Read Online The Cutting Room: Dark Reflections of the Silver Screen by Ellen Datlow - Free Book Online

here,” she said self-consciously.
    Was that why she was out so early? To avoid the competition? He pictured her withdrawing to her room as soon as the pool filled up, then sneaking out at the end of the day when once again there would be no audience.
    “I’ve seen them,” he said.
    She trailed her feet in the water, hiding her toes. “How long are you staying?”
    “Uh, well, that’s hard to say. Until I close the deal, at least. But I’ll be back. You can count on that.”
    “Are you an actor?”
    “Me? No, no. I’m a—” He faltered; it was the first time he had dared to let the word pass his lips in casual conversation. “I’m a producer.” Or I will be, he told himself, after today. “I’m here to sign my star.”
    “Your star?”
    “My leading man.” You know, he thought, the name, the one who brings the money into the box office. For my movie. She did go to the movies, didn’t she? He had an urge to play his role to the hilt. It would be good practice.
    “Joe Gillis,” he said matter-of-factly. She blinked at him; incredibly the name didn’t seem to register. He forced himself to go on, overriding his old insecurities. “The picture’s called Is Anybody There? It was written for him. We start shooting in the spring—sooner, if we can find the right leading lady.” He neglected to mention that they were already in contact with Susan Penhaligon’s agent in London. No need to burst any bubbles so early in the day. Let her dream a bit, he thought. No harm in that.
    He wondered if she could see his pulse speeding, the vein standing out on his forehead. She showed no reaction. The sun nicked the water in expanding circles. He remembered that he had forgotten his dark glasses. They were in his room, packed in the suitcase. He needed them; he needed to see the exact expression on her face.
    “In fact,” he went on, “I should be hearing from Joe right about now. He knows I’m in town. You know how it is with actors. They like to sleep late when they’re not on call.”
    “Do they?”
    This was a rare moment. He would remember this day for the rest of his life. The day it all came together.
    “I could give him a call if I wanted to. I have his home number.” Memorized, he thought. “As soon as he can make it over here to sign the contract, we’re in business.”
    He didn’t say anything about the answering machine. For seventy-two hours or more Gillis had let his Duofone take all calls. But surely that was to ward off distractions during the last stage of negotiations. For an Academy Award winner the phone must never stop ringing. But it would be back on the hook today. Either that or Gillis would show up here in person, pen in hand. He loved the script as much as Wintner’s guarantors. And why shouldn’t he? It would be the role of his career.
    He looked over her head and savored the scene. The setting was made to order. Now the morning was officially beginning; a young Latino with a Walkman dangling from one white pocket entered the enclosure. Wintner watched him walk to the bar, carrying a tray loaded with cocktail napkins and swizzle sticks. He didn’t need to bring the telephone; it was already plugged in by the cash register. Wintner stood.
    It was time.
    She raised her head. Her eyes were deep and shining. Drops of water evaporated from her complexion in the rising heat, leaving tracks of chlorination on her cheeks. Suddenly he was reluctant to leave her. What is it she wants from me? he wondered. Most likely nothing more than a few minutes of companionship before fleeing all the golden strangers. She’s new to this, too, he thought. Like me, she’s as pale as milk-fed veal. It takes one to know one. But for both of us all that will change in the next few hours.
    He checked his watch. I can let her have a few more minutes, he thought. Besides, it will be better if I give Gillis a chance to call first.
    He considered stripping down to his trunks and joining her for a brief