The Dingo Dilemma

Fifteen

"Giles! Where the hell are you?"

It was no fun being Giles, Earl Garfield's assistant director. In fact, it was no fun being anything around this poor excuse for a human being. His balding head shining and his gray ponytail flying, he whirled around to berate some underling. Garfield was the embodiment of every arrogant, dictatorial despot portrayed in fiction. In movies behavior like his was often funny. In reality it was teeth-grindingly unpleasant.

Darken was on the set, as in this scene she was to leap heroically through a window, sum up our perilous situation with one glance, then hurry to gnaw through the ropes that bound me to the chair. Next she was to rush to Timmy and release him from similar bondage.

She had a full entourage in attendance-Dingo O'Rourke, of course, but also a stunt trainer and his assistant, plus a groomer, who hurried forward after every take to brush Darleen's coat to gleaming perfection.

I had to admit that Darken was the most handsome dingo I'd encountered. In the wild they were thin and scruffy, with rough coats and mean expressions. Darken was sleek and seemed quite cheerful, although she did keep a wary eye on Earl Garfield as he stamped around swearing.

Between takes, I'd tried to strike up a conversation with Dingo, but all he said was, "Can't talk now."

Although it sounded glamorous, I was finding acting consisted of a lot of waiting around and not much action. I wished I'd brought a book to read. I'd also discovered that scenes were often shot out of order, so although Olive hadn't yet met Timmy after their decade-long separation, here she was tied up with her brother in a remote mountain cabin. I was a bit hazy about who the villains in the story were, but they had no hope against Darken, anyway.

With Julia Roberts as an audience, I'd dutifully learnt my lines. Although no one watching was likely to call me a crash-hot actor, I thought I did a fair job under the circumstances, which were trying to say the least. First, it was fiendishly hot under the glare of the lights; second, Earl Garfield was a truly detestable creature; and third, Dustin Jaeger was deeply unhappy with the script.

We got ready for yet another take. I was tied to the chair with trick ropes which would release when Darken rushed behind me to apparently gnaw through them. A couple of meters away, a woman in a pink smock was dabbing at a shine on Dustin's nose.

A voice shouted for quiet on the set. It was almost unnerving the way one moment people were dashing around, adjusting equipment and calling out to each other, then the next everyone was frozen in place and absolutely silent.

We had several lines of dialogue before Darken came to our rescue. The script had Olive speaking first. "Stone the crows, Timmy!" I cried. "What will happen to us? Fair dinkum, I'm scared!"

"Is it healthy fear you feel, or primal, blind panic?" Timmy inquired.

"Cut!" screamed the director. "Jesus, Dustin, stick to the script! Your line is 'Don't be frightened. Darken will find a way to help us.'"

Dustin looked aggrieved. "That's not how Timmy would express himself. It's not psychologically true to the existential element in his nature."

Earl Garfield made a crude suggestion as to where Timmy could put his existential element.

"Dustin's got a good vocabulary for a twelve-year-old," I said to the pink-smocked woman who had appeared with powder puff primed to eliminate any shiny spots on my face.

"Twelve? Dustin's fifteen if he's a day."

"Dinkum? He doesn't look that old."

"Small for his age, but watch out for him," she said darkly. "The little creep's got wandering hands."

I looked over at Dustin with an entirely different mindset. "The fact remains, Earl," he was saying in a superior tone, "the puerile words in your script do not in any way convey the Timmy that Dustin Jaeger knows."

"You don't know him, you little prick. If anyone does, I do. I created him."

They glowered at each other. The woman in the pink smock said to me in heartfelt tones, "It's going to be a looong day."

After an exhausting morning, we broke for lunch. I joined the stream of people heading for the Bellina Studios commissary. Outside the entrance I was astonished to see Upton and Unity in the company of a youngish bloke with a smooth tan and an intense, brooding expression.

