South of Sunset

By Lisa Maliga

Hollywood. It conjures up images of movies, sunglass-wearing stars, palm trees, plastic surgery, drug habits, the proverbial overnight success...and the happy ending. In this collection of original short fiction, get into the minds of an assortment of losers, dreamers, successes, wannabes, and has-beens. "South of Sunset" isn't just a location, but where myth and reality merge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Maliga
• Release date: Jan 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458014634

Lisa Maliga

Lisa Maliga is an American author of contemporary fiction, psychological thrillers and cozy mysteries. Her nonfiction titles consist of how to make bath and body products with an emphasis on melt and pour soap crafting. When researching her latest cozy mystery, she discovered the art of baking French macarons. She continues to bake macarons, always trying new flavor combinations. When not writing, Lisa reads, watches movies, and is a huge fan of "The Walking Dead." Links: http://www.lisamaliga.com https://twitter.com/#!/lisamaliga https://twitter.com/#!/everythingshea http://pinterest.com/lisamaliga https://www.youtube.com/user/LisaMaliga

Book preview

SOUTH OF SUNSET

By Lisa Maliga

Copyright 2012 by Lisa Maliga

Smashwords Edition

Includes the novelette Urban Legend ~ Hollywood Style

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters depicted in this work are over the age of 18. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Praise for North of Sunset

North of Sunset shows a segment of a power broker's jaded lifestyle. Even in one of the most expensive places to live in the world, sometimes you find what you're not looking for…

Piers Anthony ~ Best Selling Fantasy and Sci-Fi Author

HOLLYWOOD. A name that needs no introduction. Such a world-renowned name conjures up images of movies, sunglass-wearing stars, palm trees, plastic surgery, drug habits, the proverbial overnight success … and the happy ending. In this collection of original short fiction, the author takes us into the minds of an assortment of losers, dreamers, successes, wannabes, and has-beens. A conglomeration of fact and fantasy, the time period ranges from the mid-1980's to the present. South of Sunset isn't just a location … it's where myth and reality merge.

We learn of a director’s brush with a psychotic fan in The Fourth of January.

A Day in the Life of a Wannabe Screenwriter takes us along for the ride as an aspiring screenwriter tries to market her work.

Delusions is an intimate first person viewpoint which leads us into the mind of Angie, an actress/comedienne who dreams of fame, fortune and love, only to reveal a different side of herself.

We’ve seen and heard about urban legends. Now get acquainted with Urban Legend ~ Hollywood Style. Duncan Holms has only a few days left to find a paying acting job. He stumbles across the role of a lifetime, only to find out it involves the type of payment that even a starving actor needs to think about.

In a furniture store off La Brea Avenue, a saleswoman recounts how she was Flipping Over Grigori, a Romanian gymnast who needed a green card.

"Where do the Hollywood movers and shakers of the future [and past] hang out when the Academy Awards are broadcast worldwide? Oscar Night at Winchell’s Donut House takes a look into the lives of a former MGM secretary, a pretender, a homeless man, and a warehouse employee, as they ponder the inner workings of Hollywood.

Snickers Bars and Feather Dusters is a heartfelt story about a young woman who moves to Hollywood because: The cold weather and I never got along too well and California was warm and sunny. Best of all, it was 1,837 miles west of Barnaby.

SUNSET BOULEVARD ~ THE DIVIDING LINE

Every street begins and ends somewhere. The world famous Sunset Boulevard originates in downtown Los Angeles, right at the edge of Chinatown. West Cesar E. Chavez Avenue, named after a civil rights activist, changes at the intersection of North Figueroa Street. There, it becomes West Sunset Boulevard.

For approximately 24 miles this east to west boulevard rises above the Harbor Freeway, past Echo Park, and Silverlake. Just past the KCET public TV station we see the other legendary cross street of Hollywood Boulevard veering off to the right. Driving over another freeway, the aptly named Hollywood, we journey ever westward. North of Sunset you'll see Hollywood Senior High, attended by Cher, the Carradine brothers, July Garland, Sarah Jessica Parker and many others. Above that looms the HOLLYWOOD sign. Past Guitar Row, a small area known for its guitar stores and other musical related shops. Sunset Strip with a riotous array of billboards overhead advertising upcoming movies, TV shows, music stars and clothing. The Strip is one and a half miles of jam-packed advertising in this notable West Hollywood commercial area. Partially hidden by foliage is the royal looking Chateau Marmont, a renowned hotel where comic actor John Belushi died, and 1960's music icon Jim Morrison partied. Boutiques, restaurants and such notorious nightclubs as The Viper Room, Whisky a Go Go, The Roxy and the Rainbow thrive. This is where the division of north and south is prevalent in terms of real estate. The further north into the hills you go, the higher the price of that estate, villa or mansion. Up there, the privileged homeowners and renters get a superior view of the City of Angels; those wealthy denizens looking down on those so far south of Sunset.

