A Ravenous Romance™ Original Publication
Dirty Hollywood
Copyright © 2009 by Tom Szollosi
Ravenous Romance™
100 Cummings Center
Suite 125G
Beverly, MA 01915
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.
ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-194-4
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental
CHAPTER ONE: CITY OF DREAMS
The Devil drives a white Mercedes.
He’s got slicked-back shock-white hair, white suit, white shoes -- no socks. His eyes are pale and clear, his skin milky, sometimes shining almost like a woman’s fine, alabaster flesh. Cared for and looked after.
The Devil drives up and down Sunset, spots fifteen year old girls by the Roxy.
Jessicas, Courtneys, and Jackies. Offers to buy them coffee, warns not to linger in dangerous places. Says he’ll make them famous.
The Devil speaks wise words and knows how to charm. Everything the Devil says is true, everything the Devil says is lies.
Sometimes they never get the idea, born without antennae. Sometimes it comes to them while he’s being nice, flattering them, showing them the ropes -- his hand at the small of their back. They get that funny look, and even though it’s too late, they understand. Fame can come at six o’clock, with comments about similarities, patterns, clues, fingers found by trees in the park.
Later there’s the stretch of bluish thigh and long, slender waist, discovered by some civic functionary. She’s posed as if in sleep, still dreaming.
The Devil knows her scrubbed young face will hover just behind the anchor desk, sometimes for weeks. Fame. He warned not to linger in dangerous places. The Devil keeps his promises, but keeps his own counsel. He never says how he’ll make them famous.
The Devil puts himself together, pays attention to detail. Checks himself in the mirror: meetings to go to, business to do. Lunches on balconies.
Dinners in the park.
****
Tanya Pirandello is dressed to impress, over-done for a stage mother, not afraid to show off long legs and more. Her dress is slit up the front so any normal, healthy man will glance and wonder just what he saw, way up there in her shadows. It doesn’t hurt that she is, by any standard, a strikingly beautiful blonde who virtually smolders in her chair, reading a magazine.
She’s a heart stopper as she sits in this glassed-in former apartment house lobby on one of Hollywood’s innumerable faded side streets. This building has been taken over by something called “Harry Cheswick Productions”, now announced in large block letters just below the faded but still visible script: Hollyhouse Arms, on the outside wall, just above glass doors facing the street. There are a few well-maintained indoor plants in large ceramic pots and plenty of chairs and couches to accommodate those who wait for meetings -- or for their daughter, as Tanya does. She checks her watch, aware that readings for casting directors don’t normally take this long, which could mean they’re showing Kari, her daughter, to someone with that rarest of all commodities, the power to say Yes.
The real reason things are moving more slowly than usual has nothing to do with Kari Pirandello, an eighteen year-old who looks fourteen and is therefore a valuable commodity herself, given child-labor laws and the fact that she‘s no longer jail-bait. The stumbling block has more to do with two short Latino gentlemen passing through the lobby just now, staring at Tanya with the surprised look she sees on most men’s faces. They’re well dressed and well fed, but small next to the third, hulking individual who follows them like what he is, a bodyguard. His gaze at Tanya is naked and brazen, unafraid to take stock of her body as he passes by.
The thing Tanya would never admit is that she finds such looks -- and she gets her share -- to be exciting. Maybe it arouses her because there’s nothing else, because no one takes much of an interest in her beyond her physical beauty -- and it’s a lot to overlook -- or maybe because she hasn’t got as much confidence in herself as she should. She sighs, knowing thoughts like these lead, generally, nowhere. Though titillated by the stare of the looming stranger, she feels herself veering into the usual harsh self-examination, unhappy with the fact that even though she is beautiful, she lacks a man she can really count on.
With a sigh, checking her watch and going back to her magazine article, “Getting Your Share, Lately?”, she readjusts on the chair and pretends to read, unable to stop thinking of what it would be like to be mercilessly fucked by that bruising bodyguard. Fucked with the same naked, brazen lust she saw in his probing eyes. Fucked right here in this glassed-in, public place. She closes her eyes and wonders if everyone takes such giddy downhill rides of imagination…
****
Tanya met Jimmy Pirandello when she was twenty.
It was a time in her life when she was deeply involved in a large evangelical church -- a cult of personality revolving around a young preacher with movie star looks and a penchant for hitting the gym as often as the pulpit. Rumor was his abs were closer to an eight pack than a six, and beyond that the rumors went far outside the bounds of religious decency. His name was Reverend Buddy, and no female under the age of forty was off his radar.
