Hollywood After Dark Ch. 04

Laying there as my panting subsided, I glanced over at the living room window, watching as the sun slowly began to rise over the hills of Hollywood, daybreak bringing an end to the very long night. I closed my eyes just for a moment to rest, but before I knew it I too was asleep there on the couch, our bodies still held together by the bond that had united us in the first place: the burning desire for the loving touch and caress of another person.

We slept for a few hours in that same position, my now soft prick managing to work itself free of her vice like cunt. Laying there, I could see outside that the sun had risen quite far, almost at the midpoint in the sky as the lazy sunbeams and the familiar sounds of traffic managed to filter in through the drawn blinds and thick window panes. My awakening must have stirred Katherine as well, for she lifted her head from my chest and, smiling at me, slowly lifted herself off of my body, moving very slow as she knelt on the back cushion of the couch. She yawned as she patted my leg with her hand, leaning back against the couch, her head resting on the back as her hair draped over the edge.

"Good morning," she said groggily with a sigh, her eyes closed as she lay there on the couch. I lifted myself up slightly on the couch, laying my head on the armrest as I looked at her. Her legs slightly spread and her body still naked save for the rumpled skirt she wore, I could see that a lot of the redness had started to fade around her newly added tattoo. It was still slightly scabbed over, but it didn't look quite as bad as it had even in the late night light of the apartment.

"Morning," I said with a smile, now lifting myself up proper to join her on the couch. Stretching my arms over head, I ran my hand through my hair and stood up, grabbing my boxers from the floor on the way. I cracked my back and re-awoke my body to the world of the living as I yawned again.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you Alex. Do you happen to have any of Petty's clothes by the way? I really need to take a shower,"

"I think so. Try looking in the closet. The shower is right in the bathroom in the bedroom, so make yourself comfortable while I get breakfast going,"

Katherine smiled and stood up from the couch, pulling her dress down now over her legs but choosing to leave her blouse off. She walked a little hesitantly towards the bedroom and disappeared from my sight as I moved to the kitchen to start breakfast.

She emerged 15 minutes later wearing an oversized sweatshirt and one of Petty's pair of old jeans. Perhaps it was the fond memories I still held about Petty in such casual wear, but Katherine looked amazingly sexy in the clothes as she moved to the kitchen table, taking a cup of coffee I had already poured. I set down some eggs and hash browns on the table for each of us and we ate in silence for a few moments, Katherine practically devouring her food immediately, while I found myself to be quite hungry and was quick to follow her.

After finishing her eggs, Katherine sipped her coffee and spoke.

"Thank you for last night Alex. For everything,"

"Not a problem Katherine. I'll always be here to help you out whenever you need it,"

"I know," she said, smiling shyly at me. That was the look of hers that I liked the best I decided - a subtle, innocent looking smile.

"So now that we have both gotten some sleep, I was thinking in the shower about what we should do,"

"What do you mean?"

"About Antamount and the Rose Petal business,"

"Oh yes, I had managed to put it out of my mind for a minute there,"

"I wish I could say the same thing, but unfortunately it has been eating away at me since I've been awake,"

I said nothing to this, but encouraged her to go on. "What do you think we should do?"

"Well, here's the thing. We are both in very different situations here. I'm much deeper in and know far more than I probably even want to, while you are still pretty deep in this whole fucked up scheme, only from a different perspective,"

"Right,"

"But the thing is, even though we are looking at it differently, we still have a lot of common problems. Namely, how to deal with the people involved, the people who are our bosses, in a world where relationships and connections are king,"

I nodded.

"For me, it won't be impossible to manage. I've been stuck in this sub-servant role for a while now and I can hold my own, barring nothing strange coming along. You however, really don't have any chips to maneuver with,"

"I could just not be involved in the movie anymore,"

"I don't think that is a good idea. It's too risky, sends too many signals,"

"I've already told them that I didn't want to be involved any more. They even sent Monica Bellucci to...convince me otherwise,"

"Well then that is your in. You could use that to say that your decision was based on what Monica wanted you to do. And I don't even think I have to ask how that Italian succubus tried to 'convince' you,"

"Point taken. I still don't know...it will be really damn hard to look them straight in the eye when I know so much. They might catch on,"

Katherine stared at me hard, a look of determination in her eyes.

