"The Great Hollywood Invasion" - Part Five

 

Part Five

            A week after Bobby Wright’s abduction and reemergence, Route 375 had become a place of interest for the U.S. Army. Officials flooded the scene within the span of two days after detecting strange energy emitting from the scene of the UFO encounter. On the first day, General Martin Powers—a by-the-book WWII veteran—was taking lead of the investigation. But, the following morning, he was informed by the Pentagon that a ‘specialist’ from a clandestine global organization would be handling things.

            Powers knew who this specialist was and the ‘top secret’ organization she worked for. There were murmurs of an agreement between the U.S. and British forces shortly after World War II about the establishment of a branch of a secret British organization on American soil. This collaboration was spurred by a series of bizarre encounters across the U.S., including Oregon, Chicago, New York, and now Nevada.

            They called this secret organization ‘Torchwood.’

            The specialist sent to Nevada was Captain Jennifer Leeka, the leader of the American branch.

            No doubt about it, she was quite the looker. She arrived at the scene of the investigation in a long trench coat, a blouse that was buttoned up halfway, and a pair of jeans held up by a belt and suspenders.

            “Mornin’, General!” She greeted Powers with an unmistakable Kentucky accent. “I don’t know about you, but I could go for one serious cup of coffee right about now.”

            Powers scoffed. “Lucky for you, we have some being served.” He gestured to one of the situated tents where a young woman was pouring cup after cup for the soldiers.

            “Ain’t that the girlfriend of our UFO victim?” Leeka centered her gaze on the coffee girl.

            “Mm-hmm,” Powers grunted. “Boyfriend’s here, too. You wanna question him?”

            “In a sec,” Leeka said as she pulled out a pair of binoculars from inside her coat. “There’s somethin’ I need to check, real quick.” She then looked through the binoculars, aiming them towards an empty lot some thirty feet from where the Army established camp.

            Powers frowned at her. “What in the blazes are you looking for over there, Leeka?”

            “Nuage energy, General,” she said.

            Powers’ frown tightened. “And what’s that?”

            Jennifer lowered her binoculars, giving the general a playful smirk. “Oh, c’mon, General. Didn’t them Pentagon boys tell you the whole story?” She proceeded to hand her binoculars over to Powers. He peeped through them, towards the empty spot in the desert. He was surprised to see wavefront aberrations moving all over the space, like ghosts dancing in a circle. He moved the binoculars away, looking at it with his naked eyes, and the aberrations were gone. He then looked through the binoculars again—the aberrations returned.

            “What kind of binoculars are these?!” He exclaimed.

            “The kind that pick up on weird alien energy signals,” Leeka explained, snatching the binoculars back from Powers. “Like nuage energy.”

            “And what exactly is ‘nuage energy’?”

            Leeka teasingly scoffed. “That’s way above your pay grade, General.”

            Powers grunted in frustration. He knew he was going to hate working with Leeka—and not just for the fact that he had to accept orders from a woman.

            After Jennifer got another eyeful of the aberrations via her unique binoculars, she decided it was time to question Bobby Wright, who had been conversing with a few soldiers near the coffee tent. Jennifer received her cup from Betty Weaver, Bobby’s girlfriend, and took some sips while she allowed Powers to take over for the questioning.

            “So, the alien that abducted you…wanted to become a Hollywood actor?” Powers could barely take this interrogation seriously as he took Bobby’s statements.

            Bobby nodded. “That’s right. I heard him say it to that colored woman and her friend—the ones that came to Jerry’s, asking about me…according to Betty, that is.”

            “Yeah, about that ‘colored woman’,” Jennifer butted in, all of a sudden. “Your girlfriend says she’d gone and pretended to be some kinda reporter?”

            Both Bobby and Betty nodded. “That’s right,” the former verified.

            “Weird thing for a colored like her to do, don’tcha think?” Betty snickered. “Why can’t blacks in this country be like good ol’ Mr. Dickinson and keep to what they do best—staying out of folks’ business?”

            Listening to Betty’s comments, Jennifer spat the coffee she sipped back into her cup and tossed the whole thing out onto the ground. Knew there was a reason it tasted like crap, she thought in disgust. “Well, General, I reckon we got all we need from these fine folks.” She then looked to Bobby and Betty and said, “Thank ya for yer time, Mr. Bobby and Miss Karen.”

            Betty frowned. “But my name’s not ‘Karen’.”

            Jennifer wasn’t listening to her anymore by then. Instead, she consulted with Powers, “So, looks like we got ourselves a showbiz-obsessed alien on our hands. You know what that means, right?”

