Two More Calls

Calling Gomez




Harry studied Gomez Glick's  handwriting on the back of the rumpled wedding seating card. The prototypical penmanship of a teenage girl. Loopy, a circle instead of a dot for the 'I', how gay. Harry sighed and dialed the phone number.


"Hey there, Gomez! Harry Starr calling. We met at that wedding in Montreal."


"Yes, Harry, of course. So when are you coming down to L.A.?"


"That's actually why I'm calling you. I finished my spec script, tying up some loose ends and plan on going down as soon as I'm ready."


"Cool. Do you have a place to stay?"


"Not yet. Do you have any leads?"


"In fact, I do. This girl, Wendy, who I was seeing for a while..."


'This girl I'm seeing.' Like Joy? That Gomez, another Mr. Platonic hiding in the closet.


"...is renting out rooms in this big house she's got in Santa Monica. But her father got arrested for fraud and tax evasion, he put the house in her name and she's renting out rooms because the IRS froze all of her dad's assets..."


Mr. Platonics always have great stories. And more important - connections. They're friends with the world.


"...So Wendy works as a lousy paid production assistant on Sheza the Amazon Warrior -- whose tits are real by the way..."


"Wendy's?"


"No Sheza, you dummy. Don't you watch the show."


"Can't say I do."


"Doesn't matter, neither do I. Anyhow I could speak to Wendy..."


Love this guy already. Someone who will always go out of his way to do a favor. Must know lots of people, an invaluable friend in a new city.


"...I think she's charging like $400 a month and you don't have to sign a lease..."


"Sounds great."


"...And the house is in a real cool area, a couple blocks from Montana in Santa Monica..."


Of course, a Mr. Platonic always hangs out where the beautiful people go.


"I'm loving this, Gomez. Can you speak to her?"


"Sure, we're going out for dinner tonight. Call me back tomorrow. Just a word of warning. She's got six dogs and three cats, not to mention four other boarders, so you gotta be able to handle that. It can get a little messy at times...Fuck, it's always messy.."


"That's okay. I grew up with dogs and a big noisy family..."


"Don't say I didn't warn you, Harry."


"I won't...Say, how's your pilot, Leftovers, going?


"Aw you know, development hell, especially when you're dealing with washed-up stars. Duane Day dropped forty pounds since his Feldman days and he's just not funny if he ain't fat. Now he's just skinny and butt ugly. Meanwhile he dumped Cindy Saffron for some amateur porn star. So now Miss Saffron, who hasn't worked in ten years if you don't count dinner theaters,  wants to quit. Meanwhile Sonny Pinto's trying to get the movie made of Mr. Nanny, and will drop this project if that ever happens. At least Wenzday Wilson's still hysterical, even if he hates my guts because I asked him to pay me back the fifty bucks I lent him. I mean fifty bucks is fifty bucks, it's not like I've got this series in production where I'm taking home a hundred grand an episode. I only made twenty grand so far off this pilot and who knows when the next pay check will come. Meanwhile I may have to take a job in telemarketing. But aside from that, everything is great."


"Sorry to hear that, Gomez."


"That's the biz, Harry. Get used to it."


"Yeah...So I'll call you back tomorrow, Gomez. Thanks."


"Oh fuck, I just felt a tremor...Gotta go..."




One More Dreaded Call




Teddy Slutsky, Harry's old football coach who led the Mustangs to two consecutive provincial finals. Tubby Teddy with the fu manchu moustache, flowing silk shirts and clogs who barked orders from the sidelines and snuck out for smokes during time-outs. Teddy was now a producer on kiddie sitcom House Hubbies and partied with Nick Tassos. 


Teddy never answered his home phone, but the message on his answering machine attested that he was now a Hollywood insider, at least in his own mind: 


"Hey there folks and strokes, I'm not in right now because I'm preparing my monologue for theTonight Show. Leave a message and I'll have my buxom assistant, Brandy, call you back...Hee hee hee, Brandy. Knock it off, I'm recording a message..." 


Fortunately for the millions of Tonight Show fans who like good comedy, Teddy got bumped off (again) from the show at the last minute and never got called back. Would Teddy remember Harry Starr, former quarterback whom he taught how to throw a screen pass, run a bootleg, call an audible?


"Hello Teddy, it's Harry Starr. You used to coach me on the St. Clair  Mustangs. how are you?"


"Oh man, St. Clair. That was in another lifetime. St. Clair."


'Yeah, I used to play quarterback. Remember we made it to the provincial finals two years in a row and got our asses kicked both times. We were too cold to play."


"Yeah, right the Mustangs. Were you the kid with the red hair and freckles who stuttered?"


"N-n-n-o, that was Jeff Shrier. He played center."


"Jeff Shrier? The orthodontist's kid?"


"No, that was Mitch Handelman."


"Mitch Handelman?! That shit-head fucked my little sister!"


No, that was actually my cousin, Joey Prager. But your sister fucked almost everyone.


"I don't think so."


"I'm about to run out...What's your name again?"


"Harry. Harry Starr."


"Did your father sell ties?"


"No, but he once sold--"


"So what's up, Harry. Make it quick, I gotta run for a taping."


"Well, I'm--"


"Can you call me back in a few days, Harry. I really gotta run now. I'm late and I'm warming up the audience for Vets in Heat. Bye."


Click.


"I'm going down to..."