As Robby and Lisa drove over the canyon towards the Burbank location, Robby's chief concern remained the stalker five cars behind them. Every curve he took in which he lost the maniac thrilled him, only to find the stalker reappearing in his rear view mirror once more.
But all Lisa was concerned about was Robby and their relationship.
She continued to babble on about their eternal bond as soul mates, and Robby knew he had to tell her the truth. He had not yet come up with the perfect words that he so desperately sought. He was a little afraid of how the unstable girl would take the bad news, but he knew there was no better time than now. They would be at the location in about twenty minutes, and he had no idea when they would be alone after that.
He considered pulling the car over onto the shoulder. If she were to grow violent, the last thing he wanted was to be driving on a winding, mountain road. But he also had the stalker to contend with, now only three cars behind him.
Pulling over was the more dangerous choice, he realized. He considered keeping his mouth closed and letting the girl remain in her schoolgirl fantasy -- but he knew that was just wrong. So he kept on driving up the mountain road, with one eye glued to the rear view mirror and the other on the road as he gathered up the courage to interrupt the girl's description of their impending wedding day.
"Lisa," he began with as much sensitivity in his voice as he could muster. "You know we're not really getting married, don't you?"
There was a long pause. As much as Robby wanted to fill the silence, he determined that it was probably best to let the girl answer the question first.
Finally, she took a deep breath.
"Yes," she said in a non-committal tone. "I suppose I do."
"You seem like a really sweet young woman," he went on to soften the blow. "But we don't even know each other. We could end up--"
"Why?" she interrupted. "Why'd you do it? I already told everyone you hadn't tried to rape me."
"Because they don't put acquittals on the front page," he gently explained. "It would've been buried somewhere for no one to read, certainly wouldn't make it on the nightly news. So I would have remained, in the minds of the public, a child rapist, forever."
"I see," she said in the same non-committal tone that was keeping Robby guessing. "So why'd you think I'd go along with it?"
"Because I read your file and I had a hunch about you," he answered tentatively yet with total honesty. "You're smart. You want to be popular, and I was counting on your intelligence and good nature to know that I could and would help you in that regard. And, in the end, I had no choice but to bank on you. Why DID you go along with it?"
"Doesn't matter," she answered coldly, but with a slight sniffle.
It was the sniffle that gave her away. Robby suddenly realized that she wasn't going to hurt anybody. She was sad, not angry, and it was taking all she had to stop herself from crying.
Robby suddenly wanted to hug her, comfort her, because he knew that the embarrassment and hurt she was feeling was all due to him. But instead, he did the one thing he never had any intention of doing.
"I'm going to tell you something only two other people in the whole world know," he said.
"Why?" she asked, back to her noncommittal voice. "Why would you tell me your biggest, darkest secrets? I'm not going to tell you mine, if that's what you're after."
"Because I think I owe it to you," he said. "And I think I can trust you."
He detected a little smile on her face, and it reaffirmed that it was right to offer her his full confession. And so, with great embarrassment, he told her everything.
"In order to forge a comeback in Hollywood, you need to apologize for your bad behavior. I have the bad luck of never having behaved badly, therefore I had nothing to apologize for. 'Til now. So, this is what I've been doing..."
No one, child or adult, had ever spoken to Lisa that way before. She had always been the one who had to explain herself, open herself up and reveal her darkest fears, only to have her feelings discounted and her self-image squashed. But this man, this famous star, was treating her like an equal, offering her his most inner self and begging her forgiveness. There was no way on Earth she wouldn't grant it.
"Regardless of how evil you pretend to be," she said to him. "The important thing is who you are inside. And I can tell that you're a good man."
"Thank you," he said.
"I won't ever give away your secret," she added. "I promise."
"I know," he replied, which made her smile again. "And as long as you help me like this, I'll be there for you. Don't worry about a date to the prom, you'll have me, if you want me. Any school dance, any friend's party. If you want me to just hang out with your pals, no problem."
He also had every intention of making her an appointment with a top Hollywood dermatologist, as well as hiring one of his stylist friends to give her a complete makeover. He thought she would enjoy the end result of that, but he didn't think it was an appropriate time to bring it up because it could so easily be misconstrued.
"You're the fiancee of a grown-up, and a Hollywood TV star," he went on instead. "And I'll help you use that however you want."
Lisa's smile was ear-to-ear. "You're my angel," she said.
