“I worry,” Brenda said.
“You ought to worry,” Clete said, breaking his look and staring off camera. “In another minute, we’re going to have some fornication right here in the desert.” And then to somebody off camera: “Come on, kids, will you knock it off? We’re trying to do a scene here.”
“Okay, cut that,” Franklin said. “Claude, will you hold down the?—”
And the film went white again.
There was a moment of black leader. I looked at Perkins. He was staring at the screen.
Another slate. “Scene two-ninety, take three.”
“Action,” Franklin said.
“I’ll be back, ma’am,” Clete said, staring into Brenda’s eyes.
And then there was a giggle off camera. Clete turned. “I swear,” he said.
“I worry,” Brenda said, still trying to do the scene.
“You shouldn’t worry,” Clete said. “It’s not your problem. Goddamn it, Tom, can’t we have a little quiet on the set? I don’t mean to make trouble, but McDougall’s sitting there with his hand practically down that girl’s blouse and?—”
“Okay, cut it there,” Franklin said, and moved into the field of view.
“We’re running a minute for speed,” the camera operator said.
“All right, fine,” Franklin said, and turned his back to the camera. Franklin put his arm around Clete’s shoulder—which wasn’t easy, because he barely came up to Clete’s collarbone—and said something quiet and soothing.
Clete exploded. “Jesus Christ, Tom, we’re out here to do a job. That pipe-smoking pimp keeps feeling her up all during the take, and I’m telling you, it’s impossible to concentrate.”
Franklin made more soothing noises.
“I don’t give a shit about his problems. He’s fooling around with her tits, and it’s distracting me. He wouldn’t do that if Mann were around and?—”
“Okay, okay,” Franklin said. He turned to look off camera. “Sally, wait in your dressing room, okay, honey?”
A moment later, a somewhat chastised Sally could be seen crossing one corner of the screen, going to her dressing room. There was a shout, unintelligible, from off camera.
“Take it easy, Art,” Franklin said.
“Shove it up your ass, you little pimple,” Clete shouted to McDougall.
At that moment, McDougall appeared in the frame and seemed to be about to fight with Clete Williams.
“I’ll break your skull if you don’t leave her alone,” Clete said, bunching his fists.
“Just because a woman shows interest in some other man?—”
“—I’ll kill him?—”
“—easy, fellas, easy—” Franklin was standing between them.
“—stupid son of a bitch?—”
“—just because your ego is as big as all outdoors?—”
“—that’s not what she says is big?—”
“—you lousy stinking scum of?—”
