The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [177]
“What do you think of the set?” the man asked him casually.
“Good. Too many windows though—we get the message, it’s a penthouse in New York, but we could have had it all a bit grander, with paintings and drapes. More … more texture, I guess. Aw, jeez.” He glanced at the man again. “Did you design it? I’m sorry.”
The man laughed. “Tell me more.”
“Well, for instance, now I think he should be approaching her from behind the sofa, kind of slip his arms around her. This way you can hardly see her face and as she’s the prettiest thing around, I guess that’s what the audience wants to see.”
“And if they don’t, you’ll have one very angry Mae French,” the man said feelingly. “I’m on my way over to the Adventures set. Why don’t you come with me and take a look at that?”
“Sure thing. My name’s Dick Nevern.” He pumped the man’s hand enthusiastically as they strode from the barn and headed for the neighboring set. Mitzi was being filmed outside, sitting on an upturned bucket, wearing frilled gingham skirts, black stockings, and black button boots, and somebody was holding an umbrella over her head to stop her makeup from melting in the sun.
They watched the action for a while, Dick passing some comments and the man asking him some questions, and then they dropped in to see a few of the fast two-reelers being made. “I know I can do better than this,” Dick muttered agitatedly. “I just know I can.”
“There’s something I want to show you,” the man said finally, “but I have to be at a meeting. Here, why don’t you take this key and go and look in the big storage hangar at the back of the lot. It’s a ten-minute walk, but I think you will find it interesting.”
Dick hesitated. “Well, I kinda have an appointment myself….” Then he remembered that C. Z. was busy all day and figured another half hour wouldn’t make any difference. Besides, now he was curious. “Well, sure, why not, if it’s okay, I mean, jeez, I wouldn’t want to be caught trespassing where I’m not supposed to go, you know.”
The man nodded. “Just drop the key off with Mr. Abrams’s secretary when you’re through,” he said as he strode purposefully away.
The hangar was filled with monolithic sets, statues, props, and painted backdrops for Scheherazade, all gold and crimson and Arabian splendor. Dick guessed this was what the man had meant about giving people an escape from their drab daily lives. For ten cents they could be transported to the mysterious east via Magic’s magical movie. Or they could have, if Scheherazade had not been canceled.
After locking the door regretfully behind him, he walked over to C. Z. Abrams’s office and handed the key to his secretary.
“Oh, yes,” she said, “you must be Dick Nevern. C. Z. said if you’re such a big-shot genius like you say, then maybe he’d better give you a test. Be here tomorrow morning at six-thirty.”
Dick let out a great whoop of excitement. After grabbing her hand and kissing it, he said, “But when do I get to meet the great man?”
“You already have,” she replied. “I understand he gave you a conducted tour of the lot.”
Dick told them over supper exactly how his jaw had dropped, and repeated exactly what C. Z. had said to him and what he had said to C. Z., and accepted their congratulations warily. “It’s only a test,” he warned.
After a sleepless night he was at the studios at six. This time the guard dropped his wisecracks and told him politely he was to go to Studio B.
Mitzi Harmoney was already there, having her makeup applied, and a couple of dozen extras were eating sandwiches and waiting around. The producer shook his hand and said, “C. Z. says you’re to take over this set today. He says just to do it your way.”
Dick gulped. No foolin’, this was his big chance; his first day on the set and he was directing a star. Jeez, he’d just better not screw up, that’s all. He glanced through the shooting