Tellus Bart gets the Part

"Tellus, my dear, you are such a hero with the Director. You were so gracious in your audition, offering to step aside for your two proteges. It was a hard choice for the Director, you know. And casting younger actors in the lead really designed for you is such a risk for her, but she has a strong creative vision for what this picture can be. She just wanted me to let you know that she appreciates your understanding about the part and hopes you have no hard feelings,” Mitzi parroted the agreed-upon language in talking with Tellus Bart, trying not to gag.

"Hard feelings? Mitzi, you know me better than that," responded Tellus Bart. Tall, handsome, with a little balding in front but otherwise full, thick, esthetically perfect colored highlighted black hair. "No, I support her direction and am happy to do some press to support her. Maybe with Entertainment Tonight or some late-night shows."

"Press? What do you mean, Tellus?"

"Well, you know, Christopher wrote both the book and the screenplay with me in mind. For an up-and-coming female director to choose a younger lead completely wrong for the part might lead to a good bit of criticism. But, I could go on some shows and say something about "how I withdrew, realizing that her creative vision was fresh and vigorous and that a younger actor was more appropriate…" or something like that. Don't you think that would give the picture some buzz!"

"Tellus, you are either a genius or deliciously vain. But, either way, you're a hero in my eyes,” Mitzi again told an untruth.

"Thank you, Mitzi. I aim to please," Tellus said politely. The call ended, and he took a sip of his mimosa, grinning. The seed was planted, he thought.

Later, at the Bart home.

"How can they give that part to some idiot pretty boy or that Shakespeare whispering imbecile! What kind of agent lets this happen! I need this picture. It's a big payday if I get it. It's high art, an award-winning dog that makes no bank if they go with either of those two. How are you going to fix this, you moron!" Tellus screamed as the two-time academy award-winning actor threw one of his gold statuettes through a French door window. The glass shattered. The statuette landed outside on travertine tile leading to his zero-entry pool in his postmodern, forty-million-dollar mansion overlooking the Los Angeles basin.

Jerry Morgan, Bart's agent, had heard it all before. The insults, the threats, the intimidation. Brilliant but volatile, hard-working but histrionic. Even though Tellus Bart desperately needed a win for his bank account, his ego never wavered in the twenty years since his last big hit.

"Fix it? Do you think I can fix it? How?"

"Your problem. Just get me on that movie," Tellus yelled again.

"I'll try."

Jerry walked out of the Bart mansion in a huff.

Tellus walked outside onto the pool deck with his mid-morning blueberry mimosa and his ever-dinging iPhone. He plopped down in one of the assorted loungers by the pool and dialed a phone number from his contacts that did not have a name, only another number. 4411.  

"Yes."

"I have a couple of jobs for you. Urgent and quiet,” Tellus whispered. “And both will pay very well. The high end of the scale."

"Details," the monotone, masculinely feminine voice responded.

"In an envelope at the usual pickup spot."

"When do you need the results?" 4411 asked.

"End of the week at the latest"

"Okay. I will get on it."

4411 pressed the Off button on their handheld.

The usual place was a locker at Santa Monica pier. Locker 4411.

4411 learned martial skills as a veteran of U.S. Special Forces, seeing action in Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, and Mali. And those were just the places 4411 went where CNN reported on U.S. activities. Then there were the missions in areas that CNN didn't report. Those were where they learned the skills needed to work as a special assistant to Mr. Bart.

With luxurious brown curly hair and oversized mirror sunglasses, 4411 drove their black Lincoln Navigator toward the usual drop point. Generally, when Bart called, the package was already in the locker. 4411 eased the Navigator into the parking garage, choosing a spot close to the locker area. After parking, they got out and headed straight to the lockers. Inside, 4411 found a leather briefcase and then headed back to the car. They sat in the Navigator in the parking garage for a few minutes and looked through the briefcase. The folder had two bios. 4411 closed the briefcase and pulled away from the parking garage, knowing that Bart was a coward at heart. So, elimination didn't include death or serious injury. Just get them out of his way for the part.

---

"I just got off the phone with Tellus. He is okay with your decision and even offered to do some complimentary media for you and the movie. So, where are you with making the final decision?" Mitzi asked the Director.

"Michael is pretty good, looks good, and will be able to handle the action. But Daniel is the better actor. And you told me that Tellus mentored both of them? Is that right?"

"Yep. Tellus worked with Michael on a spy movie, and Daniel and Tellus were in a romantic comedy together. Both movies did well financially, and Tellus behaved himself from what I hear."

