Eric & Will make a B Movie

The jewel in my film industry crown, as far as I was concerned, was what would turn out to be a series of movies on the history of Canada. I'd always been a history geek, and went to as many museums as I could find, fascinated by the events that shaped countries. Sylvia Shining Fox, now an established star on Canadian television, got me started, taking me to a museum dedicated to the Voyageurs, the backbone of the French fur trade from the sixteen hundreds until its' end in the late eighteen hundreds. Fur traders would search France for workers, getting a lot from orphanages. Some jumped at the chance, some were coerced, others were outright sold into the trade. The perfect candidate had to be small, around five two, and weigh less than a hundred and twenty pounds. They had to be able to endure eighteen hour days paddling a canoe, and have the ability to carry their own body weight for extended distances. The canoes were enormous craft, holding from twelve to thirty-six paddlers, their supplies, and their trade goods, which they exchanged for furs. The life was hard and many did not survive. Those that did often became successful, and were encouraged to find Indian wives to cement the relationship between the traders and the tribes. This practice led to the beginnings of the Metis Nation, which ended tragically in 1885.

I decided to film the movie in both French and English, and had the native actors speak in their own tongues as often as possible. We found a young French actor perfect for the part. Five three, he was in very good shape and quite handsome, according to my girls. . Sylvia Shining Fox was cast as his love interest, and the rest of the cast from French and Canadian actors. Our leading man had to learn English. The action scenes were incredible, mainly due to a dedicated group of re-enactors.

I deliberately didn't use any of our regular people, and besides, our other projects had them booked anyway. A new French director was chosen, and he was brilliant, gifted at getting the most out of the actors. It was filmed in France and almost every province in Canada.

When it was released, it set box office records in France and Canada. It won the French and Canadian version of the Oscars for best director, and best female lead. The new actor won a Golden Globe for best performance by a male lead, and we got nominated for an Oscar for best foreign film, ironic for a movie from an American company.

My family was with me all the way. Leah and Dorian pretended to be a little pissed they didn't get to write or produce, but their busy schedule just didn't allow it. Tory and Cathy were so enthused they bought a canoe, and paddled often on the big pond, putting our girls in the middle when they got old enough.

Thirty-eight acres joining our land went up for sale, and Jose and I bought it together. He surprised me by building a new barn, and purchasing three rare breeds of horse, bordering on the edge of extinction. He started an aggressive breeding program, and was soon recognized by various agencies for his efforts. He bought one breed I liked so much I insisted he house them separately, in a new barn. Cat, almost six by then, went wild when she saw them.

They were Fell Ponies, a European breed that had almost died out. They were making a comeback, and Jose had found a farm whose entire herd was up for sale, due to the health of the owners. He bought all sixteen mares and the stallion. They were actually small horses, usually standing between thirteen and fourteen hands, had a very docile nature and were incredibly strong for their size. Because of their good nature, they were often used as therapy horses, for the mentally and physically disabled still up to riding.

Usually running to black and brown, occasionally there would be a bay, or piebald. One bay mare, a three year old standing a small twelve hands, heard Cat and ambled over, sticking an inquisitive nose over the fence, nuzzling her hand as she stroked her.

She looked at me, tears in her eyes. "Poppy, can I..."

"She's yours, if you want, Cat. That's why we're here, so you can pick one out. You have to thank your Uncle Jose, he's the one who suggested you were old enough to begin riding, and these are excellent mounts for children and beginners."

She hugged Jose so hard we almost had to pry her off. Then he and the girls took her up to the barn, where her new saddle was waiting. Twenty minute later she was back, astride her new pony, grinning so hard her face almost disappeared. We watched for twenty minutes as she rode in a slow circle, controlled by a lead line held by Jose. Leah, who had never shown any interest when around the high strung Paso Finos, pointed at a big black. "That one is mine. Tell Jose he had better step up the breeding program, because I'm sure your kids and D.W. will want their own. By the way, congratulations."

