Bridgeport Part 2

 

I left Verhoeven’s apartment at 6:30 that evening and went back to Bassy’s place.

He came home in his costume…I have to say, that suit is pretty sharp.  He says his character is Josh, the paranormal expert in the Zombies? Zombies! book. 

It was my idea to check the hangouts in Bridgeport.  Bassy showed me this little dive bar called Waylon’s. 

It was a dark and dinky little place which was empty when we got there but filled up quickly. 

I sat at one of the empty tables, trying to blend into the woodwork. 

Meanwhile, I looked over and Bassy had gotten on the drums. 

A crowd had slowly gathered to watch him play.  “Hey, Vanna,” he called out, “come join me!”

So, reluctantly, I did.  I hadn’t played guitar in public since Noah’s wedding. 

A few minutes later I got hungry so I went to the bartender and asked for a plate of food.  “Got any health food in here?” I asked.

“Health food?” he responded.  “Are you kidding?  You don’t sound like you’re from here –“

Screw my diet, I thought to myself.  “Gimme a plate of nachos.”

“Nachos, got it.”

Meanwhile, Bassy was signing autographs for a female fan.  I’m not sure if I could live HIS life, lol. 

So to my surprise I was recognized in Bridgeport, too.  “OMG it’s Savannah Plumb!” one lady screeched as she reached for her camera phone.  “I read your book cover to cover, goodness, Egypt sounds exciting!”

After eating I had to make a run to the ladies room, and while I was there I ran into a woman called Caroline Custard, who was a staffer at one of the many magazines based in Bridgeport. 

“Savannah Plumb, right?” she began.  “I’d recognize that face anywhere.  I remember that magazine spread a few simyears back.  You’re a lot prettier than I thought.  How did you manage to keep your skin moisturized in the desert?”

She gave me her business card and told me to drop by any time and “just make sure your handsome brother is in tow.”  I laughed. 

By the time Bassy and I drove away from Waylon’s it was nearly two in the morning.  I know I’m a night owl usually because of my ghost hunting gig, but this was unusual for me.

“You had a good time?” he asked me.  “Whoa, watch it!”

Before I knew it I was swerving off the road. 

“You want me to take the wheel?” he asked.

“No, I’m good,” I told him, “I’m, I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Vanna,” he laughed, “you’re drunk!  Let me drive.”

“Heyy…what…was… that in that drink?  I ordered a Spline Reticulator…”

“That’s it,” Bassy said, “I’m driving.”

Well, he didn’t get fully behind the wheel but he grabbed on to the other side while I was driving.  It was an … interesting … ride home. 

Bridgeport Part 1

Can I just begin by saying Bridgeport is not what I expected?

I got all these pictures and letters from my brother, but it really is to be experienced and not talked about.

Bassy’s rented house is in the Hills area, the wealthy section of town where all the celebrities live. It’s … green … and hilly, not unlike home, actually.

“You want to get there on time right?”

“Sure,” Bassy laughed nervously, “but in one piece.”

With my foot on the gas pedal, I sped across the Bay Bridge. It’s as exhilarating as he described.

I arrived at Ms. Verhoeven’s apartment building, the Crescent Bay Pied a Terre, at one-thirty in the afternoon.

I spied the call box but I had no clue how to use it. What the heck are these buttons, I thought,

After pressing the buttons, my job was to wait.

Pretty soon she came out of the elevator. “Is that book good?” she asked.

I turned around. “Oh, um, yeah, I suppose so. I was just looking over some stuff.”

“Savannah Plumb, right?” Her voice was deep, deeper than my husband’s, lol. “Sebastian’s sister, finally. He talks a lot about you.”

“He does?”

“All the time.”

My phone rang again. My agent. “Um, sorry, got to take this.”

My agent wanted me to do a signing at Wilki’s Books & Bath here in B’port. “Look,” I told her, “I’m in the middle of a meeting, could you call me back? Thanks.”

