An
Incident Halfway to Hell
By Ian De Shils (Ernest
Shields)
Chapter two
Paul Markey sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and chatting with Sofia
the cook when he heard the service door slam. Looking up he caught a glimpse
Melva kicking off her shoes in the utility area.
"Well, here you are at last.” He said, “You know, I've been waiting for.
. . “ His carping came to a halt as Melva entered the kitchen.
“What happened to you!” he exclaimed.
Her hair was a mess, matted down, wet and her clothes were in the same
condition. The cream colored fabric of her blouse was stained brown and stuck
to her skin, but it was the look of fury on her face that cut off all his
questions. Without a word she stormed through the kitchen and disappeared.
A few moments later another door slammed,--- the sound of it reverberating
throughout the Bel Air mansion. Jose, Melva's chauffeur since she lost
her driver's license, came in carrying a wet stadium blanket. He dropped
it in the laundry basket and washed his hands in the nearby sink.
“What the devil happened to Melva.” Paul asked.
Jose shrugged, “She wouldn't tell me, Mr. Markey.”
“Where did she go?”
“Van Nuys.” He reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a flyer. “This
is the place.” he said. “She went in and a little while later came out like
you saw her. I don't know what happened.”
Paul looked at the flyer.
'Friday Night Hoedown, open to the public. Square dance, Line and Pairs,---
fun for everyone!' below that, the band's name and admission price. Markey
stared at it blankly. Why would Melva go to a country-western dance, he
wondered. Suddenly he remembered Vitto had been talking about Casey O'Brian,
the square dance fanatic who used to work for Melva. The kid was hot right
now, a new film at Paramount and Vitto was moaning he wished he made a film
with O'Brian when he had the chance. Markey shook his head. He couldn't
see any connection though,--- as far as Melva was concerned, O'Brian was
history. She fired him nearly two years ago and Melva was not one to
dwell in the past; unless,--- no! He distinctly recalled Angie saying
the O'Brian advance account was cleared.
Markey prided himself in figuring out the 'probable cause' behind most
of Melva's erratic actions, but this one had him stymied. A country/western
dance? Melva spent fifteen years carefully burying her own hillbilly past.
She was the hottest pop star of the decade, so why the hell would she go
slumming at a VFW club in Van Nuys?
O'Brian! He was the only connecting factor. Markey picked up the phone
and dialed the home number of his personal secretary,
“Angie, I'm sorry to call so late, but can you, by any chance, tell me
status of Casey O'Brian's contract with Birchline?”
“Why, yes I can, I handled that a few weeks ago. Miss Birch sold that
contract to Mr. Marnelli. Remember, I mentioned that the O'Brian account
was off the books.”
“I thought O'Brian sent a check himself.”
“He did, and I turned it over to Mr. Marnelli. Actually, he sent two checks
for the same amount about a ten days apart, I turned them both over since
Mr. Marnelli was the one who settled the account."
As he suspected, it was O'Brian and Vitto was up to something,--- damn
his hide!
“Thanks, Angie,--- have a nice weekend.” He said, breaking the connection.
He quickly dialed Vitto's number. The man must have been waiting by the
phone; he answered on the first ring.
“What the fuck is going on, Vitto! Melva came in a few minutes ago soaked
to the skin and mad as hell. What have you two been cooking up?”
“What happened?”
“I just told you! Now you tell me what you've been doing behind my back.”
Vitto in his most placating voice, said, “Nothing, Paul,--- honest. Melva
just thought she'd give O'Brian a chance to fulfill his contract,--- that's
all.”
“Bullshit! Two weeks ago you were talking about that old release
he signed with 'Stud' and I told you then a release isn't a contract, it's
only an instrument to prevent people from suing later on. You never listen,
and now you've got Melva involved. Goddamn it, Vitto, you know exactly how
little it takes to get her started. You've been playing at this for a month,
haven't you?”
“Hey! Don't go all goody two shoes on me, Buster,--- remember we're milking
the same cash cow here. O'Brian might be worth ten, maybe twelve million
in sales when his movie hits the theaters. What did you expect me to do, let
him walk away without giving it a shot?”
“I don't give a fuck what you do,--- only leave Melva out of it. Jesus
Christ, man, you can't have her pressuring people to do porn flicks, what
kind of a stink do you think that would raise? If it's only money you're
worried about, consider this; you flush Melva down the drain and you lose
more than you'll make on an O'Brian film.”
“Hey, I didn't twist her arm, she volunteered. Melva agrees with me.
O'Brian is trying to weasel out. She holds a contract, damn it!“
“You mean, YOU hold a contract. How come you didn't tell me you bought
it from Melva.”
