Notes. From the Upper West Side. A novel by Dan Wrench. Chapter 23.
Produced by me. If I didn't want Candy to flake on me the way Marid did, then I'd have to show up on the set the next day. Showing up on the set meant I had to get Park to let me show up, and ever since he stormed out of the bar, it was in the back of my head that I was going to have to call him on the phone and eat shit. But, full disclosure.
I knew that eating shit probably wouldn't be that bad. Park was a sucker for a good self-deprecating gigcackle and I had a throat full of them. So, before I got off the bus I decided yeah, call up the old park and gigcackle my way through something he might think was me eating the old shit. In this day and age of cell phones you don't have to actually get up the stairs before you dial somebody up.
You don't even have to wait to get off the bus. But I figured waiting to call Park from the stoop to my apartment building would give me the time I needed to think it through and maybe time for Park to cool off if he still needed to cool off. So, when I got to my stoop I sat down on the cold concrete and dialed. It rang a couple times before he picked up, but he did pick up.
A good sign. Hey Paul. He said, another good sign. In fact, when I heard my name I knew that the shit was as good as Eden.
Something I know from decades apart nuttiness is that if he hates your guts he won't say your name. If he'd just said hello, I would have known my shit eating session was going to consist of actual groveling. Hey Tony, I get cackled. Sorry things got carried away there in the old bar.
Yeah, me too. He said, so you want to show up tomorrow and Monday? Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding. Yeah, I said, wait, Monday too?
Okay, sure, I guess I can be tired for that shift. Hey, you know what I was thinking? Let me tell me that he rented the cars on one of your shoots. That's how he got his one producer credit in IMDB.
No shit. That idea about renting the cars, it exploded into my brain a split second before it came out of my mouth. It's a skill that comes from decades of needing an excuse on a moment's notice. Oh yeah, Park said, that's right.
He did the car rental on bending Mrs. Franklin. I paid today's rental already. He had to have someone else drive though.
Park doesn't have a driver's license. So how about this? I said, I'll rent the vans tomorrow and pick one up myself. There are four vans.
That's going to come to a lot. I mean, it's going to come into more than your wages for today's work. So I don't think Junior is going to much like you're footing the bill. Do you?
Okay, then how about we go with your original plan? I promise to give you back my check for today's acting gig when Sag sends it. And you make me a producer and I show up tomorrow to, I don't know, protect my investment. Great.
And could you do me a favor? What? You bringing up the vans kind of reminded me we're sure to drive her tomorrow. Could you pick one up and drive it to the set tomorrow morning?
It would be a big help. Sure, I said, be there at eight is good. Pick it up at the garage on 74th and Broadway. It's under my name.
Drive it to Fighters Club and stay for the shoot. Cool. See you then. And thanks.
I mentally checked the box next to eat shit and bound it up the stairs. Notes from the Upper West Side is a work of fiction. The people depicted in this work do not exist. Notes from the Upper West Side.
Copyright 2013 to 2015. By Dan Wrench.