Tanya had no idea a preacher like Reverend Buddy could be using his flock as a revolving sexual banquet, but soon she started hearing from some of the other young women in the congregation about Reverend Buddy’s special expression of God’s beauty, his phenomenal technique as a lover, and his ability to come three to four times before losing his erection. This last part disturbed Tanya most, because she’d never imagined such a thing was possible, much less possible for her to experience, should she make herself available to the good Rev. But she did imagine making herself available to him. In fact, what at first had been a more “academic” appreciation of his looks, his style, his presence in a room, had become something of a mild obsession. She wanted to know him better. She wanted that very much, if she was honest with herself.
In the meantime, she met Jimmy Pirandello, who even then was kind-of dangerous and exciting in his own vaguely lawless way -- and not bad looking before he put on the weight, either. In the absence of more exciting companionship, Tanya gave Jimmy a chance, and between them something a great deal like love bloomed.
It didn’t take long for Jimmy to decide he’d never get another girl like Tanya in his life, so he proposed and, wanting to get the hell out of Flagstaff, Arizona -- considering that if she stayed she‘d spend a lifetime comparing Jimmy to Reverend Buddy, and that could not be good -- she was quick to accept.
That’s when things started to spin out of control. Of course, as long as they were here, they wanted Reverend Buddy to officiate at the wedding. This meant there was the need to meet with him and discuss marriage, trust, loyalty, and the whole ball of wax. He had a hard and fast rule that before he would perform the ceremony, he had to really know the parties and determine that theirs was a union God would bless.
Because Jimmy’s job at Food Barn kept him working late, he wanted to meet with Reverend Buddy on the weekend. That was fine with Tanya, but Reverend Buddy had offered to sit down with her separately, to get an idea of what she expected out of marriage. He said he’d learned that many women had no idea that men might approach the union with entirely different expectations than their own, resulting in disastrous relationships. It was dangerous, she knew, to allow herself to flit so close to a flame she was attracted to, but it was also impossible to say no. Perhaps she would discover that in person-to-person terms, Reverend Buddy was not so magnetic. Perhaps she could reassure herself that she was making the right choice marrying Jimmy Pirandello, and her life could be free of regret over never having really known the truth.
Tanya arrived at the church for the meeting in a state of mild apprehension. She couldn’t, no matter how she tried, get the stories about Reverend Buddy and all those other women out of her head. Truth was, it made her as excited and nervous as she had feared it would, yet she found herself incapable of turning around and leaving before she might have the chance to plunge into any handy abyss that might present itself. So soon, when she was ushered into his office and he closed the door securely “so we can speak openly and privately”, she found herself acting shy, breathing a bit rapidly, and stumbling over her words.
Finally, well aware she was avoiding his look, Reverend Buddy stood up from the chair behind his expansive cherry wood desk. As he walked past her to sit beside her on the couch, she could not help looking straight at the clearly defined outline of his “manhood”, as the books she read described it, in his somewhat tight-fitting pants. “I know some of the other women in the congregation tell stories about me.”
Amazed, she wondered how he could read her mind so well. “You do?”
“I hear everything.” He gently, almost unobtrusively, placed his large hand over her own, which was in her lap. It made her twitch slightly, and brought a secret smile to his face. “The truth of the matter is,” he said, thumb tracing little circles, “I don’t think they do me justice.”
Tanya didn’t know what to say, and if she had, her mouth was far too dry to get the words out. He was close enough to her now, she could feel the warmth of his body even though only their hands actually touched. She looked down at those hands, still in her lap, generating a different warmth, one that radiated down into the very core of her. Though she fought it, took a deep breath and tried to will the feeling away, there was far too much going on in her lap. She was getting very wet, very fast, and the blush of color in her cheeks couldn’t be hidden.
So when he moved his hand off of hers and laid his palm across her flat, warm stomach, she caught her breath but didn’t try to stop him. “Reverend Buddy…” she managed somewhat hoarsely.
But he was now so close they shared each other’s breath, his lips nearly on her own as his eyes bored into hers with unbridled desire. She couldn’t bear it any longer and closed her own eyes, letting him put his mouth on hers, at first gently, barely touching, wetting her lips with his tongue before probing more deeply into her open, willing mouth.
