Alice in La La Land (27 page)

'I can't go no lower,' said the Hatter,
'I'm on the floor as it is.'

Lewis Carroll,
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

After a restless night of dreams infiltrated by the stench of cat urine, Alice threw back the heavy covers and stuck her feet over the edge of the bed. She rubbed her eyes and a sick feeling engulfed her even before her thoughts were in gear. She opened her eyes. Her suitcase sat squat and heavy in the centre of the rug. Her stomach churned and she inexplicably craved nicotine. Alice took a deep breath through her stuffy nose and stretched her neck from side to side.

She was determined to plough through the aftermath of yesterday's events with ox-like resolve. She would begin immediately by calling Rebekah and smoothing things over. Alice reached over to the bedside table for her satchel and withdrew her phone. There was no answer from Rebekah's mobile.

Alice had some time to kill and butterflies to keep at bay. She decided to make a list, a guide she could adhere to in order to make things right. Alice reached for pen and paper. She began to write neatly on the back of her
Lithium
audition pages.

HOW TO FIX IT!

1) Speak to Rebekah. Explain situation and apologise for any unprofessional conduct. Once apology accepted, prepare
The Cleavers
audition. Remember, this could be your break.

2) Work with accent and dialect cassette to ensure accent perfect.

3) No carbs today. Only carrots and diet coke (need energy and carotene).

4) Check what other auditions are scheduled over next week and prepare thoroughly.

5) Definitely no pancakes, burgers or burritos until you have achieved success in audition.

6) You have something unique and valuable to offer. Don't forget it!

At 9 am, when the offices of Amoeba Management were open for business, Alice dialled through to Rebekah's office and was greeted by a less-perky-than-usual Charlize, who had obviously been briefed on Alice's transgressions.

'Oh, uh, hi Alice, how
are
you? Uh, listen, she's in a
meeting
right now, can I take a message?'

Sure she's in a meeting – with her barista at Starbucks. Or else she was right there making desperate motions for Charlize to shake Alice off, prompto.

Alice thought fast. She needed something, anything, to motivate Rebekah to call her. Eventually she blurted, 'Please, Charlize, I got her message and only wanted to say goodbye out of courtesy. Have her call me and tell her that I won't keep her long at all.' Alice could hear how pathetic
she sounded and felt vaguely ashamed, but gave herself
full marks for a heartfelt performance.

Charlize's tone softened. 'I'll try, Alice. Take care.'

Alice sat back on the bed, sucking at her front teeth. She looked down at her list. So far nothing had been achieved. Her tummy was making all sorts of growling noises and the sounds reminded her of the cats on one of their nightly rampages. She really should eat something, she thought, she needed her strength.

Venturing into the kitchen, she immediately wrinkled her nose at the suspicious odours wafting up from the bin. She opened the cupboard above the stove and peered in. Taco sauce and Wow chips were all that were on offer. Alice closed the cupboard and crossed to the fridge. It was completely empty apart from a small white tube of feline ear medication sitting unopened on the second shelf. Alice turned and walked back down the hallway to the bathroom.

The large grey cat was drinking from the toilet bowl. 'Gross!' she shrieked. Alice fought the urge to puke and clapped her hands to scare the creature off. It slunk off to the gloom of the laundry. She peered through the bathroom window to the carpark. Shauna's car was still missing and Alice worried about her whereabouts.

Alice disinfected the toilet bowl, peed, washed her hands and splashed water on her face. She stared at herself in the mirror. Were they new lines around her eyes? She crinkled her face into a mirthless smile and towelled her face dry. She could hear her phone ringing in the bedroom.

Alice's heart thumped and she scrambled out of the bathroom, slipping to her knees just outside the bathroom doorway. 'Ow!' she cried, as pain shot through her left
calf. She got up and hobbled on at top speed. Was it Nick? No, surely it was too soon, he would not be back yet, would he? Maybe he would. She limped down the hallway to her bedroom, aware she was bleeding through her pyjamas, crashed through the door and grabbed the phone on its final ring. Alice hit the answer button and tried to steady her breathing.

'Hello? Alice? Are you there?'

'Rebekah?'

'Hey, Alice, how are you?' Rebekah sounded tense.

'Fine, listen, thank you for calling me back,' Alice replied, still breathless and looking around for a tissue to help soak up the blood now trickling from her shin.

'Uh-huh,' said Rebekah.

'I got your email,' continued Alice in what she hoped was a smooth and reasonable tone. 'I'm assuming that Zippy called you, but I wanted a chance to explain to you why . . .'

Rebekah cut her off. 'Alice? Let's just forget it, okay?'

'But why do you not want to hear my side of the . . .'