"If they do, they do. Now look, I will also keep up my role in the Rose Petals. Maybe I can learn more about them, what the flaws in the organization are and who wants out. I mean, a secret society can't stay secret forever,"

We sat in silence for a moment, letting the whole thing sink in.

"Then what? How long do we wait, how long do we play by their rules?"

"For however long it takes I think. These people are serious as a heart attack Alex. They won't hesitate to kill you and to make me disappear by smearing me in the tabloids. It's best not to fuck around with them until we have an out, a plan of action,"

"And what exactly are you thinking in that regard Katherine? How the hell do we try and hurt an organization where the only way to tell the members is by seeing them naked?"

Katherine looked down at the table in thought, finishing the last bite of her eggs. Sipping her coffee, she finally looked up at me, her eyes glittering with possibility.

"I know someone who might want to help us. Give me some time to set things up with him and then let's see what his take on this thing is. If we can get his help, then we might stand a chance,"

WILLIS' STORY:

Straightening my tie, I cleared my throat as I rested my hands on the heavy oak board room table.

"I'm glad you are all here gentlemen. You are obviously anxious to find out the status of our organization, where we stand in regards to the inroads we have made into the Hollywood star system, and I won't keep you long. I have a lunch date with a future prospect to attend to any ways,"

The table seemed to nod their heads in unison. They were a well dressed and unthreatening looking group: aging business men, a few going completely bald atop their heads while others simply seemed to age with dignity, a few wrinkles not with standing. They were the backbone of my organization, the life blood that helped get it off the ground and what kept it flowing even right now. They had kicked in money from off shore bank accounts, personal checks and ambiguous company write offs. Collectively, these twenty men represented some of the most powerful business and political interests around the world. Their companies and own organizations spanned four continents, and the heady rush at speaking to a room like this was a bit intoxicating.

Taking a sip of water from a glass on the table, it's sweat leaving a slight ring on the expensive wood, I walked over to a white board behind me, reaching into my pocket to pull out a remote for the projector.

"As you can see by these figures, our year end goals have more than been met. We have successfully reached out to the top talent in the fields of film and television completely, are making great progress into the world of music with Antamount Records and by years end we hope to start capitalizing on the growing women's sports field. There do remain a few hold outs in the Hollywood system, some of the bigger paycheck pulling women like Roberts and Diaz but we are working our hardest to bring them into our fold," I said, pointing to pie charts and bar graphs on the projected screen behind me, the only sound in the office the hum of the projector itself and some muffled sounds from outside the conference room.

"Now, clearly having control over the talent in the entertainment industry is important. But what we hope to achieve in our three-year prospectus is nothing short of positioning our representatives inside of the five big studios and entertainment companies, where they will undoubtedly ascend the corporate ladder and act in our interest. This will require quite a bit of press unfortunately, but with the Los Angeles media on our payroll, and unfortunate squabbles will be relegated to the back pages of the paper," I continued.

"Once we feel confident that our interests are being met in North America, I personally feel that it will be apt time to expand abroad. The European market is always steady, and with Latin America simply ripe for the picking and Asia on the rise in their tough economic times, this should not be too difficult. Our coup de tas in the world of entertainment should go off without a hitch, if our current projections are to be believed," I finished, pausing once again to sip some water. "I will now open up the floor to questions,"

A row of hands were raised around the table and, so as not to play favorites, I chose the one closest to me.

"Yes, Mr. Eisner," I said, pointing at him. The head of the Mouse empire stood up, straightening his tie as he began to speak in that somewhat raspy voice of his.

"With all of this talk of expansion, I want to know what is being done internally in the studio system. You mentioned that Ms. Roberts is a current priority, but is it conceivable that we can hope to limit the power of the female players in the Hollywood world anytime soon?" he said, his gray eyes staring at me hard.

