Chapter ten

“And here’s your StarBash host, the Tinseltown terminator himself, Micah Bailey!”

Cass watched closely. She’d heard rumors that on this episode the producers planned to milk every possible dollar out of the Cass and Brandi feud. The everyday booby traps had been bad enough. Now Cass had to deal with that. Micah flew through the hotel’s giant revolving doors and bounded down the steps to the street in front. The exterior of the hotel had been partially reconstructed for his opening sequence. He stepped up onto a red-carpeted platform.

“Wow!” exclaimed Micah to the actors who stood around him. “Three months ago fifteen egomaniacs came to town. You had perfect hair plugs and enough Botox to inflate a football. And look at you now! The egomaniacs have almost become human, and there are only four of you left! That means one of you is about to become the owner of a little Greasy Dishrag that will change your life forever!”

The actors clapped, none more energetically than Brandi, and Cass realized for the first time just how badly Brandi wanted it. Her big mouth had destroyed her career, and now she hoped for an eleventh-hour reprieve from StarBash. Sad.

Micah continued, “In recognition of your achievement, each of you has been demoted to the Plaza Hotel concierge department. That’s the good news. The bad news is that getting demoted means less money in your paycheck, which means you better shake the dust off your penny-pinching skills. But not to worry, my dear nouveau poor friends, we have brought in the reigning cheapskate champion of the world to help you do just that. His name is Elmer Stubhowzer, and Elmer recently took home the coveted Golden Coupon at this year’s Cheapskate Championships held in St. Louis, Missouri. Please give Mr. Stubhowzer a warm StarBash welcome.”

A middle-aged man dressed in purple polyester bellbottoms, a gold-colored shimmery button-down shirt, and platform shoes emerged from behind the crew and stepped up to the platform with Micah. His straight, long gray hair had obviously been the victim of many kitchen haircuts. Some kind of animal fang hung around his neck. He looked like a man serving a life sentence in a bad disco.

“Elmer, I understand that at the championship you turned $9.87 into two shopping carts full of food,” said Micah.

“Yes, sir, that’s what I did,” said Elmer.

“That’s impressive,” said Micah. “Would you mind sharing some of your wisdom with the audience at home and with our starving actors here? I thought maybe you might pass on some tips to help them stretch a dollar the way you do.”

Elmer posed awkwardly for one camera, then another, then back at the first, and said, “Well, I can’t give away too many secrets, but a good way to start is to shop late at night and load up your cart with expiration dates. When you get to the register, tell them everything you got expires in thirty minutes, and you ain’t got but a few dollars, and then offer five or ten cents on the dollar. Give that a try, and see if you don’t turn a ten-dollar bill into food for a month.” He smiled proudly, revealing a gold tooth that sparkled in the television lights.

Cass noticed a blue piece of tape stuck to the heel of one of his shoes. It looked like a garage-sale price tag. It said, “50¢.”

Micah started to talk, but Elmer interrupted and said, “But the best way to stretch a dollar is to not spend no dollars at all. Like I said when they gimme the trophy in St. Louis, if you can make it or trade for it, why pay for it? Me and my wife Myra been livin’ by those words since day one. Go ahead. Gimme the test. You name something, and I bet I can make it. Go ahead.”

“Uh…OK,” said Micah. “I wasn’t expecting such an invigorating challenge, but…how about a…toothbrush?”

“Make it outta pig hair. Haven’t paid for a toothbrush in forty years. Go ahead, gimme another one,” said Elmer.

“Micah looked down at the carpeted platform and said, “OK, how about a throw rug for the living room?”

“Make it outta pig hair, just like the toothbrush,” said Elmer confidently. “That stuff goes far. Rugs, fertilizer, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, paintbrushes are all made outta pig hair.”

“Your pig must get cold at night,” said Micah. “OK…you’ve got two strikes on me. How about a…a…refrigerator?”

“Don’t need it. We pickle and can and salt everything we need,” said Elmer.

“What about a car or a truck?”

“I got one of them. Traded two cows and my son Tommy for it.”

“Um…Elmer, that doesn’t sound completely legal,” said Micah.

“Nah. Tommy don’t mind,” said Elmer. “Besides, the boys at the sawmill promised to trade him back when it comes time to castrate the sheep.”

