Reel (Hollywood Renaissance #1) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,19
an appointment in thirty minutes three blocks away.”
In other words, let’s get this over with.
Mallory must hear the unspoken command same as I do. “Right,” she says. “So on page seventeen—”
“Do you know why I want this cold, Neevah?” Canon interrupts.
I look up from the script in my hands to find his dark, disconcerting gaze trained on my face.
Is this a trick question? If so, it’s working.
“Um, I guess—”
“Let me just tell you because again, I’m short on time. When I do a documentary, it’s with real-life subjects—people with true stories to tell. You don’t know anything about this movie, but it’s a true story. It’s a life story, and though I’ll take some creative license, I’m looking for someone true. In a documentary, the subject usually doesn’t rehearse to be on camera because it’s about honesty and about instinct and immediacy. There usually aren’t takes. You’ve never read what’s on page seventeen, so I’m not judging if you trip over words or anything like that. I’m looking for truth—who you really are as an artist and as a person. That’s more important to me than if you can memorize lines for an audition and polish up real good to impress us for ten minutes.”
That’s the most words he’s ever spoken to me and I’m trying to absorb them. Trying to use what he just gave me to do my best. To show him who I actually am and to tell the truth.
“Okay,” he says. “Now in the script, turn to page seventeen.”
8
Dessie Blue
DESSI BLUE
Screenplay by: Verity Hill & Canon Holt
Story by: Verity Hill & Canon Holt
* * *
WORKING SCRIPT
* * *
P. 17
* * *
EXTERIOR – LAFAYETTE THEATRE – NIGHT
* * *
132nd Street & 2nd Avenue: Odessa Johnson stands outside the Lafayette surrounded by hundreds of people waiting to get in. The lit theater marquee sign above reads Macbeth. Scalpers wave tickets to the mostly Black theatergoers, men in their coats and sharp-brimmed hats, women dressed in their finery with freshly-pressed hair. Odessa cranes her neck, trying to see above the crowd, obviously looking for someone. She’s jostled by several people.
* * *
DESSI
Hey! Watch it!
* * *
She clutches her hat when it’s almost knocked off her head and she’s shoved into a girl in the crowd.
* * *
DESSI
’Scuse me. Everybody’s trying to get in.
* * *
TILDA
It’s alright. And if they ain’t got a ticket, they can forget it. ‘Lessen they plan to pay five dollars.
* * *
DESSI
I was kinda hoping I’d get one. A friend of mine was bringing me some money she owes me so I could buy a ticket.
* * *
Dessi cranes her neck again.
* * *
DESSI
But I ain’t seen her. Not that I could find her in this crowd anyway.
* * *
TILDA
Hmmmph. I got a ticket I’ll sell you. My old man bought ’em, but he late. Bet I’d find him with that other one.
* * *
DESSI
He cheating on you?
* * *
Tilda offers a mischievous grin.
* * *
TILDA
Yeah. With his wife.
* * *
Both girls laugh.
* * *
DESSI
I’m Odessa Johnson, but you can call me Dessi.
* * *
TILDA
Matilda Hargrove. Everybody calls me Tilda.
* * *
Dessi looks around at all the people elbowing each other and trying to get into the theater.
* * *
DESSI
Harlem is on fire tonight.
* * *
TILDA
Where you been? Harlem’s on fire every night.
* * *
DESSI
This is different. I never seen the likes of this.
* * *
TILDA
What watermelon truck you fall off, girl? You sound as country as Mississippi.
* * *
DESSI
Alabama, I’ll have you know.
* * *
TILDA
You want this ticket, Bama?
* * *
DESSI
How much?
* * *
TILDA
How much ya got?
* * *
DESSI
A dollar and some change.
* * *
TILDA
Girl. Where you work?
* * *
DESSI
The Cotton Club.
* * *
TILDA
Stop lying. You ain’t yellow enough to work at the Cotton Club.
* * *
DESSI
Not onstage. I wash dishes.
* * *
TILDA
Oh. You like it?
* * *
DESSI
What you think? It’s white folks’ dishes.
* * *
The girls laugh again and Tilda looks at Dessi, assessing, head to toe.
TILDA
You dance, Bama?
* * *
DESSI
I do.
* * *
TILDA
Lindy?
* * *
DESSI
I can do ’em all.
* * *
TILDA
I might have something better than white folks’ dirty dishes. Ever been to the Savoy?
* * *
DESSI
Couple of times.
* * *
TILDA
I’m a hostess there. We looking for new girls.
* * *
DESSI
Hostess? Do hostesses keep their legs closed?
* * *
Tilda touches her chest, feigns shock.
* * *
TILDA
Lord, Bama! Well, I never.
* * *
DESSI
I’ll ask your old man if you ever.
* * *
They cackle, and both are jostled from behind, pushing them into each other again. Dessi grabs Tilda’s arm and they stare into