Chapter 3.

OK. It took me a while to figure out how to post directly. Here is Chapter 3. Feel free to comment. Stunned silence is fine too of course, I'm used to it. I hope violet decides to try again. Dick.

* * *

La Cienega Boulevard. Manicured palms. Lots of cars but not many people walking. Eddie is one of the few. He feels better out in the open air but he doesn’t feel good about the fight he just had with Carmen. He shouldn’t have talked to her like that. They’re practically married and she deserves better. It’s not her fault he can’t stay off the bottle. Poor old Carmen, she’s a good woman in her way, not unlike Eddie’s old mum back in Epsom, bless her heart, the old-fashioned type, caring and kind. Not one of those Hollywood ball-breakers or the Pamela Anderson wannabes down on the beach with their beach-balls and their supersize tits who like kicking sand in his face. He was lucky to meet Carmen when he did. At his age it would not be easy to find a replacement.

Hollywood, shit. The world of entertainment. It isn’t very entertaining when you don’t have a stake in it. And Eddie has been wondering for some time why he bothers. It’s killing him. He’s pushing fifty. Five years selling jokes and pitching ideas for half-arsed reality shows has engendered a certain world-weariness in Eddie which no amount of suntan can conceal. And what does he have to show for it? It had been exciting at first. He’d enjoyed the hustle, even sold a few things. He’d actually become quite adept at projecting phony enthusiasm for idiotic projects without faking it too much. But lately it has become something of an effort to even make a phone call. Marketing his talents? Forget it. Think positive? Yeah right. Get a good agent? Ha-ha.

Perhaps he should just quit. Move back to England and forget about trying to make it here. It’s something to consider. There comes a point where you just have to face reality. But what about Carmen? Where would a forty year old, unemployed, half-Mexican porn star fit into suburban England? And what would he find to talk about in the local? But right now there are more immediate problems to think about. Paying next months rent for instance. An empty fridge.

Rather than deal with all these problems Eddie decides to get something to eat. When he’s feeling confident he doesn’t mind paying ridiculous prices at places like Spago’s or The Ivy. Today it will probably be Nate ’n Als. Soon, if things get any worse it will be back to McMuffins and styrofoam cups.

Nate ’n Als is packed as usual, mostly with tourists, dreamers like himself and sundry supporting actors. The menu is overwhelming. Eddie decides not to create his own omelet. He is sorely tempted by the corn-beef hash but he goes for the bagel and cream cheese tray with a salad side order... Ho-lee!!…it can’t be…Larry David just walked in!…and he’s taking the next table! Can Eddie manage one last pitch? What does he have to lose? Jump in Eddie boy…no point in being formal…
‘Hi Mr. David er… Larry, sorry to bother you. Are you looking for any jokes?’
Larry David looks up as if he’s just seen a joke. Not a very funny one.
‘Sure. What have you got?’
‘There’s this orthodox Jewish girl. Kosher. Can’t stay out after dark. She gets trapped in a ski lift with you. She's hungry and you offer her a packet of edible underwear.’
‘We did it already.’
‘Oh.’
‘It’s OK. Sit down for a while. There is something contagious about your lack of enthusiasm. We can discuss the fragile state of the popular entertainment industry. Coffee?’
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Suddenly Eddie is feeling a little better. He even feels better about the fight with Carmen. No real harm has been done. She isn’t going to walk out on him any time soon. But he really should do something nice for her…buy her some flowers may be, take her somewhere nice for supper. Perhaps he should buy her a book. Chicklit or chocklit or whatever they call the stuff. She’d like that.

So here’s Eddie having a chat over coffee with Larry David. Let’s run with that for a while. It’s always fun to fantasize. And it’s a sneaky way of explaining Eddie’s presence in L.A. Which actually came about after a messy divorce and subsequent failure to make child support payments followed by getting fired from the accounts department at the BBC and various minor embezzlement charges. But that’s another story.

‘You’re English right?’ Larry asks. ‘What brings you to the fount of Western culture?’
‘I’m the next Ricky Gervais.’ Says Eddie. Not very convincingly.
‘Oh good. We’ve been waiting for you. Everybody’s staying up nights trying to figure out what comes after ‘The Office’.’
‘Well I do have a few ideas,’ says Eddie, rapidly trying to come up with some, ‘excuse me a sec.’ His cell phone is making funny noises.
‘Of course.’ Says Larry brazenly slapping cream cheese on one of Eddie’s bagels.
‘Oh dear.’ Says Eddie after putting the phone back into his pocket.
‘Trouble?’
‘Well yes and no. That was a text message from GreatSheElephant.’
‘Great what?’
‘SheElephant. I’ve somehow got myself involved in writing a novel on a blog. Different people send in chapters, you know the kind of thing…anyway it seems I’m not a down-and-out writer in Hollywood after all. There’s been a change of plan. I’m an English gangster being sought by some mysterious people. I have to get my arse…er…ass over to Iceland.’
‘Iceland?’
‘Iceland. Population 309,699. Capital city Reykjavik. First settled by Vikings in 874.’
‘Do they have cable?’
‘Oh yes. And a lot of volcanoes and geysers. Today Iceland is a modern developed country with a high gross domestic product. It is based upon a free market economy where service, finance, fishing and various industries are the main sectors. Tourism is also popular as many people are attracted to Iceland's exotic scenery.’
‘Well good luck with that,’ says Larry, ‘I guess that means we won’t be working together after all.’
‘Unfortunately not. In fact I shouldn’t even be here.’
‘Let me give you my number. If things don’t work out with the blovel perhaps we can do something together some other time. Nice talking to you anyway. Mind if I finish that bagel?’

Back on the street Eddie wonders if he has time to pick up a book for Carmen before leaving for Reykjavik. ‘Bridget Jones Diary’ would be nice. Perhaps he can find a Spanish edition. It’s only a short walk to the Beverly Center where Eddie soon discovers there are five levels of parking, numerous boutiques and restaurants, security guards everywhere, and not a single bookstore. So much for that idea. No travel agent either. He buys an expensive box of chocolates in lieu of Bridget Jones, grabs a cab back to his apartment, and checks the flights to Reykjavik on his laptop. Bingo! Priceline quickly produces a flight via New York. $1286 round trip. And he can pay with his VISA card. There’s just time to leave a note for Carmen, pack a bag and he’s on his way to the airport. But why? Sitting in the cab to LAX, Eddie Roberts feels as if he has surrendered all control over his life.