Chapter 7                  Making Movies

Tracy rolled over and smacked the snooze button on the bedside alarm clock. The noise stopped but was followed by banging on the door.

            “Tracy, get up. It’s seven o’clock. The car will be here.”

            “Shut up and go away.” She had not slept very well, tossing and turning through the night.

            “Get the fuck up before I come in there and drag you up. They want you at the studio this morning. Get with it, bitch.” The voice had a hidden sneer with more than a hint of a threat.

            She rolled out of bed and staggered into the adjacent bathroom. The mirror showed a pair of puffy eyes surrounded by straggly blonde hair. It took a half hour of scrubbing and brushing before she opened the door into the kitchen. Jerry was waiting with a pot of coffee.

            “Here, drink this, they’ll be here in a few minutes. You look awful. It’s gonna take them all morning to get you ready. The Spider will give you shit.”

            “Oh, shut up and get out of my way.” Tracy snarled at Jerry. She hated him and the fact that they were living in the same house grated on her nerves.  The studio provided the residence rent-free but she longed for a chance to get away from this place and the studio itself.

            At quarter to eight a black limousine with darkened windows stopped in front of this house on East Cedar Avenue in Burbank. The passenger door opened, a Cuban emerged and opened the rear door. He waited.

            “They’re here, now move it.” Jerry pulled Tracy’s arm and steered her out to the waiting car pushing her roughly inside. The door shut and the car moved out toward Victory Road then to Vineland and on to the warehouse on Valerio Street adjacent to the Bob Hope airport. The trip took twenty minutes.

            They stopped inside the gate. No words were said as Tracy got out and walked through a battered wooden door marked Employees Entrance. It was already hot in the yard but inside was cool and dark.

            “About time you got here. Go to makeup. We’ve got a tight schedule today.” The voice that of a thin-faced man wearing jeans and a tee shirt with the words Sex Sucks known as the director. “The Spider wants to see you. He’ll be here about ten.”

            She found the door marked Dressing Room. Three women were already there. Two were Mexican assistants and the other her friend Susanne.

            “Hi Tracy, we’re working together today. You look awful, what’s wrong, baby?” Susanne, a very attractive brunette, naked except for bra and panties, was putting on her makeup. Period costumes hung by the dressing tables.

            “Nothin’, dear. I just hate this place. I want to get out of here”

            “Don’t we both. I know you’ll feel better when we’re on the set. You know how I can make you feel so good.”

            “I know darling, if it weren’t for you I’d have killed myself.” She wrapped her arms around Susanne kissing her passionately. Tracy loved Susanne and the feelings were mutual, feelings the director took advantage of in the scenes they played together. They were valuable properties and were treated as property.

            The women, dressed as southern belles in the Civil War, will play a scene in a skin flick called Scarlet Burns Atlanta. As scripted, Susanne’s soldier lover is lost in the war and Tracy has come to comfort her. The action will develop quickly to girl-girl sex. They are to undress each other and play at sex, something they enjoy to do with each other even on camera. The scene requires a run away slave to join them as a threesome. The scene will end when the slave ejaculates on their faces.

            “This is a shit scene.” Susanne complained to the director as Tracy emerged from the dressing room. “It’s been done thousands of times. Why can’t you come up with something original?”

            “Just do it, we’ll look after the originality. We’ve got something better for this afternoon.”

Tracy and Susanne limped to the dressing room as soon as the director called “cut”. One of the Mexican women wiped their faces with a damp cloth and smirked. “Juan shot a good load today, honey.”

            Tracy frowned and said nothing. Still naked, they went directly to the shower. The Mexican called after them, “Don’t get your hair mussed up. We don’t have a time to fix it again.” 

            Tracy and Susanne shared a shower and soaped each other working up a bubbly white lather.

            “I don’t think I’ll ever get clean.” Tracy caressed her friend and they hugged.

            “It’s alright Tracy. You miss that guy from Canada don’t you?”

            “He was my ticket out of this fuckin’ place. Yes, I miss him. He was real, not a wooden stud doing a job for a couple of hundred bucks like that asshole Cuban this morning.” She referred to Juan, the Cuban studio stick man.