'Listen,' said Rebekah patiently, 'I believe there was some
personal
agenda between you and the director, but Alice, you've got to learn that in this town,
everything
is business. You can't afford to be . . . messy like that. People
remember
when you've been unprofessional.'

'Until you get your break, of course, when it's all conveniently forgotten, right?'

Rebekah sighed. 'Look, Alice, it's not just about you, okay, we as a company needed to cull some of the . . .'

'In the nicest possible way, please spare me the American euphemisms, Rebekah. I don't know why you
won't let me explain and show you how keen I am to get out there and work. You know that my auditions up until now have been going well, right?'

Rebekah was silent.

'Bek?'

Alice heard Rebekah sigh again. She caught the rising panic in the back of her throat and swallowed it down, willing herself to be strong.

'Alice, listen . . .'

'What?' urged Alice. 'Go on.'

'Okay,' said Rebekah slowly. 'The feedback we've been getting so far has been . . . less than promising.' She blurted out the last words in a rush.

Alice felt her stomach churn. She was glad it was empty.

'I see,' Alice replied, steeling herself. 'But surely just that I learned the wrong scene that one time, the rest of them were, well, solid . . . right?'

'Sweetie, there's no point in . . .'

'There
is
a point, Rebekah!' cried Alice. 'What I need right now is exactly what you have! Feedback! More than anything I've ever needed in my life. Tell me honestly, what have the casting directors been saying that you haven't told me?'

Alice heard Rebekah's deep intake of breath and she prepared herself for what she expected to be some minor criticisms that may nevertheless still hurt to hear. After all, hadn't she been working solidly for the last eight years and with a modicum of acclaim? Wasn't she singled out as one of the brightest lights in the talking horse movie, according to
The Sydney Morning Herald
? Hadn't
Australian Vogue
named her and fourteen others as 'faces to watch' last June?

'Go ahead, Rebekah,' Alice insisted, holding her head very still. She could feel herself gripping the phone very tightly. She had forgotten about her leg, and her pyjama bottoms now stuck to the wound.

'Well, let's see,' said Rebekah reluctantly. 'I've had
too old
. . . a few times, that you were playing too old, and
too desperate
as well. I've heard
preoccupied
,
too broad
,
the wrong accent
,
too heavy
and also,
a displaced sense of comedy
.'

'Sense of what?' said Alice in small voice.

'One director thought that your sense of comic timing was pitched for a different territory . . . he basically didn't get your sense of humour,' Rebekah explained.

'My sense of humour?' Alice sighed, deflating. 'Oh.'

Rebekah softened. 'I don't get it, Alice. We think you are adorable, but you keep . . . huh?' Alice could hear a muffled voice interrupting Rebekah. 'When did he call?' Alice could hear the excitement in her tone. 'Well, get him on the line, we need to get the contract sorted this morning . . . sorry, Alice,' she said, returning to their conversation, 'I have to take this call.' She paused. 'Just remember that here in LA you don't need to do
so much
in the audition. You just need to
be yourself
, and be adorable. So, I'm sorry, Alice, good luck. The courier will be around with your file. Let me get back to you after lunch.'

Alice put down the phone. Long moments passed. She stared fixedly at a dust mote on the floor without blinking and felt her perspective of the room change. The room seemed to shimmer and retract, becoming tunnel-like. Her hand clutched and released her to-do list. Alice felt herself slowly double over. She slithered to the floor and began to cry; her sobs springing out of her like greyhounds
chasing rabbits. She could hear herself, as if from above, repeating the same words over and over again. They seemed to be wrenched from her unconsciously, simple words like 'why', 'please' and 'no'. Alice did not know to whom they were addressed. God? The sardine can? Herself? She kept repeating them until the pain in her chest became unbearable and she was choking on them. She reached forward and gripped her suitcase for dear life. The room seemed to spin and she struggled to hold on.

Alice forced herself to breathe steadily in and out through her nose. Eventually the room grew still. When she felt calmer, she reached onto the bed for her scrunched-up to-do list, sat up and read it over a final time. She began to shred it to pieces in slow, decisive strokes. Alice dropped the shards of paper on the floor like confetti and wiped her eyes with her numb fists.

So it was true. They were right. Maybe it was time she stared them in the teeth, and listened for once. All the evidence suggested she was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something, anything, had to change.