Tory won the race this time, almost two months ahead of Cathy. We'd seen the ultra sounds, Cathy was carrying our new daughter, while Tory was carrying our son. They would join the family in three and five months, respectively. After that, we were done. Cathy wanted to argue, saying I owed her a son, but they were already in the danger zone, and I didn't want to push it. She finally agreed with me, especially when I told her in a few years, if she still felt that strongly about it, we'd look at adoption. If we stopped now, I'd still be sixty three when the last child graduated high school.

Chapter Nineteen

Life sailed along for another five years. I wrote three more Battle Babes, seemed I couldn't quite let it go. Four more Dark Handsome novels established him as a proven franchise, and Leah was already writing the second screen play, the first movie was as successful as any we'd produced. Issabella wrote two more romances, which made moderately successful movies.

The kids were growing like weeds, and the big house seemed a lot smaller these days. Tory and Cathy had gotten into showing horses, both theirs and some of the ones Jose bred. Cat would often be with them, showing Fell ponies. After talking it over, we took eight Fell mares, trained them, and built a small barn and a riding paddock. Three days a week mentally and physically challenged children and adults were brought out and given rides. Laura and Ursala both became volunteers, and did most of the work after being trained properly. Carmella helped, but her time was limited, because she often traveled with her husband. She had met Jerry, our casting director, at one of our shoots. They were close to the same age, and hit it off immediately. A year later, they married, an outdoor ceremony held at our farm.

Dorian and Leah talked me into opening a production facility right outside of Atlanta, in an abandoned old school. The old gym was perfect for a sound stage. What work we didn't do in Canada was done there, Dorian and Leah hadn't been back to LA more than three times in the last four years, and then just to see his mother and stepfather.

The tribe grew once again, and a realtor got a little richer when Leahs' folks bought a house in the same development, three houses down. They'd decided they were not going to miss out any more on their grandchildren, and just showed up. Uncle Jerry was a hit with the kids, keeping them laughing for hours, then switching gears, talking about serious things. Cathy caught me watching them, and confronted me later.

"What's going through that convoluted brain of yours?"

"Something totally different," I said, quoting Monty Python. She didn't get it, a generational thing, I guess.

"Talks with Uncle Jerry" was an innovative new show, aimed at ten to fourteen year olds instead of toddlers. Jerry would have thirty to forty kids in the studio, tell them jokes, have a musical guest, and then he'd talk to them about things like peer pressure, divorce, abuse, cyberbullying, and other hot topics. He would even skirt sex lightly to the older ones, urging them to talk to an adult close to them about the changes in their bodies. He'd have guests, a fifteen year old recovering alcoholic, a thirteen year old girl who almost committed suicide over bullying. One episode talked about addiction, and he even showed some old news clips about his descent, and talked about his recovery and how it was a constant battle to remain sober and clean. The camera panned the audience, all watching with rapt attention. It won a Peabody. I considered it the best work I'd ever done.

Leah was so proud of her dad she was almost delirious. She got me off to the side one Sunday, walking me down to my office. When we got there she gave me a tremendous, no holds barred, soul imprinting kiss. Even as she did it, I could feel no sexual overtones from either of us. "Thanks. As much as I appreciate it, I have to ask what brought it on?"

"Love," was her simple reply. "And thanks for what you did. Jerry is my dad. He'll always be my dad. But he was never around much as I grew up, even while he was still with my mother. Then, for years, he basically disappeared from our lives. I know, intellectually, that he had to fight the demons that controlled his life, but that didn't mean much to a twelve year old girl. You, however, have been a constant in my life since the day we met. You mentored me, petted me when I needed reassurance, kicked my ass figuratively when it was necessary. Dorian says I was never fully a woman until you came into our lives. You have been always been the first one I turned to when I needed advice, and you were always honest with me. You held my hand when Cat was born, and I realized lately that you've held my hand ever since."

I felt a lump forming in my throat as I listened to her. Allergies, I think.

"What I'm trying to say in this awkward, roundabout way, that even though Jerry is my dad, I consider you my father. Do you understand?"

"I, I do. And I'll always consider you my first daughter. Always. My daughter by choice, because I need you to be. My world wouldn't be nearly as bright without you. Now stop, before your father blubbers like a baby."

