L. A. Movie by Philip Prowse
22
Boeing 747, and I thought about what had happened during the past few days.
What was the relationship between Gail and Mike Devine? Why did
someone want to stop the shooting of Death Behind the Door? Why was
someone threatening to kill Gail? Who had injured Josie, Gail's double? And
was he, or she, on the plane with us?
There were plenty of questions, but no answers! I looked at Rik, asleep in the
next seat. There was certainly something he hadn't told me.
I thought about
Gail, sitting in the first-class section, at the front of the plane. I thought about
the worry I had seen in her eyes at the studio.
Then I thought about Carla Chapman. She was also in the first-class section.
I had met her briefly at the airport before we got onto the plane. Carla was one
of Hollywood's best-known movie directors, a powerful and very hard-working
person. She was a strong, proud, forty-five-year-old, with shoulder-length black
hair and gold-framed glasses. At the airport, she had shaken my hand firmly,
and she had said it was nice to meet me. Then she had told me to keep out of
the way during shooting. After that, she had wrapped her long black coat
around her and walked away.
I hadn't
yet seen Brent Foster, Gail's co-star in the movie. He was being
flown to Argentina in his own private jet. I hadn't met him, but I felt that I knew
him because I had seen so many of his movies. He always played bad guys, but
he always got the girls! He looked a little like me, but he was younger and
heavier, and he had blond hair and blue eyes. I was looking forward to meeting
Brent.
After a while, I stopped thinking about my job and I looked out of the
window at the clouds.
I wanted to help Gail, but I had to wait for something
new to happen.
It was mid-morning when the 747 landed at Ezeiza International Airport,
outside Buenos Aires. There was mist in the air, and the weather was cool.
It took several hours to get all the baggage and equipment through customs.
At last, it was done and we got into buses for the long journey to the city centre.
Most of the movie crew were going to stay at the Bisonte Palace Hotel. In fact,
we had booked all the rooms in the hotel. But Gail, Carla, Brent, and a few
others were going to be at the luxurious Alvear Palace Hotel, near the Recoleta
Cemetery, where we would be shooting.
There was no work till the next day, so after we had checked in at the hotel, I
lay on my bed and fell asleep.
When I woke, it was early evening and it was
dark. I had a shower and then I went out for a walk. I was going to meet Rik
and some of the members of the crew for dinner at ten o'clock - an early time
for dinner in B.A.
I walked slowly through the streets, smelling the diesel smoke from the
brightly painted collectivo buses. The streets were full of people. Young people
were
walking hand in hand, and large families were talking together on the
sidewalks. Everyone seemed happy. I began to like B.A. very much.
I soon arrived at Corrientes, a long, wide street full of movie theatres,
restaurants and cafes. I stopped at a place called Cafe Pernambuco and went in.
Inside were groups of students talking excitedly,
elderly men reading
newspapers, and smartly dressed women eating cakes.
I ordered a coffee and sat back to enjoy the scene. After a while, I noticed a