Faulkner & Hollywood

(continued)

By D.E. Fredd

I gave it the once-over. Some big words and long sentences, but even though I only had a misty idea of what was going on, like some of those new paintings by Picasso, I knew what Margot was feeling. We put the manuscript back on the desk and tip toed out. I'd almost shut the door when Margot slipped by me and came back out a quick minute later with a bottle of Jim Beam. "Call it a souvenir if it helps your conscience sleep better at night, kid."

We hopped into the sedan like it was a get away car and pulled away from the curb. Two intersections later she had the bottle open and took a long pull. "I really did read what I said I had. I will admit that I got lost in Sound and the Fury and thought Sartoris kind of spun its wheels in the beginning. But I identified with his Dewey Dell character in Dying. If you ever read that book you'll know why."

"I'll get a copy tomorrow and start it."

She reached over, patted me on the shoulder and held the bottle out. I shook my head and said that I didn't want to go back to Solly smelling like booze.

"Me either," she said and then took a couple more gulps before giving me a silly smirk.

I reached over and managed a few choking swallows while keeping the car on the correct side of the road.

She clapped her hands mockingly. "Okay, it's now official, ladies and gentlemen, at 2:47PM this young Irish lad has become one of the barnacles attached to the Hollywood's ass. And as long as Billy Flynn keeps fucking his sister, he will go places."

I was hurt but kept quiet and drove. We passed Sepulveda which meant we were halfway home.

"I'm sorry." She whispered it at first then cleared her throat and said it louder. "I'm sorry, I could blame it on the booze but I won't. I hate myself. If I were in any other town I'd be a whore and Solly would be my pimp."

"I'm not crazy about what I'm doing now either, but it will change."

"Don't be stupid, kid, get out while you can."

"I can drop you off at your apartment and give Solly the Faulkner update if you want."

"Have you heard the expression you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear?"

I nodded. "Well, this town does the opposite. It takes silk purses like Faulkner, me and you, and before you know it, we're pigs' ears; tref in Solly's vernacular." She took another swig from the bottle. "Maybe it would be better if you dropped me off. I could use a nap, as well, and if my head clears enough, I'll tackle Sound and the Fury again. Christ, I'd give anything to be with a man like Faulkner, did you hear that voice... I mean he talks like a god damn oracle."

"You're pretty and smart, so maybe he'd appreciate you as well."