CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Writer to Director

This is Chapter 18 of Lanterns of Babylon. If you would like to read the story from the beginning, please click on the pink tabs above.

The Zaks morning crew was taking over. Steve ushered Paul and Brenda out.

“Another day, another dollar and eighty nine cents,” said Brenda.

“I just want to get this grease washed off,” said Steve.

“You’re right,” Paul agreed. “That’s the only thing I really don’t like about this job.”

“You’re weird,” Brenda said good-naturedly. The men walked Brenda to her car. She checked her watch. “Six a.m. I almost feel like breakfast.” She got into her car. “See you guys on the graveyard shift.”

“Not tonight,” said Steve. “We’re both off.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great. I get stuck with Katie and Mona, the chattering chipmunks.”

As she drove off, Steve took out a cigarette. “So, Mr. Morgan, are you going to come watch Billie and me do our scene?”

“What time?” yawned Paul.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your beauty sleep. Be over at my place around eight tonight.” Paul peered at the sun rising over the roof of Zaks. By the time he showered and got to sleep, he could get in seven hours. He needed to wake up around four p.m. so he could get some typing done on his new script.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Does Billie have her lines memorized?”

“I hope so, or I’ll kill her.”

Steve and his girlfriend, Billie, were auditioning for a comedy troupe that was being formed. He asked Paul to write them a funny, ten-minute sketch to show the producers.

“I want you to write it, because you’re a Christian,” said Steve.

 Paul gave him a quizzical look. “That does not compute.”

“It’s simple,” said Steve. “A lot of standup material these days depends on drug jokes and profanity. To me, saying dirty words for a cheap laugh doesn’t do it. Since you can’t fall back on four letter words to get a laugh, you’ll actually have to be funny.” Somehow, Paul saw the logic and proceeded to write a short skit.

When Steve and Billie read the piece, they were very pleased. Between the laughter, they read the lines and acted out the parts.

“This is terrific,” said Billie, a Carol Burnett look-a-like.

“I think you did it Paul,” said Steve. “After we rehearse it, you can come watch and make your comments.”

Paul drove over to Steve’s place that night. Steve and Billie sat on two bar stools performing the dialogue. The scene was between a man and a woman on the telephone. The man thought he was talking to his girlfriend. He was nervously proposing. Billie was playing a housewife who thought she was talking to a jeweler trying to sell her a wedding ring.

Paul watched the two perform his material. He made some notes on the writing. After hearing it aloud, he could see places where he could improve the dialogue.

When they finished, Steve’s eyes were bright with anticipation. “Pretty good, eh Paul?”

 Billie was nodding at him, enthusiastically. “It felt right. Great stuff Paul.”

 Paul silently chewed on his pencil. He stood up and walked around the apartment. “I’m just thinking aloud here, but we could make it better.”

“We’re listening,” said Steve.

“First, the writing could be better. On some of those lines, I have the joke at the beginning of the line. It needs to be at the end of the line…give it some punch. And I could shorten that first speech you do. The set up is just too long.” Steve nodded. Paul looked over at the dining table. There was a pair of large salt and peppershakers that looked like Porky Pig and his girlfriend, Petunia. He picked them up and gave them to the actors. “Steve, you take Porky here, and Billie, you take Petunia.”

“What for?”

“Use them as telephones. It’s a little absurd, but it’s sort of funny.” Steve held the Porky Pig shaker to his ear.

 Billie laughed. “That does look funny.” 

Paul continued pacing, not looking at them as he spoke. “Pick up the pace in your dialogue at the first. You don’t have to sound like machine guns, just don’t take a breath in between each line.” Steve and Billie jotted down these notes. “And Steve, don’t be afraid to punch that line, “Who are you looking for, Superman?” And Billie, take Petunia away from your ear and give her a look like, “What’s this guy talking about?” Then hit him with your line.”

 Billie scribbled furiously on her notepad. “This is good,” she said to herself.

“Don’t anticipate laughter from the people you are auditioning for,” said Paul. “I know there are some lines you think are funny, but keep going. If they laugh, take a beat, but don’t ask for a laugh with a pause. You won’t get it.” Paul looked up from his pacing. Steve and Billie were staring at him like he’d grown another eye. “What’s the matter?” Then, Steve and Billie looked at each other.

“Did you ever think of directing?”  Steve asked.

 Paul shook his head. “I’m a writer. The last orders I ever gave were back in a jungle somewhere.” They both looked at him soberly.

The mall was packed as usual. Cory and Zeke found a bench off the food court to sip sodas after a hard day of shopping. Cory had advised Zeke on some tasteful clothing.

“I really appreciate this, Cory.”

“Hey, it’s been fun.” 

Cory had visited Zeke’s small church on Wednesday night so she could talk to Ed about painting her house. After the meeting, she asked Zeke about Paul.

