Inequality Among Friends - (Continued)

One thing to write a script; getting it in the right hands is another story. Time to suck in the pride and pander for favours. Call Mike Winikoff. Maybe him and Barry Newsome née Nudelman, kissed and made up and had his number?

Harry tracked down Barry Newsome née Nudelman's number in the Yellow Pages:

Barry J. Newsome
Chartered Insurance Broker
5900 Shetland Blvd., Suite 306

Harry knew that address well. Uncle Lou ran his crappy kosher candy operation out of there. The building burnt down every few years either due to slap-dash repairs or a sketchy tenant hopeful to cash in on his fire insurance policy. No one ever got caught.

Barry J. Newsome. Harry rolled his eyes. Right. He sighed and took a deep breath before dialing the number. As expected, no secretary, Barry Newsome née Nutkovitch answered the phone.

"Barry Newsome," he said in his best radio voice.

"Hello, Barry."Three years together in the same bunk at camp, the days when everyone called Barry, "Stiff," the Human Erection. Barry Newsome. This was what being an adult was all about. "It's Harry Starr calling. Howya doing?"

"Oh man, Harry. Good to hear your voice. Doin' great here, just great. What's up?"

"A bunch of things. For one thing, I've been doing some TV writing and plan on going down to L.A. to see if I can get something going down there."

"Good idea. Say hello to Mick Winkle if you see him."

"Mick Winkle?"

"Yeah, that's Mike's new Hollywood name. And he gives me shit for changing my name! Fucken hypocrite--"

"Oh...so I guess your still not talking. I thought that you guys probably made up by now."

"I tried, Harry. Sent him a card when he had a kid. The putz never even acknowledged it."

"Shit...You guys were so close. Mike was such a great guy..."

"Yeah, but Mick's an asshole...But you should still try to call him. Maybe he'll be okay with you. Try his parents. They're in the phone book and still live in the same house."

"O-kay..."

An uncomfortable silence.

"Say, Harry." Barry said. "Do you have travel insurance?"

Now for the parents:

Awkward "Hello, Mrs. Winikoff, it's Harry Starr. Old friend of Mike's from camp."

"Oh yes, I remember you, Harry. You were over at our house a few times. Nice boy."

"That's me, very nice."

Crackling silence. Uncomfortable Parent chat.

"...So I'm going down to live in L.A. for a while and wanted to call up Mike. Would you be able to give me his number?"

"...Aha...yes...I don't mean to be impolite, Harry, but I'll have to speak Michael first. His rules. Michael gets so many calls now, you can imagine."

"...Yes, umm, I understand...so..."

"Why don't you call me back in a couple of days? I'll be speaking with Michael tomorrow."

"Sounds good, Mrs. Winikoff. I'll call you then."

Well, not really good. Feeling a bit putzy, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Two days later, Harry copped the number.

That was a Sunday night.

Monday night: Mondays are always a bad day to call.

Tuesday night: Too tired. Killer day at work.

Wednesday night: Three aborted dials. Tried.

Thursday night:  They tape Mike's show that night, Mike unavailable. Would've tried.

Friday night: Shabbos. Never call on shabbos.

Saturday night: Only losers call on a Saturday night.

Sunday night: Fucking do it already! Mike's probably home with the family. Best chance to catch him. 

Need a drink.

A shot of vodka...another one...and another.

Make the call already. What do I call him? Mike or Mick? Or sir? It's not the same anymore. Should've taken the role in his student film. Should've, could've. I'm such a putz.

Pacing, pacing.

Deep breaths.

Sit down,  get a pad and pen.

Doodle caricature of Mike, as grungy as ever. Draw bees buzzing around his ass.

Vodka shot.

Dial, man, dial.

Busy signal. Phew.

Pacing, pacing.

Look in the mirror. You're so handsome, Harry. So handsome.

Dial...A ring. Butterflies in the tummy. Another ring.

"Hello..."

A woman's voice. Must be wife. What's her name. Mrs. Winkle? Deep breath, strong acting voice.

"Hi, can I speak to...uhh...Mike, please?"

Yeah, Mike.

"Who should I say is calling?"

The guy who used to smoke grass with Mike behind Bunk 24.

"Harry, his old friend from camp, Harry Starr."

"Okay, hold on a sec, I'll go get him. He's doing some editing work now."

She sounds so nice. Am I bugging him...Too late to bang down and hide under pillow.

"I can call back at another time if he's busy."

Don't sound so fucking submissive, Harry.

"No, it's okay, Mike could use a break. He's been working all day.  I'm sure he'd like to hear from an old friend."

He would? Nice girl...Mike, call him Mike.

"Sure, thanks."

"Miiiiiiiike...." wife calls out.

Tic toc, tic toc...What's taking so long? Maybe he really doesn't want to speak to me? I wouldn't want to speak to me.

"Hello...?"

"Mike?"

"Mick."

"Mick?"

"Was Mike."

"Hi Mi-Mick, it's Harry."

"Larry?"

"No, Harry. Harry Starr."

"Hey man, Harry! Just teasing.  Howya doing, Harry Starr?"

"Doin' fine...and you?"

"Can't complain. Married. Kid. Writing on Outta Town."

"It's all good, all good..."

Awkward moment of silence.

"So what's up with you, Harry. It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has. Not married. Not near married. I've been working in sales..."

"That's cool..."

"I'm not acting anymore, but started writing..."

"..."

"Yeah, remember Ronnie Finkelstein? He went to film school with you."

"Oh yeah, Ronnie...How's he doing?"

"Well, not so hot lately. But he got me into writing scripts. I'm actually finishing off a Feldman spec script now and planning on taking it down to L.A. with me."

"Cool..."

"I guess...That's kind of why I'm calling. I'm gonna see if I can get something going writing for sitcoms and was wondering if you wouldn't mind...taking a look at it?"

"No problem, Harry. I can read it and give you back some notes."

Oh, man, fucking great, amazing.


"That would be great, Mike--"

"Please call me Mick..."

"Right, Mick."

"So look, Harry. Send me your script when it's finished and we'll take it from there. Might take me some time to get to it, things are crazy busy now."

"I can imagine..."

"...Yeah..."

"Anyhow, I won't keep you longer, M-Mick. I should be finished the script this week and then I'll send it to you..."

"Great."

"Yeah, great. I really appreciate this, Mick. Thanks a lot."

"My pleasure."

Really?


"Well, take care, we"ll be in touch. Bye."

"Bye, Harry."

Harry crashed out on the sofa and bathed in sweet thoughts all night.