Downhill is the south side of Sunset. You'll see countless apartments, condos and homes. They're packed together as they fade into the vast expanse of Los Angeles. The grid of humanity crowded into housing that contains more people per square foot. The layer of smog casts its shadow over the City of Angels where the hoi polloi work and live. You see fewer swimming pools and tennis courts. Familiar signs for chain restaurants and stores: McDonald's, Jack in the Box, Carl's Jr., KFC…and the Wal-Marts, Kmarts and Targets…all south of Sunset.

Continuing along Sunset you'll see people selling Star Maps along the side of the road, as you head west into the famed city of Beverly Hills. There, the boulevard widens with a grassy center strip. You'll see the hints of luxurious mansions, high walls, tennis courts and pools, looming royal palm trees and the landmark pink Beverly Hills Hotel. Past Beverly Hills, into the Bel-Air region, UCLA, the Getty Center. Along the way you'll see no sidewalks, omnipresent security signs posted; bountiful tropical foliage and high walls keep passersby from staring into these exclusive homes. Barriers prevent us from knowing what goes on behind those walls, beyond those gates. What secrets are being kept inside those exclusive compounds reserved only for the rich and famous?

Hairpin turns and hills slow you down as you get closer and closer to the dramatic end of the boulevard. In Pacific Palisades there are apartments, condos and even a few chain restaurants. But then, you notice the wide, slate blue expanse -- and finally, temporarily widening to eight lanes, is the bustling Pacific Coast Highway. West Sunset Boulevard dead ends at the edge of the Pacific Ocean.

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

The Fourth of January

A Day in the Life of a Wannabe Screenwriter

Delusions

Urban Legend ~ Hollywood Style

Flipping Over Grigori

Oscar Night at Winchell's Donut House

Snicker Bars and Feather Dusters

The Fourth of January

It was on my way to the airport that I got the phone call. I was taking notes and going over the schedule for tomorrow's shoot when Jacqueline, my personal assistant, turned and looked at me with a face whiter than the limo's interior. Without a word, she handed me the phone. I took it, fearing the production was cancelled or my wife had died or...

The coroner read the note to me over the phone. I hadn't even bothered asking him how he'd gotten the number, as he was a well-connected man. He’d had a bit part in one of my recent movies. Ever since then we were considered friends. He read the message to me in a monotone.

Jim, he began. I know you're busy. You're always busy. You've been busy since you first called me back in February of ...

I gave Jacqueline a wan smile and flashed her the okay sign. She resumed her work. I glanced at the cover of The Daily Variety and noted the date: Monday, January fourth. It was my birthday.

It wasn't any correspondence from my wife; rather, it was from my fan, Sally, the woman who'd sent me cards, letters and gifts. I'd met her a couple of years ago at a meeting when she was trying to break into films. Obviously I’d made a hell of an impression on her. I vaguely remembered her as being young and attractive, but just how pretty I can't recall. No idea exactly how old she was, though I assumed she was under 30. She sent me a Christmas card that year along with a letter describing her progress. Then she asked me to lunch. She called a few weeks after sending it and didn't make a pest out of herself. Soon after that I received a belated birthday card, and a month later an amusing Far Side card inviting me to see a movie with her.

Had I never responded she would have gone away. But I was intrigued with that mysterious woman who wanted to take me to lunch and see a limited engagement-film. She had no idea I was married with one child and planning on another. So when I phoned her that blustery February day I started what I had no idea would turn into an obsession. But maybe it already was.

We weren't on the phone but a few minutes. I'd shocked her into disbelief with my call. When I announced my name she paused, then said, Yeah, right, hi Vince. Her tone was amused and playful.

Mine wasn't. I'm not Vince.

Okay, she countered. If you're not Vince, when's your birthday?

Things were turning peculiar, but I answered. God, I hoped, not another broad interested in astrology. January 4th. She made a noise of affirmation. Then she asked what year. I told her. Another affirmative sound from her end of the line. Maybe she thought Vince did his research. Sally asked where my grandparents were from. I couldn't help laughing and informed her. Everything started checking out, apparently, but the stubborn woman still didn't quite believe it was really me. Annoyed, I launched into my explanation that I was going to be out of town the following week and couldn't attend the art house screening. Then I invited her to lunch. I told her to call next week and set up a time. I even gave her the number to my direct line. Relieved that I'd done my duty, I said good-bye. I was in my office on the studio lot that Sunday afternoon and was the only one in the entire building. As I picked up my briefcase and headed for the door, I heard a creaking sound in the corner near the window. I dismissed it as the building settling. Or one of those mini earthquakes that people in Southern California didn’t even notice.

The coroner continued reading the note. But I didn't want to hear it. I knew the outcome. God, why was this happening to me?

"After you called I hung up and literally skipped around the apartment! I can't remember being happier since...I don't know when. I remember it was cold and windy but I went for a long walk and didn't even feel it. All I