Heartland (11 page)
His wilderness training kept him from getting lost. The country where he had lived did not offer the luxury of street signs. The pastor's words remained strong in his mind.
As the sun began its sullen descent, JayJay stopped on a weed-infested corner. Two four-lane roads merged with the highway's onramp. A rainbow of dusty cars thundered past him. JayJay stared at the ochre buildings, then raised his head to the smoke-stained sky. He said the words aloud. “Okay, God.”
His only response was the rumbling traffic. But he kept his gaze uplifted. The words came natural. As though it was only here, in a world that made no sense, in a place where he didn't belong, that he could hear what his heart was yearning for him to say. “I don't understand any of this, Lord. But I reckon I'm not the first of Your servants who didn't have a clue. So if this is really You at work, all I got to say is, I'm here and I'm listening. I don't know if I can do what You want. But I'll try. Well, I guess that's about everything, so I'll just say amen.”
He dropped his gaze and had to grin at how absurd it must have seemed to the rushing tide of metal and noise. A cowboy with his Stetson planted to his chest, head aimed at an invisible sun, talking words that were drowned out by the traffic.
That is, if anybody bothered to glance his way at all.
The Nguyens' garage apartment was a snug fit for a man of JayJay's size. The double wooden doors had been sealed shut and pine slats fitted over the concrete floor. The kitchen ran along the back wall, separated from the minuscule sitting area by a counter, the back of which contained shelves for his plates and utensils. There were two stools, a love seat, one high-backed chair, a chest for a center table, and a television. Stairs ran up the side wall to the bedroom loft, which contained only a mattress and a throw rug and a loudly clicking clock. But the place was clean as a whistle. And just out of range lived a family who cared for him. That evening JayJay ate the supper Mrs. Nguyen had left on the counter and slept well.
Tuesday morning he was dressed in the clothes dropped off by Robbie Robinson's father and breakfasting on instant coffee and toast when Ahn knocked on the side door. “You're awake, good.”
“Never could sleep easy past the dawn.” JayJay lifted his cup. “You be sure and tell your mom I'm much obliged for the supplies.”
“She and Pop are long gone. You can tell her yourself tonight.”
“If I'm here,” JayJay reflected out loud.
Ahn tried hard to hide his disappointment, but failed. “You're leaving?”
“May not have any choice in the matter. How's your sister?”
“Better. I can tell. But she's giving MahMah the whine, getting breakfast in bed and making me do all the work.”
“Why aren't you in school?”
“It's June, remember?”
No, he did not. But there was no need to go there. “So what do you do with your days?”
“I help out at the shop. It's pretty boring. But my folks like having us around. Otherwise I'm working on my honors thesis. I'm midway through my MBA.”
“You don't hardly look old enough to be out of high school.”
“I know, I know. I look sixteen. I get carded at Starbucks.” Ahn shrugged that aside. “Whenever you're ready, there's somebody waiting for you.”
JayJay set down his cup and followed Ahn from the apartment. A light wind was drawing clouds and misting rain off the mountains. The air was no clearer, but the pungent odor of diesel and chemicals was gone. Pulled up in front of the house was the longest limousine JayJay had ever seen. A uniformed driver popped out from behind the wheel soon as JayJay emerged. “Morning, sir.”
JayJay stepped over to where the window awning protected him and Ahn from the rain. “That thing for me?”
The chauffeur unfurled an umbrella the size of Dallas and walked around to open the rear door. “Yes sir, the studio's sent me to collect you. Mr. Allerby says it's urgent.”
“Who?”
The chauffeur cocked his head in confusion. “Martin Allerby, sir.”
“That name supposed to mean something to me?”
It was Ahn who responded, “Martin Allerby. The greenlight guy at Centurion.”
“Pretend I only speak English and give that to me again.”
Ahn was clearly loving this. “Hollywood studios have more titles than a major bank. A hundred different varieties of vice presidents, associate producers, assistant directors, it's all just salad. Only one title matters.”
“The greenlight guy,” JayJay said.
