Remake

The sidewalk blurred and then went blinding, and there were stars in it, and Fred and Eleanor, all in white, danced easily, elegantly through the milling crowd, and superimposed across them was Alis, watching them, her face lost and sorrowful. Like Ingrid’s.

Fade to Black

MONTAGE: No sound, HERO, seated at comp, punches keys and deletes AS’s as scene on screen changes. Western saloon, elegant nightclub, fraternity house, waterfront bar.

Whatever effect my Judge Hardy lecture had had on Alis, it didn’t make her give up on her dream and head back to Meadowville. She was at the party again the next week.

I wasn’t. I’d gotten Mayer’s list and a notice that my scholarship had been canceled due to “nonperformance,” and I was working on Mayer’s list just to stay in the dorm. And in chooch.

I didn’t miss anything, though. Heada came up to my room halfway through the party to fill me in. “The takeover’s definitely on,” she said. “Mayer’s boss’s been moved to Development, which means he’s on the way out. Warner’s filing a countersuit on Fred Astaire. It goes to court tomorrow.”

Alis should have had her face pasted onto Ginger’s while she had the chance. She’d never get a chance to dance with him now.

“Vincent’s at the party,” she said. “He’s got a new decay morph.”

“What a pity I’ve got to miss that,” I said.

“What are you doing up here anyway?” she said, fishing. “You’ve never missed a party before. Everybody’s down there. Mayer, Alis—” she paused, watching my face.

“Mayer, huh?” I said. “I’ve got to talk to him about a raise. Do you know who drinks in the movies? Everybody.” I took a swig of scotch to illustrate. “Even Gary Cooper.”

“Should you be doing that stuff?” Heada said.

“Are you kidding? It’s cheap, it’s legal, and I know what it is.” And it was pretty good at keeping me from flashing.

“Is it safe?” Heada, who thought nothing of snorting white stuff she found on the floor, was reading the bottle warily.

“Of course it’s safe. And endorsed by W. C. Fields, John Barrymore, Bette Davis, and E.T. And the major studios. It’s in every movie on Mayer’s list. Camille, The Maltese Falcon, Gunga Din. Even Singin’ in the Rain. Champagne at the party after the premiere.” The one where Donald O’Connor said, “You have to show a movie at a party. It’s a Hollywood law.”

I finished off the bottle. “Also Oklahoma! Poor Judd is dead. Dead drunk.”

“Mayer was hitting on Alis at the party,” she said, still looking at me.

Yeah, well, that was inevitable.

“Alis was telling him how she wanted to dance in the movies.”

That was inevitable, too.

“I hope they’ll be very happy,” I said. “Or is he saving her to give to Gary Cooper?”

“She can’t find a dancing teacher.”

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat,” I said, “but I’ve got to get back to the Hays Office.” I called up Casablanca again and started deleting liquor bottles.

“I think you should help her,” Heada said.

“Sorry,” I said. “ ‘I stick my neck out for nobody.’ ”

“That’s a quote from a movie, isn’t it?”

“Bingo,” I said. I deleted the crystal decanter Humphrey Bogart was pouring himself a drink out of.

“I think you should find her a dancing teacher. You know a lot of people in the business.”

“There aren’t any people in the business. It’s all CGs, it’s all ones and zeros and didge-actors and edit programs. The studios aren’t even hiring warmbodies anymore. The only people in the business are dead, along with the liveaction. Along with the musical. Kaput. Over. ‘The end of Rico.’ ”

“That’s a quote from the movies, too, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said, “which are also dead in case you couldn’t tell from Vincent’s decay morph.”

“You could get her a job as a face.”

“Like the one you’ve got?”

“Well, then, a job as a hackate, as a foley, or a location assistant or something. She knows a lot about movies.”

“She doesn’t want to hack,” I said, “and even if she did, the only movies she knows about are musicals. A location assistant’s got to know everything, stock shots, props, frame numbers. Be a perfect job for you, Heada. Now I really have to get back to playing Lee Remick.”

Heada looked like she wanted to ask if that was a movie, too.

“Hallelujah Trail,” I said. “Temperance leader, battling demon rum.” I tipped the bottle up, trying to get the last drops out. “You have any chooch?”

She looked uncomfortable. “No.”

“Well, what have you got? Besides klieg. I don’t need any more doses of reality.”

“I don’t have anything,” she said, and blushed. “I’m trying to taper off a little.”

“You?!” I said. “What happened? Vincent’s decay morph get to you?”

“No,” she said defensively. “The other night, when I was on the klieg, I was listening to Alis talk about wanting to be a dancer, and I suddenly realized there was nothing I wanted, except chooch and getting popped.”