The following story is 100% true as hard as it may seem to be believed…
I woke up refreshed despite the fact that I had not showered nor shaved for five days now. I had locked myself into the dungeon O' computers to finish the website and finalize the business plan so I could move on to Step 2 which was Get Money, Make Movie. That day was a big day. I actually had to shower and shave, for I was meeting with my first possible investor. I had known him from a bar we both had frequented in the past. He had said then that if I ever managed to stay in North Carolina long enough to do my own XXX feature, to call him first. I had called him three weeks prior and his receptionist had scheduled the meeting for that day. He ran three construction companies. He was a real piece of work. In fact, I honestly think he opened the third just to support his "late night at work" trips to the strip club habit. But, who was I to judge? He was about to give me nine grand for my movie. Cleaned up with business proposal and examples of my work in hand, I entered the double wide office of his largest company. I sat in the lobby for about thirty minutes, but he could have left me there all afternoon and I would have been fine, considering the circumstances. His old crusty receptionist was a barrel of joy. She had said seven words to me the whole time I had been nesting there and those were, "you have to shut that door hard." Finally, he exited his office and shook my hand. He had gained at least one hundred and fifty pounds since I last saw him. Eyes were glazed over and I suspect he was on his way to one hundred and seventy five pounds with the Quarter Pounder residue that had been left from lunch earlier. He walked me into his office where a bottle of Jack rested in plain view on his desk, half drank. We caught up for a minute. It was mostly cheap talk about the regulars of the bar from the past and where they were now. The talk got stale when he asked me what he could do for me. I slid the budget proposal over his desk. He looked at it for a moment.
"The Smut Company," he read aloud. "What is this?"
I replied with, "What we talked about three weeks ago. You had said way back when, if I was to finally make a movie here in North Carolina, to come to you first."
"Ol, yeah… I remember. So wow, you're really gonna' do it? I never thought you and that group you ran with would ever pull it off," he cackled with a sarcastic tone.
"Well, I am. And I don't run with those guys anymore… They are bad for productivity."
He looked over it. He read a little here and a little there and then closed the pamphlet.
"So I take it you wanna' pitch this to me," he asked.
I began to tell him how I already had actors and actresses in mind and we would be able to shoot it for cheaper than out west. I was on point and I am not a salesman. I gave him numbers and perceived profits. He sat for a second when I finished my pitch taking a swig of his Jack Daniels.
"Here's the thing, Garrick…" Were the first words out of his mouth after the grimace of the whiskey after taste lightened up. I hated those words. I had heard them for nine years in Hollywood trying to break in to mainstream production companies. The outcome of those words was never good. AND I MEAN NEVER. He continued, "I told you I would help you and I keep my word. This is a small investment and I know you can do it. Hell, I own two of your movies."
That's it? That easy? Surely not?
"But…" he retorted. Here it came. I fucking knew it.
"My wife just left me. She took the kids and moved to Chicago where her family is," he said in an almost relieved tone.
"That sucks." (Such a great comeback on my part.)
"Aw, hell. I was relieved. I was tired of hiding everything and listen to the bitch scream and yell. The kids are old enough to fly alone, so it's really for the best."
Ok, so I'm still in I thought to myself.
"So, I'll give you eight, if you can come up with the rest," he challenged.
Having to find one thousand more dollars when you have raised eight was a piece of cake. I honestly could have thrown in five hundred and still paid rent.
"That's great, sure, you got it, " I was ecstatic. I have never had any luck raising money for any of my movies whether they are porn or mainstream. Maybe my luck had changed.
"Absolutely… I'll raise the other grand, hell I'll raise two if needed," I boasted.
"Now you say you are using professionals? Like actually stars, " he asked.
"I have talked to them and it all comes down to money and I guess that's taken care of," I returned and then the train wreck came not a mili-second after I finished that sentence.
"Well, I wanna' fuck one of them," he spewed.
All was quiet… "Come again?"
" I want to fuck one of them. Doesn't matter which one. I just wanna' fuck 'em."
"It doesn't work that way. These girls are professionals. They don't fuck everybody on set like you have probably heard. That would never happen, unfortunately. I mean, sure in a perfect world, but not in porn," I explained.
"Sure it does. Happens all the time. I know," he commanded.
If there is one weakness I have it is when people treat me like an idiot or condescend me. It doesn't go over very well and this fat fuck just told ME what happens on a porn set.
"No, Bob it does not. Sure people get together on the set, go out on dates, drinks whatever, but it will be a cold day in hell before one of those chicks just starts fucking producers, directors and everybody else," I replied very firmly.
"What if I threw in another grand just for the one," he asked.
"As dumb as it may sound to you, Bob, these girls aren't whores. They are entertainers. If I waved a thousand dollars in their face to fuck my 'money guy,' they would have us in legal up to our ears, " I had no idea if that was true, but it sure sounded good.
"Sure they're whores, but I understand your point," he sat for a minute, thinking. I was getting more and more bothered by the nougat of Quarter Pounder still on his shirt.
" What if I was in the scene with her," he outlandishly asked. I had no answer. I could really tell him what I think. "No, Bob, you are a fucking disgusting pig and I would not waste the tape or the towels it would take to wipe the ooze that would pour from your clogged sweat glands to put you in front of any camera. Even if the camera was turned off." I didn't say that of course, but I quickly came back with, " the women pick their partners most of the time. I know, I know, but with the times changing, the girls are getting harder to please."
"C'mon, Garrick, give me something here. I need something to rub into my old lady's face. I need something to talk about," he begged without revealing he was.
"You will. You will have a great adult film that you can say you made happen. That may be even cooler, than actually being in it," I said in a positive way.
"Well, my answers no," he said grabbing a swig of Jack.
I was befuddled.
"No? That's it? All of a sudden it's no? A second ago it was yes," I asked. I was ready to take that bottle of his and whack him in the mouth with it.
"Garrick, did you think I was just going to write you check for the movie and not get any sort of participation gift? Come on, guy. You make one of my requests happen and I'll pay for the whole thing. Otherwise, I gotta' go out to a site and scream at some Mexicans." He got up from his desk and extended his hand to me. "It was good to see you. You call me if you get that worked out." He left me in his office exiting out the back door. I left the mobile home office still completely baffled about that conversation that just took place. I thought about his proposition and damn me, but I even thought questioned if it could be done. Then my integrity kicked over the scumbag's bucket of thoughts and then the reality set in. There went one promising investor. I started off to my car when the phone rang. It was Wade. All I heard was, "Garrick, we have a problem. Come over here as soon as you can." Fuck, what now?
After thinking about this situation, I began to think maybe 'Bob' was just a really cunning business man and had propositioned me that way, because he knew that I would never do it or that it just couldn't be done at all and that would be his way out. But because he gave his word earlier on in that bar years back, he didn't just want to say 'no'…. Maybe?
- 'Bob' was used to conceal the man's real identity.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
The following story is 100% true as hard as it may seem to be believed…
The Junk Pile
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