The Last Deep Breath

13

Turned out it wasn’t a studio or a set, but a mansion with an even higher wall and a larger gate than those in Beverly Hills. There was a bored guard in the little booth who asked Grey his name.

Grey said, “I’m Monty Stobbs, Hollywood super-agent. I represent Mr. Harvey Wallbanger.”

The guard called up to the house and a few seconds later opened the gate.

“So much for security,” Kendra said.

“You’re a fan of Harvey’s. Now you get to see him up close.”

“I have to admit I’m curious.”

“Figured you would be.”

“Is that jealousy I detect?”

“No.”

Grey parked up at the house and they stepped up a large Italian marble walkway that led to a porticoed entrance. The door was open so they waltzed right in.

Inside there was lots of action, lights, people walking all over the place. None of this quiet on the set. Grey smelled peppered chicken and turned to see a caterer’s table set up against the far wall. People were eating and drinking coffee. A photographer was taking photos of the scene.

“That’s him,” Kendra said.

“On the table?”

“Yeah.”

Harvey was busy kneeling on a dining room table behind a twenty-something girl. Around them sat about fifteen extras who were making small talk while eating soup and drinking wine. Grey figured this was some kind of homage to German expressionism or some shit. The girl had fake breasts that didn’t move an inch no matter how many acrobatics she and Harvey threw into the mix. A boom handler kept the mic up close on the performers. The director kept calling out positions. “Now into cowgirl…now reverse…now Mish…” Harvey followed through as commanded. The rest of the diners started to join in and soon an orgy was in progress. Harvey’s girl was making orgasmic noises that sounded so fake and painful that Grey figured she was going to hyperventilate soon and pass out under the candelabra.

“My biggest movie we had a crew only half this size,” Kendra said.

“You’re in the wrong biz.”

“I suppose I am.”

They watched the shenanigans for a little while longer. It was much more boring than Grey had been expecting. Harvey had trouble finishing off. The director told everyone to freeze until Harvey got his shit together. It seemed like it was going to take some time.

“Let’s get a coffee,” Grey said.

He and Kendra crashed the caterers table and munched on some buffalo wings and antipasto. Between bites she asked, “So what do you think of him?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Up close, I’m not impressed. He gets a lot of help in the editing room.”

Besides his non-functioning twelve-inch wonder of the world Harvey looked like pretty much any other guy on the block. He kept his hair closely cropped, wore a little peach fuzz beard, had tribal tattoos to show he was a man of the world. He had an armband crown of thorns that matched Ellie’s. Grey couldn’t really read his eyes because Harvey was caught up in his fuck face expressions.

“Are you going to pull the gun on him before you introduce yourself or after?” she asked.

“Which do you think will make the biggest impression?”

“Probably before.”

Kendra knew one of the lighting guys and struck up a conversation. Grey watched as Harvey finally pulled the trigger to the applause of the cast and crew. Folks shook his hand. Grey wondered why in the fuck anybody would shake anybody’s hand during a porn shoot until after they’d hit the showers, but clearly he didn’t know how things worked around here.

Harvey put on a robe and followed the girl he’d just banged up a large staircase. A few of the other performers marched upstairs as well. Grey wondered if he should wait for Harvey to clean up and come back down or approach on the move.

He told Kendra, “Back in a minute,” but she was so busy primping for the lighting guy that she didn’t respond.

Grey stood at the bottom of the stairs and tried to imagine what Pax would do. But he figured Pax would have waited until Harvey got home to his place in the valley and wouldn’t attack him in the middle of a porn set cleanup.

Well, Pax was making the world safe for democracy and wasn’t here. Grey took the steps three at a time. The second floor had two large hallways with six or seven doors. It wasn’t hard finding the right one. The sound of squealing emerged from the end of the corridor. Grey figured what the hell and walked in.

It was a bathroom about three times the size of his old apartment in New York. To the right was a claw-foot bathtub with two hot chicks in it, a huge shower currently occupied by several folks behind a beveled glass door, a sink you could bathe in, and a counter covered with three different drugs he could name and a couple he couldn’t. Two of the orgy guys were sniffing coke off the rock hard tits of the girl who’d been Harvey’s partner.

To the left was a large hot tub. Harvey was alone in it. He had lain back and looked half-asleep.

Grey thought, Where’s the toilet? A thousand square feet of bathroom and no shitter?

He shook his head, stepped over to Harvey, and said, “I’m Ellie’s brother.”

Harvey opened his eyes. He was a kid who took everything in stride. He yawned and scratched his peach fuzz. “Ellie didn’t have a brother.”

“She did and she does. Have you heard from her recently?”

“Been almost a year since we split up, man.”

“I know. Have you been in touch since?”

“You some kind of a crazy fan, man? Eva Rains always had the craziest goddamn fans after her. She encouraged that kind of crap. That what you’re about?”

Grey decided he might have a little better luck if he used Harvey’s real name. “Paul, I really am Ellie’s brother. Tell me what happened before the two of you broke up.”

A couple of the orgy chicks broke from the shower and hopped into the hot tub. They giggled and sighed and murmured, oblivious to Grey and everything else. Harvey kissed one of the ladies and within a minute was almost asleep again.

So much for this.

Grey grabbed Harvey by the back of the neck and forced his head under the bubbling waters. The girls didn’t open their eyes. For the first few seconds Harvey didn’t even struggle, stoned and just going with it.

Then he started to struggle a bit, and then a bit more, and then he began to thrash down there. Grey left him under the foam for another ten-count, then pulled him up.

Coughing and sputtering, Harvey turned his face to Grey, his eyes finally showing some focus and interest.

One of the orgy guys walked over and said, “Hey, anything wrong?”

“No trouble,” Grey said. “I’m a trained lifeguard. Get the fuck out of here.”

He hauled Harvey out of the water.

“Wait, man, wait…what…?”

“Okay, now we can dialogue. My sister. Have you heard from her since you split up?”

Harvey Wallbanger’s hands went up in front of his face like he expected to lose what few looks he had. “No, man, no no!”

“Tell me what happened.”

“What happened when?”

“What happened when you split.”

“She left, man, she left, that’s all! She got in deep into heroin, fucking nobody does heroin anymore. That’s not a righteous high. It kills everything. We started fighting, she was costing us jobs. So we parted ways, totally amicable, I’m telling you.”

“Who’s Johnny?”

“Who’s Johnny who, man?”

One of the girls opened an eye and said, “I think he means her manager, Harvey. That old fat fucker.”

Harvey’s eyes lit. “Yeah, yeah. That’s right. Name was John. Yeah. John…Raymond. Right. That who you mean, man? John Raymond?”

The girls over in the claw-foot tub were starting to get into each other, which was sort of distracting. Grey found a towel and tossed it to Harvey. “Let’s go talk next door.”