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girls, you know ..."
"Bloody damn it, lady, I said get your ass in there and tell him Handy is
coming through that door, open or not, in exactly ten seconds."
She drew herself up, no breasts at all, straight lines and Mondrian sterility,
and started to huff at him. Handy said, "Fuck," and went through into Crewes's
office.
He said it softly, but he made noise entering the office.
Another of the pretties was showing Arthur Crewes her 8x10 glossies, under
plastic, out of an immense black leather photofolio. Starlets. Arthur was
saying something about their needing a few more dark-haired girls, as Handy
came through the door.
Crewes looked up, surprised at the interruption.
The starlet smiled automatically.
"Arthur, I have to talk to you."
Crewes seemed puzzled by the tone in Handy's voice. But he nodded. "In a
minute, Fred. Why don't you sit down. Georgia and I were talking."
Handy realized his error. He had gone a step too far with Arthur Crewes.
Throughout the industry, one thing was common knowledge about Crewes's office
policy: any girl who came in for an interview was treated courteously, fairly,
without even the vaguest scintilla of a hustle. Crewes had been known to can
men on his productions who had used their positions to get all-too-willing
actresses into bed with promises of three-line bits, or a walk-on. For Handy
to interrupt while Crewes was talking to even the lowliest day-player was an
affront Crewes would not allow to pass unnoticed.
Handy sat down, ambivalent as hell.
Georgia was showing Crewes several shots from a Presley picture she had made
the year before.
Crewes was remarking that she looked good in a bikini. It was a businesslike,
professional tone of voice, no leer. The girl was standing tall and straight.
Handy knew that under other circumstances, in other offices where the routine
was different, if Crewes had been another sort of man and had said, why don't
you take off your clothes so I can get a better idea of how you look in the
nude shots we're shooting for the overseas market, this girl, this Georgia,
would be pulling the granny dress with its baggy mini material over her head
and displaying herself in bikini briefs and maybe no brassiere to hold up all
that fine young meat. But in this office she was standing tall and straight.
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She was being asked to be professional, to take pride in herself and whatever
degree of craft she might possess. It was why there were so few lousy rumors
around town about Arthur Crewes.
"I'm not certain, Georgia, but let me check with Kenny Heller in Casting, see
what he's already done, and what parts are left open. I know there's a very
nice five- or six-line comedy walk-on with Mitchum that we haven't found a
girl for yet. Perhaps that might work. No promises, you understand, but I'll
check with Kenny and get back to you later in the day."
"Thank you, Mr. Crewes. I'm very grateful."
Crewes smiled and picked of one of the 8xlO's from a thin sheaf at the rear of
the photofolio.
"May we keep one of these here, for the files ... and also to remind me to get
through to Kenny?"
She nodded, and smiled back at him. There was no subterfuge in the
interchange, and Handy sank a trifle lower on the sofa.
"Just give it to Roz, at the desk out there, and leave your number ... would
you prefer we let you know through your agent, or directly?"
It was the sort of question, in any other office, that might mean the producer
was trying to wangle the home number for his own purposes. But not here.
Georgia did not hesitate as she said, "Oh, either way. It makes no difference.
Herb is very good about getting me out on interviews. But
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file:///F|/rah/Harlan%20Ellison/Ellison,%20Harlan%20-%20Love%20Ain't%20Nothing
.txt if it looks possible, I'll give you my home number. There's a service on
the line that'll pick up if I'm out."
"You can leave it with Roz, Georgia. And thank you for coming in." He stood
and they shook hands.
She was quite happy. Even if the part did not come through, she knew she had
been considered, not merely assayed as a possible quickie on an office sofa.
As she started for the door, Crewes added, "I'll have Roz call one way or the
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