Ashes of Yesterday

Chapter 13

Emory had been dispatched early that morning to deliver Flix to Steppson's office. Not only did Steppson want to finish hammering out the last details of their agreement, but the studio boss wanted to give him a tour of one of the sets so that Flix would have an idea of how movies were made. Steppson assured Flix he would be mesmerized by the lights, the cameras, and the spectacle of the actors, directors, and crew swarming about completing their assigned tasks.

"Not like you suspect," Steppson had said when the two were drinking in the basement after dinner. "I'll have that nephew of mine pick you up at 7:30 sharp."

And sure enough, Emory was outside the bungalow door bright and early.

"Have you heard, Mr. Flith?" Emory asked.

"Heard what?" said Flix.

"It'th in all the paperth," said Emory.

"What!"

"Tom and Dane! They're in real hot water! After they left the dinner party, they dethided to have a little party of their own. They grabbed a couple of bottleth of Alfred the Great'th booze on their way out. Chaffey, the butler, thaw them theel it. Muth have gotten really loaded. Tom can't hold hith liquor, you know. Not after about five gallonth, anyway. Ha ha! And he'th a mean drunk, too.

"I'm sure you know, Emory," Flix said.

"According to the paper, he got into a heated argument with Dane. Dane don't take no crap off nobody, if you know what I mean. And Alfred the Great ith thomping mad! Tom drove Dane through the yard and thraight through the window of Othwall Buck'th houthe."

"Z. Oswall Buck?" Flix asked.

"The one and only," Emory said. "Get in. My uncle will be in a black mood, if I know him. Buck ith on the war path, and now he'th looking for a way to thhut the thudio down."

"Buck is a very powerful man, Emory," Flix said. "If memory serves me correctly, he has boasted about having over 10,000 members in his congregation."

"It'th a big church," Emory said.

"I'll say," said Flix. "One of the biggest in the country. And his newspaper goes out to over eight times as many folks as there are on his church rolls."

Emory drove down the winding road leading to the highway.

"They say his radio ministry reaches millions," said Flix. "Oswall Buck is definitely not someone you want to cross. But how are Tom and Dane? I hope they weren't hurt too badly in the accident."

"Tom broke hith arm. Dane wath thrown from the car onto Buck'th yard. They were both tho drunk. I think they were pretty fluid when it all happened. But the manure hit the fan when the copth found dope in the car."

"Dope!" said Flix.

"Yeah," said Emory. "Both Tom and Dane thwear it didn't belong to them. They thaid anybody at the dinner party could have planted that stuff in the car. It'th a convertible. Well, it wath a convertible before Tom wrecked it."

"Most interesting," said Flix. "Sad and shocking. But very interesting."

"Well," said Emory, "I don't think Alfred the Great will thee it that way. He'th got a lot riding on thith next picture. Dane ith the thtar. I hope the makeup guy can cover her black and blue markth up. We'll thee how good pancake makeup really ith."

As they pulled up to the studio, there was a small cluster of people milling around. They were standing in front of the studio entrance shouting and raising their fists at the building before them.

"What in the world is this?" Flix wondered out loud.

"A protetht," Emory said.

"A protest? This early in the morning?" Flix said.

Reading the handmade signs the people held, Flix understood. Oswald Buck's forces were gathering. Steppson Studios looked to be in the bull's eye of a heated storm. Motion pictures were seen by so many as the devil's work. Flix looked into the faces of the men and women holding the signs denouncing Steppson and his employees.

Hate.

Cold hate filled the eyes of these people.

Who could insight such vitriol so quickly?

Z. Oswall Buck, of course.