            “We’re headed to the nuthouse?” Powers jested.

            “Nope…we’re headed to Hollywood.”

— — — — — — —

            In a leased studio that was somewhere along the outskirts of Los Angeles, production on It Came For Us (the film debut of Archiltaba ‘Archie’ Squeeknoob III) was well underway. Not only was Orson Welles directing this feature, but he also would be playing the lead alongside Archie, who would be playing the role of ‘The Creature.’ Tiffany and Starla were also given bit parts for a nightclub scene—Tiffany’s role was a nightclub singer and Starla’s was a cocktail waitress named ‘Linda’ (by the name tag on her ‘uniform’ costume) Welles even managed to tap Ava Gardner as the female lead, an investigative reporter.

            Since cameras were to roll for the nightclub scene that afternoon, the crew was understandably rushed to ensure everything went smoothly. Scoop, who just hung around the sound stage (sometimes unsupervised), was eating a jelly doughnut that he got from the catering table when he accidentally bumped into a man who was carrying a lot of fancy equipment that loudly clattered all over the floor. The noise drew a few stares, including Starla’s. Seeing Scoop standing in the middle of the pile of heavy equipment, she was worried that he might have been hurt. Thankfully, he seemed to be alright—albeit now at the mercy of the bullheaded key grip.

            “WATCH IT, YOU LITTLE TWERP!” He yelled at Scoop. “This stuff costs more than your life!”

            “Sorry, s-sir,” Scoop said timidly. “I hopes I didn’t breaks nothin’.”

            “I oughta ‘breaks’ you, ya dumb brat!” The key grip barked while gathering the equipment, checking each and every piece over and carrying them away.

            Starla saw the shame that was left on Scoop’s little face and grew furious.

            She stalked that key grip like a cheetah on the hunt, waiting for the right moment when he was finished with his work to strike. As soon as he set his equipment down on a table, she put on the ‘damsel in distress’ act and approached the key grip. “Excuse me, sir,” she said in a mousey Betty Boop-type voice.

            The key grip took one look at her and was instantly taken in by her beauty. “Well, hello to you,” he smirked, adjusting his cap. “How may I be of service to you, kiddo?”

            “Oh! It was the strangest thing!” Starla pouted. “I lost my necklace somewhere around here, and now I can’t find it! Ohh! I was gonna show it off for my big scene and now…” She pretended to cry, blessed with the gift of producing real tears to sell her performance.

            The key grip fell for it hook, line, and sinker. “Now, don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere. Just tell me where you were last when it got lost.”

            Starla sniffled a few times before she said, “Over at the catering table.”

            As she brought the key grip there, she spotted Scoop in the process of snatching another jelly doughnut from the table. He stopped only when he noticed Starla with the man who yelled at him earlier. Starla winked at him, making a shushing gesture while the key grip’s attention was all over the catering table.

            “I don’t see any necklace ‘round here, kid,” the key grip shrugged.

            “Oh!” Starla jumped with glee, pointing to one vacant spot on the table. “I see it!”

            The key grip frowned. “Where?”

            He hovered his face over the spot where she pointed and only saw the table’s hard wooden surface. He then sensed the back of his head being gripped by something—or someone—slamming his face right against the surface of the catering table. Now he was seeing stars (not the Hollywood type). He felt dizzy and nauseated, two clear signs of a concussion.

            “My mistake, mister. I was wearing my necklace the whole time.” He could barely hear Starla’s voice, which was muffled to his concussed senses.

            Scoop watched the whole thing with great amusement. Starla had slammed the man’s head into the table with the kind of strength and speed that Scoop had never seen in a girl. The bump that developed on the key grip’s head was huge and nasty, and his eyes were crossed (perhaps permanently) in the goofiest way. After her deed was done, Starla smiled and winked at Scoop, who did his best to suppress a giggle.

            Meanwhile, near the set, Tiffany was in the middle of an interesting conversation with Orson, involving a recent phone call he received from Ed Wood. “Imagine that…Ed Wood of all people giving me pointers on making a sci-fi film,” Orson tittered. “What does he even know about science fiction?”

            Not a whole lot but enough to entertain the drive-in crowds, Tiffany thought with a smirk. “So…you’re not taking any of them to heart?” she asked Welles.

            “I want this to be my project, not Ed Wood’s,” Orson declared.

            Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a round of applause. They saw who it was for when their eyes turned towards the studio entrance, from where Archie entered. He was dressed in his ‘space suit’ costume and holding his prop ‘ray gun,’ both of which were provided by the department. As far as the film crew (save for Tiffany, Starla, and Orson) was concerned, Archie was an actor in Oscar-worthy makeup.