We hugged fiercely for a few more minutes, calming down. As we walked back up the path, listening to the din of our family all together, I don't think I ever felt happier in my whole life.

Chapter twenty

Then a snake slithered in to my Garden of Eden. It walked like a human, talked like a human, but it was a snake of the lowest magnitude.

I hadn't laid eyes on my old friend Eric in three years. I'd get a sporadic email every once in a while. I'd always respond, update him on the family, and invite him to visit. He never came.

He dabbled in film a few more times, before giving it up. I figured he would, his penchant for getting bored quickly still in force. I'd seen two of his efforts, one was pretty good, the other just short of awful. It didn't get to the big screen, and ended up on cable. The difference was in the crews he used. Good people make all the difference. It's why I tended to lock in anyone who did excellent work. Most of the group from the first Grolar movie were still with me, even relocating to Atlanta. Oh, they'd go off and work with other people as time allowed, but our projects always got first consideration.

Eric and Savanna were still in a quasi-relationship. She had talked him into moving to LA, and their parties and escapades often made the gossip columns, and in some cases the police blotters. He mostly paid their way out of things, but occasionally money didn't help. He ended up on probation, and Savanna did a year in jail for what was essentially date rape.

Never one with a sunny outlook on life, prison, even in the camp cupcake facility Eric managed to get her into, hardened her view of life. She was enraged when she was released to find Eric had gotten into a relationship with someone else, and didn't pick her up. He sent a car service, and they took her to her new apartment. He'd paid a year in advance, and had put fifty thousand in an account for her.

Somehow, his new relationship ended, and she wormed her way back into his life. He'd been clean since she was out of his life, but three months after they were back together the parties started again.

Then one day, out of the blue, he showed up at the studio. I was in my office, going over some revisions Leah had made on one of our scripts. She and Dorian were off on a 'honeymoon', something they couldn't afford when they married. They were at our villa in Greece, and traveling around Europe. The kids were with us, having the time of their lives. We'd get emails everyday, and they seemed to be having a ball. They visited the beach we liked so much in france, and Dorian had taken a picture of Leah, from the rear. Obviously topless, the string of her thong was so tiny she looked nude. She had a cow when she saw it.

They even went to the Cannes Film Festival, as guests. My second movie about the Canadian fur trade was being shown, to really favorable reviews.

In a word, Eric looked awful. He must have gained forty pounds, apparently he'd stopped exercising. Plus, he looked bone tired. No, he looked soul tired. I got the story out of him in bits and pieces.

They'd gotten in trouble again. He didn't go into details, but it involved the underaged daughter and son of a prominent Hollywood figure. His lawyer suggested it would be a good time to take a 'vacation' without Savanna, to let it blow over.

He stayed with us for a month. He was amazed at my home life. "How can you stand the noise?"

I had to admit, with a houseful of young children, it could be chaotic at times. Besides the wives and kids, there were always other people, the grandparents, official and unofficial, the aunts(Jose's daughters and Tory's sisters, plus the young men that always seemed to follow them around), and the many friends we had made for a pretty full homelife.

"It's not noise, Eric. It's the sound of happiness. I'm so used to it I made a recording of a Sunday dinner, to play while I work. It helps me concentrate."

He hardly drank while he was with us, a glass of wine at dinner, and a few beers when Jose, Jerry, and I took him fishing on Jerry's pontoon boat. He was fascinated with the horses, and I took him riding a few times.

He nearly fell down laughing when he saw my 'horse'. The girls and Jose got it for my birthday last year. He was huge, sixteen and a half hands, a golden Palomino color, and he was also a mule, the result of a union between a Mammoth Jack burro and a Tennessee Walking Horse.

We suited each other. He was stubborn(surprise)and often ill tempered, except with children. They could climb all over him and he'd just stand there, but if an adult he didn't know or like got close he was all teeth and hooves. He liked Jose, and tolerated the girls, but he bonded to me. He was a pleasure to ride, having a really smooth gait. I had to keep him away from the stallions, because he was pretty quick to establish the pecking order, and believe me, he wasn't on the bottom. He liked mares though, even if he couldn't do anything about it.