“So,” Verhoeven began, talking a mile a minute, “your aunt, Margaret Plumb, wrote this series of books about a colony on the moon. I adored those books, and I used to imagine myself as either Syna DeLorean or an imaginary lover of Syna. Unfortunately, I don’t have long flowing red hair and I’m not exactly thin…”

That elicited a chuckle.

“So, I thought it would be a great idea to write a screenplay – but I’m running into a few snags.”

Snags?

“What do you need help with? I’m not exactly an expert on screen writing –“

“Oh, it’s not format I’m having trouble with. You see, since Miss Plumb is deceased but copyright is still in effect, I need clearance from her estate, which is why I contacted you. Sebastian told me you were in charge of it. Also, Emmitt Stanley – the teenage son of the head of the studio – is working on his own version. I happened to find out about it by accident, and it’s pretty much a race against time as he’s well ahead. I did read a few paragraphs of his adaptation and I have to say, he’s completely botching the story. He made Syna a blond and said she was half-alien. If I remember the book correctly, Syna is the daughter of the NASA chief –“

“Do you know who gave Emmitt Stanley permission to do a screenplay based on my aunt’s book? Because, based on what I know about the law, unless he’s doing a derivative fanfic for his own entertainment purposes, what he’s doing is illegal. At least you followed the proper procedure in contacting her estate before proceeding on your version.”

I walked away from her apartment, and I swear, she was checking me out. Note to anyone wishing I was single, male or female, I am very much taken.

"Hey," she yelled as I was leaving, "you thought about being an actress?"

Off to Bridgeport!

I was helping Satis with her world history assignment when my cell phone rang.

It was my agent, brokering a meeting with Sebastian’s boss, Kristy Verhoeven. 

Apparently Ms. Verhoeven wants to write a screenplay based on my Aunt Margaret’s Moon Colony books, with an eye for an eventual translation to the silver screen.  And of course, since the Moon Colony books are my favorite of hers, and since I’m in charge of my Aunt Margaret’s estate, I want to make sure it’s done right. 

Soooo… it’s off to Bridgeport I go, in a rented Margaret Vaguester (how apropos, eh?)

Another Bassy letter

 

Hey sis,

Sorry I haven’t written in awhile.  Things have gotten real crazy this end.  And there are two main reasons for it.

First of all, filming’s set to begin on the Zombies? Zombies! movie. It’s an adaptation of a novel of the same name.  I got Kris’ finalized script yesterday and it’s a doozy.  My character, Josh, is an expert in paranormal studies (sound familiar?) and be prepared if I ask you questions about what you do.  Except his field of expertise is zombies, not ghosts. 

Even got my costume.

Oh, and there’s something else I think you should know – I mean, before the tabloids tell you first, haha.

This is Kyra Foster – my new girlfriend.  She’s one of Lola Belle’s backup singers.  We met at a party at Lola’s place – in fact she’s the one who introduced us.  We’re still in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage right now, but please, don’t tell Daisy.  I know she’s getting all these letters, but I’m not ready to reveal all right now.  I feel guilty about the fact that I didn’t say goodbye to her before I left.  I’m not even sure if I can show my face back in the S.V.

Oh, before I go… wanted to tell you that the boss sent me to the salon today.  Apparently the role of Josh requires me to cut my hair.  I really didn’t want to… but I guess those are the kinds of sacrifices (sp?) you make in the name of art.  lol

The barber is named Bronson Littler, and he came highly recommended by Lola.  Actually he kinda gives me the creeps. 

“Mr. Plumb,” he asked in his high pitched diffident voice.  “Are you wanting the Bieber cut?  Really popular now.  Every male client I’ve had has asked for it and I think it would look good on your face.”

“Um –“

“We’ll try it and see…”

He didn’t exactly give me a Bieber but a modified version of it.  It’s okay but I can’t wait for it to grow out. 

Oops, that’s my phone.  It’s Kris.  I’ll talk more later.

Love, Bassy