Hollywoodland: Chapter 3

The dust in the room danced circlets and spirals in the light, softly drifting in the ray of hot California sun after being chucked through the air as only a fan on its lowest setting could.

James crashed on the sunken couch in the motel room. A small cloud of dust puffed off the couch. James gave an involuntary cough. Life was moving fast. Just a measly two weeks earlier he was getting off of a stage on Broadway. He had gotten a tip-off from an old friend that Hollywoodland was hiring. So, he was off to the sun of Cali and away from the Great White Way & the Big Apple. He had never been to the West Coast, but he had heard that the surf, sand and sun were mesmerizing.. The idea of a new place nauseated him, and the reality of potential failure in the job searches only worsened his nausea. He had no connections in the film industry. No friends to help him out with his big break, to put him up while he searches for his future.

James took a slow drag from a cigarette. He relaxed some as the nicotine flowed through his veins. He was getting his usual fix. It was the only vice that he afforded himself. He had seen what happened to others when they got hooked on the harder stuff. Blow, cocaine, angel's dust - it had many names that his other actor friends would call it. He tried it, once - it had given him a wicked headache and weird feelings of everything around him - the jitters, paranoia, and also hallucinogenic images. After he had come off of his terror of a high, he vowed never to touch the stuff ever again. He wasn't willing to sacrifice health just to get a cheap fix. He took another drag from his cigarette.

James Stewart shifted on the couch and looked up at the clock on the wall - 8:35 a.m. it read. He got up off the couch, ashed his smoke, then headed for the shower. He felt like hell, but he wasn't ready to look like it in front of his boss and the other actors.

"A shower and then a shave," he muttered to himself, rubbing the early shadow on his face. The sound of his tired body and feet shuffling along on the plastic tile floor of the bathroom only further showed his state of exhaustion from the road to Hollywoodland. The bathroom door creaked as he closed it.

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Charles Goldwyn smiled as he looked up at the face of Diane Slinger. She had taken to bringing him a fresh croissant and hot coffee to him every morning. Also, a small stack of the daily newspapers and magazines - among them the Hollywood Reporter, Los Angeles Times, New York Times and even the monthly issue of Variety would end up on his desk each morning when he would come in at promptly 7:30 a.m.

Charles found himself watching and staring as Diane went about her business in the other room. She had been working for him for what seem like his whole professional career. It was only now that he started to notice her for more than just as an assistant.

"Mr. Goldwyn? Good morning Mr. Goldwyn. In a half-hour you have an appointment with Mr. Capra. After that, you said you wanted me to remind you at noon that you want Mr. Stewart to come up and half lunch with you." Diane sat in a leather chair to the left of Charles. She was reading the schedule from her notepad. She felt a tingling - like she was being watched. She looked up.

"Mr. Goldwyn, what is ever the matter? You're staring at me, is there something on my blouse? Did I spill my coffee...or no. Is there something on my face? Oh Mr. Goldwyn, tell me, is there something on my face?" Diane fretted, checking her outfit and her face in her compact.

Charles laughed heartily. He surprised himself with his laugh, he hadn't laughed that hard in such a long time. "No, no my dear. There's nothing wrong. I'm just reveling in your beauty." Charles smiled warmly.

Diane blushed. She wasn't getting used to all of Mr. Goldwyn's compliments. Just months ago, he would just grunt at her in response to her questions. Now, she has his full attention. The divorce from Ms. Lipinski was doing some weird things to him - he went out of his way to find a new star, he would come in to work earlier than even the set builders come in, and he was always paying more and more attention to Diane Slinger.

Charles took a puff from his cigar. Diane was looking more and more beautiful each day. "Maybe I should take her out to dinner tonight...yea, that's what I'll do. We'll go downtown and get a nice steak dinner. Women like steaks - men like them so why shouldn't women?" Charles sat pondering, staring off into the distance, which happened to be in the direction of Diane.

"Well, Mr. Goldwyn, I've got papers and files to...umm..file. I'll be in the other room. Mr. Capra will be here in fifteen minutes." Diane got up and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She sat at her desk, thinking about what had just happened in the other room. Mr. Goldwyn was acting nice to her - a feeling she wasn't used to at all, but she was enjoying it.

The door to Diane's office opened. A Mr. Capra walked in and nodded to Diane. Mr. Capra walked over and went through Charles Goldwyn's door.

Before the door closed behind him, the voice of Mr. Capra carried out to where Diane sat, "Yes Mr. Goldwyn? You wanted to talk to me about a Christmas movie? I don't quite underst-" The door clicked closed.

Diane turned and picked up that day's copy of the Hollywood Reporter. Gossip will help take her mind off of Mr. Goldwyn, or so she thought.