She only realized he’d been gradually leaning her back to a reclining position when she felt the cushion of the couch against her back. By then her arms had found themselves around his neck, while his were around her body, pulling her close with a quiet strength. She could feel through his clothes that his arms were like iron. As her hands wandered his back and along his sides, the taut, hard muscles that rippled under her touch made her almost dizzy with excitement. She realized, with a jolt of urgency in her pussy as old as any mating dance but unlike any she’d ever felt with Jimmy, that Reverend Buddy could do anything he wanted with her or to her. Anything.
Gradually, gently, he removed her clothes, discovering, as others would in ensuing years, that hers was a body of breathtaking beauty. “Tanya,… I had no idea …”
It made her want him right then, immediately -- the realization that she excited him, which she could also feel through his clothing as he pressed himself against her, was like gas on her fire. She hurried to get out of her clothes, urging him to do the same. Watching in mounting, agitated excitement, she touched his chest and belly as the fabled eight-pack was revealed to be true. Now he, too, was on fire, and in moments he was out of his clothes entirely, revealing a fierce looking, hard red cock with an exceptionally huge head that bobbed proudly before her face, aching for her touch. And touch she did, stroking the silken skin of his thick shaft tentatively, with the reluctance of a scared, mesmerized high school girl. As she did, his hand closed over her own and squeezed slightly so that she would take a more aggressive grip. Slowly, carefully, he showed her how to massage him in long, tantalizing strokes. She looked up in wonder as she heard the sharp intake of air through his clenched teeth. He put his head back and moaned at her touch.
Finally, he couldn’t wait any longer. Placing those large, warm hands on her shoulders, he moved forward, pushing her back once more, descending upon her with his throbbing cock leading the way. He began to enter her slowly, finding her wet and more than ready, so the head slipped inside her with surprising ease. Both inhaled sharply at the first moment, making him stop to adjust to her unexpected heat inside. The air hung thick with expectation, and as he leaned forward to kiss her with absolute abandon, losing himself in her mouth and tongue, he slowly, steadily sank himself deeper, prolonging the moment of penetration into long seconds that seemed to stretch out. Her eyes widened with amazement and surprise as he seemed to go on forever -- she looked down at it, still going in, wondering if it had grown even more, gasping as the insistent, rocklike organ stretched and filled her to the point that tears ran down her cheeks and moans of pleasure mixed with involuntary, almost animal sounds. When he was finally all the way inside her, he paused to relish the moment and the effect he had on her, relishing even more the exquisite feeling of being so close, so intertwined with such an amazing being as this.
And then it began. He slid and pulled his rigid cock in and out with a deliberateness and power she would remember the rest of her life. Reverend Buddy was indeed everything the other young women had claimed he was, and a good deal more. What she couldn’t know then was he was particularly inspired that day, and he would very likely remember it as well. He rarely lost himself in his consultations with brides-to-be, but this time he became unhooked from his normal grip on and control over reality.
He began to fuck her in a way he hadn’t fucked in years. He could feel the blood rising in his brain as he ravaged her, large hands manhandling her breasts and tongue voraciously gobbling and licking along her entire torso, even as they continued to fuck and fuck and fuck. He felt, with delight, this girl was truly a worthy match for him, a natural sexual creature of exceptional beauty and amazing passion. And she did become passionate. In fact she would later tell herself she was temporarily out of her mind with that passion. She could not get enough. She rode up and down on him as he lay on his back, bouncing urgently on his unyielding organ. They went from couch to chair. They rolled on the thick pile carpet, and then she bent over the thick, rolled arm of the couch and he impaled her to unbelievable heights from behind. He seemed to have unlimited energy and strength. But as he slapped away, his front whacking into the cheeks of her perfect ass as he speared and speared while she held on to the cushion for dear life, she wondered if the other part was true. The increasing speed of his strokes told her she would soon find out.
When he was nearly ready to come, he grabbed her hips and lifted her up, off the arm of the couch and held her pelvis in mid-air so he had complete control and absolutely perfect access to her. Now he jack-hammered until she writhed and moaned and screamed in her own orgasm, the mass of his shaft stimulating her clit so ecstasy bordered on pain and she begged him to stop, please, stop, but there was no stopping. He threw his head back and fucked her with such power that words fell away. They grunted and moaned until each let loose bellows of release at the same time.