“I just assumed you two were a couple, Zeke. You’re always together.”

“I wish,” said Zeke. “Paul’s got a thing for this singer.”

“Ah, the siren of show business. I never pegged Paul for a groupie.”

“It’s worse than that. The girl is a drug addict and she’s serving time for armed robbery. Actually she was just an accessory.” Cory was mildly shocked. She couldn’t tell if Zeke was joking or not.

“I can’t believe Paul would get mixed up with someone like that. What was he thinking?”

Zeke pushed back her brown page boy hair and looked sadly at some distant place. “He thinks he can save her.”

“Very noble of him,” Cory mused. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we go over to “Lady Beautiful” and get you a new hair cut.”

“You think so?”

“I know a woman there who is a make up wizard and hair stylist. She used to work for MGM.”

 Zeke was suspicious. “Does this have anything to do with attracting Paul? Because if it is, I don’t want to trap him.” 

Cory laughed. “He already likes you for who you are. I’m just talking about a little detail work…get him to notice you a little. We’re not talking major surgery here.”

Zeke took a sip of her cola. “I thought you wanted to get a hot dog.”

“We shall dine on dogs and fries, but first, let’s take you to see the hair wizard.”

Now, they sat on the bench, munching their hot dogs. The make up lady had done a superb job. Using subtle highlights and adding a pale rouge made Zeke’s tomboy features more feminine. And Zeke was thrilled with her new hair. The make up lady streaked it with lighter colors and gave her a wave. On their way to the food court, Zeke kept checking herself out in the store windows.

“I can’t believe the change. I’ve had this face all along and didn’t even know it. Look at those cheekbones.”

“You’re beautiful Zeke. Without the makeup, you would still look good to the eye of a camera.”

“Yeah, but I’m not trying to attract a camera.”

 Cory saw some TV’s in an electronics store playing a Josh Smythe interview. “I’ll tell you a little secret Zeke. Paul’s noticed you, he just hasn’t realized it. Maybe his mind is blocked by this singer that he likes. Your new makeover won’t change the way he feels about you, but it might get him to think about you.”

“Are you saying that Paul could be in love with me too?” 

Cory held up her hands. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m just saying that he looks at you as a special friend. There could be more there. We'll see.”

Zeke felt a shiver of pleasure. Maybe there was a chance. She was a grown woman though. Even if she looked like a teenager, she didn’t think like a teenager. Putting a little rouge on was one thing, but she wasn’t going to go much further. Paul had to come to her.

“Hey, are you Cory Stilling?”

A couple of teenage boys and a girl approached them. The one who had recognized her looked like he’d just discovered gold in his backyard. “Miss Stilling, you are my favorite star.

“You’re the best,” said the girl.

“Thank you very much,” said Cory. “But I’m not a star.” 

The boy pulled a paperback out of his Walden’s sack and offered it to her. “I’ve seen everything you’ve done. Could you autograph my book?” Cory looked at the title. It was a paperback sci-fi.

“I would hate to ruin your book.”

 Zeke fished around in her purse. “I’ve got some paper and pen.” She handed Cory the paper.

“Who should I sign this for?” asked Cory.

“To Wade!” said the beaming boy.

“Okay, to my friend, Wade.” Cory signed the paper and handed it to the boy. His friends looked at the autograph from over his shoulder.

“Wow, thanks Ms. Stilling.”

 Cory looked at the girl and the other boy. “Would you like one too?” 

The other boy smiled shyly and shook his head. “Nah. You’re pretty good, but I’m a John Wayne fan.”

“Robert Redford,” The girl volunteered. Both women laughed. Then Wade looked at Zeke.

“Are you anybody?” 

Zeke offered Wade her hand. “I’m Olivia-Newton John. Pleased to meet you.”

“Really?” said the girl. “I think you are so cool.”

“Sing us a song,” Wade requested.

“Do you want my autograph?” she asked all three.

“No ma’am,” said the other boy. “We like KISS.”

The three kids headed for the food court, chatting happily about their encounter.

“Fickle fans,” muttered Zeke. 

Cory grabbed her hand. “Come on, Olivia. I’ve got to get to the airport.” They headed for the mall exit.

“When does Ron’s plane arrive?”

“In about an hour. Flight 647, ETA is 3:30.” 

Zeke had a broad smile on her face. “Flight 647?  Did you memorize the gate number too?”

“That hasn’t been decided yet.”

As they left the mall, all of the TV’s in the electronics store were still carrying the Josh Smythe interview. Then, the screens went blank for a moment. The ABC news special report logo appeared. There was a shot of the Franklin mountain range near El Paso. Transwest Flight 647 had crashed into the side of a mountain. There were no survivors.