The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 50
But in reconnecting with Mike I had an uneasy feeling, like walking on a narrow trail dividing sheer, thousand foot drops on either side. Didn’t matter how gorgeous the view was. You had to concentrate on not falling. There was, always had been—despite the fact he loved and collected my work—a flip side, an indistinct air of poison about him.
You see, spiders really do spin elaborate webs completely invisible to their prey, and sometimes, bellies full, seems it’s not the meat of their victims they’re after, but rather their agony. Or it’s the info accompanying a fresh but otherwise useless kill: where does the web need tightening, adjusting, reinforcing? It’s silent, relentless predator mode all the way. The present, demonic twist was that Mike had become very, very proficient at masking his eight legged nature. Even from himself.
Still, my movie did need funding. There would be zero concern over artistic control and—since we lived three hours apart in drive time—that silent, sleepless, toxic arachnid mind turning the wheels, pushing the buttons, stood little chance of getting loose, kicking me off the edge of that trail and into the abyss.
Or so I told myself.
A far more present concern involved my history with much younger women. Mel—Michele’s neighbor and colleague in Texas—was 22 years younger. Shana, 23. Lorraine, 27. But there was an intellectual and cultural and emotional connection with those three missing with Candy, whose touches and tit bounces and slow eyed pouty lips looks, short skirt leg crosses screamed schoolgirl crush.
And it mattered, big time, that word through the grapevine revealed her “former” crystal meth use.
Candy was the kind of girl a relatively cautious, perceptive, older gentleman such as myself visualized while masturbating. Real involvement was to be avoided. Unless you had lawyers, an armed posse, etc.. Or at least until filming was done.
Mike drove out, stayed the night. Before sleep we watched some raw footage. He was spellbound by Allison’s acting skills.
Mike: So she’s in the scenes tomorrow?
Mike: You know, there’s a couple agents in L.A. I could introduce her to. You think she’d go for that?
Me: Don’t know. Hope so. Ask her. But, see how smooth and flawless she is in front of the camera? How she just IS that character? Truth is I’ve no idea who she is in real life. She seems shy to the point of… catatonia, almost.
Me: You’ll see. Talk to her, Mr Bigshot Executive Producer. I’m assuming you brought wraparound shades and an ascot?