I’ve been here at the W Hotel in Westwood waiting for this asshole Donnie Ramo for what seems like an entire afternoon. I hate Westwood… really. The only reason I came out here is on account Donnie asked me to meet here. I guess living in Brentwood, Westwood isn’t too bad of a trek for him. But Jesus it’s been at least three hours! Even if the jerk was walking he’d have been here an hour ago.
Anytime I try to call the phone rings twice then goes to voicemail. I suspect he’s ignoring my calls but still manage to maintain my anger and stick around. That’s the funny thing about cellphones – if the thing goes straight to voicemail then the phone is probably off. But if it rings a couple times and switches to voicemail you know whatever asshole you’re trying to get on the line is avoiding you. I mean, it’s not like people leave their cellphones at home. The whole point of the things is to make sure you’re always in a contacts range. I know Donnie didn’t leave his shit at home, he’s a pretty sharp guy. So I know he’s ignoring me... whatever, there must be a good reason.
Over by the bar some red-head slut keeps trying to meet eyes with me – most likely in the hopes I’ll smile back. Maybe she knows me, I wouldn’t doubt it. She could have been one of the Orange County chicks I was fucking a few months back, or maybe even one of the Daddie’s-girl cunts from Santa Barbara. Whatever the case may be, if she knows me, she can’t have anything too fond in the memory department. But who knows… maybe she’s just a floozy that sees cash and wants to take a ride on the Cal train.
No matter what’s going through her mind, I don’t want any part of it. I’m here for business.
At the opposite end of the restaurant I can see one of Donnie’s buddies Mel sitting under a black-and-white photo of Julia Roberts. He’s rubbing on some black-chick’s thunder-thigh and whispering what-have-you’s into her charcoal-colored-ear. I’ve never really got into the jungle-fever but if it works for Mel so be it. He’s kind of a schmuck so whatever he can get, more power to him.
Part of me wants to get Mel’s attention to see if he may have the skinny on where Donnie may be. It was Mel afterall that told me about Donnie’s hook in the electronic department, but at the same time, I don’t want to step on any toes. Donnie’s especially.
From what I know about Donnie he seems to be a straight cat but he has this slightly intimidating way of carrying himself. It’s as if he’s constantly judging people and really doesn’t give one or the other what other people think or feel. Case in point, my current situation. Sure he’s going to show up eventually, but he has no regard for other people… he’s the type that handles things on his own time.
I drink another tumbler of Scotch (probably my fourth) and gain a bit of courage. I decide to stand up and see if Hal’s got any info in the Donnie department. If it pisses anyone off so be it – I’m here to do business after all.
I walk up to Mel’s table but he doesn’t notice me since his face is buried in the jungle-girls neck. I clear my throat and after a beat of giggling Mel finally looks up at my direction. He fronts a look like he doesn’t recognize me so I offer, “Mel it’s Cal. I’m supposed to meet Donnie here a few hours ago and he’s MIA.”
Mel takes a beat. I suspect he’s drugged to the gills on Oxy which has become a favorite around his circle of folk. After a moment the daze clears and recognition flashes in his eyes.
“Oh yeah Cal!” he says, “I don’t know what Donnie’s up to right now but I remember him mentioning something about meeting up with you earlier today.”
“Oh so you’ve talked to him recently?”
“A few hours back… the chat was short-lived though. He seemed a bit on edge.”
Mel’s acting way too casual to be full of shit so I allow myself to relax a bit – if he says Donnie was on edge then maybe something came up. It occurs to me that Mel may be a bit closer to Donnie so I ask, “Do you think maybe you can give him a ring for me? Just let him know you saw me here and that I’ve been waiting?”
Mel offers me a look that suggests he doesn’t want to go out of his way. I don’t feed into it so he eventually sighs and says, “Yeah I’ll ring him up. But if I have to eat any shit from him you’re gonna hold onto the muddy part of the stick. Cool?”
I can’t imagine what kind of “shit he would eat” but agree and make my way back to the table. Before I can put in a few steps Mel calls out for me. I can’t quite hear him so I turn around and ask, “Did you say something?”
“Yeah let me holler at you for a second. Aren’t you the cat that produces independent flicks?”
Fuck. Normally I would be up for any conversation concerning my jaunt into independent filmmaking but the sad fact of the matter is there really isn’t one. I mean I front myself off to countless people as an up-and-coming player but the truth of the matter is there’s really nothing going on my way. I know it’s a cliché amongst LA folk to be bullshitters but I never really intended to become one. It’s just with lying, once you get used to it, the lies tend to come at the speed of thought. Sometimes the bullshit flows out of my mouth and by the time I realize what’s going on I’ve dug myself so deep the only way to get out is to keep digging and hope it all gets kosher by the time the sun comes up.
On the other hand there’s so many advantages to bullshitting with the title of “emerging producer”. I mean it’s not like writing, acting, or directing where you have to have solid material to bring to the table. A producer just has to put the pieces together and hope they all fit at the end. If bullshitting can make that happen then I don’t see an issue. In fact it may not even have to be considered lying. I can almost think of myself as a director using special effects in a movie… even though what I show you may not be real (in a sense), as long as the outcome is magic then there’s no complainers.