It went on and on. She found herself thinking not about love and romance, but of the most magnificent fuck she had ever imagined.
When she was done, nearly collapsing and falling off the couch, she realized that not only was she now full of his hot milky come, not only did it run copiously down the insides of her thighs -- but it did so because his still hard dick continued to drive and withdraw in exactly the same manner and with all the same authority as before, pushing his first climax literally out of her for lack of room.
“Holy shit,” she muttered, not caring if it was the wrong thing to say while being fucked by a man of God.
She needn’t have worried. His laugh was deep and earthy. He slapped her across the ass and laughed again as she yelped, renewing his energy as she turned, up to the challenge, to take him face to face. She put her mouth on his as they went on, only to be surprised as he lifted her off the ground again and fucked her standing up, hands cupping her ass easily and pushing-pulling her back and forth on his rod. She put her arms around his neck and held on, as in this position he seemed to be even deeper than before. She felt like a child against his massive chest, felt security in those steel-band arms, and did not care if this went on forever, for the rest of her life, as long as it felt this blissful and good.
In fact, he didn’t stop until it was nearly dark. She took his cock in her mouth at one point and sucked and drank and slathered it across her breasts even as he tongued her to a gigantic climax. She marveled at the sheer volume this man could produce, shaking her head in amazement as the damn thing just would not go down. Laughing, “My God…” she climbed back on once more as he sat in the chair behind his desk. They hugged and held each other close as the pleasure went on, now far beyond secrets or shyness of any kind, she buried her face against his chest and licked and bit playfully as she raised and lowered herself for a last, delicious half hour while the office dimmed to darkness and they nuzzled as much as they fucked.
“What am I going to do without this?” She asked him after he had finally exploded with her for the umpteenth time and at last, at last his truly wondrous weapon began to soften slightly, to lose its rigidity until it slid slowly out of her, the last movement of its head giving her a final shiver of delight.
He smiled fondly and ran his hand through her golden hair. “You’ll do perfectly well, Tanya. You really have no idea what an exotic thing you are, do you?”
In truth, she didn’t. Her smile was curious, hopeful that he’d say more, but instead he leaned forward slightly and kissed her with great affection and, in his own mind if not hers, gratitude. “You’re incredible,” he whispered. She broke into a wide, irrepressible grin and hugged him for the longest time, their naked bodies far too exhausted to do anything but hold each other close.
But of course, there was a problem on the horizon. Even as he held her, she began to wonder how she could possibly go ahead with her marriage to Jimmy Pirandello. After the apocalyptic fucking she had just enjoyed, there was nothing in the world Jimmy could do, she believed, that could possibly measure up. In any sense of the word.
She was surprised when she realized that Jimmy could sense -- could feel what had happened the next time he saw her. At first he was just impatient, a little testy and not inclined to laugh at the things that always seemed to make him laugh. But soon enough he simply fixed her with an oddly cold look and told her, simply and directly: “You fucked him, didn’t you.” She denied it, said she didn’t know what he was talking about or how he could think such a thing, but he never had a doubt, and when she saw there was no hope and gave up the effort to fool him, to her surprise he seemed to soften. He looked hurt for a moment.
“I guess… you don’t want to marry me, then,” she heard herself saying. It confused her that she felt disappointed, felt as if she’d ruined it somehow -- when Jimmy had been a fool to let her go into that room alone with Reverend Buddy. It wasn’t just the women who knew about him.
“I want to marry you very much. Just as much as ever, if not more.” His voice was calm, his gaze fixed on her.
When she asked him why, he simply answered that his love for her was unchanged no matter what she did. He understood that other men wanted her, but he knew that she had given him her promise.
Then he told her to stay where she was, in the apartment they already shared. He said he’d be out for a little while and not to worry. She tried to explain -- whatever he had in mind wasn’t going to be so easy. Reverend Buddy was not only buff, he looked really strong.
“You still don’t get it? Why don’t people ever get it? Being strong doesn’t mean shit. Strong guys feel pain the same as anybody else, and most people can’t deal with that pain. I’ve seen guys three times my size cry like little girls. It’s all about handling pain.”
She wondered where he could’ve learned ideas like that. She knew he was somebody who did a lot of business he didn’t want to talk about, knew he had nothing but contempt for people who expected the world to be a reasonable, civilized place, and most of the time she found it exciting. But right then, she was nothing but frightened by it, realizing that she didn’t want either of them to get hurt.