            “Alright, quiet on set!” Orson instructed afterwards. “Our next scene will be of the performance of our lovely singer, Tiffany Curtsinger.” Another round of applause was given for Tiffany before everyone took their places.

            Tiffany and the band took positions up on the stage-within-the-stage.

            The microphone stand in front of her was nothing more than a prop—her actual singing and the band’s playing would be picked up from the boom mic that the operator had dangling a few feet above her head.

            The song she was singing for her big scene was one that she personally picked—a song by a singer who was currently seven years shy of her birth, freeing Orson of any legal action. As soon as the director yelled for action, Tiffany sang…

Weeh-ah-ooh
Oh-oh-oh

Ain't there something I can give you
In exchange for everything you give to me
Read my mind, just let me feel just fine
When I think my peace of mind is out of reach

The scales are sometimes unbalanced
And you bear the weight of all that has to be
I hope you see that you can lean on me
And together we can calm a stormy sea

With love so strong and so unselfishly
And I tell you now that I made a vow
I'm giving you the best that I got, baby
Yes, I tell you now, that I made a vow
I'm giving you the best that I got, honey

Everybody's got opinions
'Bout the way they think our story's gonna end
Some folks feel it's just a superficial thrill
Everybody's gonna have to think again

With love so strong and so unselfishly
They don't bother me
So, I'm gonna keep on giving you the best that I got, baby
They don't bother me
Said I'm gonna keep on giving you the best that I got, listen, baby

Somebody understands me
Somebody gave his heart to me
I stumbled my whole life long
Always on my own, now I'm home
And my weary mind is rested
And I feel as if my home is in your arms
My fears are all gone, I like the sound of your song
And I think I wanna sing it forever

With love so strong and so unselfishly
And I made a vow
So I tell you now:
I'm giving you the best that I got, listen, baby
I bet everything on my wedding ring
I'm (giving you the best that I got), givin' it to you baby

Mm-mm-mm (giving you the best that I got)
Giving you the best that I got
Giving you the best that I got
Giving you the best that I got

            Hearing Tiffany channeling Anita Baker herself in her classic song, Starla found herself crying again—this time with genuine tears. The performance had captivated everyone just as much, particularly Welles, who had almost forgotten to cut filming the scene. When he did, they all applauded for Tiffany, who bowed in appreciation.

            Next up was what Orson called the ‘Breakout’ scene.

            This was Starla’s moment to appear on camera with two screen legends. She played it cool once Orson and Ava took their places at a table. As soon as Orson yelled for action, the cameras rolled.

            “I was there, Roger,” Ava addressed Orson’s character, an FBI agent. “I saw it myself—its ship, the people that it took…”

            “Alright. Calm yourself, Victoria,” Orson spoke in character. “There’s no need to cause a panic.” This line was Starla’s cue for her walk-in. She had no lines, just the action of setting the bourbon for ‘Victoria’ and the whiskey for ‘Roger’ down on the table. Once she walked back behind the rolling camera, the scene continued. “What do you want me to tell the bosses, huh? That the disappearances were caused by…something from space? Where’s your proof?”

            Ava put on a believable performance of distress for her next line. “I lost it when I escaped from the ship. But, Roger, you must believe me! It’s here on our planet! It’s here for us! Don’t you understand? It came for us!”

            That line—a perfect way for shoehorning the movie’s title—was the cue for Archie to make a literal explosive entrance, bursting through a fake wall. All the performers for the nightclub patrons reacted, as directed, in absolute terror to the alien. Archie’s ‘makeup’ helped most of them to sell the fear on camera, especially the way he snarled and drooled while firing his ‘ray gun’ (a light bulb that blinked when he squeezed the trigger).

            Once Orson had the footage he wanted, he yelled, “Cut!”

            The crew once again applauded for Archie, who was overwhelmed by the praise, waving and bowing with a huge smile.

            Among the applauding crew members, Starla gently nudged her elbow at Tiffany. “Ya did it, girlfriend,” she complimented with a smirk. “You made a real alien become a Hollywood star!”

            “Well, not yet, I haven’t,” Tiffany modestly said.

            “Are you kiddin’? Look at this response.” Starla noted the film crew, who had been applauding for nearly two whole minutes. “Imagine if this were audiences in theaters across the country…across the world! Archie’s success will not only change the career of Orson Welles—it will shake cinematic history as we know it!”

            Starla’s words, although encouraging, disconcerted Tiffany.

            It was that very moment when the repercussions of her well-intended achievement started to take hold of her morality.