“O'Brian was under personal obligation to her, I didn't think I needed
your approval!”
“You don't, but what good does it do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Read the fine print! O'Brian has to approve any transfer or the contract
becomes null and void. I've got news for you, Vitto, not only did you nullify
that contract, but O'Brian has no obligation to reimburse your expenditure.
I sure hope you cashed his check. $52,000 wasn't it?”
“You're shittin' me, right?”
“Like hell I am! It sounds to me like you didn't cash his check, I kind
of figured that when Angie said she got two of them. Listen Vitto, O'Brian
just made a bundle at Paramount. He's not going to be falling all
over himself to do a $52,000 dollar skin flick. He might, however, send
you a real nice 'thank you' note for paying off Melva.”
For once, Vitto was speechless.
“You know,” Markey continued, “I've got a feeling Melva doesn't know about
those checks. Am I right?”
“I was going to tell her,--- if it didn't work out tonight “ He protested.
“Sure you were! All I can say, Vitto, is if whatever happened there
turns into a major problem for Melva, I'm holding you personally responsible.
Now, let it go! Leave O'Brian alone, and maybe I can negotiate your money
back. As for Melva, you stay away from her, not even a phone call,--- understand?
She has enough problems right now! One more thing, I can't see Melva going
to that dance alone,--- who all went with her?”
“Just Hoot, I think.”
“Hoot? He left for Chicago tonight!”
“Yeah,--- well,--- before he went he was going to join her at that club.
I don't know if he did or not, you'll have to ask Melva.”
“You're not telling everything, are you? Exactly why was Hoot there and
not one of the regular men?”
“Well, they're buddies, you know and I thought,--- maybe he could help
change O'Brian's mind,--- about doing the video,--- “ He wound down without
admitting exactly what he asked Hoot to do.
“Well,--- obviously, it didn't work.” Paul snapped, not quite able to keep
the rancor from his voice. “I was hoping someone could tell me exactly what
happened there before I speak to Melva. If you hear from Hoot, have him
call me. I'm staying here tonight.” Markey, didn't bother to say good bye,
he just hung up. “Asshole,” he muttered.
Paul gave Melva a few more minutes to get cleaned up, then made his way
upstairs carrying a tea tray. Oh, this is going to be fun, he thought.
Damn it to hell, if it isn't one thing after another.
Melva was on the phone the minute she entered the room. She knew exactly
who to call to straighten out that lying, miserable Son of a Bitch!
I'll teach him a lesson he won't forget, she thought as she punched in
the number. It rang and she stepped out of her sodden clothes while waiting
for the answering machine to kick in. Finally the recording came on and
she paced naked, waiting for the beep.
“Manny, if you're there, pick up, it's Melva.” The line went dead for a
moment and then a deep masculine voice said,
“Hi, Babe, what's happenin'?”
“I've got a problem. There's someone who needs a Larry Burke lesson.”
“Whoa, there, Melv,--- I don't know nothing about Larry Burke. You got
that?”
“Okay,--- okay, but you know what I want. His name is O'Brian, Casey O'Brian
and he lives at 6829 Laurel Canyon Boulevard.”
“Hey, ain't that the same Casey who used to work for you?”
“That's the one.”
“I can't do it, Melv, he knows me. Hell, I got drunk with him one night
at your house.”
“Well, get someone else! It's worth ten grand to me to see that bastard
in the hospital.”
“What the hell did he do?”
“That doesn't matter,--- can you handle it?”
“For ten grand? Sure! I take it you want this just like the others,---
short, sweet and painful?”
“And then some. Make the son of a bitch wish he never laid a hand on me.”
“Okay, Melv, but I'll need the money up front,--- I'm gonna have to hire
this one.”
“I'll send it over by courier tonight. Thanks, Manny, I feel better already.”
Melva just got out of the shower and into her robe when Paul rapped,
“It's me Babe, I've got some hot tea,--- you looked like you could use some.”
“I could use a Goddamned drink!” she responded, pulling open the door,
“Come in, just don't start grilling me,--- I don't feel like talking about
it!”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Paul said soothingly. “Now,
sit down and have some tea,--- Sofia is putting together a snack.”
“I'd rather have drink! Come on, Paul,--- please,--- just a little one?”
“Sorry, Honey,--- you know you can't. When it gets tough like this just
remember; they don't serve booze in jail, either. Try thinking of something
nice, like your trip to New York.”
“You know how I hate those fucking award things!”
“Look, it's only one night. We'll stay a few days and do some shopping.
I've got tickets to the show you wanted to see. We'll have fun. Now drink
your tea and relax. Would you like a back rub?”