Alice had the strangest feeling that she'd been waiting in an industrial dock for the longest time, surrounded by rusty shipping containers and barrels of toxic waste. She'd been waiting for her ship to arrive to provide her safe passage to her rightful destination. Her tanker was in sight, it had been drawing closer for some time, occasionally seeming within reach but never making the final distance into port. Other passengers were boarding the vessel by enterprising means – some by lifeboat, others by hopping from rock to rock and swimming the final lengths
until they were welcomed aboard by triumphant fellow travellers. Alice recognised that their intuition and stamina bore them up above the waves while she remained mute and frozen on the shore. Her vessel turned back out to sea. Shouting into the wind would not help; no one would ever hear her. She knew now the ship would never come back. It drew away for the final time, growing smaller and smaller until it completely disappeared, leaving the horizon empty.

Alice sat up and rested against her suitcase. She swallowed, blew her nose, found a Band-Aid for her calf in the top flap of her luggage, and reached for her satchel.

First up, she'd pay her parking fines. She plucked them from the bottom of her bag and smoothed them out on top of her luggage. She knew she had just enough in her credit card to cover the money owing. Alice dialled the number listed on the back of the ticket, followed the prompts and paid both fines.

It was time for food. Alice opened her suitcase and withdrew a few items without disturbing the orderly piles. She slid into her favourite pair of men's Levis and a stripey T-shirt, stuffed her feet into her Ugg boots, pulled her hair in a ponytail and placed her phone in her satchel. She was dimly aware it had been ringing when she'd been crashing about like a leopard seal on the floor. How long had she been crying? She scrolled through the phone log, and unable to recognise the number, deleted the record of all four calls.

Alice decided to obey her pressing need for waffles and maple syrup, freshly squeezed juice and coffee.

Imagine her surprise when the White Rabbit
read out, at the top of his shrill little voice,
the name 'Alice'!

Lewis Carroll,
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

As Alice descended the back steps, she marvelled at the LA weather. It somehow managed to be both warm and crisp and made her senses tingle. She could feel her life-force stretch out like a jungle cat. The sky above was blue, endlessly so, and full of promise. Alice reached into her bag for her car keys and was surprised to see a well-dressed older man standing at the bottom of the steps when she looked up.

'Alice?' he asked. 'Alice Evans?'

Alice stopped on the third to bottom step, clutching her keys. She recognised his face but could not place him.

'Yes?' she asked, standing perfectly still. Surprisingly, her voice sounded confident and clear. 'Can I help you?'

'I hope so,' the man replied. He looked out of place in the grubby carpark. 'I hope I'm not intruding,' he continued, withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his fingertips. 'Your manager gave me your cell number and address, but only because she knows me. Well, most people in the industry do, you know. I've been
calling you since I got it, but there's been no answer, so I thought I'd come over. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I wasn't sure if you'd still be here.'

'I see,' said Alice. She stayed exactly where she was.

'Are you leaving? Can we sit down for a moment?' He looked around him with an expression of distaste he was trying hard to mask, 'I'd really like to talk to you.' He was a wiry man in his late forties who spoke fast and looked as though he had endless reserves of energy. He wore a natty blue blazer with gold buttons and expensive-looking loafers. His hair was almost certainly blow-dried and his nose twitched as he spoke. He looked like a Jewish version of the White Rabbit.

'I'm Elijah Schwartzman,' he said, finally introducing himself, 'We've already met. At the
Lithium
audition yesterday?'

'Of course.' Alice's heart thumped once as though an obstruction had passed through it from one ventricle to another. She willed herself to keep her gaze steady, and not to look down in shame. 'Are they going to arrest me for audition crimes?'

Elijah laughed – a series of staccato bleats. 'Audition crimes! No, no, they are not.' He smiled. 'Where are you going, Alice?'

'To find waffles,' she said simply. 'They are the single most important thing I can think of at this moment.'

'Huh. And where were you recommended?'

'I thought I saw a place over on La Brea.'

'Oh no, you can't go there,' he said quickly. 'Look, I know a place. They make the best waffles in the whole of LA. Trust me.' He looked at his watch. 'Now, I know you're
a smart girl, and you're not going to get in my car just like that. Why would you, right?'

'Right,' agreed Alice. She shifted from one foot to the other.

Elijah continued. 'So why don't you follow me in your own car? We can have waffles and coffee, whatever else you want, and we can talk. I have something I want to discuss with you. It's a matter of business.'

Alice considered his proposal. This had to be something to do with yesterday. She clamped down her nerves. 'Did Conrad send you?' she asked.

Elijah snorted. 'Definitely not. I don't get dispatched on errands by directors. That's what PAs are for. I believe you called Conrad's a "poof" yesterday.' He pronounced the 'oo' as 'ew'.

'That was very wrong of me. And politically incorrect. Especially in this most puritanical of social climates,' admitted Alice.

Elijah shrugged his shoulders. 'We can't say and do the right things all the time, can we?'

