For the Love of Money (60 page)

I said, “That's not my style. I don't want a car that's sexier than me. That would be overkill.”

He laughed again. “Boy, is it gonna be fun making a movie with you.”

I said, “Yeah, just don't bullshit me. Because you
know
how us Virgos can get when we've been fucked over.”

“Ain't it the truth?” he commented. “Well, don't worry, Tracy. I'm on your side, and we'll get this thing done.”

It was well after three o'clock, so I hung up with Jonathan and called Kendra at home.

“Hey, girl, it's Tracy.”

Kendra said, “Oh, I talked to Yolanda and she said that maybe she
did
go a bit overboard with you, but that you didn't have to say ‘F her' either.”

I smiled. Kendra didn't curse. She said she wanted to be as clean-mouthed as she could because she didn't want anything to slip out in the heat of the moment with her students.

I asked, “Did she say she would apologize to me?”

Kendra said, “You know what,
both
of you need to apologize, because you're
both
acting childish.”

“Well,
she's
older than us,” I commented.

“So what? You two just need to sit down somewhere and work out your differences.”

“At your house?” I asked her.

“Wherever.”

“Well, let's make it at your house then for this Friday.”

Kendra paused and asked, “
Why
did I let you drag
me
into this? What if I have something to do on Friday?”

“Come on, Kendra, it'll only take a half an hour.”

“A half hour that could be done on your
own
time.”

“Pleeease,” I begged her.

Kendra broke out laughing. “Now you're going back to your
Flyy Girl
days, always expecting to get what you want.”

“I don't get everything I want,” I told her.

“Yeah, well, I'll call Yolanda up again and see. But if she can't make it,
or
she wants me to convince her to do it, then you're on your own, because this is
not
my business.”

“Thank you so much,” I told her, grinning.

“Yeah, whatever.”

I hung up the phone with Kendra and took a breath. I told myself, “I'm gonna
make
this movie! These people don't know who the hell they're dealing with. You don't
fuck
with me like that! Only Victor can do that and get away with it ...until I find out a way to get
his
ass back too!”

$   $   $

When Yolanda and I met at Kendra's house that Friday, we were both walking on eggshells.

She said, “Tracy, I don't appreciate being cursed out, because all I've been trying to do is give you good advice.”

I said, “Yolanda, I don't mind your advice, but I
do
mind how you
choose to give it to me. I believe I deserve more respect than some little girl off the street.”

She nodded and said, “I agree. You've proven that you know what you're doing.”

I said, “Whether I know what I'm doing or not, Yolanda, there are certain ways in which we talk to people, especially while you're in business together.”

She said, “And that includes not cursing people out and hanging up on them.”

I nodded, “I agree with that as well.”

However, we
both
stopped short of apologizing. Kendra caught on to that and started laughing.

“You two need to quit,” she told us. “Are
both
of your egos that big? My God!”

We laughed it off, but we still hesitated to say the words.

Finally, I said, “Okay, okay, I'll say it.”

Yolanda said, “No, I'll go first.”

Kendra said, “Who
cares
who goes first, just get it over with.”

Yolanda said, “Tracy ...I apologize,” as if it was killing her.

We all broke out laughing before I did my part.

“I apologize for cursing you out and hanging up the phone on you.”

Kendra said, “Thank you! Gosh!”

After that, we gradually began to talk about my new movie
Led Astray,
and every other sister film, or the lack thereof, until late at night. I guess Kendra didn't have any plans for that Friday night after all.

$   $   $

By mid March, the miracle finally happened. Wide Vision Films had given us the green light to begin production for
Led Astray,
beginning on Monday, April 5th, 1999. They also began to cast the other actors, who were mostly white. However, that was the reality of the power structure of Hollywood. I wasn't blind to that fact, and I planned to present an honest picture.

I signed for a one-million-dollar split between my screenplay and my leading role, and five percent of the gross profits, including rights for cable, network, video, and overseas. They wouldn't give us the ten percent, so we compromised. Susan also worked Poncho's deal, getting his five hundred thousand to direct. We maintained a budget of eight million dollars, and I
had no more mouth when I showed the paperwork to Yolanda. She was just happy to be my lawyer again.

I called my girl Raheema in New Jersey to give her the news, but she wasn't in, so I left her a message on her answering service:

“This is Tracy, and I'm smiling right now because I finally got my movie deal done.
Led Astray.
We start shooting early next month, and we're looking for an early release for year 2000. I just
love
how that sounds, and I didn't have to
screw
anybody to get it, but I
do
have to do some of that in the movie. But it won't be real, you know, just camera angles.

“Anyway, I'll tell you all about it when we catch up to each other,” I said.

I hung up the phone and began talking to myself. I said, “Here I am trying to sit and write a poem about how I'm feeling right now, but I'm too damn happy to write anything. Ain't that a blizzard? When I'm mad or sad, I can think of a million things to write, almost immediately, but now that I'm happy, all I can do is sit here smile and look silly.”

In the Old Testament
God said,
“Let there be light,”
and there was light.
Not saying that I'm God,
but He did
make us in His image,
so why not we,
in the New Testament,
make light
in images of our own?

