Page 44 of All That Glitters
Tony turned and raised his hands in surrender as the legion of winded security personnel raced up. Being a human cell phone was looking better and better by the minute.
Veronica and Debbie sat on their couch that evening, enjoying a quiet night of pizza, popcorn, and a reality show called ‘Garbage Man Needs a Wife’ playing on the TV. Just as it was getting to the part where the garbage man had to pick his wife from the eight female contestants, a ‘BREAKING NEWS’ banner interrupted the show. The image cut to a news anchor in a studio, her expression serious.
“We’re interrupting this program with a developing story from Los Angeles,” the anchor said. “Authorities at Universal Studios have apprehended a suspect after a major security breach earlier today. The suspect, described as a possible domestic terrorist, allegedly led security on a two-hour chase through the studio’s backlot, disrupting at least one film production and causing thousands of dollars in damage to various exhibits...”
On the screen, shaky helicopter footage appeared. It showed a figure being led in handcuffs from the Psycho house, surrounded by a small army of security personnel. The camera did a slow zoom-in, the footage grainy but clear enough to make out the features of the bedraggled suspect.
Debbie leaned forward, setting aside her popcorn, as a sense of dread filled her stomach. The figure on the screen became clearer. The messy brown hair. The soaking-wet t-shirt she recognized from months of beach days and coffee shop writing sessions. The stupid, determined set of his jaw. It was unmistakably Tony.
Debbie’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Oh. My. Gawd. That dope!” She grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and buried her face in it.
Veronica watched Debbie then turned back to the screen. It took her a second longer to make the connection; and when she did, her face broke into pure amusement. “Is that...?”
“Yes,” Debbie mumbled from behind the pillow.
“Did he really...?”
“Apparently.”
“For his script?”
“What else?”
Veronica stared at the screen for a long moment, watching Tony being led to a security vehicle. Then she burst into laughter, the kind of deep, uncontrollable laughter that once started, can’t stop.
“It’s not funny,” Debbie growled, lowering the pillow just enough to shoot her roommate a frown.
“It really is,” Veronica said, fighting a losing battle to get her laughter back under control. “But hey, at least you know what he’s wearing to your guys’ wedding.”
“Which is?”
“An orange jumpsuit,” Veronica said, nearly falling off the couch with laughter.
“I want a divorce already,” Debbie groaned from behind the pillow.
Chapter eighteen
Jail Cell Stories
“And that’s basically how I ended up in here,” Tony said, pacing the small distance between his metal bunk and the steel bars in the small, grimy jail cell.
Across from him, a half-dozen scary-looking men sat listening with the rapt attention of kindergartners at story time. They were a motley crew of bikers, toughs, and career criminals, and each of them wore the goofiest, most engrossed expression imaginable.
One of them, a wily-looking man named Roy who was missing at least two teeth, shook his head in absolute amazement. “Damn,” he rumbled. “And here all I did was steal my cousin’s car.”
Another one, Carl, nodded along enthusiastically. “So what happened next? You sell that screenplay of yers?”
A hulking man, who looked like he’d be more at home on a Harley than a prison bunk, just shook his head. His name was Craig, and if this crew had a leader, he was it. “No, ya dumbass,”he grunted. “That’s when he got hisself arrested.” He turned his thoughtful look to Tony. “So Tony. I’s just thinkin’ while you was speakin’, and it seems to me ya gotta have boobs in the movie. Broads is great, but boobs is what really sells.”
Roy wasn’t interested in critique notes. “I still wanna know if he ever done the deed with the klutzy chick.”
Tony nearly choked. “Debbie?” he said, stopping his pacing. “Naw, we’re just buddies.”
Craig leaned forward, his expression serious. “Well, it seems to me, Tony, this chick comes all the way out to San Diego and all… she gotta have some sorta thing for ya.”
“Trust me, you guys,” Tony said emphatically. “No romance. None. Nada.”
Just then, a door at the end of the corridor clanked open. Tony looked out to see Debbie, Bob the attorney, and a uniformed guard heading their way.
