Crossover

"Fine then love, don't tell share your poem. Won't kill me one bit." Gordon says angrily.

"C'mon guys, let's not get all pissy with each other again, we were just sarting to lighten the mood." Parker says, trying to ease the tension.

'It's cool, I'm just a little tense, and I really want a shower, and a nice bed for a change. These cheap motels and hostels are wreaking havoc on me poor ol' back." Gordon says as he rubs his upper back.

"Well, as soon as we get to a decent town, maybe we can splurge a bit on a nice hotel or somethin', we'll see." Joe says, scratching his head and eyeing the road.

"Yeah, let's just get goin', maybe there's another bus station or somethin' close by." Casey says, as she pulls a smoke from her pack and lights it.


The group starts to walk slowly down the strech of raod. After about 15 mintes of walking, a long black limo pulls up slowly to them, then comes to a stop next to them.

"The hell?" Gordon says. "Fancy." Mali chimes in, eyeing the limo. As they stare at it, the back window slowly rolls down. A young man peeks his head out. He slowly lowers his sunglasses.

"You kids need a lift or somethin'?" he asks, eyeing them all.

"Uh, sure?" Joe says, unsure. He looks around to the group, looking for a consensus.

"Why the fuck not. Always trust a man in a limo." Casey sayy, as she opens on of the doors and gets in. the rest of the group files in, and as soon as they are all in, the limo pulls off, and heads back down the highway.

A few minutes pass, as the group studies the man silently. He looks slightly disheveled, with a think 5 o'clock shadow, an old pair of black slacks, a blue button down shirt with a black blazer over it, and an old pair of sneakers. He slowly pulls a cigarette from a silver case and lights it.

"So uh, what's up guys?" he says, trying to spark a conversation.

'You bloaks do know who this is, right?" Gordon asks.

"Uh, no." Casey says.

"It's Jamie fuckin' Erowid! You know, the American film maker? Indie King of Hollywood?" Gordon says.

"Holy shit! It is!" Mali exclaims. "I totally didn't recognize you, did you do something with your hair?" she asks.

"Uh, no. I havn't slept for a few days, and I'm sure I look like shit, but other than that, I'm pretty sure I havn't done anything different." Jamie says, taking a long drag from his smoke.

"Oh yeah, you're the one who won't put a black person in his movie, ain't you?" Casey asks, sounidng slightly offended.

"God if I had a nickel...I am working on that. You're not the first person to point that out, ya know." Jamie says. "What the fuck are you kids doin' out here anyway? Traveling on the side of the road really isn't the safest thing to be doing. Hotter than fuck out here."

"We're on a little adventure. Goin' cross country telling stories, that kind of thing. What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be like, writing or filming or something?" Parker asks.

"Well, I was working on a little something, but my publicist said I should attend this little festival in Tempe. Says it might help my rep a little bit. Really, I'll just be board as shit for five hours, then crash at a hotel somewhere, rinse, repeat till I head back to L.A." Jamie says, putting his smoke out, then lighting another.

"Why didn't you just fly out here? It's not like you can be straped for cash or anything, you last flick was huge." Mali says.

"I like the drive. Reminds me of home, the good ol' days if you will. Problem is, we got a little lost, and fuckhead up there has no idea where we are." Jamie says.

"Well, I can tell you where to go, but there's kind of a rule we have with new people." Joe says leaning forward.

"And what would that be?" Jamie asks, leaning back and corssing his legs.

"Well, you have to tell a story. Take this die, roll, it, and that determines what kind of story you tell." Joe answers, handing Jamie the die. Jamie takes it, and rolls in onto a mirror covered in white residue. It lands with three dots facing up.

"What does that mean, story master?" Jamie asks. "Well, you just kind of have to rant about something. Anything, the floor is yours Mr. Erowid." Joe answers.

Ok, lemme tell you something about this here industry. See, I always thought it'd be the glittery place you see on E!, and shit like that. I thought I'd try and avoid the glamour, magazine covers, all that bullshit. problem is, you can't here. Not in this place. They find you. Everywhere you go, someone is watching, and waiting for that slip up. They kiss your ass at first. I can't tell you how many shitty scripts they've thrown at me that I've had to shoot down. They're cool about it, at first. They pretend to respect the fact that you wanna be something different, ya know? Something respectable. Not churn out the same blockbuster shit time after time after time. Then, after you've made a few respectable films, that while they earn critics approval and award nominations and all that shit, you just can't seem to please them. They want more. They want the fuckin' explosions, and shitty dialouge, and forced acting by their shitty teen star of the week. But I don't give them that. Fuck 'em, why should I? I didn't come here for that. I didn't come here to be the next Michael fuckin' Bay, or whoever is making those shitty blow 'em up pictures. And they pretend, once again, to be ok with it. But secretly, their plotting against you. maybe a leak to the press here, not advertising enough there. But it's cool. The key is to not give in at all. They wanna pull funidng out, fuck it. I have enough cash to finance my own shit now. Might as well anyway, be nice to stick it to 'em and show them that I don't need a huge company watching my shit. But for now, I play the game, and wait for the legs of the machine to finally give out. I tell ya, I get off every night thinking of how fun it'll be to finally watch it burn to the ground.

"Sounds like you have quite the bit of pent up frustration Mr. Erowid." Parker says.

"Yeah, but that kinda felt good. It's nice to vent once in awhile. I'll tell you kids what, why don't I put you up somewhere nice in Tempe. My treat, give you a taste of the good life, as they call it." jamie says, as he lights another cigarette.

"Fuckin' A, good life it is!" Gordon exclaims.

"Ok kids, drinks are in the mini-fridge there. Let's have a ball." Jamie says, as the limo speeds down the highway towards Tempe.