Copyright © 1993 by Tracy Ellison

T
he writer-director (or director-writer, as
I
called him) for
Road Kill,
was a curly-haired Greek American named Paully Silarus, and he was obviously pissed off that I had tampered with his project and got the green light on my revised screenplay instead of his original. I don't believe he wanted a black woman in the role either, but tough cookie; I was a bigger draw than he was. Deal with it! If he was
that
pissed off about it, then he should have taken his check and walked. I wouldn't have walked away if the same thing had happened to my vision in
Led Astray,
so I felt for the guy, I really did. Nevertheless, he wasn't trying to get along with me. He had a mean streak from hell and he was making the set miserable for everyone. It was already as hot as an oven out there in Nevada. He needed to gather his emotions somewhere and cool his hot behind down!

“CUT! We need more
anger,
Alexis! You want to
kill
this guy, remember!” he screamed at me.

I don't know if Paully liked the name “Alexis” either, but he sure said it enough. I believe he was boycotting my real name. We also had a difference in opinion as to how my character would deal with the killing.
He
wanted violent rage, like a horror movie, and
I
wanted controlled calculation, like a Mel Gibson character. To make Paully feel better, I was trying my best to interpret things
his
way, and it had my body sore as hell by the second day of shooting.

At that moment, we were shooting a car scene where Alexis and one of the psychos swerve to a stop and go at it on a deserted roadside.

We backed up the scene and did it again, and I ended up bruising my chin in a kick move.

“Fuck!” I yelled out in pain.

Paully said, “Yeah, let's get some of that pain on camera.”

I gave him an evil look, but I kept my thoughts to myself. They were paying me two million dollars, so I couldn't complain.

“Let's do it again. That was
much
better.”

We backed up and did it a fifth time, but after the kick move, I pulled out my hidden gun that was filled with blanks, and let off four unexpected shots into the bad guy.

Paully said, “What the hell was that? You weren't supposed to shoot him yet. What happens to the build up?”

I looked at him and said, “It just felt right. I'm tired of kicking this motherfucker.”

Everyone laughed but Paully.

“It's not in the script that way,” he complained.

“Well, let's change the damn script,” I told him. “That was a good take. It was natural. You see how surprised he was when I shot him? He can't act that well if he tried.”

Everyone was agreeing with me. It was very obvious that my reflex instincts had worked much better than a worn-out fight scene. It would also save us time.

“I think you've done enough
changing
of the script as it is,” Paully responded.

Our producer, The Don, had not made the trip out to Nevada with us. He sent an assistant producer named Catherine Belle instead. It was her job to step in as the peacemaker and make sure everything moved along as planned, and she was very efficient at her job.

“Paully, let's just work with that,” Catherine stepped in and said. “It's very hot out here, and we have too many stunt scenes to shoot today as it is.”

She didn't say it outright to save Paully's ego and everything, but Catherine agreed with my take as well. I could see it in her face when I did it.

Paully looked at her as if he wanted to curse her out. Many directors wouldn't stand for a producer upstaging them, but again, Paully wasn't an A-list guy, so he had to ride it out or be replaced on his own project.

He said, “Fine! Any-fucking-thing goes! Okay, let's put the effects in on the kill.”

When I got a chance, I stepped aside with Catherine. “I'm gonna have to have a talk with him, or he's gonna make this film a nightmare for
all
of us,” I told her.

“Good idea,” she said with a smile, “because I don't want to keep stepping in.”

I said, “I know what you mean. I don't think he likes either one of us.”

Once we had a long enough break and Paully made it back to his trailer, I went and knocked on his door.

“Yes!” He even answered his door irritated. He didn't even know who it was yet.

I walked inside instead of telling him. He saw me and frowned. “Okay, what do you want to change now?” he asked me.

I took a seat and said, “Your attitude. Do you want to finish making this movie or what?”

He answered, “
I
wanted to make this movie
years
ago, before you ever
heard
of it.”

“So, what's supposed to happen now? You want to fuck it up, and say, ‘I told you so; the black bitch wouldn't work.'”

He actually grinned at it, as if those same thoughts were really on his mind.

I said, “Well, I have news for you.
I'm staying,
and I'm not gonna let myself look bad. So, if
I
were you, I'd try to make the best movie I can make out of this thing and move on to the next deal, unless you want to end up looking like a big baby being overruled on everything and ruin your chances on future projects.”

“Yeah, that's easy for
you
to say,” he huffed at me, pulling out a cigarette.

“Well, next time, hold on to your film rights and push to have your vision made as is. That's how
I
got here,” I responded to him.

“Yeah, yeah, everybody heard about your story.”

I looked at him and shook my head. I wasn't doing too good of a job of making peace.

I said, “
My
breakout project
could have been
a Whoopi Goldberg or Demi Moore vehicle if I didn't fight for
my
vision.”

He said, “Oh, yeah, well, why don't you give me that rabbit's foot that you slept with?”

I stood back up and finally said, “If you make this one look good, I've already been offered a sequel idea. But if you want to act like an asshole about it, we'll just move on to someone else.”

I walked out of his trailer still uncertain about him. Some damn peacemaker
I
was. It sounded more like I was rubbing the whole deal in his face more than settling him down. However, my talk seemed to work. Paully became more relaxed over the next couple of days about his methods and overall vision. That only made me work harder for him, because I wanted to get along and make another good film. After all, I wasn't satisfied with the twenty-eight million and change that
Led Astray
had pulled in. With
Road Kill,
I wanted to shoot for
seventy
million!