And how strange was that? How could she actually sit there and think that she didn’t want Jimmy getting hurt because, well, he was her Jimmy and she did love him and did want to marry him, now that she’d gotten past the afterglow phase of having been fucked mindless by Reverend Buddy, who she didn‘t want hurt for equally obvious and memorable reasons. When her brain had started working again at its usual level, she’d realized Reverend Buddy was never going to be anybody’s stay-home guy, not even for somebody like her; not even when he’d “met his match” as he put it afterward. But he had, well, a talent it would be a shame to see ruined. Or even slightly marred.
While Tanya stayed where Jimmy had told her to stay, resting squarely on pins and needles, Jimmy went straight to the church of Reverend Buddy.
Those in the building at the time said that when Jimmy entered, he was relaxed and smiling. He said hello to people and calmly asked where the good Reverend might be? Directed to the office in which his bride-to-be had been ravished for hours, he walked through the open door and stood before the big cherry wood desk.
“Hey, how ironic,” he began.
Reverend Buddy looked up from the reading he was doing with a mild start.
“I mean that this beautiful desk you’ve got is made of cherry wood, huh?”
Reverend Buddy, sensing the undercurrent of anger beneath Jimmy’s benign words, stood up and put the book down. “Hello, Mr. Pirandello…”
For a moment, Jimmy’s look was as cold and barren as the windy side of an iceberg. “It’s ironic because I bet you popped quite a few on it, haven’t you.”
“I don’t know what you mean…”
“Did you fuck my future wife on that desk?”
Reverend Buddy wondered what Jimmy knew, versus what he suspected. Jimmy moved very quickly, surprising Reverend Buddy by coming around the desk and invading his space.
But he surprised him even more by grabbing his ear and twisting it, hard. “I asked you a question.”
“No…” the answer was weak, soft, clearly a lie.
“Uh-huh,” Jimmy’s voice sounded conversational, a stark contrast to the sudden blow he delivered with his other fist, straight into Reverend Buddy’s pristine face.
The bigger man shrieked and tried to cover his nose, where the blow had landed. Jimmy didn’t let go of the ear, even when he saw the blood pouring down through Reverend Buddy’s fingers. Expression unchanged, he hammered the same fist into the other ear, a brutal, practiced move that drove the preacher to his knees.
“This how you had her? On her knees?”
“I’m telling you, we didn’t do anything…” He sounded as if he was going to cry any second.
Incredible, thought Jimmy. He’s still trying to make me swallow a lie so I’ll leave him alone. But there wasn’t much else Reverend Buddy could do, because he was exactly what Jimmy had predicted he’d be to Tanya.
“Big muscle-boy gonna cry?” There was a hint of triumph in Jimmy’s voice. He let go of the ear at last, and watched the Reverend’s head sink lower, one hand over his nose, one over the twisted ear. He was not only bleeding now, but tears mingled with his snot and drool. Jimmy watched him, thinking this almost wasn’t worth the trip. Still, he leaned close to be sure he was heard.
“I could’ve crushed your nuts, Reverend. I could’ve pulled out your eyeballs and cut off your fuckin’ dick, you understand?” The head nodded, afraid to look up. Jimmy could hear his breathing quicken to panicked, body jerking sobs. “Stop crying,” the scorn in Jimmy’s voice was like another slap. Reverend Buddy found a way to make himself calm down. “That’s better. I didn’t do that stuff because this is your warning.” More nodding. “After the warning, you ever touch Tanya, you look at her the wrong way… I’ll come back and teach you what pain is, Reverend.” He grabbed the bigger man’s hair and pulled his head up so they were face to face. “Tell me you understand that.”
The eyes were wide, alarmed and scared as Reverend Buddy nodded and said he understood.
“From here on, we make sure everything looks like there’s nothing wrong. You took a fall. You didn’t see something on the floor and you tripped. You broke your fuckin’ face. But you’re still gonna marry Tanya and me like we planned, and it’s gonna fill your hypocritical little heart with joy to see us so happy.”
Reverend Buddy started to nod again, wanting to show he was eager to cooperate when Jimmy suddenly kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling. The Reverend found it hard to breathe, only understanding why when he opened his eyes and saw that Jimmy’s foot was literally on his throat.