"Well, I think it's better to go with Daniel. So, let's contact his agent and get him back in to finish things up. Today's Tuesday, so let's get him in on Thursday. I want to decide by the end of the week."

"Got it. His agent is Jerry Morgan, who also reps Tellus. Jerry has been pestering me about casting Tellus, I assume, because Tellus has been riding him so hard to get the part. It’s good glad we have Tellus on board now. I will let you know what I hear from Jerry. And are you okay if I tell Jerry we want Tellus to do some media interviews supporting the film?"

"Okay. Thanks. Yes, getting Tellus to say good things will help us, even if it kills me to say that. You might even tell Jerry that we could give Tellus a well-compensated cameo if he behaves," the Director added.

"Oh, yes, good idea. Will do that."

---

Daniel Herzog, known in the industry as Dany Rock, loved skateboards. Yes, he was an actor with a television series and a few art-house movies behind him, along with several runs of Shakespeare at the Globe in London. But at 32, he was still young and flexible enough to ride his board in his favorite skatepark in Los Angeles—Santa Clarita. Tuesday evening skates were usually loud and energetic, even when cool and overcast. Going vert up the transition out of the deepest bowl in the park, Dany was trying a new move when a rocketing B.B. hit his back. The tiny metal ball fired surreptitiously from the barrel of the Crosman Vigilante CO2-powered B.B. pistol invoked a sudden searing, distracting pain to Dany's back. The first B.B. was followed in rapid succession by a couple of more, resulting in a writhing Dany Rock falling like a—rock. Onto the hardened cement surface of the bowl. A thud, with a roll, with resulting soft tissue injuries, crunching bones, a concussion, and blood. Disfiguring abrasions on a finely chiseled face. Dany Rock would be looking a little less suitable for quite a while. As the other skateboarders crowded around Dany, a celebrity at the park, no one noticed the person dressed in black workwear, with oversized mirror sunglasses and luxurious brown curly hair, walking away from the park. Nor did bystanders notice the person’s B.B. pistol that they slid into the generous pocket on the pants leg.

---

"This is Mitzi. Sorry to bother you late, but I got a call from Dany Rock's agent. He had an accident at a skate park. Broken bones, skinned up. Disfigured. He is out for months, most likely."

"You have got to be kidding me! Why was he skating? We need to start filming by Monday. Can we use makeup?" the Director answered.

"No. He is going to need facial reconstruction."

"Damn. Let's get Michael in, then. Tomorrow. We are under time pressure, you know."

"I know. I will call his agent now."

---

Michael Narone couldn't believe his good luck. On a night when he thought he would be eating alone, to be suddenly joined by an admiring fan for a sushi dinner. A beautiful, vivacious redhead with curves. His favorite. He wasn't sure about her name, but that was typical for Michael. She had been at the bar when he came in, and he couldn't resist her gaze, heading over for some small talk. Then the invitation to her for a cozy booth in the far dark corner where the owner, Joe Nimura, usually put Mikey, as he called him, on one of his impromptu dates. The corner was away from the crowd and close to the back exit if the couple wanted to escape being noticed when the meal was over. She giggled as Michael pulled off his shoes and walked his toes up her calf. Just as Michael's toes were making their way up the inner part of her knees, his iPhone started beeping. He grabbed the phone and walked away from the booth out the back door to the alley.

"Hello," Michael said, never one to miss a call. "Un-huh. Yep. Wow! Fantastic. Yep. Be there in the morning. Right. Won't be late. Thanks, Babe. Yep, know you hate that. But thanks, Babe." Michael punched off his phone and returned to the booth with glee.

While Michael was gone wandering outside talking to his agent, Michael's impromptu redhead date retrieved a small glass vial with a colorless, odorless liquid and deposited the contents into Michael's vodka martini. Then she slid an envelope with cash and an opaque plastic bag with pills into his Canali silk sportscoat's inner pocket, which he had carelessly thrown off and left in the booth before he left. When Michael returned to the booth, she was enthusiastic about his return.

"Darling," she said with a big, beautiful, voluptuous smile. "I missed you! What was the urgent distraction all about!"

"Time to celebrate, Babe. I just got a huge part in a huge movie that will make me a huge star! And now it's time to celebrate HUGELY!" Michael yelled out as he grabbed his martini and downed it in one long gulp.

The redhead didn't hesitate, raising her flute of champagne and clinking it to Michael's now empty martini glass. "Oh yes, that's terrific! If we are going to celebrate properly," she purred with her most seductive glance," then I need to run to the little girl's room."

"Don't be long, sweetheart!" Michael said as he slid back into the booth.

