Page 16 of Jacob Michaels is Trouble

“Bet,” Oma warned me.

“Where the fuck are you learning these things?” I threw my hands up. “Who’s fucking grandmother talks like this?”

“The T.V.” She jabbed a finger in the direction of the living room, which actually made Jason smile. “I got a life outside of putting up with your uppity ass, ya’ know.”

“T.V. is a life?” I asked.

“It’s one of my hobbies.” She was picking at a fingernail.

“Right.” I shook my head, then turned my attention back to Jason. “Look, assface—”

“I’m not leaving until I talk to you.” He said firmly, then glanced towards the living room. “As well.”

“Fine.” I snapped. “Oma, keep assface in line while I go get rid of Nelda.”

“But—” She started to stand.

“Please.” I snapped once more before whipping around like I was trying to twirl a capelet myself.

Nelda was still sitting in the living room, looking around the room as though she had never seen what looked like the inside of an L.L. Bean catalog. Frowning to myself, I walked over, pulling her attention from the interior design around her, and sat down a reasonable distance from her on the couch. My manager, though I hadn’t seen her in over a month, looked and smelled the same. Flowery, gaudy, and clueless to the things that happen in the real world outside of Hollywood and the entertainment machine.

“Did you fly out here alone, Nelda?” I asked, genuinely concerned for her well-being. “That’s a long flight for…you.”

“Of course not, Jacob.” A laugh that sounded like tinkling bells emanated from that red gash on her face. “Randy came with me. He’s waiting in the car.”

A delicate hand waved towards the front door.

Randy was Nelda Hammersmith’s personal assistant. He was also her much younger husband. He had tried to get in my pants once. It’s a long story.

“You made Randy wait in the car?” I frowned, though I was glad Randy had not been invited into the house.

“He’s fine.” She gave a dismissive wave again. “He has his games on his phone and the radio, I suppose. Now, dear—”

“I’m not coming back to Los Angeles right now, Nelda.” I shook my head. “I have…family stuff…I have to deal with and making movies or new music right now is just—”

“We just got an offer, Jacob.” She indicated that she did not want to hear my excuses. “That movie you made…what’s it called…the one with the terrorists who are trying to blow up…the White House…or…something?”

“The Statue of Liberty.” I shrugged. “What about that piece of shit?”

“Well,” Nelda reached into a pocket to withdraw an actual cigarette case, “they want to make a piece of shit sequel.”

She opened the case, which made my mouth water, but I reached out and took the case from her, snapping it shut gently.

“No smoking in the house,” I said evenly as I held onto the case.

“Of course, of course.” She said as though this was perfectly reasonable, though her facial expression said otherwise. “Anyway, they want to pay you double what they did for the first one. Piece of shit, eh?”

“You can add a sunroom to a shack, but it’s still a shack, Nelda.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to go on a special diet, work out six days a week for four months of my life, then go to Toronto, pretend it’s New York City of D.C., and fight imaginary terrorists just because the price was right. The first movie was shit, this one will be shit, too.”

“They don’t make these movies for the Rotten Tomatoes scores, Jacob.” She laughed as though everything I had said was ridiculous. “They make these movies so everyone gets rich. Including yours truly. So, do us all a favor and get your ass on the next plane to Los Angeles and get ready to swallow your pride.”

“Nelda.” I sighed, trying to control myself. “You came all the way to Bum Fuck Ohio for no good reason. I’m not coming back to Los Angeles. So, go out there, get in the car, and let Randy drive you back to the airport.”

“Jacob—”

“Just call me Rob, Nelda.” I sighed, my body deflating. “Jacob Michaels is long gone at this point.”

“You can’t mean that!” She brought a hand to her chest. “If you walk away now, who knows if you will ever work again, Jacob?”