"Excellent question. That is where our establishment of the Rose Petals Club comes in. We have planted within the star system an organization strictly controlled by us, which acts as a conduit for sucking in new and old talent to our whim. I have appointed the very capable and trust worthy Salma Hayek to act as a figurehead in the organization, working with her and team of writers to create a mythology around the group that will not only hook but keep any rising star from getting too high in the grand scheme of things. There have been a few...unfortunates... who have been lost to the cause due to the Rose Petals Club, but they have successfully been buried by the press and as such will no longer pose a threat. We also are working with interests in Columbia and the Middle East to add narcotics into the mix if necessary, giving Hayek and her members a stronger crutch to lean upon. If we can not hook their minds via mythology, then certainly the use of narcotics will allow us to snare their bodies. I hope that has answered your question Mr. Eisner. Next please?"

Eisner sat down and the room turned towards the back of the table to look at Mr. Kyokota, a small Asian man who had stood up slowly. His hair was a rich silver gray and his face still had some of that boyhood charm, but he offered no smile or look of kindness as he bowed slightly before speaking.

"What of this talk I have been hearing of a resistance to our plans? A...how do you Americans say...uprising? This is not good indeed Mr. Willis, and I believe I speak for the group when I say that our investment in finances and our investment in face value is not something to be easily brushed off," Kyokota said, his words coming steadily and coldly, without the slightest hint of sentiment or emotional attachment. The group murmured softly to itself, whispering and talking in hushed tones with one another. To quell it, I returned the emphasis with some cold words of my own.

"There is no resistance, no uprising. This rumor has been plaguing us for the past three years and nothing has ever shown itself to be proof in that regard. Should any problems such as that ever actually reveal themselves to be true dangers to us, we would act quickly to remove them and ensure that no financial or face is lost in the process," I said, my icy words cutting the room silent like the flick of a switch as I glared around the room. The fact that Kyokota actually brought this up irritated me to no end, but I knew in dealing with the Japanese that any sign of anger or hesitance was a sign of weakness.

A few hands that had been raised went down, with only one remaining. I was relieved that it was simply Senator Mitchell from Kansas, a slow witted fellow whose connections to high standing officials and business men had bought his way into the organization.

"Yes, one final question,"

"When will we see a financial return and how much more funds do you need to continue the operation?" he asked, in his slow Mid-Western drawl. I sighed under my breath, glad that there had been no follow-ups to Kyokota's questioning.

"That gentlemen, is something I will turn over to my associate Mr. Hapsboro. He is far more talented with numbers than I, and has already laid out a spreadsheet of cost benefit analysis. I must bid you all ado however now, else risking being late for a lunch appointment," I said, motioning to Gordon on my right. He stood up with a smile and walked over to me as I handed him the projector remote.

Leaning in close to his ear, I whispered to him. "Take care of the Kyokota problem,"

Turning my head to face the men again, I smiled widely, that same grand-fatherly smile that had gotten me this far in the first place.

"Good day gentlemen," I said, waving to them as I exited the room.

My driver was waiting for me in the parking lot, and within a few minutes we had arrived at the bistro agreed upon earlier in the day by my secretary and my new prospect's agent. Sitting down at a quaint table, the lunch time crowd bustling and chattering around me, I neatly folded my napkin in my lap.

I didn't have to wait long before a simply ravishing blonde woman approached my table from the entrance, her long legs and beautiful smile making my heart take pause. She was so innocent looking, it almost felt bad that I would have to bring her into this inevitable hell that I was creating for myself. But investors were impatient and the game was too far along to stop now, so I was left with no choice.

"Ah, Ms. Mol. So wonderful to finally meet you in person," I said, gesturing towards her chair as the greeter removed it for her.

"Thank you Mr. Willis. And please, call me Gretchen. Before we order, I simply have to thank you for speaking to David E. Kelly and getting me that part on his new show. I feel that this could truly and finally be the big break that my career needs to make me a household name. I am so excited," she said, bubbling as she smiled at me. She was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, her face so cute and her eyes so alive with energy.

