Day 9

Chapter 8-2

The three of them emerged in a film studio that had once been a high school gymnasium.

The giant space was full of sets and equipment—lights, microphones, and cameras. Actors and crew rushed in every direction, adjusting makeup, costumes, and gear.

All of it looked a little haphazard, low-budget...but still. The scene in the gym looked pretty close to the way Dunne imagined a real movie set might look.

Hannahlee stared. "These are all fans doing this?"

Quincy nodded. "Some pros, too...but they're all doing it for the love."

"And Halcyon Studios just lets them?" said Dunne.

"As long as no one makes any money," said Quincy. "Fan films, especially quality ones like this, create fan goodwill and build buzz on the 'net for the property."

"I can't believe Luanne's doing one," said Hannahlee.

Quincy shrugged. "She's not the first Willows actor to do a fan film. Pete Hodges did The Mark of a Willow last year, and he got a reality show gig right after." Quincy patted Hannahlee's shoulder. "Maybe you ought to consider it."

Hannahlee turned her emerald glare on him and held it there until he moved his hand.

"You said Gowdy's supposed to be here?" said Dunne.

"Just a frumor at this point," said Quincy. "He's either working on this film or his secret dream project."

"Secret dream project?" said Dunne.

"Haven't you heard of 'Godseye?'" said Quincy. "Everybody else has."

"Then how can you call it 'secret?'" said Dunne.

"Just because we've heard about it," said Quincy, "doesn't mean anyone knows what the fell it is."

At that moment, a blond man in Fidel Castro-style olive drab and black boots hurried over from the set. "Don't just stand there!" he said. "You're needed on the set!"

"What the hell?" said Dunne.

The Castro blond grabbed Quincy's arm and pulled him along. "We're burnin' daylight here, assholes! Shake a leg!"

"You directors are all the same," said Quincy. "A bunch a' slave drivers and fegomaniacs! Shove it up yer fass!"

Blond Castro—who was actually a little taller than giant Quincy—spun and snarled in Quincy's face. "Who do you think you are, talkin' smack in my house?" In a flash, he pulled a pistol from a holster on his belt and jammed the barrel between Quincy's eyes. "Say them! Say the only words that can possibly save your shriveled soul!"

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout!" Quincy bellowed the lyrics in his resonant singing voice. "This is my handle, this is my spout!"

With a wild howl, blond Castro pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened. Which was pretty much the outcome Dunne had anticipated, considering the bizarre characters involved.

"Saints preserve us!" Quincy clapped his hands and beamed skyward. "I've got a second chance at life! It's a miracle."

"No." Blond Castro pointed the gun at his own temple and pulled the trigger. "It's a prop."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Enrique Bocagrande!" Quincy threw an arm around blond Castro's shoulders. "Writer, actor, director, fellow filker, Renaissance man!"

"Welcome to Scratchtown Studios," said Enrique. "Mi casa es su casa."

Quincy leaned forward and spoke his hand in a stage whisper. "I know it's hard to believe, but he isn't a real Mexican. He just wants to be."

"Mr. Bocagrande," said Dunne.

"Call me Enrique, por favor," said Enrique.

"Cyrus Gowdy wouldn't happen to be here, would he?" said Dunne.

Enrique chuckled. "You just missed him, señor. He and Santa Claus just skedaddled out the back door with the Tooth Fairy."

"This one's full of shit." Quincy hiked a thumb at Enrique. "Knowing him, he probably has Gowdy stashed in a meat locker somewhere."

"Aw shucks." Enrique bobbed his head and scuffed his feet. "Maybe I do know a little somethin'-somethin'."

"Like what?" said Hannahlee.

Suddenly, a loud crackling noise flared up, and Enrique grabbed a walkie talkie radio from his belt. He conducted a brief conversation...every word of which, on both sides, sounded like total gibberish to Dunne.

Then, Enrique clicked off the walkie talkie and pointed at the set, his expression verging on panic. "We'll have to talk about this later! If you don't get on the set in ten seconds, this movie will self-destruct!"