“Or GG for short. There's only one in each studio. The guy who says the project is a go. The king. At Centurion, that's Martin Allerby.”
“How come you know all this?”
“My thesis is on Centurion's business model.” Ahn wiped away a raindrop that caught his forehead. “My dream is to break into the business side of Hollywood.”
JayJay motioned to where the chauffeur stood waiting. “Want to take a ride?”
“Are you serious?”
“Hop on in.”
Ahn almost danced around the limo. “I sure hope Minh is watching.”
When they were on their way, JayJay asked the driver, “How'd you know where to find me?”
“No idea, sir. They gave me the address, I came.”
Clearly this guy was not going to give him anything he wanted. JayJay turned back to Ahn. “Do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Assume I don't know a thing. Talk me through what's up around that next bend.”
Ahn liked that. “Which do you meanâMartin Allerby, Centurion, or
Heartland
?”
“The whole shooting match.”
Something very curious happened. The kid just plain vanished. In his place appeared a young man. A
small
man, but a man just the same.
Extremely focused. Incredibly intelligent. And excited. “
Heartland
's been in serious trouble for a while now. The lead actor, Neil Townsend, is a lush. And thoroughly hated. You look incredibly like him, but I guess you know that. I mean, how he
used
to be. Back when he was still a regular guy. Before he turned into Frankenstein's monster. Like some stars are prone to do.”
“I think I met him on the back lot.”
“Then you know. Initially,
Heartland
had firm standing as a money-spinner. You know that term?”
“I told you. Saturday morning I got dropped into this pit. Before then I didn't even know this place existed.” JayJay leaned forward and said to the driver, “Do me a favor and pull over here.”
“Sir, Mr. Allerby said you were to go straight to the studio.”
“Listen up, friend. We got two choices. Either you stop here for a while or we're climbing out at the next red light. Which means we'll be arriving wet
and
late. But it's your call.”
The limo swerved over and halted by the curb. “Much obliged.” JayJay turned back to Ahn. “You're saying this
Heartland
thing is making money.”
“The first couple of seasons, the show was
printing
money. But then it started sliding. Not because of the show itself, well, maybe a little. I mean, how many tornadoes can you have in one season?”
JayJay rubbed the side of his face. Hard. Trying to make sense of both the words and his own rising internal tumult. “A passel.”
“Tell me. But the viewers who made
Heartland
a hit didn't like watching their hero bloat up and talk like he was drunk. Like he was coasting through the show. Like he didn't care.”
JayJay observed, “You take this personal.”
Ahn's eyes glinted angrily. “Three weeks before the last season ended, MahMah got up in the middle of the show. She walked over and cut off the TV. She stood staring at the screen for a while. Then she just sighed and walked out of the room. I wish you could have been there.”
“No thanks. I believe I'd rather face another twister.”
“That's why she was so excited over having you come home with us. I mean, because you saved Minh and all too. But there in front of her was this guy, the way he was supposed to be. Her
hero
.”
“I'm not comfortable with you talking about me like that.”
“Get used to it.” Ahn the young man used a tone that brooked no argument. “Word is, Martin Allerby didn't want to do
Heartland
. But orders came down from on high. âDo it or find another job.' The rest is history.”
“I thought you said he was theâwhatever you called him.”
“Greenlight guy. He is. But there's always somebody higher.” Ahn stared at the rain trickling down the side window. “Allerby is from Van Nuys. Except his morals. They're from the basement. I read that somewhere. Centurion is the last of the small independent studios. It's owned by Carter Dawes, a real mystery man. His family controls a lot of the oil and gas rights around LA. Word is, he still farms out in the Central Valley.”
“Sounds like a man I could spend some time around.”
“No way. He doesn't do meetings. Even sends his lawyer when the Centurion board gets together. But what I heard is, he's the reason
Heartland
got made at all. He basically ordered Martin Allerby to come up with a show where the lead role was a down-home hero. A man who knew his Bible. A man who loved his family. A man people could look up to.”
