for a vintage Speedster. Mostly, though, her thoughts remained concentrated on the information she had learned during the open house in Laurel Canyon.
Mondays were always the slowest days in the showroom. Occasionally there were leftover buyers and paperwork from the weekend but as a rule very few first-visit car buyers came in. The dealership was located on Sunset Boulevard a half block from the Cinerama Dome and sometimes it was so slow on Mondays that Ray Morales didn't mind if Cassie walked over and caught a flick in the afternoon, just as long as she had her pager on and could be recalled if things started hopping. Ray was always cutting Cassie a break, starting with giving her the job without her having any valid experience. She knew his motives weren't entirely altruistic. She knew it would only be a matter of time before he came to her to collect the return. She was surprised he hadn't made the move yet; it had been ten months.
Hollywood Porsche sold new and used cars. As the newest person on the six-member sales force, it fell to Cassie to work Monday shifts and to handle all Internet-related business. The latter she didn't mind because she had taken computer courses while at High Desert Correctional Institution for Women and had found she enjoyed the work. She had learned that she preferred dealing with customers and salesmen from other dealerships over the Internet rather than in person.
Her search for a Speedster of the quality her customer sought was successful. She located a ' 58 convertible in pristine condition on a lot in San Jose and arranged to have photos and the particulars overnighted. She then left a message for the customer saying he could come in the next afternoon and look at the photos or she would send them over to his office as soon as she got them.
The one test drive of the day came in shortly before lunch. The customer was one of Ray's so-called Hollywood hard-ons, a name the fleet manager had come up with himself.
Ray religiously scoured the Hollywood Reporter and Daily Variety for stories on nobodies becoming overnight somebodies. Most often these were writers who were snatched from penniless obscurity and made rich and at least known for the day by a studio deal for a book or screenplay. Once Ray chose a target, he tracked down the writer's address through the Writers Guild or a friend he had in the voter registrar's office. He then had the Sunset Liquor Deli deliver a bottle of Macallan Scotch whisky with his card and a note of congratulations. A little more than half the time it worked. The recipient responded with a call to Ray and then a visit to the showroom. Owning a Porsche was almost a rite of passage in Hollywood, especially for males in their twenties – which all the screenwriters seemed to be. Ray passed these customers on to his salespeople, splitting the commission on any eventual sale, after the cost of the whisky.
The test drive Cassie had on Monday was a writer who had just signed a first-look deal with Paramount for seven figures. Ray, fully aware that Cassie had not sold a car in three weeks, gave the "up" to her. The writer's name was Joe Michaels and he was interested in a new Carrera cabriolet, an automobile that would price out at close to $ 100,000 fully loaded. Cassie's commission would cover her draw for a month.
With Joe in the passenger seat, Cassie took Nichols Canyon up to Mulholland Drive and then turned the Porsche east on the snaking road. She was following her routine. For it was up on Mulholland that the car and power and sex all blended in the imagination. It became clear to each customer what she was selling.
The traffic as usual was light. Other than the occasional pack of power bikers, the road was theirs. Cassie put the car through the paces, downshifting and powering into the turns. She glanced at Michaels every now and then, to see if he had the look on his face that said the deal was done.
"You working on a movie right now?" she asked.
"I'm doing rewrite on a cop film."
That was a good sign, his calling a movie a film. Especially a cop movie. The ones who took themselves too seriously – meaning they had money – called them films.
"Who's in it?"
"It hasn't been cast. That's why I'm doing rewrite. The dialogue sucks."
To prep