Bloodthirsty Chapter 3 of 11

It took the better part of a month for Halsey to set up a meeting between us and Barry Gerber. Living legends have busy schedules, so I figured we’d be lucky to get five minutes with him in his office. But that wasn’t Barry’s style.

“He wants you at the premiere of our new movie,” Halsey said. “Sunday night. The Pantages Theatre. Red carpet, black tie.”

“Do you really think we should pitch him the Familyland idea when he’s surrounded by a theater full of people?” Terry said.

“Why doesn’t he just meet us in St. Peter’s Square and bless us from the balcony?”

“It’s the perfect time,” Halsey said. “He loves making deals when he’s feeling triumphant and expansive. I once saw him green-light a feature at a Lakers game. They had just won in double overtime.”

“Can I bring my wife?” Terry said. “She hates when I go to these Hollywood premieres on my own.”

“Bring your entire posse,” Halsey said. “We’ll make a night of it.”

Our posse consisted of Terry’s wife Marilyn, my girlfriend Diana, my father Big Jim Lomax, and his wife Angel. Jim has a fleet of cars, trucks, and production vehicles that he rents out to film crews. He decided that the best way for us to show up at the premiere was in a thirty-foot stretch Hummer.

Jim is about the size of a Hummer himself, loud as a Harley, and prone to bear hugs. He was sitting across from me in the limo, Angel’s tiny brown hand resting on his picnic ham of a thigh. She’s twenty years younger, two hundred pounds lighter, and at least three times as stubborn. When my mother died six years ago, Angel did what anti-depressants, shrinks, and weekly visits from our parish priest couldn’t. She made him smile. I grinned at the happy couple and gave Jim the official Lomax Wink of Approval.

He caught it, directed his gaze toward the lovely Diana Trantanella sitting at my side, creased one eyelid, and tossed back a paternal wink of his own.

“So, what’s this movie about?” Marilyn asked Halsey. Marilyn is Terry’s fourth and, I’ll bet every nickel of my movie-option money, final wife. She’s one of those plus-sized women, so it’s ironic that she wound up changing her last name to Biggs. But she’s Biggs and Beautiful, with delicate pale skin, fiery red hair, and a quick wit that lets her go wisecrack for wisecrack with her wannabe-comedian husband.

“It’s called I.C.U.,” Halsey said. “It’s a thriller, so all I’m going to tell you is that Damian Hedge plays a neurosurgeon who murders someone he’s having an affair with.”

“I love Damian Hedge,” Marilyn said. “Do you think you can direct him to have an affair with me?”

“Marilyn, my pet, you are far too good for Damian Hedge.”

“I’m far too good for Terry, but I still sleep with him.”

“Excuse me, folks.” It was Dennis, our driver. “I don’t think Damian will be at the premiere. We have the contract with his studio, and I’ve been driving him around for the past three or four weeks, but he canceled the limo.”

“Maybe he heard Marilyn was stalking him,” Terry said. “It’s more likely that he hates Barry Gerber’s guts, and he’s standing him up just to screw him over,” Halsey said.

“Oh God, Halsey,” Marilyn said. “Do you know why Gerber fired him? I would kill to find out.”

The Barry Gerber–Damian Hedge feud had been one of the hotter topics in La-La Land. It started out as gossip, but the threats of lawsuits and countersuits got it kicked up to the business pages. Frankly, I didn’t give a damn.

Halsey had filled six glasses with champagne, and his own with Perrier. “I have no desire to discuss why the most obnoxious man in this town isn’t talking to the rudest one,” he said, passing out the glasses. “But I do have a toast to a much more promising business relationship.”

Big Jim tapped on the divider. “Dennis, slow down. You got designated drinkers back here, and I don’t want them spilling this stuff on the upholstery.”

The stretch eased to a smooth glide, and Halsey raised his glass. “To Mike and Terry, my new partners in crime. If the gods are smiling tonight, you’ll meet the man who will put up the money to make the movie that will make you rich.”

Terry raised his glass. “Halsey,” he said, “if you’re right, and this movie sells, you will have single-handedly destroyed the very principle on which I have based my entire adult life.”

Halsey turned on the Big Toothy Grin. “And what would that be, Detective Biggs?”

“I’ve been working under the ridiculous assumption that crime doesn’t pay.”

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