JayJay stared at the unfocused gray day beyond the window. Things were no clearer now than when Ahn had started. The pastor's words pressed at him like a goad to his ribs. Whatever lay ahead could not be put off any longer. “Okay, driver. Thanks for being patient with us.”
“No problem, sir.”
When they pulled up in front of the studio gates, JayJay rolled down his window and read the guard's name off the lapel tag. “Morning, Mr. Twyford.”
“Mr. Allerby says you're to go straight to Soundstage Four, sir. He'll meet with you after you're done filming.”
“That's fine.” JayJay motioned to Ahn. “I've brought a pal along for the ride. Any chance you could fix him up with something?”
“No problem, sir. What's the name?”
“Ahn Nguyen.”
“Spell that for me, please.”
When Ahn had done so, JayJay went on, “I reckon this fellow knows more about the place here than most folks on the payroll. Any chance he could talk with somebody in the business?”
The guard was already reaching for the phone. “I'll have a word with Mr. Allerby's secretary. Ask your driver to drop him by the admin building.”
“I'm much obliged, Mr. Twyford.”
“Just call me Hardy, sir.”
“Well, I'm very grateful. You have a good day now.” JayJay rolled up his window.
Ahn handled the guest badge like he'd been granted a day-pass to paradise. “This can't be happening.”
“I'd go along with that, sure enough.” JayJay felt the rumbling of nerves. “Any last-minute advice for the greenhorn?”
Ahn slipped the pass around his neck. “Ask the guidance of the little people. I hear that from everybody I talk to in the trade. Stars never do it. But the folks behind the camera, they know a whole lot. And they'll love you for staying on their level.”
J
ayJay Parsons entered the soundstage feeling a lot better than he might have expected. Better, probably, than he deserved. The reason was simple. His first stop had been Wardrobe, where he'd stood on a little stool while Hilda or Gladysâhe couldn't get the ladies straightened outâpinned him into a new set of clothes. Then he moved behind the screen to disrobe, an action the two ladies still chuckled over, and did what Ahn had suggested, which was to repeat the words “You got any advice for the greenhorn?”
Hilda or Gladys made her voice as much Western-range as her Brooklyn accent permitted. “Well, stranger, I'd say treat this day like it was your very last chance at the big time.”
“I like that.” JayJay accepted the jeans and slipped them on. “Only way to break a bronco is to go at it like you got one ride left in you. Else that horse is gonna know you're holding back. And he's gonna do his best to knock you into next week.”
“You actually did that? Rode a bronco?”
“Got the spurs and the scars to prove it.” JayJay stepped into his boots, walked back around, accepted his hat, fitted the crown just so, and touched the brim. “Much obliged, ma'am.”
Hilda or Gladys turned coquettish. “The way you say that makes a gal go all weak at the knees.”
The other half of the pair was smiling too. “Go get 'em, tiger. Or should I say, stallion.”
So JayJay entered the soundstage with the grin still in place. And as luck would have it, the first face he saw belonged to the foppish little assistant director. Kip Denderhoff waved his arms like he was winding himself up for the day ahead. The AD hissed a stream of nasty at a man handling a huge light and trying his best to appear untouched by the little guy. Then the AD saw JayJay approaching and did his imitation of a squid, going pale and boneless and searching for a rock to hide under.
“Just you hold up there. I don't aim on restarting where I left off.” JayJay stepped between the AD and the back exit. “Matter of fact, I came over to apologize.”
“Stop making fun.” The little guy looked miserable. “And don't you dare hit me. I've got a hundred witnesses. I'll sue.”
“And you'd be right doing it. Stand still for a minute, will you? I said I wasn't taking aim. Shouldn't never have started in on you the other day. You were right and I was wrong.”
The AD froze. “Excuse me?”
“I was late. I kept y'all waiting. I didn't know what to do or where to go. You had all the reasons in the world to take a piece outta my hide. So I wanted to tell you I'm sorry.” JayJay crossed his arms. “Now you just go ahead and yell.”
The AD cocked his head. “Don't tempt me.”
