Hollywood on the Danube

Chapter Two

Billy was bushed when he arrived at his hotel and was tempted to go to sleep, but opted not to so he could acclimate his body to the nine-hour time difference. Plus he was eager to explore the terrain, so, armed with a map, he crossed fashionable Andrassy Boulevard, with his first stop the OP bank. 

He converted $100 to 21,000 Hungarian forints and then headed down the avenue, or the Ut as it was known, towards the tourist office to get the lay of the land. He'd already learned from the Internet that Budapest was split in two, though when he'd first seen the references to Pest he assumed the city was stricken with Plague. Despite all his traveling, he'd never previously known the capital was divided by the Danube, which flowed between Buda and Pest. 

Buda, with its hilly inclines and mostly residential homes, had been the old capital of Hungary, merging with Pest in the late nineteenth century. About eighty percent of the population live in Pest, which includes government buildings and the downtown action spots. Buda has the gorgeous Castle District, with its turreted museums and a Hilton in an old town flavor on cobblestone streets. 

Billy took as much in as his energy allowed, walking around the huge square known as Vörösmarty tér. He sat on a stone fountain watching the strollers-by, fixing his eyes on a couple of beauties sipping espresso at a nearby café. He smiled. They smiled back. Hope was in the air. His sex life might soon be enhanced by an almost forgotten pleasure. 

He also noticed numerous casinos, which seemed to be all over. Then, weighted down by maps and guides, not to mention the boner he tried to suppress as he stood up to move on, the realization began to sink in. He really was where he was and this caused him to grin, as he retraced his steps to the hotel, his map covering his crotch. 

There, he undressed and ran the water for his bath. As he lay on the bed waiting, his body worn from lack of sleep, the telephone rang and he wondered who it was. "Billy," the female voice said, "we've been looking all over you. This is Mollie, how the hell are you?" 

"Oh, hi," he said weakly, suddenly realizing Mollie was the temporary writer from London who was the only other American on staff and coincidentally from LA. 

"You sound exhausted," she said sympathetically, which encouraged Billy to believe the end of the conversation was in sight. "Jeremy and I are downstairs, so why don't you come join us for a drink?" 

Billy tried to defer the invitation to a more suitable occasion, like when he could open his eyes. "I'm sort of undressed and about to get into the tub." 

But she repeated her summons. "Oh, c'mon, just one drink. We're dying to meet you." He didn't want to be a spoilsport -- not on his first day -- so he put on some clothes and splashed cold water on his face. 

Billy stumbled across the lobby and found the long narrow cocktail lounge. It was empty except for a slim blonde seated with a bespectacled middle-aged man. The two of them stood, in almost Mutt and Jeff contrast, with the younger Mollie towering over Jeremy. "You've probably figured I'm Mollie," she said, taking the upper hand. 

"Jeremy Thornton," the British half of the duo offered, extending his hand congenially, while holding a glass in the other. "What're you drinking? She's buying." 

Mollie winced. "Well, I guess I can put it on my room." 

As the three of them sat down, Billy was painfully aware he was like a new panda at the zoo. Small talk ensued. 

"How was the flight?" Jeremy asked. 

"What's been happening in LA?" Mollie asked. 

They did their best to make him welcome. It was like his first day at a new camp, taken under wing by two experienced bunkmates. Jeremy was the more senior, based in Budapest for close to a year, and Billy was immediately comfortable with his warm demeanor and Liverpool accent. 

"So you see," Jeremy said, "I'm in charge of the script writers who'll set Hungarian dialogue to your story lines." 

"So the functions are unconnected?" Billy said. 

"Completely," Jeremy said. "It's a totally different process, staffed with entirely separate people. For example, your team speaks passable English." 

"Is anybody getting hungry?" Mollie wanted to know. 

"Not me," Billy said. "I've had five meals in fifteen hours." 

"Mollie and I'll help you for the first couple of weeks. But then the lass here's going back to London to work with Rodney on some things, and I've got to get the first shooting scripts into shape." 

"How can you tell if they're good when they're in Hungarian?" Billy asked. 

"We've got goddamned good translators. At least I hope so," he said laughing as he downed his third vodka gimlet. Then he put his arm around Billy, simultaneously seeking a nod of approval from Mollie that it was okay to confide. "It's not going to be easy, lad. You come from a whole different environment. Believe me I know. Coming from a London experience." 

"Can these people write?" Billy asked. 

"Ummm," Mollie said, raising her eyebrows. 

"Well, I'm not going to say they're untalented," Jeremy said, "but they're light years behind us in practical knowledge about commercial drama." 

"Tell me about it," Mollie said, as Billy wondered if she was taller than he was. She looked about six feet, but he was sure she wore heels. "They're sweet, almost innocent," she added, compared to people I'm used to working with." 

Mollie was a hoot. Single and thirtyish, it was clear this was her first major TV job. Sure, she talked about previous gigs, but Billy's instincts led him to conclude they'd been glorified secretarial. 

"So how'd you get this?" he asked her. 

"Oh, I had a meeting when Rodney was in Los Angeles about a year ago." 

"Really?" he said. "That's when I met him, too. How long have you been working for the Company?" 

"Just under six months." 

Billy nodded and sipped his coke, one thought racing through his mind. All that time he'd been waiting. Why had Rodney chosen her ahead of him? 

Whether it was the conversation ebbing or Billy's noticeably drooping eyelids, Jeremy suddenly stood up and offered his hand with a "Got to go. I'll hop by in a cab for you both around half past eight." Just when David Letterman would be coming on in LA, Billy realized. 

"Sure you don't want to grab a bite?" Mollie asked, as Billy got up, too. 

"I think I'd be better company at the breakfast buffet," he said. He looked in such bad shape there was no way she could take offense, so she put him in the elevator and he went to his room, where he got into the tub and promptly fell asleep.