“Uh…OK…I guess since everybody seems to be happy with the arrangement, except maybe the sheep, maybe I better not judge,” said Micah, with a pat on the champ’s back. Then he continued, “Mr. Stubhowzer, it has been a pleasure talking cheapskate tactics with you, but I’m afraid the time has come for us to move on to the next part of our show. Would you do me the honor of helping with that?”

“Be my pleasure,” said Elmer, who then pulled a piece of paper from his pants pocket and read out loud, “‘Congratulations, actors. Each of you is now the personal concierge for the cheapest man in the world.’” He lowered the paper, flashed his gold tooth, and said, “That’s me.” He continued reading, “‘You will be given a task. If you complete that task in the cheapest way possible, you will be demoted into the next round. If you don’t, you will be fired.’”

“Thank you, Elmer,” said Micah, who then turned to the actors and said, “By the way, for this contest you are being divided into two-person teams. One member of each team will be the concierge, and the other will be the assistant. You will choose a name for your team, and you will decide who gets to be the boss and who gets to be the assistant. At the end of the challenge, one of the teams will be eliminated. That means two of you will be going home instead of just one.”

The actors groaned, and both of the Steadicams immediately zoomed in on Cass and Brandi. And there you have it, thought Cass; she and Brandi had just become partners, and StarBash just happened to have their cameras in the perfect position to start capturing all the fun. A production assistant immediately herded the two ladies together and escorted them to a cubicle that had been constructed in one of the soundstages. Cass also saw that for what it was: more StarBash bullshit; let’s put the snarling animals together in a small cage and see what happens.

Cass entered first, followed by Brandi. The camera operator took a position in the doorway, backed by the production assistant. The cubicle contained a desk and two office chairs, one tucked behind the desk, the other placed in the corner of the cubicle. The chair behind the desk had the word “Concierge” nicely embroidered into the fabric on the back of the chair. The other chair had a piece of paper taped to it. On that paper someone had scribbled the word “Assistant.” Cass saw a red envelope and a pen sitting on the desk. She reached for the envelope, but Brandi nudged her aside and got to it first. Brandi held up the envelope for the camera. She’s good at this shit. I need to get my act together, thought Cass. Brandi opened the envelope and read aloud, ‘“We are having a picnic for three adults. I need ketchup, mustard, hotdog buns, hotdogs, relish, potato chips, and paper plates. And remember, there is no greater value than a great value that is valued greatly.”’ Brandi dangled the letter for the camera and said, “I think we know who’s most qualified to be the boss on this one.”

“And who might that be?” asked Cass.

“The one who knows how to find a bargain because she been out of work thanks to a certain person who shall remain nameless.”

“Yes, Brandi, you’ve got the market cornered on pain and suffering. We all know.”

“You want a crack at it? Go ahead, but if you ask me, you couldn’t win this one in a million years,” said Brandi.

She’s baiting me, thought Cass. But that didn’t stop her from saying, “Fine. Give it to me.”

Brandi held out the paper. Cass reached for it. Brandi took it back and said, “You can be the boss, Cass, but I’m not doing shit to help you. This one’s on you. And I get to choose the team name.” Brandi grabbed the pen from the desk, scribbled something on the paper, and handed it to Cass. It said, “Name of Team: Clueless.”

 

***

 

As Cass scurried around in search of a cheap picnic, Brandi held court in the cubicle and trotted out a parade of snide remarks for the camera: “Too bad Bloomingdale’s doesn’t sell ketchup. If they did, Cass might actually have a chance”; “I’m worried about Cass. If she doesn’t find organic, non-GMO mustard, I think she might have a nervous breakdown”; “Poor Cass. She googled ‘cheap wieners’ and got three hundred pages of porn.”

Later that afternoon, with twenty minutes to go before the deadline, Cass entered the cubicle and proudly exclaimed, “I got ketchup and mustard packs for free and everything else at the dollar store. I think we won—no thanks to you.”

“No, we didn’t win. We lost. Congratulations. You completely lived up to your potential,” said Brandi.

“What are you talking about? I paid five dollars for the whole picnic.”

Brandi offered an angry, frustrated head shot to the camera—a pose she had been practicing earlier in the day—and said, “Come with me.” She led Cass to a white passenger van that waited just outside the soundstage door. A second van containing crew and equipment idled behind the first. Brandi ushered Cass and the two-person camera crew into the van and then entered herself. Cass didn’t think to ask how the crew and vans happened to be ready and waiting, a flub that made Brandi’s plan a little easier.