My problem is I never come through on what I promise – probably because my lies are so damn extravagant. And after enough time passes, everyone can smell the scent of my bullshit and the run for their lives. I just hope I don’t burn all my bridges before I’m ready to cross them.
I don’t want to say anything to Mel, he works with Donnie and the last thing I want is to come across as an asshole to those guys. The truth of the matter is, the average shelf-life of one of my friends is no longer than a couple months (and that’s on a good day). After enough time passes people get the idea how full of shit I am and take it on the arches. The last thing I want to do is start another flow of shit that will eventually (and lets be serious here) will go nowhere.
Mel’s still fishing for an answer and I have no idea how much time has passed so I say, “I mean I’m involved with a few projects right now but not at the capacity where I could help you out or anything…”
“What sort of things are you involved in?” The black-chick with Mel asks – which actually pisses me off because I really don’t want to answer but now I think I have to just to keep a good rep with Donnie.
“Oh just a few things, music videos and whatnot – I’m actually working on going union so right now every job I catch is freelance, and if you know the biz, everything with that is up in the air.”
“Oh yeah tell me about it…” the black-chick says as if she knows what I’m talking about which actually shrinks my balls major. “I came out here to be an actress but nothing worked for me so I did every grunt job behind the scenes I could. I mean, I did every thing from audience coordination to assistant to the assistant and I still haven’t put in enough time for my DGA. A couple weeks ago I caught a break because my friend Sonya met a guy over there… Erik Drew I think his name is… I guess he’s pretty big over there and he’s gonna get my resume on the top of the stack… you don’t know him do you?”
Name-droppers… I can’t stand them. Usually I just front a nod or spew out a story and move on but in this case I actually do know the guy she’s rapping about. In fact, the fucking guy hates me. I made too many promises I couldn’t keep and he started giving me the cold-shoulder-routine as soon as the last straw broke his Camel’s back. I think maybe I ran into him on Vine a few weeks back and even chatted with him through the passenger-side of my Benz but I’m pretty sure he hauled-ass out of there like he was swimming away from Katrina.
I rap the pro’s and con’s of answering the darkies question in my head and realize it’s best to jump ship. God-forbid she runs into Erik anytime soon and finds out how much of a bullshitter I really am.
I realize the best way out of here is a proper diversion so I reach into my pocket and pretend my Blackberry is ringing. I ask them to hold on for a tick while at the same time I’m holding the volume button on the side of the phone to mute it in the event someone calls while I’m fronting being on the phone.
“Hello?” I say into an empty phone. I wait a beat and then say, “You’re kidding me? So are we on for tonight or what?” I wait again, pretending to listen. “Okay great, set it up for tonight, I think I’m prepared enough to get some things in motion… Actually it just occurred to me I’m with other people…”
“Don’t let us keep you.” Mel offers genuinely.
I hold the mic of the phone and say to Mel, “Oh don’t worry, just let me take this call and we’ll finish what we’re doing.”
“No worries” Mel casually says as I realize I completely owned him with my act.
“I’ll finish this call and get right back to you.” I say. “If Donnie calls just let him know I’ll be sticking around if anything comes up.
Mel raises his glass without a word and I head for my table. Once there, I continue the phone charade for close to ten minutes and occasionally shoot Mel a wink or the thumbs up. He’s not to concerned with what’s going on over at my end. He’s got his chocolate-loving to play with.
Once I finally drop the phone I can’t help but to be sickened with myself. Every day I tell myself I’m going to start being honest and drop this bullshit routine I’ve played since before I can remember… but something keeps me going and I can’t stop it, regardless if I can identify and understand it. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s as if there’s this tick in my brain that goes off that tells me I have to impress someone the moment I meet them. I know it’s all bullshit but I keep the ball rolling. It’s the only thing inside me that I hate, and believe me I hate it… That little voice in my head that says, “You have to let them know what you can DO for them right away. Otherwise they won’t respect you.”
I know how wrong it is for me to think this way and I want to change it more than anything in the world. It’s getting to the point I can’t stand what I see in the mirror. And to top that, after so many years lying to everyone I meet, it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even go to McDonald’s without bumping into someone I hurt, someone I’ve lied to, someone that reminds me just how much of a dick I am.
That’s why I’m sticking around here. That’s why I don’t care about waiting for Donnie. That’s why I’m willing to dump whatever money I can into these Macbooks. You see, for a guy like Donnie what we’re doing together is only business… to me it’s something that can change my life!
With the money I can potentially make off this deal, I can back my dreams and aspirations… the money I make can get me to the point where I’m walking the walk, not talking it.
This deal here is not only going to change my life, but change who I am as a person as well. There won’t be a reason to bullshit any longer. I’ll be the real deal – and once everything is said and done, I’ll be living the first day of the rest of my life…
The first day of the rest of my life… it has a wonderful ring.
Playing my cards right with someone like Donnie will lead to the dream I’ve had all my life – to be a man my father can be proud of… a guy who started at the ground and ended up in a skyscraper… and it’s only because of that dream that keeps me in this seat waiting for Donnie…
He may not know it yet, but he’s helping me in more ways than he’ll ever know…
Things have been rough for me the past few months. I’m down to the last dollar with nothing else coming in.
People around the block may say sour shit about Donnie…
But to me, he’s my savior…
The one guy who’ll change my life…
