Dylan lugged a case of beer out of the convenience store and loaded it into the trunk of the production car.
“You gotta be shitting me,” he said, as Sandy pulled the car away from the curb.
“What do you mean?”
“Is that all it is? Our glamorous life in the movies? All beer and toilet paper?”
“Hey,” Sandy said, “a famous actress will be using the toilet paper. A famous actor will be drinking that beer.”
“I doubt if they’ll be drinking it with me. When do we meet these people?”
“Relax. You’re just like everyone else who starts off in the movies. Where’s the glamour? Where’s the glitter? Where’s the prestige?”
“Well, I’m sure it’s not all like this,” Dylan said. “I could be a grocery store delivery boy and probably make more money.”
Sandy smiled. “You are free to quit.”
“Hey, now. Don’t rat me out to the boss. I’d like to last longer than a day.”
“Don’t worry, you will. Unless you walk off.”
“I’m not going to walk off. But when do we have fun?”
Sandy grinned. “This is the fun.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sandy pointed at the dashboard. “Driving around in a brand-new convertible with the top down and a sign for CENTURION STUDIOS on the dash. If you want to impress the girls, this is the way to do it.”
Sandy didn’t really look like the type to get a girl’s heart racing, but Dylan let it go.
Sandy drove back to Centurion. The guard waved them through the main gate.
“They don’t check your ID?” Dylan said.
“They know me, and they know the car. Production car with a Centurion logo goes right in.”
Good to know, Dylan thought.
They dropped the toilet paper off at the maintenance closet, and put the beer in the cooler in the cafeteria kitchen.
“What now?” Dylan said.
“We report to the production office to see what Hal wants us to do.”
“If he had anything he was going to call. He must not have anything.”
“What’s your point?”
“No one wants us just now. Don’t you want to show me the layout?”
Sandy considered. “All right,” he said. “You’ve been a good boy. I’ll give you a treat.”