Page 104 of Nobody's Fool

I use the Belmond name again, this time saying that the family is interested in financing a film. That kind of offer clears a schedule, though I don’t think Buzzy is all that busy. Buzzy isn’t Bizzy, if you will. I’ll let that alliteration stay a moment.

Buzzy tells me to meet him at the Gaylord Opryland Resort. What he doesn’t tell me is that the Gaylord is the largest noncasino hotel in the world. Yes, the world. I looked it up before I got here. It has nearly three thousand rooms and over three million square feet of space, all located—I kid you not—under a giant glass sphere overloaded with foliage, so you feel as though you’re trapped in the world’s largest terrarium. I wish Molly and Henry were with me, but they decided to stay a few extra days in Spain and who could blame them?

I meet Buzz by an indoor riverboat—I don’t know or care where itgoes. Even though his purple hair and nose ring have been replaced by a shaved head and one hoop earring, I recognize the man right away.

“Buzzy Berg,” he says with a floppy-fish handshake.

“Samuel Pierce,” I say. It’s a favorite alias for obvious reasons. I didn’t use Sami Kierce with him because way back when he knew my name and might possibly remember it. For a moment, he hesitates, and I imagine that there is a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He still gives me a big smile and leads me on a path under an indoor waterfall.

I notice Buzz has a very prominent limp. He didn’t have that when I knew him.

“We are just prepping for a scene,” he tells me.

Weis Buzzy and a guy with a ZZ Top beard holding a camera who Buzzy introduces as Dale. Dale doesn’t pay me much attention, and I return the favor. My attention, my full attention for a moment, is on the “dead” woman on the bed drenched in blood, the knife sticking out of her chest. I turn my head away fast. Buzzy notices and chuckles.

“I do all my own props and special effects,” he says. “Good work, right?”

“Yes,” I manage. Then I say, “Where did you hone that skill?”

“Everywhere. It’s my first love.” Then: “Take five, Dale.”

Dale doesn’t have to be told twice.

“Tell me more about that,” I say.

“About what?”

“How you started in the business. How you honed your craft.”

“I’m from Holland. You can probably hear my accent.”

“Not much of it,” I say. And that’s true. He sounds almost American now. “How long have you lived in the States?”

“Oh, gosh. More than twenty years now.”

“And before that?”

“Europe. I started as a production assistant, if you can believe it. Worked my way up.”

“Where in Europe?” I ask.

“Oh, all over. But that was a long time ago. Your timing is great because I have some close Hollywood friends who want to star in my new horror rom-comRomeo and Ghouliet. Especially since my last film won the Gore award. You probably know it. Anyway, I don’t like to name-drop or anything, but I’ve been talking to Lenny DiCaprio.”

“Lenny?”

“That’s what his friends call him. I mean, come on, you don’t think his friends call him Leonardo, do you?”

Buzzy chuckles.

“I thought they call him Leo,” I say.

That stops the chuckles, but he recovers. “No, no, Leo is what hispublicfriends call him. See, when you get to know him—”

I need to move this along. “Your real name is Harm Bergkamp, isn’t it?”

The smile flickers. “Sure, of course. Who in the business uses their real name? Did you know Vin Diesel is really Mark Sinclair? Michael Caine was Maurice Micklewhite? Judy Garland was Frances Gumm? Gumm. Can you imagineThe Wizard of Ozwith Frances Gumm as Dorothy? Doesn’t Buzzy Berg sound better?”

“It does,” I agree, though it sounds like the name of a Hollywood agent.

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