Chapter Thirteen

4 0 0
                                    

13

On September 16th of 1970, producer Al Smith was hard at work trying to package a deal so he could pitch it to his contacts over at the studios. He'd seen a new actor named Gregg Ogilvy who wasn't the handsomest leading man in the world, but he was tough, full of grit. The role was for an out of control cop on a brutal rampage.

Ogilvy had just scored a hit in an offbeat psychological thriller, as a sociopath. He brought a commanding screen presence. Al thought that all he needed to do was put a gun in Ogilvy's hand, and the picture would be a sure hit. Tough guys were in vogue. Development execs knew Ogilvy, and they were starting to know Smith.

It was that night Victoria decided to be born.

Ogilvy and his manager had just stepped into Al's shabby office when the phone rang.

Lisa yelled through the line. "I think I am having the baby!"

Al looked up at his guests, his eyes wide with terror. "Oh no. It's not due yet."

"What do you mean? I am having contractions!"

"Get to the hospital."

"How?"

"I'll call a cab. You just get ready to go."

"Al? Are you coming?"

"I'll be there. I'll. I'll be there really fast. Don't worry about anything. Just get ready. Bye."

"I love you, Al Smith."

"Me too." Al hung up quickly.

The two guests looked on impatiently.

"Gentlemen, thanks for coming out," said Al. "I've got a bit of an emergency situation. Just one minute, please." Al looked up the taxi company's phone number, and he punched it in.

As Al ordered the taxi, the actor sniffed around Al's small, disorganized office. Ogilvy smiled at Al's poster for The Movement, with its psychedelic collage of Hippie images. He and his manager whispered playfully back and forth.

Al hung up the phone. "Gregg! It's great to see you in person. I've only ever seen you on the big screen."

"Hi Al," said Ogilvy. This is my manager, Steve Kroll."

"Greetings."

Kroll was about six feet, and he wore a dark blue suit. Ogilvy stood even taller. He wore a safari shirt. Unsure of the situation, Ogilvy said, "So? You need to go?" He was prepared to leave.

"Me? After we're done here. It's fine."

The actor seemed surprised. "Are you sure? It sounded like you said emergency."

"My wife's in labor." Al wasn't' sure how that would be perceived.

"Oh! Congratulations."

"Thank you. Thanks."

Steve looked at Gregg, and he said, "We shouldn't keep you, right?"

"It's fine. That stuff takes hours, right?"

"I suppose," said Kroll the manager. "What it take my wife last time? Fourteen hours? She bitches about it sometimes."

Gregg held up a palm, "Whew. None for me, please."

Al smiled. "Let's just get right to it then?"

Steve Kroll took a seat. "That's why we're here."

Ogilvy stepped forward from the back wall.

"Here, Gregg. Have a seat." Al took a script and he handed it across the desk to Ogilvy. "It's called Good Cop, Evil Cop."

HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satireWhere stories live. Discover now