"Oh, you’re going to get a nice surprise, honey," the redhead said as she exited the booth. She brushed her perfumed hand across his face as she walked away. A few steps into her quick exit out the front entrance, she glanced over at the tall, darkly dressed person with luxurious brown curly hair and oversized mirror sunglasses sitting at the end of the bar. A quick nod from the redhead as she exited the restaurant alerted the dark figure to move forward with the plan.

"Yes, special agent Curtis, I am calling to tell you that the opioid dealer I warned you about just passed out in booth two at Nimura's,” the dark figure said softly into their iPhone. “I believe he may have overdosed, but my source tells me that he has a pretty large stash with him. You better hurry, though. I think they will be calling EMS eminently."

As Michael waited, he became sleepy. So sleepy that he plopped his head down on the table. When Joe Nimura came over to check, Michael was barely breathing. Joe panicked and called for the maître d, Alonso Tomalli, to come over. Unfortunately, Alonso was engaged with the DEA agents and L.A. police rushing in toward Michael's booth. A few chaotic moments ensued as the agents tried to rouse the snoring Michael while also searching his sports jacket. They found felony charge-level drugs. The wailing EMS sirens approaching the restaurant and subsequent intubation and cardiac resuscitation of Michael added to the event for all the restaurant patrons to see and record on their iPhones. And share worldwide on Instagram and TikTok.

----

A 7 AM call was usually not a good thing for the Director.

"Sorry to bother you, but you won't believe what's happened. It's all over the web and breaking news reports on T.V. Michael is in the hospital with a near-fatal drug overdose, and when he wakes up, if he does, he is going straight to jail for felony drug distribution! Talk about bad luck!" Mitzi breathlessly told the Director, still groggy and trying to awaken entirely from her nightmare about a movie that can't get any actors.

"Oh," the Director murmured, pausing to collect herself. "His bad luck or ours?" she asked.

"Both. I know we are under pressure to start filming. Michael is out, too, now. So, what about Tellus?"

The Director hesitated. Her whole approach was to make an unexpected creative masterpiece, different than what the critics and public expected. Putting Tellus in as the lead would keep with commercial expectations, but it wouldn't be fresh; it wouldn't be high art. Tellus was too old, tired, well-known, and commercial. He was, at this point, more celebrity than an actor. But her financial supporters would flee to another project if she had to delay, even a week, after all, that had gone on leading up to the start of filming. And Tellus was at least bankable, she thought.

"Okay. Call Tellus. Knowing him, the vain mother is probably sitting by the phone waiting for us to call if he has seen the news. And the thing that gets me is that he will probably be a hero all around town for coming to our rescue by tomorrow. I hate that mother," the Director said, finally unleashed.

"I know, I know, I know. Wait. Oh no. Flip on T.V. to KLTV Channel 5. Now!" Mitzi yelled.

Standing in her kitchen, the anxious Director fumbled with the remote to flip to channel 5.

"Hi, I am Liz Thomas, Channel 5, and we're talking to esteemed award-winning actor Tellus Bart. Mr. Bart, thank you for joining us. We understand that you will be taking the lead in the new movie by Director Anne Royale, replacing Dany Rock and Michael Narone, who were also considered. Is that true?"

"Well, Liz, thank you for having me, and, unfortunately, two up-and-coming actors like Dany and Michael have been sidelined from acting for a while. Ironic that both had problems like they did. I think that they might have been considered for some supporting roles. But, no, they weren't really in the running for the lead. Anne and I have been committed to the artistic direction of this picture for some time. I knew Anne was under tremendous pressure to get filming started, so I recently agreed to come on board to help her get this picture over some challenges. And yes, I did reluctantly agree to play the lead character. I have many projects I am working on now, but helping a friend is always at the top of my list of priorities. I think we can make this a good movie, and maybe even a great one." Tellus finished his answer and then looked away from the reporter, directly into the camera, smiling.

"Some have suggested that your last-minute heroics in assisting Ms. Royale and joining the picture might be rewarded with some serious awards considerations and possible a third academy award? What can you say about that?"

"Well, the material is certainly award-worthy, and with good direction and production, we should be competitive. But, I am not comfortable calling myself a hero," Tellus added with faux modesty. "At least, not yet," he said confidently, turning back to the camera with his bright, toothy smile.

Rising Director, Anne Royale, stared at the T.V. in disbelief as the kitchen of her modest kitchen swirled around her.

"Hero?" she said to Mitzi on the phone. “Hero. This villainous piece of….”

“Anne, don’t go ballistic. Just remember, he is your ex now. So, try to think kind thoughts.”