Hoot chuckled. Casey squirmed on the seat trying to find a position were his arms didn't ache, but failed miserably. "Do you suppose you could cut me loose? I'm not about to jump out of a moving car."
"Well I could, but you know something? My nuts still hurt. If I cut you loose I just might have to show you how that feels. But hey, I'm versatile guy - how do you want it: Tied or loose?" Scotty guffawed and Casey settled back in silence. He was well aware of Hoot's tit for tat philosophy - the punch was paid for obviously, but that kick was going to take a bit longer. He tried relaxing which seemed to help - or else his arms were going numb. The ache lessened and after awhile the steady plunk-plunk-plunk of tires hitting expansion joints had a mesmerizing effect that let him slide away from the discomfort. Quite suddenly, he felt exhausted. Like a wave receding the adrenaline drained away leaving his muscles feeling as heavy as lead. Twisting in the seat to give his hands a bit more room in the corner, his foot bumped against Hoot's leg.
"Are you OK?" Hoot asked.
" I guess so."
or Hoot's question - the little tinge of concern in his voice put Casey's mind at ease. There'd be no more rough stuff from Hoot . At the same time he wondered what was in store for him at the end of this ride. Probably something painful if Melva had anything to do with. Sitting trussed like this convinced him that the rumors were true. Melva did have mob connections, but surely that didn't include Hoot. No way - he knew Hoot too well to even consider it - they were friends, or had been until tonight, anyway. But then why the kidnapped and why was the bearded man along? Was he going to end up beaten until he agreed to do Melva and Vitto's bidding? Casey dismissed the notion. Whatever was going on he knew in his heart that Hoot wouldn't stand by and let that Scotty guy do a beating. Hoot couldn't have changed that much in the few months since he last he saw him . . .
His fatigue settled into to an almost numbing weariness. Tiredly, his mind drifted, floating just above the steady hum of the engine. All was quiet until Scotty inserted a tape in the deck and the opening bars of Melva's "Lover Boy" filled the car. It had been a while since he heard that one, he thought. As much as he now detested Melva, that song brought back some good memories of his salad days with her that he had almost forgotten. "Lover Boy" was the third video he worked on and as it turned out, one of the most played of all time, a real chart topper for Melva. He recalled the warm feelings he had back then as she stood before the whole crew and thanked them, praised them in glowing terms for their hard work. It had been a tough shoot, hours of grueling rehearsal, hundreds of takes, yet it had also been a milestone for him as well. It was his first shot at lead dancer and it had gained him a two line mention in Variety.
It was soon after "Lover Boy" when he first heard Melva's nickname. It was shocking at the time, in those days Melva was still perfect in his eyes, the perfect woman, the perfect boss - it wasn't until later that he found out Melva was known as the Malevolent Bitch by a great number of people, including a former boyfriend, Larry Burke who had crossed her once and now walked with a decided limp. Luckily, he had never come close to fitting into the boyfriend category - boyfriends came and went while he stayed on - more than three years as a full time employee, longer than practically anyone except Hoot. The drinking, the drugs and the parties took a toll of everyone, Casey included and in the process he discovered that Melva was a far different person than the warm, caring one who had heaped praise upon them that day. She could be as sweet as honey when it served her purposes, and twice as mean as a rattlesnake if the least bit annoyed. When they parted he was in debt to her up to his ears, only the debt didn't seem to bother her at the time. "I eat pretty boys for breakfast" she screamed, "Get out, and don't show your face here again." No questions of money or contracts then, just hit the road and don't come back.
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Casey couldn't even remember how the argument started, only the ending. Yet, like all endings it was also a new beginning. He got it together and a year later landed the lead role in "Love Stories." It was a terrific break, an unheard opportunity for an unknown like himself and he had lied through his teeth to secure the roll. No outstanding commitments he assured the studio - Melva didn't give a damn anyway - or so he assumed. What an idiot, he thought- and the worst part was that after signing the Paramount deal he could have raised the money in a heartbeat. He could have walked in and cleared the advance account with Birchline, probably even bought out his contract for next to nothing - but, oh no, he had to be the Big Man and wait until the Big Check arrived.
It was during the final weeks of filming that his stupidity came back to haunt him. He found that old contract hanging over him like the sword of Damocles with dear Melva taking practice swings. Still, phone calls and legal threats were one thing, kidnapping was something else again. She must be crazy if she thinks she can get away with this! He had always suspected that Melva was behind Larry Burke's mugging, but mob connections or not, there were too many witnesses at the dance hall for her to pull this kind of shit. The woman had finally lost her mind . . .
After the city lights were well behind them, Hoot leaned forward and gave directions to Scotty. The car threaded its way down the next off ramp and onto a two lane and then mile after mile of black lonely highway unrolled itself in front of the headlights.
Paul Markey sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and chatting with Sofia the cook when he heard the service door slam. Looking up he caught a glimpse Melva kicking off her shoes in the utility area.
"Well, here you are at last." He said, "You know, I've been wait for. . . " His carping came to a halt as Melva entered the kitchen.
"What the hell happened to you!" He exclaimed. Her hair was a mess, matted down and wet and her clothes in the same condition, the cream colored fabric of her blouse stained brown and stuck to her skin, but it was the look of fury on her face that cut off all his questions. Without a word she stormed through the kitchen and disappeared. A few moments later another door slammed, upstairs this time - the sound of it reverberating throughout the Bel Air mansion.
Jose, Melva's chauffeur since she lost her drivers' license, came in carrying a wet stadium blanket. He dropped it in the laundry basket and washed his hands in the nearby sink.
"What the devil happened to Melva." Paul asked.
Jose shrugged, "She wouldn't tell me, Mr. Markey."
"Where did she go?"
"Van Nuys." He reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a flyer. "This is the place." He said. "She went in and a little while later came out like you saw her. I don't know what happened."
Paul looked at the flyer.
'Friday Night Hoedown, open to the public. Square dance, Line and Pairs - fun for everyone!' below that, the band's name and admission price.
Markey stared at it blankly. Why would Melva go to a country-western dance, he wondered. Suddenly he remembered Casey O'Brian, the square dance fanatic who used to work for her. The kid was hot right now, a new film at Paramount, and Vitto had been moaning about how he wished he had made a film with O'Brian when he had the chance. Yet it didn't make any sense as far as Melva was concerned, she fired O'Brian nearly two years ago and he distinctly recalled that his Birchline advance account was cleared. Still, something was going on and he felt strongly that it had to do with O'Brian. Markey picked up the phone and dialed the home number of his personal secretary,
"Angie, I'm sorry to call so late, but can you by any chance tell me status of Casey O'Brian's contract with Birchline?"
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written by erniesRATE THIS STORY
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