Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [38]
There was a long, expected silence. Gold was stashing this rebuff in his memory book. “Another time,” he said, “you’ll be around.”
I tried home again. The line was still busy.
I PULLED OUT of the studio gate and flicked on the radio, girding myself for the traffic.
EXTERIOR VENTURA BOULEVARDDAY
After ESTABLISHING SHOT of the bumper to bumper traffic, CAMERA zooms in to
CLOSE SHOT of WRITER at the wheel of his TR-3 convertible, top down. His jacket is on seat beside him. He fishes for, finds, and lights cigarette and snaps on radio as he inches along in traffic.
FIRST RADIO VOICE (OVER SCENE)
And now for Ernie, Maxine, Dave and all the gang at Mario’s the king ... Elvis sings “Love Me Tender” ...
WRITER turns dial
SECOND RADIO VOICE O.S.
The situation at Central High School in Little Rock has worsened. According to White House sources, President Eisenhower is considering sending troops ...
WRITER flips dial again, grunts impatiently at the traffic.
THIRD RADIO VOICE O.S.
Davy! Davy Crockett King of the wild frontier ...
ANGLE WIDENS as a chorus of horns sounds in frustration. WRITER drives off and we
DISSOLVE TO:
EXTERIORLOVELY RANCH HOUSE EVENING
Grounds show some affluence. WRITER pulls into driveway, parks, gets out of car. He is besieged by two young GIRLS wearing Davy Crockett coonskin caps and shooting toy guns. Family dog joins in. WRITER “falls dead” and is pounced upon by daughters. He gets up, throws ball for dog. The three walk to
INTERIORLOVELY LIVINGROOM NIGHT
WIFE is glum. She approaches WRITER obliquely.
WIFE
Sal called. He told me all about your meeting with the Colonel.
(no response) Well, what are you going to tell him?
WRITER
I told him I’d think it over.
WIFE
Two thousand dollars a week going up to four thousand. A producership by the time you’re thirty. What’s to think over?
WRITER
(dreads this moment) I can’t be a producer, Val. I’m not cut out for these studio gang bangs. Too much politics. Too much back stabbing. Too many people to deal with. Look, baby, one of the reasons I became a novelist was so that I could work alone. Writing to me is freedom. Freedom!
WIFE
You’re a very selfish man, Gideon.
WRITER
I know that.
FADE OUT
Dinner was perky with the girls. Lots of happy things were going on for them. I helped with their homework and after their bath we had a short punch-up and pillow fight.
“Just one half hour of TV and that’s it,” I said.
They accepted reluctantly.
“I wish we didn’t have one of those idiot boxes in the house.”
“They’ve been looking forward to this program all week. So, why make a fuss, every single week?”
The volcano was rumbling within. I went into the living room and took a crack at reading a magazine. Val came in. She was glum. She paced and looked at me, sort of out of the corner of her eye.
“Sal called,” she said. “He told me all about your meeting with the Colonel.”
I didn’t answer her.
“Well, what are you going to tell him?”
“I told him I’d think it over.”
“Two thousand dollars a week going up to four thousand. A producership by the time you’re thirty. What’s to think over?”
I dreaded this moment. “I can’t be a producer, Val. I’m not cut out for these studio gang bangs. Too much politics. Too much back stabbing. Too many people to deal with. Look, baby, one of the reasons I became a novelist was so that I could work alone. Writing, to me, is freedom. Freedom!”
“You’re a very selfish man, Gideon.”
“I know that. Being selfish is one of my job requirements. But I’m not going to be a producer for Stanley Gold, period, paragraph, end of report. There’s a few more things we’d better get cleaned up, right now.”
“Look at you. You’re begging for a fight. Nobody can talk to you when you’re in this kind of mood.”
“Every time we have something to talk over, you start out by saying nobody can talk to me. Well, a lot of things have piled up. We’d better sort them out.”
Val became more and more defensive when there was something to thrash out. Delay it, stuff it in the closet, do anything