I introduced myself to him, then said hello to the poodles, who today were wearing polished brass collars. They seemed moderately pleased to see me, although in Upton's case I noticed he cast an anxious look around, possibly checking to make sure Julia Roberts was nowhere in the vicinity.

"Pauline's inside?" I said.

"With Ursula Jaeger."

He spoke as though I should know who this was. I made an educated guess and said, "Some relative of Dustin's?"

His brooding expression vanished as he broke into a peal of laughter. "Some relative of Dustin's. That's rich!"

"Let me in on the secret. Who is she?"

"You really don't know? His dear old mom. Ursula Jaeger's the stage mother to end all stage mothers. She's a legend in this town. Uber Ursula, they call her."

Inside, the commissary was in two levels. The top one, reached by carpeted stairs, appeared to be for studio executives and other VIPs, the lower level for everyone else. I figured I was lower-level material, so I was surprised when I heard an unfamiliar voice bellowing, "Kylie Kendall! Come and join us," from the top of the stairs.

The invitation had come from a substantial sheila wearing a bright pink-and-white outfit with many flounces, ribbons, and bows, so she looked rather like a garishly wrapped parcel. Next to her at the table sat Pauline Feeney, her anorexic body clad in an iridescent green jumpsuit with a brass choker to match Upton and Unity's collars.

Pauline introduced me to Ursula Jaeger. "G'day, Ms. Jaeger," I said.

"Ursula, please! Every bloody Tom, Dick, and Harry knows me as Ursula."

She had a coarse, confident face, frizzy brown hair, and an Aussie accent, overlaid with a Yank twang. Her son Dustin's voice was much more mid-Pacific, the product of a voice coach, I was betting.

Paula said in her soft, sweet tones, "Ursula was good enough to call out to catch your attention, Kylie. I, myself, can't raise my voice. It's a physical impossibility."

"That could be bloody inconvenient," Ursula observed. "What happens if you're being attacked, raped? Are you saying you won't be able to scream?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Helluva thing! So what do you do? Whisper for help?"

"I do this." Pauline whipped out a whistle on a chain that had been concealed under her jumpsuit and blew it hard. There was no discernible sound, but frantic barking came from outside. "Beyond the range of human hearing," Pauline said. "I do hope Jason can control Upton and Unity. He's a sweet boy, but is unaccustomed to poodles."

"Give me a bull mastiff any day," declared Ursula. "Or an Irish wolfhound. Intimidation is the name of the game. Poodles are effete. They don't intimidate."

Clearly this got up Pauline's nose, but she managed a grimaced smile. "I think you'll find standard poodles are more than a match for any guard dog, Ursula. Loyal, intelligent, athletic…"

"Girly dogs," said Ursula dismissively.

Seeing trouble brewing-under Pauline's dead white makeup I detected a flush of rage-I rapidly changed the subject. "Ursula, will Dustin be joining us for lunch?"

"If he had his way, he'd love to, but I put my foot down. He's putting on weight, getting soft. I said, 'No bloody lunch until you shape up. Personal trainer for you, my boy.'"

She eyed me. "You could do with the services of a personal trainer, yourself."

This was a bit much, as Ursula was scarcely sylph-like. "Thanks for the advice," I said, "but I'm quite happy the way I am."

"Bloody hell, are you? You're not going to hit the big time with that attitude. The entertainment industry is ruthless, you know."

"Well, actually-" I began, but Ursula was gazing past me, a pleased smile on her face.

"There's Roddy, head of Bellina Studios. He'll never forgive me if I don't drop over and have a word with him." She got to her feet and waved enthusiastically. "Yoo-hoo!"

From the expression on his face, Roddy was not looking forward to their meeting anywhere near as much as Ursula was.

"Ursula's a monster," said Pauline as we watched her trundling towards her hapless victim, "but she has her uses. We struck a deal. She gets me in to see Earl Garfield, and in return I guarantee that Dustin's invited to every A-list party Glowing Bodies coordinates for the next two months."