"I only help out those who I feel to be deserving. And you Ms. Mol...Gretchen...are most certainly one of those special few. And since we are making clear our feelings for one another right off the bat, something direct that I like about you, I must ask you a question," I said, smiling at her in that warm way that I knew was my strongest strength in negotiating.

"Please Mr. Willis, go ahead. I am more than willing to answer anything you might throw at me," she giggled, sipping her water.

I cleared my throat, the line now memorized in my head so completely that all I had to do was fill in the blanks. "Now Gretchen, the television business is hard. It's a cut throat industry, even more than the world I am familiar with here in the magical world of cinema. People will do anything to climb above the competition..."

CHARLIE'S STORY:

My head was jerked up quickly, too quickly, I felt the blood rush to my temples in a throbbing flood as my eyes grew black and I felt dizzy, about to pass out. I tried to lift my arms to my desk to steady myself, but the men held them down as they yanked viciously on my hair. My neck snapped backwards as I gasped, my teeth gritted painfully as my head was held at an awkward angle against my neck.

"You don't pay on time from now on Charlie, Dennis and I will be back to make sure you don't gets no more chance. We clear?" Bernie said. His fat hands held onto my hair tightly, wrapping it around his meaty fingers as they held me out from the desk. I was already gasping from the sucker punch they had delivered to my gut a moment earlier but right now I was more concerned with them snapping my neck like a twig.

"I told you, I didn't have the money this time. I can win it back!," I said through my teeth, immediately regretting my forwardness.

SLAM! My head went into the desk again. Hard enough this time to make me black out for a few seconds.

I felt my head throb even more now and could feel a small trickle of blood leaking out of my forehead, strangely comforting in the physical state I was in.

Mercifully, I felt the hand on top of my head relax as Bernie moved away from me.

"I don't know why we fucking deal with little fucks like you Charlie. You aren't even worth the fucking effort," he said viciously, walking away from my desk, my arms finally free. I thought for a moment of jumping up after him, but my reason (some might call it coward-ness) took over and I sat motionless, lifting only my head to watch them as the trickle of blood adjusted it's route and leaked into my eye painfully.

Through my one good eye I watched as Bernie wiped his hands on my jacket hanging on the coat stand, Dennis holding the door for him as they walked out. They were big men and had to turn sideways to even get through the door of my office.

"Don't fuck with Mr. Bois again Charlie. That's a personal piece of advice," Bernie said, slamming the door.

As I listened to them descend the steps and shut the front door, I finally found the strength to move, standing up on wobbly legs as I staggered over to the mirror. Shit, they really did a number on my face. My one eye was swollen and blood caked as the wound from my widows peak continued to drip down like slow moving paint over it. My hair was all messed up (what little I had still anyways) and my cheeks were swollen from the blow to the desk. Moving my tongue around in my mouth, I was glad they didn't knock loose any teeth. For now any ways.

Reaching into the desk drawer underneath the mirror, I took out a dirty towel and wiped my face with it, the rough unwashed material scratchy as I gently touched the wound. The dizziness was gone but I still looked like hell. My shoulders hurt from where they had pulled my arms back to land that punch, but as I rotated them slowly I knew that they hadn't done any permanent damage. Again, for now.

Sighing to myself, I walked back over to my desk and flopped down. I opened the middle drawer beneath the desk and pulled out my flask - a present from my parents during graduation - and took a swig. The brandy was strong and harsh as it went down, burning my throat as it screamed towards my stomach. Taking another pull, this one went down easier as I set the flask down on the desk. I realized that my hands were trembling slightly and so I quickly put on top of the other to steady them. Glancing at the desk, I saw today's race form sitting there, begging me to pick a winner in the 4th, the 5th...it didn't matter. The piece of paper seemed to taunt me, beckoning me to come play the ponies just one more time.

I grabbed the form quickly and tore it up, throwing the pieces into the trash can. Fuck that. I was already enough in debt that I didn't need even one more race to keep myself going. Besides, I knew that I couldn't find enough money for even one ticket before the opening bell of the race.