"No," he said meaningfully. "You're mine."
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, I do," he answered without looking at her. "Beauty lies within."
"But with-OUT?" she insisted. "Do you think I LOOK pretty?"
"Lisa, you're seventeen," he explained. "I'm forty and I want my wife back."
"But do you think I'm pretty!" she demanded to know.
"I think you're beautiful," he said to the tall and scrawny, pimply-faced girl, and he felt horrible about his lie. "But remember, this is an act. It's a Hollywood thing that's been done since movies began. It's for the press and the public, and for the kids at your school. We'll both benefit, but it's an act. Okay?"
"But we'll still have to spend a lot of time together, right?" she went on. "And you find me pretty and smart and sweet. You said that. So if we spend all this time together, you might fall in love with me, right?"
"Lisa, I'm sorry, but I don't see that happening."
"But it's possible, right?" she went on. "I mean, anything's possible."
"Yes," he conceded. "Anything's possible."
That was all she wanted to hear. She leaned over toward him, trying to be as smooth and suave and sexy as possible, and blew in his ear.
They were at one of the biggest, cruelest curves on the winding road. Robby had two hands on the wheel, one eye on the road and the other on the stalker behind him, and he wasn't ready for any adolescent ear-blowing. He almost didn't make the turn and narrowly missed careening into a tree, whereupon he fought the wheel with all his might to get back into control.
"Don't do that," he told her pleasantly yet firmly.
She only giggled and did it again as they approached the next big curve.
"Cut it out!" he shouted.
She immediately moved back into her seat and pouted.
"I'm sorry, geez," she muttered.
He felt bad. He knew he was leading her on in such a way that, smart as she was, she couldn't be blamed for misreading the signals. It had been his intention to take her to a very public dinner at the first available opportunity, and now seemed as good a moment as any to bring it up.
"I'd like to take you to dinner tonight, if that's okay with you," he began. "Say, Royalties. Eight o'clock?"
"Royalties!?" she cried. "I love Royalties!"
Lisa had never been to Royalties, and she only knew two things about it. It was where movie stars ate, and her father could never get a reservation.
The truth is, Robby's waning star status wouldn't get him a reservation either. But he had befriended the owner when the man was only a sous-chef at a previous chic restaurant. Robby had even co-signed the loan agreement when the chef wanted to branch out on his own. It guaranteed Robby a table for life, but that was not why Robby had done it. It was entirely because he liked and trusted the guy -- it was entirely out of friendship. The real truth is that it's not called "Royalties." But some stuff happened at that dinner that could get the place in trouble, and they might then decide to sue me. Suffice it to say we're talking about one of the hippest, trendiest restaurants in Beverly Hills.
"But I can't go," Lisa suddenly told him. "I'm not even supposed to be out now. My father locked me in my bedroom, and he's not going to let me go anywhere. Especially with you. No offense."
Robby laughed at the "no offense" as he pulled up to the red light on Ventura Boulevard. He could see that the stalker was now only two cars behind.
"Take a cab if you can," he told Lisa as he pulled out his wallet and gave her forty dollars and his card. "If you can't make it, try to call me on my cell. If you can't do that, don't worry about it. Call me when you can and we'll schedule something else."
"I'd really like to go to a Hollywood party," she said sheepishly.
"Next one I'm invited to, you're there," he answered. "Promise. In the meantime, if you can get yourself free on Friday, I've got front row seats and back stage passes to the Hellfire concert. Interested?"
"I love Hellfire!" she exclaimed.
The truth was that although she had remotely heard of them, she wasn't quite sure who they were. The fact that she had one of their CDs didn't enter into it because it had been tucked away between her Led Zepplin and Pink Floyd CDs, which she didn't listen to either. But none of that mattered. A backstage pass was a backstage pass, and a backstage pass with Robby Rockman was even grander!
"Hellfire's my favorite group, ever!" she told him. "I don't know what I'll have to do, but if I have to kill someone, I'll be free on Friday."
"Great," Robby said as he handed her the tickets and passes. "You can hang onto these and we'll work out the details later."
As Robby expected, Lisa was simply in awe.
The light turned green, and Robby uncharacteristically peeled out in the hopes of losing the stalker behind him.
"You are so cool," Lisa said with a smile.
As Robby pulled onto the Ventura freeway towards the Burbank location, he could no longer spot the stalker's car. For some reason, this frightened him even more.