The vans left the ranch and headed down the hill toward the city of Ventura. Cass shifted nervously a few times in her seat and after a few minutes asked where they were going. The great Casmo looked mousey. Brandi ignored her.

Twenty minutes later the vans pulled into a Walmart and parked. Brandi handed Cass a disguise that consisted of a wig and glasses. Cass looked at the bushy red wig and recoiled. Brandi held up another one and said, “I got one, too, so we’re all even. Besides, you don’t want your Hollywood pals to find out you shopped at Walmart, do you? They might kick you out of the club.” Cass grabbed the wig and put it on. After this testy exchange, the tech guys fitted the ladies with concealed microphones and small transmitters. Brandi didn’t want to attract a crowd, so she had instructed the crew to use concealed cameras and to keep their distance as much as possible.

Brandi led the charge into the store. She stopped just past the entrance to take in the scene—and to pose for the camera. Ah, the smell of America’s favorite superstore, a simmering stew of popcorn, floor wax, and armpits that ran up your nose, shouting “Always Low Prices” every step of the way. Brandi liked it. She glanced at Cass, who stood next to her. Of course little Miss Nordstrom looked like she’d just been abandoned in a foreign country. This gave Brandi a really good idea. She turned to Cass and said, “You’ve been to Walmart before, right?” But before Cass had a chance to answer, Brandi did a mini arm flop for the cameras and said, “How come I’m not surprised? Well, let me give you some advice, missy. If you ever find yourself with five dollars in your pocket and a payday that’s nowhere in sight, you might want to give this place a try. Not that that would ever happen to you.”

“Brandi. Let me give you some advice,” said Cass. “Stop wearing your sad story on your sleeve, and maybe you’ll stop being such a miserable bitch.”

“Wow. Something real from the Hollywood phony. I’m glad we got it on film,” said Brandi. And then she marched away, straight to aisle five in the grocery department. Cass ran after her like a child who’s afraid to lose her mother.

“What does this say?” asked Brandi, as she held up a bottle of ketchup and pointed to the label.

“Great Value,” answered Cass.

Brandi put the bottle back on the shelf, moved down the aisle a few feet, and grabbed a jar of relish. “And what does this say?”

“Great Value,” said Cass.

“That’s right. That’s the Walmart brand. Now read your instructions.” Brandi whipped out the paper for everyone to see, and Cass started reading.

“‘…And remember, there’s no greater value than a great value that’s valued greatly…’ Oh shit,” said Cass.

“Did you even bother to stop and think that maybe those strange words might mean something?” asked Brandi.

“I think we lost,” said Cass.

“We didn’t lose, Cass. I lost. You’ll be going home to your Malibu mansion where you will live like a queen even if you never work another day in your life. I’ll be going home to nothing. This was my last chance, and you took it from me, just like you did three years ago.”

 

***

 

Cass stopped the camera crew at the door of the van and said, “Sorry, guys. No film on the drive back. Brandi and I have personal business to take care of. You’ll have to hitch a ride in the other van.” She climbed into the second-row bench seat, where the camera operator usually sat. Brandi sat in the next seat back. The van pulled away, and Cass turned to say something, but Brandi beat her to it.

“I don’t know what you think you got planned here, Cass, but it ain’t happening. You didn’t talk to me when it really mattered. You sure as hell aren’t talking to me now. Take your guilty conscience to a shrink.”

“I don’t have anything to feel guilty about, Brandi. I made a simple business decision, and for some reason you have decided to turn it into the defining moment of your life. That’s the reason your career is stuck in the toilet, not because of anything I did,” said Cass.

“You really don’t get it, how all this works, do you? This might be reality TV, but that doesn’t make it real. They pay me to say shit about you, so I say it. If you want the real truth, I’ll give it to you now. I don’t care about you, and I don’t think about you. So don’t flatter yourself,” said Brandi, who then leaned back in the seat, put in some earbuds, and listened to music.

Five minutes later, as the van took the highway 33 turnoff toward the ranch, Brandi laughed out loud. Cass looked back at her. Brandi turned down the music and said, “You want to know the real joke? It’s you and your self-righteous crusade against the blacklist. Maybe you should add your own name to the witch hunt.”

“I didn’t blacklist you,” said Cass.

“Then where the hell have I been for the last three years?” yelled Brandi.