He was almost back to the old Eric, his color was back, and he was working out twice a day in our gym, now down twenty pounds with a lot better muscle tone. Expressing an interest in moving, Maria and Tory showed him a house in the neighborhood. Ursala and Laura were next door neighbors, Jerry and Carmella lived right down the street, Dorian and Leah a block over. He was seriously considering making an offer.

I felt good, no, I felt great about the situation. We'd never have the friendship we shared before the girls, but he was still my friend, and I felt like he was finally back.

It was a Thursday, just another day, like any other, when my world was shaken to the core. I was at my office in the studio, going over some revisions with Leah, when the phone rang. It was Maria. She'd gone up to the house looking for Eric, they were supposed to ride together and he hadn't shown. She was almost screaming.

"Tio Will! You have to come home! Now! Some black woman is at your house, screaming and ranting. She has a gun and she's threatening everyone. She didn't see me and I ran away. What should I do?"

I was already out of my chair, running for my car, Leah on my heels. "Call 911 now! And stay out of sight? Where are the kids?"

"Ursala and Laura took them all out for ice cream, remember? They've looked forward to it all week."

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were safe. "Call them, now! Tell them to take the children to their house and wait."

Sometimes it's handy to be rich and famous. I called the local Sheriff's department. Maria had already called them, and they had units on the way. Half mile down the road I picked up a cruiser, who got in front of me, lights and sirens going and set the pace. seventy or better on the straightaways. A mile from the house he cut the siren for a silent approach.

It looked like a cop convention when I arrived. A swat captain met me as I got out.

"What do you know about a woman named Savanna? Apparently she's the one holding them, threatening to kill them."

Savanna! I told the captain as much as I could, gave him her full name, and he ran her. "There's warrants out for her in LA, probation violations mostly, but there's an outstanding DWI charge, and she's suspected in a drug deal that went bad in San Diego. No one got killed, but five people were injured, bullet wounds all. She's considered armed and dangerous."

They were making plans, trying to negotiate. Her reply was to shoot in our general direction, wounding a deputy in the leg. The situation was spiraling out of control. They pretty much ignored me as they planned a breech. I slipped out quietly, surprising the cops when I slipped between two trees and made it to the side of the house. They were waving me back, but I kept going. I went in the backdoor, creeping forward until I was just outside the dining room. Tory and Cathy were slumped in their chairs, mostly unconscious. Eric was on the floor, and Savanna was kicking him. "Leave me, motherfucker? I don't think so. You're mine, no one else will ever have you! Where's Will, bitch? I'm gonna kill him! We'd have been happy if he would have just left us alone."

She was waving a large pistol around. I heard a loudspeaker outside. Savanna responded to the hail with another shot out the window. "Looks like they're about to rush us," she yelled, looking down at Eric, "Don't worry baby, they'll never take us alive. Let's take these bitches with us, someone to play with in hell. I'll see you later, baby." She raised the pistol, aiming at his head. I stepped into the room.

She looked up, just in time to see the double barrel shotgun explode, both barrels hitting her center mass, blowing her out the window onto our porch. The girls had taken up skeet shooting a few years back. Soon almost the whole family was hooked, and we kept the shotguns in a converted mudroom just inside the back door, locked securely. I picked up Cathy's twenty gauge, the closest to the door, and loaded it. All we had was skeet shot, so that's what she got.

Was I remorseful? Not in the least. She was going to kill my wives, the mothers of my children. If I hadn't had a gun I would have tried to kill her with my bare hands. Besides, I didn't kill her.

Messed her up pretty good, though. Even skeet shot can be pretty effective, if you're hit at close range with enough of it. She lost her gall bladder, her spleen, and part of one kidney, and enough shot hit her gun arm to partially paralyze it. I didn't even realize she had shot me until the adrenaline had worn off. In the shoulder, when she'd turned towards me.

When she went through the window all hell broke loose. Swat charged in. I was still holding the empty shotgun, and they put me on the ground pretty quick. I think they used every ambulance the local rescue squad and the hospital had. Months later I presented each with a brand new vehicle, fully equipped, as a thank you.