the Magna Carta here: On January 27th, Snugglies will introduce Planet Changers. The first non-toxic, one-hundred-percent biodegradable flushable diaper. And you’ll see why 2010 will mark the beginning of a cleaner world.”
Karen says, “Could.”
Pam says, “Excuse me?”
Jan says, “Could mark the beginning of a cleaner world. Legally we can’t say they will for sure.”
Jan looks to Karen. Karen says, “Let’s talk about the N.T.B. issue.”
I say, “N.T.B.?”
Jill says, “Non-toxic biodegradable.”
Ian says, “I didn’t know there was an issue. Or an acronym.”
Jan says, all smiles, “In all likelihood, there isn’t.”
Karen says, “But there may be.”
Ian says, “What would the problem be?”
Karen says, “Whether or not they’re non-toxic or biodegradable.”
I say, “But isn’t that the whole point? Wasn’t that the revolutionary part?”
Jan says, “Absolutely. And we believe that they’re still very much a revolutionary product.”
Karen says, “They’re just not one-hundred-percent biodegradable.”
“Or non-toxic,” adds the client I don’t know.
Ian says, “I thought you didn’t know for sure.”
The client with no name says, “It’s almost impossible to ever know these things for sure. It’s science.”
Karen says, “We’re hearing rumors of new results. Mind you, this is one result in a series of tests.”
Ian says, “Did the other tests come back negative?”
The nameless client. “No, no. Very positive.”
Ian says, “That’s great. You mean positive in a good way, not positive in a test-result-bad way.”
Nameless client. “Oh, I see what you were asking. No. Positive in a bad way.”
“Do they do anything different than a regular diaper?” I ask.
Karen says, “Very much so. We’re confident they will, once in the ocean, break down.”
Jan says, “Could. Confident they could break down.”
“At some point,” the nameless client says. “Though it’s impossible to know when. Or if.”
More nodding.
Ian says, “Is it flushable?”
Karen says, “Not in any standard toilet, no.”
I look at Jill, who’s taking notes and smiling. Alan shrugs.
I say, “I’m confused.” More sneezing.
Jan says, “New data. It’s not a problem. The ship has sailed. We need to make sure the advertising works and that the wording is correct.”
I say, “How about this: On January 27th, Snugglies will introduce Planet Enders. A possibly toxic biohazard that will clog toilets and destroy the sea. And you’ll see why 2010 will be Armageddon.”
Ian says, “Could be Armageddon.”
Long pause.
Keita—God love him—starts laughing his ass off.
• • •
Later, Pam and I sit at a table in the bar of The Four Seasons. Faux elegance, preternaturally good-looking people looking at one another, looking for famous people, known people, a model, an actress, so-and-so’s boyfriend/girlfriend/ex-friend. Tori Spelling is at the bar. It’s 10:00 P.M. and the high-priced call girls have slowly begun their nightly prowl, sidling up to lonely rich white men, striking up casual conversations, things in common. Ohmigod, you like tits!?! I have tits!
We’re halfway through our second drink and tired and bored and it was time to go to bed an hour ago. I’m sneezing and feel mildly feverish. I bought Sudafed at the hotel shop and have taken two of them, along with that many beers. The effect is not unpleasant. Ian and Keita bowed out after one drink.
After the pre-pro we took the client to dinner at The Ivy, where the clients drank too much and Flonz talked about himself and Hollywood and famous people he knows. (Keanu Reeves is a “close friend.” Mel Gibson is an “old friend.” They used to shoot rats after a night of drinking with pistols Mel kept in his car. “Maniac. But I honestly never heard him bad-mouth the Jews.”)
It was on the way back that Pam told me. “FedEx fucked up. Your father is in Düsseldorf. They think. Or Hong Kong. They’re not sure. I’m working on it.”
Hitchcock did a thing in the movie Vertigo. It’s called a dolly zoom. Apparently a Paramount cameraman came up with it. To simulate vertigo, put the camera on a track—or dolly—and pull back fast, the camera resetting its focal point. Zoom in, pull back. The result made your stomach flip. Pam’s news is my own personal dolly zoom.
“A dying man’s request,” Phoebe had said.
“He deserves to be in the garbage,” Eddie had said.
No, he doesn’t. Nor in Düsseldorf, for that matter.
There is a minor commotion as a man and a woman and their entourage walk in.
Pam says, “You know who that is?”
I say, “The guy is Nikita Khrushchev. The woman is the great female athlete of the 1920s, ‘Babe’ Didrikson Zaharias.”
“Close. The guy is Cam Kendrick and the woman is Cindy Steel. They’re the hosts of Inappropriate Candid Camera.”
“You’re making that up.”
“I’m not. You’ve never seen