“You did that to yourself! You don’t know when to keep your mouth shut! Lots of actors have opinions, but they know it’s not smart to talk about it. Why do you have to be different?”

“Is that really your answer? If you got an opinion, keep your mouth shut, and we’ll let you work? Are you listening to yourself?”

Cass had nothing else to say. She had tried, but the effort had been a complete waste of time.

 

***

 

Brandi and the other three actors retook the positions in front of the hotel that they’d occupied that morning. Micah stood before them on the platform, getting ready to film the last segment of the second-to-last show of the season. Brandi had been the one to beat all season long, having won twice as many competitions as the next closest competitor. Even now, some sixteen weeks later, she felt focused and alert and planned to stay that way until she got what she came for.

The cameras rolled, and Micah said, “Two of you are going home, and two of you will be demoted into the final round where you will battle it out for the StarBash Greasy Dishrag and a ten-million-dollar movie deal. Are you ready to learn your fates?”

The actors leaned forward and clapped nervously, except Cass, who apparently had too much dignity to care about such things.

“Very good,” said Micah. “But before we do, let’s invite back our special guest, Mr. Elmer Stubhowzer. I understand he has some parting gifts that he wants to pass out to our contestants. Come on up here, Elmer.”

StarBash liked to pump up the excitement, pop it in the actors’ faces, and then pump it back up again during the last few minutes of the show. It kind of made sense. They had a forty-three-minute time slot and had to fill it with something. Normally Brandi knew better than to get too excited the first time Micah got excited, but maybe this week her focus had been just a little too sharp. She took a deep breath and watched Elmer, the redneck penny-pincher, bounce up to the stage and stand next to Micah. He wore the same gold-toothed smile and thrift-store duds from earlier in the day. He also carried a large burlap bag.

“Hello, Elmer. What do you have in the bag?” asked Micah.

“I got stuff for the actors,” said Elmer.

“That’s great. I’m sure our actors appreciate that. I’ll step aside, and you go ahead and do your thing, my friend.”

Elmer reached into the bag and pulled out what looked like a bundle of thin leather straps that had things dangling from them. He separated one of the straps from the others and held it up for the camera. It was a leather necklace with a large animal tooth.

“That’s nice,” said Micah. “What’s it made of?”

“A pig’s tooth.”

“Yes, of course it is. It was silly of me to even ask,” said Micah.

One of the Steadicams followed Elmer as he placed a necklace around the neck of each actor. Brandi fingered the menacing fang and smiled. She actually liked this sort of thing.

When he’d finished, Micah said, “Very good. What else do you have for our lucky contestants?”

“I saved the best for last,” said Elmer, as he pulled a large mason jar from the burlap bag. It contained a yellowish, fleshy substance suspended in liquid. He held it up to the camera and said, “It’s my famous pickled pigs’ feet that won fifth prize at the Butte County Fair!”

“Elmer, I have to ask you a question about your pig,” said Micah. “Do you ever get the feeling that maybe he’s doing more than his fair share of the work?”

Elmer considered the question for a few seconds and said, “No, can’t say as I do on account of it being a pig and all. That’s what pigs do. Now if it was a rightful member of the family, then maybe you might have a point.”

“Then that’s good enough for me, my good man,” said Micah. “You go right ahead and pass out what’s left of your pig.”

Micah watched Elmer hand a jar to each of the contestants and then said, “Very good, Mr. Stubhowzer. Is that everything?”

“Yes, I believe it is, except for the payment. They each owe me thirty dollars—twenty for the necklace and ten for the pig’s feet.”

Micah looked confused, and so did the actors. Brandi didn’t have any money on her, and probably neither did anyone else. It had to be a joke. After a few awkward moments, Micah said, “Never fear, my friends; this one is on StarBash. No expense is too great when it comes to an actor’s rehabilitation.” He pulled out a small wad of cash and said, “How much do I owe you, Elmer?”

“One hundred twenty dollars.”

Elmer held out his hand, and Micah peeled off six twenty-dollar bills. But Elmer kept his hand out and said, “Plus three dollars California sales tax.” Micah counted out three dollars.

“And forty cents California bottle deposit,” said Elmer.

Micah gave him another dollar.

“And one dollar California grocery-bag fee for the reusable grocery bag,” said Elmer, as he held up the burlap bag.

Micah looked at Elmer and said, “I think you’d make a good lawyer. Have you ever considered that line of work?”