“You’re a pig, Reverend. I wouldn’t feel bad about slaughtering you. But I’m trying to clean up my own act, now that I’m marrying Tanya. She’s a special girl, and I’m very lucky she loves me. So do us both a favor, and don’t make me fall off my wagon. ‘Cause you wouldn’t like it if I did.”
To Reverend Buddy’s relief, Jimmy took his foot off of his throat and left, as unruffled as when he came in.
The wedding went smoothly. Reverend Buddy presided, and was almost healed from his unfortunate fall. Many of the congregants at the ceremony noticed how radiant the bride looked, and just as many saw that the groom was extremely proud at his big moment. Tanya, hearing what had happened between Jimmy and Reverend Buddy, thanked her husband-to-be for showing restraint, promising she would never have anything to do with the man again.
The truth, which she kept to herself, was even stranger. She found the entire situation… exciting. Maybe it was because she’d had so little attention bestowed on her, maybe it was just a perverse streak, but the idea of Jimmy going in there and humbling a famous, popular man like Reverend Buddy in his own office turned her on. And he did it because he loved her. She found herself thinking of little besides her new husband, now.
Their first few weeks together, whether it was in the aftermath of Reverend Buddy’s awakening of the torrential passions inside her or not, were a frantic succession of heated fucks. She wanted Jimmy constantly, everywhere and anywhere, which he found delightful and even amusing.
Then she got some unexpected news that threw her into a state of confusion. She was going to have a baby, a girl. Though she could not be sure, she believed it must be Reverend Buddy’s. When she told Jimmy she was pregnant, to her amazement he never once considered that it was not his child. He never even alluded to how easily he might be able to walk away from everything, declare the marriage a fraud and leave her to fend for herself and the child. Because Jimmy, for all his rough edges and enormous imperfections, really did love her, and if she hadn’t been sure before, she was then.
Despite all of his loyalty and support, she was the one, after time, who sadly reached the conclusion that she couldn’t sustain her love for him. Though she now often feels anger at him, the realization that it was gone has left her empty and depressed. She hasn’t been particularly faithful, and doubts that he has, the point was they’ve never formalized this parting of the ways so completely until very recently.
So Tanya Pirandello, busying herself by making sure Kari gets to the set or the audition or the casting director’s office on time, conducts her life under two great shadows. One, the regret that her encounter with Reverend Buddy only happened once, and the other, more complex and subtle, the absence of the partner she once took into her world with real hope and, yes, a certain kind of love.
****
On the second floor of Harry Cheswick Productions, Harry Cheswick is red-faced. He’s a loud man, far enough into his fifties to wear a gaudy Hawaiian shirt. Right now he’s berating Remmy Gibb, a prematurely balding little bug of a man who stands with head literally hanging before Harry’s massive desk.
“What did I tell you?” Harry’s not waiting for answers, preferring to supply them himself. “You don’t know shit about the business and I’m the one talking, so all you have to do is shut up. But you somehow think you need to chime in and scare away the people I’ve been cultivating for months!”
Remmy is listening and nodding, but his director’s eye never stops taking notes. Right now, it’s his surroundings that hold his attention. Sometimes he amazes himself this way. He believes it to be the curse of the creative, where the mind will not stop generating true, unappreciated brilliance even when it is the last thing it should be engaged in. He notes that when this was an apartment, Harry’s office was the living room. Now it’s suffering from the blight of movie posters, peering down at the original carpet and stock office furniture. Even as he mulls this, Remmy is a guy whose gestures are nervous and busy.
“I just said that as director, I’m going to need final script approval.”
Harry looks up, like the ceiling is going to help him.
“Which sounds to them like you’re gonna take their money and refuse to listen to anybody about what you do with it.”
“Well…” Remmy shrugs, “that is kind of how it works…”
Harry’s glare says he could pop an artery. “Do you know how hard it is to get money today?”
Remmy nods, starting to say “Sure,” when Harry shouts him down, slamming a fist on the desk top.
“Don’t lie to me! I’m someone who actually knows what he’s doing!” He points at the door. “When Pancho and Cisco walked, so did any chance of raising even half a million for that giant celluloid crap you want to take!”
“You’re turning red, Harry.”
Harry rises, leans across the expanse of maple as he gets in Remmy’s face. “I’m moving on, Remmy. That’s what I’m doing. We are done.”
Remmy can’t hide his surprise any better than his rising, knee-jerk spoiled-brat anger. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”