            “Come on, honey, perk up. Let’s go out for a drink tonight.”

            “I wish I could. They’ve planted Jerry in my apartment. They’re still mad because I took off when I was on holiday without asking.”

            Susanne kissed her and turned off the shower. “We’d better get out of here before those Mexican bitches come looking for us.”

Tracy was preparing for the next scene when the L’Araña came into the dressing room. L’Araña or the Spider as Americans knew him came from Bolivia. He was the man in charge of the studio and all the other operations that went on there.

            “Buenos dias, Tracy. How’s my little papillon?” Thickset, about forty-five years old with thinning hair and dark cruel eyes, his fat fingers were adorned with diamond and gold rings. A heavy gold chain carried a cross under his white silk sport shirt.

            Tracy shuddered at his voice. “I’m not your papillon.”

            “Just a matter of speaking, querida. You are a beautiful woman who is free to do anything I tell her. Remember that, querida. Now, why did you take that side trip to Toronto.”

            “I wanted a change of scenery.”

            “Don’t be smart with me, bitch. We know all about the guy you went with. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him. Would you? You know what we can do.”

            “Are you threatening him?”

            “Have I ever threatened anyone?”

            She knew he had no feelings and would readily do anything to get what he wanted. Murder was a favourite weapon used to control his associates.

            “Now listen to me, Tracy, un hombre is coming from Bogotá. We want him to have a happy stay in Los Angeles. You and Susanne will come to my hotel tonight. Juan will help show off your talents. You’ll know what to do.”

            “Fuck off! We work in your pictures. We aren’t private entertainers.”

            “Don’t talk to me like that or you’ll be another mosca in l’Araña’s web. Do as I say and no one will be hurt”. His eyes glared blackly as he slammed the door.

Tracy wiped tears from her eyes. A solitary picture stuck on the mirror showed a smiling Tracy with her mother holding a large golden trophy. A ribbon over her shoulders said “Miss Colorado, 2000.”

            “Hi, mom, I’m sorry I got us into this mess,” she whispered. Was it only five years ago that her college classmates had voted her most likely to be a movie star? Thoughts of happy days skiing and swimming depressed her. She sobbed quietly.

            “C’mon, dear, get dressed and we’ll get this over.” Susanne was always cheerful even when life was not pleasant.

            Walking to the set they passed a group of young men dressed in Civil War grey uniforms. Juan stood near them. He saluted, “afternoon ladies,” grinning. Everyone laughed.

            “Shit, do we have to fuck those guys?” Susanne frowned. “They don’t look old enough to get wood on. A bunch of kids.”

            “They’ll get it up, don’t worry.” The voice belonged to the director. “Now, here’s what you have to do.”

            The scene began with the two women dressing after the previous scene. Four soldiers and a Captain entered the room dragging Juan demanding to know if he had assaulted them. The girls were scripted to giggle shyly by which the Captain would understand that he had and ordered his men to lynch him. The scene cut to the lynching after which four of the soldiers returned and gang fucked the women. As the scene progressed a black woman entered crying that her brother had been murdered. The soldiers dragged her into the action forcing the white women to perform a variety of acts as they continued their abuse.

            The scene ended when the Captain returned. The soldiers stood to attention, saluting and struggled to get into their pants. The men left the set with the Captain bowing politely to the women saying something like, “excuse us ladies, these men will be dealt with later.”

            “Cut, that’s a wrap.” The director yelled and the crew turned off the lights.

            Tracy stumbled getting off the set.

            “Are you okay, dear?” Susanne lent an arm to help her.

            “One of those assholes twisted my leg and pulled a muscle. It’ll be all right. Let’s get this shit washed off.”

They passed the giggling boys half dressed in soldier suits.

“Grow up, assholes,” Susanne tossed back at them as they entered the dressing room.

“Susanne, you know we’re going to the Spider’s hotel tonight to entertain someone from Bogotá. I bet he’s from the cartel.”

“Shush dear, we aren’t supposed to know anything about that. We’ll get through it as long as we have each other. I love you, Tracy.”

Chapter 8

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