"But won't Garfield simply refuse to see you?"

Pauline shook her head emphatically. Her hair could have been black lacquer, as not one strand of it moved. "He can't and he won't. The ratings for Darken Come Home are dropping and the vultures are circling. Variety is openly questioning if Garfield still has the magic touch. When the trades run stories like that it means the guy's in real trouble."

"If that's so, doesn't he lose his value as far as wrangling is concerned?"

"Not at all. Everyone likes to see a giant fall, and the harder, the better." Pauline smiled with malice as she added, "Except his ex-wives, of course. They have no interest in Earl Garfield failing."

Frankly, I couldn't see how any normal person could bring herself to marry a bloke like him. "How many wives has he had?"

"His fourth's in the process of divorcing him. The rumor is she has a generous prenuptial. Such a pity that after all that suffering, she won't get much of a pay day. She could get lucky-Garfield's resurrected dying shows before, and the best thing Darleen has going for it is Dustin Jaeger's popularity."

She laughed at my expression. "Sure, in person he's a self-serving little swine with an outsize ego, but in the American heartland, he's Timmy, the son they always wanted. That's why Garfield isn't going to stand up to Ursula. Oh, he'll huff and he'll puff, but in the end he'll roll over."

"Roll over enough to be wrangled?" I asked, thinking what an obnoxious guest he'd make at any function.

Pauline beamed at me confidently. "You can take it to the bank."

"Does it matter that the bloke's likely to insult everyone he meets?"

"Honey, he can drop his pants and moon the celebrities, for all I care. Getting Earl Garfield to actually appear has long been regarded in my business as an impossibility. I'll be a legend in this town!"

I saw that Ursula Jaeger was heading back in our direction, on the way stopping at every second table to meet and greet. Conscious that I might not get another opportunity to ask Pauline about Lonnie, I said casually, "Lonnie was telling me he was at the Moonlight Reconnaissance launch on Saturday night."

"It was a stellar occasion," Pauline enthused. "You have to understand, male fragrances are a challenge. You have to bring in the heavyweights to give the product masculine legitimacy. Athletes like Oscar, Barry, Kobe are essential, plus a smattering of older, established stars like Jack, Warren, and Tom. And trendsetters, of course-Nick, Simon, and Justin."

"Lonnie said he had a bonzer time."

She smiled indulgently. "It's a universe he's never experienced before." She waved to a waiter. "Over here! We haven't got all day."

Crikey, this was hard. I tried for a girl-sharing-confidence tone. "Lonnie's very fond of you."

"Sweet guy. Not worldly, but sweet."

"I'd hate to see him get hurt."

"Hurt? We're having fun. Haven't you heard how opposites attract?"

"So you don't see this as a long-term relationship?"

Pauline hooted. "Oh, please! With Lonnie?”

I left Pauline and Ursula still eating and set off for the Darken soundstage. Outside the commissary Unity and Upton were snoozing in a patch of shade. The bloke's brooding expression had appreciably deepened. "Is Pauline coming soon?" he asked.

"Couldn't say, I'm afraid."

He nodded gloomily. "I knew this was too good to be true."

He seemed to want to share his pain, so I said, "What was?"

'"Come with me to Bellina Studios,' Pauline said. She promised to introduce me to people who'd put my acting career on the fast track. And here I am, minding her dogs."

I was fast deciding Lonnie would be much better off without Pauline Feeney in his life-not that I expected him to agree with me. On the way to the soundstage I rehearsed how I'd break the news that Pauline didn't care for him in the way he wished.

When a call came through on my cell phone, I hoped it might be Ariana. It was Quip.

"Are you home tonight?" he asked urgently.

"Yes, why?"

"It's Yancy. He's got some sensational stuff to give me. Would you let him through the gate to the alley?"

"The back gate? Why?"

"He can't be seen. Yancy says he fears for his life."