South by Southeast Read Online Free Page B

bagels, and fruit cups from catering and prepared to shoot the morning’s scene.
    Chela’s eyes were wide and excited at the sheer number of hard-bodied extras assembled before enough cameras to shoot the moon launch. It takes a village, all right.
    â€œWho’s starring in this?” Chela asked me.
    â€œTrust me, nobody you’d know.”
    Chela grinned. “Good. You never want big stars in a horror movie. No offense.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    Chela looked up at me as if I was crazy. “Hel-lo? ’Cause they suck, that’s why.”
    â€œJohnny Depp was in the original Nightmare on Elm Street . Kevin Bacon was in Friday the Thirteenth .”
    â€œDon’t count. At the time, they were nobodies.”
    I chuckled, sipping from my latte. “You sound like you’ve got it all mapped out.”
    â€œB and I came up with Horror Movie Rules.”
    Poor Bernard had been left behind in L.A., and I was afraid he’d been forgotten. The boy had transformed Chela from street to geek. “Let’s hear them,” I said.
    â€œOne, no big stars. Two, it has to be rated R. PG-13 horror is a waste of film.”
    â€œNot a problem in this one.” Freaknik would be lucky to get past the MPAA, considering the nudity and incest themes between the leads, who played a brother and sister. Just the thought of their scenes together made my skin crawl.
    â€œThree, absolutely no CGI monsters. CGI’s great for talking animals, but it isn’t scary. Too fake. You always know the monster isn’t real.”
    A laugh rumbled behind us. I knew the voice, but his laughter was rare.
    â€œ Fantástico ,” Gustavo Escobar said. “A visionary. Where was she when I was fighting the studio suits? Who is this thoughtful young lady, Tennyson?” Escobar took off his round-framed black sunglasses to peer at Chela more closely.
    Chela’s face turned deep crimson, and she moved closer to me, nearly hiding. Her shyness pleased me; once upon a time, Chela had been anything but shy.
    â€œGus, this is my daughter, Chela,” I said before she could speak. “She’s in high school.”
    The word daughter was fudging. I’d been raising Chela since she was fourteen, but her birth mother had refused to sign the adoption paperwork when I tracked her down, and we’d never made it official after Chela’s eighteenth birthday. As a recent graduate, Chela probably wanted to stomp on my foot for saying she was in high school, but Escobar’s presence mesmerized her. His aura made both men and women stare. Escobar carried himself as if he harbored the wisdom of the world.
    He leaned close to Chela’s face and spoke to her with a storyteller’s voice. “No big stars, sí . The bigger they are, the fewer chances they take. A PG-13 rating only announces to the world that you won’t make them uncomfortable. CGI monsters? As the lovely one says, they’re merely shadows on the wall. No substance. Only makeup and prosthetics will frighten us. But you forgot one rule.”
    â€œWhat?” Chela said.
    Escobar winked at me. “A black man must die, preferably first,” he said. “Preferably to save a white female of child-bearing age—the most valued member of our society. This sacrifice gives viewers a pang of loss and foreboding. Politically incorrect for a time, yes, but an important statement in our culture. Remember what Kubrick did in The Shining .”
    How could I forget? I’d read Stephen King’s novel, so I was surprised when poor Scatman Crothers caught an ax in his chest as soon as he walked through the door. Didn’t happen that way inthe book. Kubrick and Escobar apparently shared the same philosophy.
    â€œThe Sacrificial Negro,” I said blandly.
    Escobar’s eyes lit up. “ Exactamente! Rule Number Four.”
    While Chela giggled, I almost missed Escobar’s gaze flickering to her