt school of acting. When in doubt, mug furiously or cross your eyes. We’re supposed to be best friends in the series.
    On the first take, Viola fakes a trip on the pavement and makes one of his patented schmuck faces, thereby taking the attention away from me and what I’m saying. The director catches it, yells Cut! We do it again. This time Viola gives a Groucho-like leer at an attractive girl extra passing by. Before the director can cut the scene, I give Viola a snappy slap upside the head. But grin affectionately at him like it’s part of the scene and go on with the dialogue. Viola rubs his head like a chastised kid and says his lines. We make it to the corner. Where a car zooms past and a hood with a gun leans out the window, firing at us. I yank Viola to the ground, saving my buddy’s life for the umpteenth time. That’s a print. Hey, we’re not doing Shakespeare here.
    â€œRoy make booboo on Davey,” Viola coos at me. Clutching his head. Loud enough for the spectators behind the ropes to hear.
    â€œIt was a love tap,” I say.
    â€œDavey loooooooves Roy.” Clutching his heart. So what the hell can I say?
    â€œRoy loves Davey, too.” I pat his head like he’s an Airedale terrier. The spectators applaud. What they came to see.
    We start to line up the next shot. Viola doing his getting-up-from-a-pratfall shtick while I draw my trusty Walther 9 mm automatic and fire after the fleeing car. It’s just a rehearsal so I don’t really pop any caps, I just yell “Bang! Bang!” The crowd behind the ropes loves it. Movie magic revealed.
    â€œSecond team!” the assistant director yells. Meaning it’s time for the stand-ins to step in while the cameraman sets the new lighting. Kenny Lomax materializes on cue, his face flushed but his fly zipped. As he takes my place under the lights, he tells me my lawyer called.
    I go to the phone in my trailer for privacy.
    I’m not expecting a call from Nate Scanlon. He’s been a whirling little dervish since Addie served me with the divorce papers six weeks ago. He and Jerry Giesler have been huddling and confabbing around the clock. Like negotiating the Korean War Peace Treaty. Mostly they’ve kept Addie and me on the sidelines, away from each other, which is fine with both of us. She’s