Naked in Dangerous Places - Cash Peters [49]
Even a firm refusal, though, wasn't enough to put her off.
“It's okay,” she assured me, knocking back another drink and moving on to Plan B, “we wouldn't have to have physical contact, actual penetration. You could just donate your sperm.”
Oh—my—God.
I was due to leave Greece the following morning, so I could afford to be honest with her. Therefore, as tactfully as I could, and to spare her feelings, I blurted out, “No frickin’ way. There's not a bloody chance in hell that that's ever going to happen.”
No offense.
After which, I took one last swig of ouzo, and left.
Returning to the office following the Lesbos trip—following most of our trips, actually—was an odd affair: a jarring clash of cultures, pitting those who'd flown to distant continents, stayed in fabulous hotels, eaten exotic food, and mingled with amazing people, against those we'd left behind sitting at their desks. In a short number of weeks the crew and I had seen the world, our horizons and frames of references expanding exponentially with every new location, whereas for the hobbits in the office nothing much had changed at all, and I guess they didn't want to be reminded of it.
Unfortunately, most times, as soon as our plane touched down in L.A., I would burst in through the office door, looking tanned and jet-lagged, regaling everyone with wild tales of my adventures: of almost drowning during a river-rafting expedition in Idaho; of almost falling to my death while opal mining in the Australian Outback; of being stripped naked and whipped with wet twigs in Russia; of almost losing a leg when I fell off the back of a snowmobile in Colorado; of almost snapping my left ankle in Massachusetts after I tripped getting out of the crew truck and it rolled right over my foot, putting me in the hospital; of almost being arrested while dodging guards in Moscow's Red Square; and of how I'd come this close to sliding headfirst down the full length of an icy ten-thousand-foot-high mountain because the daffy wardrobe woman had bought me boots with no grips on the soles.
“Wow. That's excellent,” the hobbits would coo, delighted that filming had gone so well and we had a show, but on a personal level a little envious, I'm sure. “Good for you. Nice job. Great to see you back.” Then they'd drop the subject at once and return to staring at the same computer they were staring at when I left a couple of weeks before.
That said, everyone remained professional and it never became a huge issue. Although, once the seed of unrest is planted like that, particularly in a close environment, grievances can sometimes escalate, and even, if you're not careful, mutate into something far more serious. And that's what happened here.
With each passing trip, the mood in L.A. became worse somehow. Looking back, there must have been a tipping point, though I was too busy making the show to notice what it might be. From my point of view the production seemed to be in good shape, the crew and staff were happy, the early episodes were turning out just great; then … well, I don't know what happened. I left for a week to shoot two U.S. domestic shows and by the time I got back things had gone south. A troubling and very palpable unease had developed around me as the host, but with no immediate signposts pointing to why, nothing to connect the dots. Instead of smiles and handshakes, I was met quite often with glum or embarrassed frowns. Or people would look the other way and begin a conversation with someone else. Or, worse, they'd spot me coming along a corridor, duck into rooms, and close the door. It was like living with my parents all over again.
Not long afterwards, the puzzle unraveled slightly when I was summoned to Fat Kid's cave for a pep talk. One of those special little pep talks that, in the wrong hands—his, for instance—can leave you feeling ten times more miserable than when you went in.
“Look at it like this, Cash,” he said with his characteristic bombastic firmness. “It's our job to bring your genius …”
I'm sorry???
“… your genius to the screen.