'I can't seem to,' mumbled Alice. She managed a smile, though the pain provoked by recent events was still fresh.

Elijah waited for a response to his request.

'Well, that should be fine,' she said, cautiously taking the last three steps down to the carpark. 'I'll follow behind. What type of car have you got?'

'A Toyota Prius. White, parked out front on the street. I'll wait for you to . . . What?'

'Nothing,' Alice smiled. I just didn't see you as a Prius man . . . I guess I thought you'd be driving a . . . I dunno, a Porsche Cayenne or something.'

Elijah grinned uncomfortably. 'You got me,' he conceded, playfully miming a handgun with his right hand. 'I do have one of those
as well
, but I thought I'd have a better chance of appealing to your good nature by bringing the Prius,' he explained. 'What a chump, huh!' he laughed, revealing a crowded mouth of shiny white teeth. He looked at his watch.

Alice smiled back, still mystified as to why he was suggesting a meeting.

'I'll follow you then, Mr Schwartzman,' she said. 'My Daewoo behind your Prius. But I have a flight to book and other things to organise quite soon so these waffles had better be good.'

'Trust me,' he reassured her, scurrying down the driveway to his vehicle.

Alice and Elijah stood together at the entrance to an upmarket diner in Century City. It was adjoined to a gigantic mall complete with cinema complex and supermarket. The room was large and bright, had a parquetry floor and massive windows that framed a view of the surrounding streets. Traffic whizzed past under the sun's glare. The tabletops gleamed and hordes of efficient waiters moved skilfully amongst the wealthy clientele. The floor manager had seemed to recognise Elijah immediately and made a fuss of showing them to a privileged corner booth.

'Sit,' he commanded, and gesticulated at a waitress.

Alice sat and perused the gleaming laminated menu. It was overflowing with possibilities. 'Um . . .' she began.

'Can I order for you Alice?' Elijah suggested, turning to the waitress. 'She'll have the American waffle special with honeycomb butter, sunrise juice and coffee. Okay, Alice? Did you want a side order of bacon with your waffles?'

'Oh no, I don't eat the pig,' she replied. 'And a latte would be great,' she said to the waitress. This place was a million miles from Duke's on Sunset.

'The usual, for me,' said Elijah. 'Jewish?' he asked Alice.

'Catholic. I just like pigs way too much to eat them.'

The waitress moved hastily to recover the menus.

'So,' he said, gesturing around him. 'You like it here? It's an institution, this place.'

'It's lovely,' said Alice, 'great.' She shifted in her booth seat. She was beginning to feel pins and needles from restrained curiosity.

Elijah seemed to read her mind. He cleared his throat and began to speak so fast, Alice wondered when he found time to breathe.

'As you know, my name is Elijah Schwartzman,' he began. 'I am one of several co-producers on
Lithium
but I also head up a company called Flash Entertainment. We have a number of scripts in development, and I am always on the lookout for great pitch ideas to take to the biggies.'

'Biggies?' interjected Alice, feeling as though she were in danger of de-railing a freight train.

Elijah paused briefly before replying. 'Paramount, Touchstone, New Line – and those are just some of them. I basically have contacts everywhere. Anyway, I sometimes discover a real-life tale, in the newspaper, on the internet
for example, mould it into a great bite-sized story nugget and pitch it as a script idea. If I have an interested party, they will pay me for the rights to option this idea and from there it goes into development.' He paused and took a sip of water. 'Or development hell,' he laughed, putting down his drink.

'I see,' said Alice, feeling thoroughly confused.

'Now, believe me, I am real sorry.'

'About what?'

'About your dad and his prostate.' He shook his head. 'I went through the same thing with my dad fifteen years ago, and I remember it clear as day. Thing is,' he paused momentarily, fixing his gaze on her and speaking louder, 'that was one hell of a pitch in there, young lady.' He laughed staccato-style again. 'I mean, your audition was a
disaster
, but that story you told?' He whistled appreciatively. 'I could visualise the entire thing.' He lifted the glass of water to his lips then set it down without taking a sip. He leaned forward. 'Your struggle to triumph over adversity . . . working opposite a talking horse, taking on some terrible contemporary theatre show off-off Broadway instead of a role in a science fiction breakaway success . . . by the way, please tell me it wasn't the lead you turned down.
Starmap 3000
is going to be a gigantic ratings winner . . .'

Alice winced. 'It was,' she said quietly.

'That blows.' Elijah continued. 'Living with your parents in some terrible backwater . . . working in a cake shop with an adorable smudge of flour on the end of your nose. It's
Bridget Jones's Diary
meets
Waiting for Guffman
. . . with profiteroles!'