It was "Gun Butt's" fourth day at the Burbank location, the tenth day of production, and the set was already in chaos. The paparazzi had headed over as soon as they got booted from the Polo Lounge, and now they swarmed over the set like locusts during a plague, desperately trying to get more front-page photos of Robby and his juvenile bride-to-be even before they arrived.
Ciggy loved every minute of it. He knew when he cast Robby that his scandal would generate some attention, but he never expected this. Even the so-called legitimate papers had sent reporters and photographers down to cover the story that was quickly sweeping the nation's attention.
The seasoned producer was brimming with excitement. The first scene slated for the day was one in which Robby's Dr. Kincaid character and the movie's hero force Cheyenne to choose between them. It was one of the most dramatic moments in the whole film, and Ciggy couldn't wait for the press to see his cast in action.
As far as Ciggy was concerned, the only scandal would be if he and Norman couldn't come up with the extra three hundred grand to complete the picture! It was a possibility too horrific to consider, yet it consumed the back of his mind.
But Robby was terrified by the hordes of strangers as he pulled into the medical building parking lot. Papparazzi were old and young, male and female, tall and short, black and white and brown and yellow and red. Given those parameters, his stalker would appear to most of the cast and crew as nothing but another annoying reporter.
Robby introduced Lisa to Norman and instructed him to take her home. Fully confident that his lawyer-producer would heed his wishes, Robby made a beeline for his trailer, informing everyone along the way that he wouldn't come out until he spoke to Ciggy.
But before Norman could turn his head, Lisa had positioned herself in the center of a mob-like circle of photographers and reporters. She hadn't heard Robby tell Norman to take her home, and she loved the adulation she was suddenly receiving. The fact that her father would eventually find out she had snuck out of the house never even crossed her mind. She was no longer the pathetic rape victim she had been, but instead Robby's glowing fiancee. She played her part with confidence and composure, and she was smart enough to avoid getting trapped in a lie. Every question posed to her that was remotely suspect, she simply deferred to her adult lover.
"How did you two meet?"
"Robby tells that story so much better than I can," she'd say. "It's so sweet and romantic, and I just love hearing him tell it. Ask him."
"How do you and Robby handle your age difference?"
"There is no age difference when we're together. You put that on us. Love is eternal and ageless."
"Is the D.A. going to bring charges against Robby for statutory rape?"
"You'd have to ask Robby that."
But Robby was nowhere to be found, and Lisa refused to walk away from the spotlight. Norman's only option was to throw her into his car by force, which he knew he couldn't do. So he simply watched, helplessly.
"Is there a wedding date set yet?"
"Robby's in charge of that stuff. You'd have to ask him. All I know is it's going to be big and beautiful and all my good friends at the Noho Cafe can be bridesmaids."
Meanwhile, Robby paced the floor of his tiny trailer like a caged animal. The door was locked, and he was terrified. His stalker was out there, somewhere, he knew, lurking in the shadows of the set.
As much as he had craved this exact type of media attention up to now, Robby wanted the press gone. He wanted Ciggy to hire security guards and turn the set into a fortress, and he wasn't going to leave his trailer until it was done.
But where the heck was Ciggy?
Frankly, Ciggy was on the phone scheduling segment shoots with E! channel and Entertainment Tonight. He had been told Robby wanted to see him in his trailer immediately, but the last thing the seasoned producer was going to do was give up this whirlwind of free advertising to appease another drug-induced actor.
Robby was sweating and even trembling when the doorknob suddenly turned. Someone from the outside was trying to break in, and Robby almost had a heart attack. Ciggy always knocked -- Savannah always shouted.
Then the person on the other side began to pound on the door. Robby dropped to his knees to clear the window, pretending he wasn't there.
But the pounding continued. Robby, crouched down on the floor, could only pray that the person on the other end would give up and go away.
"I know you're fucking in there!" shouted the voice on the other end. "Open this fucking door, you bastard! Or I'll break it open with a crowbar!"
Then Robby took a deep breath and wondered what he should do.
*** Up Next: "The Voice Behind The Door" ***
The main characters in this e-novel are fictional and are not intended to portray or resemble any actual individuals, whether living or dead (except for Jeff Abugov who is a real screenwriter, director and producer.) Although certain real people and companies are mentioned in this e-novel, all of the events are fictional and are not intended to portray or resemble any actual events.
Copyright © 2015 Tinseltrash, Inc.