In Laymon's Terms

He lifted the phone from the nearby lamp table. “Hello?”

“Hi. Is this the famous Neal Portis who sneaks onto movie lots and saves people from crazy cats?”

Neal’s heart started pounding hard. “This is him...he.”

“This is Lynda Connors. Too bad your father’s name is William. If it were Andrew, I would’ve gotten to you a lot sooner. Do you know there are about 15 Portis families in Los Angeles who’ve never heard of you?”

Neal laughed.

“Anyway, I wanted to thank you again for getting that cat off me,” Lynda went on.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m going to try out for Return of the Mummy while I still look right for the part.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wish I’d been faster.”

“You were great,” said Lynda. “I’m just sorry Hal treated you that way. He can be such a creep. I can get you into the studio tomorrow, though. I made Hal give me a visitor’s pass for you.”

“Hey, terrific!”

“I could have it waiting for you at the front gate tomorrow, or would you rather come over and pick it up?”

“Where?”

“My house.”

“Now?” asked Neal, not believing what he was hearing.

“If you’re not doing anything.”

“Well...yeah. Sure.”

She told him where she lived.

Neal parked in front of Lynda’s home. It wasn’t a huge place, as he had thought it might be. Instead, it was a fairly old, two-story house. As he turned off his car engine, the front door opened.

Lynda came out. She wore jeans and a baggy sweatshirt and carried a purse. Her hair, caught by a breeze, blew away from the left side of her face. Neal saw that her whole cheek was covered with a large, white bandage.

“Hi,” she said as she came up to the car. “I’d ask you in, but my parents are getting ready for a party. They’re running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”

Neal opened the door and got out to stand next to Lynda. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Lynda took a card from her purse. “Here’s the pass,” she said, handing it to Neal.

“Thanks.”

“Now you won’t have to sneak in anymore.” She smiled. “Why do you do that, anyway?”

“It’s like school,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m going to be a director,” Neal explained. “I study film at USC. It’s great, but it’s not like being at a real studio watching a real director at work. So I’ve been sneaking into studios. Fox, Paramount, MGM, all of them. I’ve been doing it since I was 16. Mostly during summer vacation.”

Lynda shook her head and grinned. “You get away with it?”

“Oh, I get kicked out sometimes. But I keep going back. The trick is to look as if you belong there.”

“I’m sure glad you were there today,“ Lynda said.

“Me, too.”

In the light from the streetlamp, Lynda noticed the bandage on the back of his hand. “With these bandages,” she said, “we’re like a matching set.”

“Yeah, but your face was hurt, too. I hope it will be all right.”

“The doctor said there shouldn’t be scars, but I guess I’ll be messed up for a while.”

“And they’re still going ahead with the film?” asked Neal.

“Sure. A delay would cost them too much. They’ll just keep the cat attack in the film to explain the scratches. Hal’s trying to get his hands on a stuffed cat for tomorrow.”

“They ought to stuff Duncan.”

Lynda laughed. “No, he’s a sweet old cat. At least, he has been. I don’t know what got into him. He’s been in lots of movies.”

“Do you want to go to a movie?” The question sprang from Neal’s mouth before he even knew he was asking it.

“You mean tonight?”

“Yes,” he said. His throat felt so tight that he almost didn’t get the word out.

“With you?”

Now Neal couldn’t speak at all. He forced his head to nod.

Lynda looked into his eyes.

Neal thought his face was on fire.

“Great!” she said. “Just hang on. I’d better let Mom and Dad know.” Neal let out a deep breath. He couldn’t believe that he had just asked Lynda Connors for a date.

And he couldn’t believe that she had answered, “Great!”

CHAPTER 3

AT THE MOVIES

On her way out of the house, Lynda grabbed a newspaper. She hurried to the car and climbed in. “You pick,” she said, handing the paper to Neal.

He turned on a light and looked at the movie pages. “How about The Phantom?”

“Haven’t you seen it?” Lynda asked.

“Not often enough. The woman in it is really terrific.”

“You mean Leigh Owens?”

“I mean Lynda Connors,” said Neal with a grin.

“Thank you. But...well, if you really want to see it, OK. I feel kind of funny, though, seeing myself on the screen.”

“We’ll go somewhere else, then.”

“How about a comedy? I don’t feel much like a fright film at the moment.” She leaned over to see the movie pages, and together they found a movie that neither of them had seen. It was playing only a few miles away. Neal started driving. “Don’t you like scary films?” he asked.

“Most of the time I do. But not since I started working on Night of the Witch. It’s just too creepy. It’s a true story, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”