'Oh,' said Alice. She did not have the heart to tell him that they didn't stock profiteroles at the Tasty-Time Cake Shop.

He glanced at his notebook and smiled. 'I mean,
Citrus Days of the Marzipan Pig
?' He emphasised every word and laughed again. 'Huh? The empty theatre seats, the heartbreak, trying to recover the budget . . . coming to LA and being ambushed by cats. It's gold, and let's face it, Aussies are hotter than hot right now.'

Alice's coffee arrived and she picked up her teaspoon and clutched it to her chest in confusion.

'Look,' he continued, 'I'm pretty sure I could package up the whole thing and sell it. Furthermore, I'm confident I could get you somewhere in the region of ten thousand dollars when we do, with more to come when the movie actually gets made. And I have no doubt it will. So Alice, my question to you is . . . would you be interested in selling me the story?' He twitched, sat back in his chair and waited for her response.

Alice was aware her mouth had dropped open. She closed it and swallowed. '
Ten thousand
dollars,' she gasped in amazement.

'We got the whole story on tape. I made sure of it,' he said.

'You are serious?' she asked.

'Deadly,' he answered, smiling.

Alice sat back and took in the grandeur of the Century City diner. It suddenly dawned on her that this was her first bona fide 'meeting' in Hollywood. She was about to accept his offer outright when she had an idea. She paused for a moment to think how she would suggest it, then sat forward and took a deep breath.

'Elijah, thank you very much for your proposal,' she began, placing the teaspoon carefully on her saucer. 'But could I just say that I'd love to be a bigger part of the process.'

He leaned back in the booth. 'Oh, boy, you want to play yourself in the movie? I won't bullshit you. That could be tricky because they would have to . . .'

'No,' said Alice firmly. 'I would not like a part in the movie.' She paused. 'Elijah, I'd like to assist you in developing the script idea, rather then completely signing it over. Do you think that would be possible?'

Alice was aware she was putting the offer in jeopardy and held her breath, waiting for his response. She held her gaze steady and hoped she looked calm.

Elijah hesitated for a moment, and then looked again at his watch. 'You got a writing background?'

Fuck it, thought Alice, jumping in the deep end. 'I've written a one-woman show, and I have some other projects in development back home,' she answered.

'Really?' He seemed to mull it over. 'Well,' he began, 'it wasn't the way I saw the deal being structured but it could work, I suppose. We'd need to put something in the contract and your up-front fee might be marginally less. You're represented by Amoeba, right?'

'Actually, I'm not. I am currently seeking representation,' Alice replied, flinching.

'Oh, I can help you with that,' Elijah assured her, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. 'Let me introduce you to some people. You need a cutting-edge writer's agent. Like Endeavour or Gersch.'

'That would be much appreciated,' Alice replied. An
agent
!

'It's easy, I'm telling you, I know everyone in this town,' said Elijah, raising an eyebrow. His blow-dried hairstyle shone under the eatery's chandelier.

'I believe you,' she replied, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. She pinched her thigh to make sure this was real. 'Shake?' she offered, sticking out her right hand.

He took her hand and shook it with his. His grip was cool and smooth, like a surgeon's.

'Before you make your travel plans, let me get back. I'll have something in writing for you at the end of the day, Alice. I just need your contact details, and to set up a meeting with you sooner rather than later, if that's okay with you? Once that's done I can arrange some meetings for you at those agencies I mentioned. Introduce you to some of the right people.'

Alice felt she was looking upward, seeing light at the top of a very dark well. 'Thank you, that's very kind.' She took a sip of velvety coffee and set down her cup. 'What would you call this story? My story?' she asked, stirring in more sugar for good measure.

Her waffles arrived on a porcelain plate of splendid proportions. Elijah's phone started ringing.

'Oh, that's a no-brainer,' he replied, pulling his Vertu cell phone out of his pocket. '
Alice in La La Land
. I think they call that inter-textuality.' He smiled proudly at her breakfast. 'Please begin, will you excuse me? That's my wife on the line.' He rolled his eyes. 'We're in the process of organising a bat mitzvah for our eldest.'

'Not at all,' said Alice. She lifted a mouthful of American waffle in honeycomb butter to her lips. It was so good she began to hum.

By way of celebration, Alice treated herself to popcorn and a movie in Century City. She bought large sticking plasters at a drugstore and returned home to investigate return flights to Sydney. She decided that once her contract was signed and she had met with these potential agents, she would spend some time with her father, returning to LA later.

Alice skipped down the hallway to the office and dialled Auntie Bev's. Her father answered.

'Dad!' cried Alice. 'I expected Bev to answer.'

'She and your mother are out, love.' He sounded relieved.