“Yes, sir, I did at one time,” said Elmer. “But then I realized I had a reputation to keep, so I let it go.”

“That’s a good point. Besides you are really good at what you do,” said Micah, as he added another dollar to the heap. The two men then shook hands, and Elmer left with a pocketful of money and a spring in his step.

Micah turned to the actors and said, “All right, that was fun, but now it’s time to get down to business.” An assistant relieved the actors of their little piggy treasures and Micah continued: “In this battle, Team Tightwad took on Team Clueless in the great American picnic challenge, where you had to buy a picnic worthy of the cheapskate champion of the world. But we’re not talking about just any old cheap picnic; it had to be a Great Value picnic.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Brandi saw Cass shift nervously and look at the ground.

“Tiffany! Please bring me the envelope,” said Micah.

Tiffany and all her curves slinked past the cameras. She handed the envelope to Micah and slinked away. The actors held hands. Micah tore open one corner of the envelope and paused. He said, “Have any of you ever been this close to ten million dollars in your entire life?”

The actors moaned.

Micah tore open the rest of the envelope and pulled out the card. The actors closed their eyes. Micah said, “And the team advancing to our final round, where they will compete against each other for the coveted Greasy Dishrag, is…Team Clueless!”

Team Tightwad groaned, Cass gasped loudly, and Brandi smiled confidently.

“Wow!” said Micah. “Such different reactions! Cass looks completely shocked, and Brandi looks completely confident. Ladies, come up here and tell our audience what’s going on.”

They stepped up to the platform and stood next to Micah, one on each side.

“Let’s start with you, Cassandra. Why the surprise?”

“Uh…uh…to tell the truth, I’m a little confused…because I thought I had bought the wrong things,” said Cass.

“No, you didn’t,” said Micah. “Everything you purchased had the Great Value logo on it. How do you explain that?”

“I can’t,” said Cass.

“What about you, Brandi? Cass says she bought the wrong stuff, but now it’s the right stuff. Can you explain it?”

“Yeah, it’s easy,” said Brandi. “Cass didn’t have a clue, so I filled my own bag and switched it with hers when she turned her back.”

“Um…you belong to the same team. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell her?” asked Micah.

“Some people you can talk to, and some you can’t, so let’s just say I’m glad the whole thing is over,” said Brandi.

“And now the two of you will be going head-to-head for ten million dollars,” said Micah. “Do you care to make a prediction?”

“I’m gonna kick her ass. That’s my prediction,” said Brandi.

“I imagine you have an opinion about that, Cassandra. Do you care to share it with us?” asked Micah.

“I’m going to do my best, and it’s going to be a lot of fun,” said Cass.

What a dummy, thought Brandi. Micah had given Cass a chance to take a jab, but of course she had to play it like Sister Grace-Be-with-Thee.

It had been a very great day for Brandi. She had served a batch of hot, stinky humility to her enemy, and she had made it to the finale. She’d actually made it. And the best news of all? She’d be going up against Cassandra Moreaux, the ultimate Hollywood puppet. Cass knew how to follow the herd. She knew how to smile, and bat her eyes, and tap dance her way out of a jam. She didn’t know StarBash, and she especially didn’t know the StarBash audience. Brandi knew these people. She understood them. In many ways she was one of them. And, besides all these advantages, Brandi still had a weapon that Cass would never have, the weapon that had helped her to make it to the end: she had the power of revenge.

She started using it that very night.

After they’d wrapped for the evening, Brandi handed Cass a folded newspaper and said, “This hits the stores tomorrow, but I got an early copy especially for you. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Plus, they paid me ten thousand dollars. Isn’t show business wonderful!”

 

***

 

When Brandi thrust the rolled-up newspaper into her hand, Cass didn’t look at it. Why give her the satisfaction? Besides, the smile on that chubby face said it all: more bad news had just arrived. When she got back to the trailer, Cass found out exactly how bad. It was a supermarket tabloid, and the front page showed a series of pictures of her and Micah. One of the pictures showed Micah coming out of Cass’s trailer. Another one showed Cass unlocking Micah’s door. The final picture showed one of the notes Micah had left for Cass. It included the word “love.” In screaming red letters the headline said, “Casmo Sleeps with the Enemy!” Splashy bullet points under the headline said: “A-Lister Goes Bonkers! Career is Toast! Ditched by Hollywood Pals!”