Read Online The Diamond Lane by Karen Karbo - Free Book Online Page B

She was a snob. “You’re so lucky,” she’d say, “reading Death on the Installment Plan for the first time.”
    Even though Ralph and Elaine were officially separated, Mimi and Ralph kept a lid on it when Elaine was around. It was too weird and cozy, otherwise, too sort of Appalachian. Mimi could never bring herself to put an arm around Ralph or steal a kiss with his not-yet-ex looking on. She wasn’t sure Elaine even knew about them.
    â€œI thought she was at a sales conf – ” Mimi whispered to Ralph.
    â€œâ€“ she’s back earl –”
    â€œâ€“ Elaine! Hiya!” said Mimi.
    â€œWhat’s he yammering about now?” Elaine appeared at thedoor. She had long, bowed legs, waist-length hair the color and texture of dried twigs. “Have you ever heard anyone complain like this? I hope he isn’t like this in class.” Ralph was the instructor of How to Write a Blockbuster at Valley College, the class through which they had met.
    â€œThat’s a great skirt,” said Mimi. “I tried on a skirt like that at the Gap but it was too big. I mean the waist was too big. I’m into minis, but not, like thigh-high. It was one thing when we were sixteen. Even though I’m thinner than I was then. Some people have knees only God should see. Not that I’m one. Not that I believe in God. I mean, I believe in an energy –”
    â€œâ€“ hi Elaine,” said Carole, appearing from the hallway. Behind her, Sniffy Voyeur, Mimi’s dog, swayed into the room. He was a big black and blond mutt, a remnant from her marriage. He trotted up to Elaine and stuck his long nose into her crotch.
    â€œThis dog is so needy,” said Elaine, batting Sniffy away.
    â€œJust don’t tell me these guys are getting their chance because it’s the appeal of the unknown,” said Ralph. “I’m unknown. I’m as fucking unknown as you can get.”
    Ralph was desperate. Desperation clung to his clothes like the smell of the brushfires. It hung in his blue-gray eyes. He had been trying to get the same movie, Girls on Gaza , a musical comedy about the Palestinian situation, off the ground for over twelve years.
    He had done all the right things, to no avail. He went to the right parties. Made the right contacts. Wrote treatments, screenplays, teleplays. Studied classic films. Read criticism, read theory: Eisenstein and Kuleshov. Made two short films, which he funded by letting his car insurance lapse. Entered them in festivals. Applied for grants. Snuck into workshops conducted by famous directors, by infamous studio executives and agents. Re-snuck into the same workshops the following year to meet the new famous directors conducting it, the new infamous studio executives and agents. He approached the famous and the infamous, thrust Girls on Gaza at them, tolerating their glazedexpressions, their hardly hidden sneers. Oh God, not another screenplay!
    But Ralph persevered. Invited them for coffee. Made thin jokes about picking their brains. Picked their brains. They told him Work Hard, Hard Work. They reminded him that Sylvester Stallone wrote fifteen scripts before he came up with Rocky.
    Ralph said, “I’ve written sixteen.”
    Mimi felt sorry for him. Sure, she was a drudge by day, too, but at least she’d done that thing with Bob Hope. She’d done something. In addition, she rationalized, while she was Solly’s secretary, she was not his slave.
    Ralph had been with the same producer, Keddy Webb, for eight years. During that time Keddy had landed two Academy Awards, and the only change in Ralph’s life was the new word-processing program Keddy bought to help Ralph catalogue his wine collection. Keddy made Ralph pick up his dry cleaning and drive an hour across town during the lunchtime rush hour in the rain to pick up sushi from Keddy’s favorite restaurant. Keddy wouldn’t even let Ralph do coverage.