Lisa Miller vs. Hollywood

"Can you believe this!" Lisa Miller threw down a magazine on top of her agent's desk. Nicholas looked dryly from it to her.

Nicholas Block

#1 Agent

Fun Fact: Gives great massages

"Yes, I can." Nicholas said as he watched Lisa storm around the room. "It was bound to happen. It doesn't mean anything."

"Lisa Miller," the actress quoted from memory, "a rising star in the world of film, must think herself pretty high up on the list of grade A stars, when she's a rising B-lister at best. The recent string of movies that have catapulted this young actress to stardom was promised to continue with an end of the summer blockbuster."

Nicholas listened intently, hoping Lisa would get all this out now so he could calm her down and get back to getting them both a bigger reputation, and paycheck.

"Ms. Miller," Lisa went on, her anger building, "would exhibit her acting prowess and range by playing the part of a seductress– Betty Card– a welcome, but drastic, break from her previous roles (with, perhaps, the exception of her first role on a short-lived, Canadian TV show, see Page 34). Before the film's climax, Betty Card and the movie's male lead, Ace Harding, played by Sean Bower, would engage in their own climactic love scene. However, production was halted early Monday morning, when the lovely Lisa Miller walked on set determined not to perform the sex scene– explicit in her contract with the Production Company. The film is now rumored to be in danger of commercial release. As for Hollywood, it will likely see Ms. Miller rise and fall, come and go, like many before her, who fail to see the art and skill in, what many outsiders see as, gratuitously deviant scenes.

"And then he goes on to call me an 'outsider', and rip on the Canadian film industry. I mean– ha!– ever heard of the Toronto Film Festival!" Lisa finished in a huff.

"Well, he's got one thing right." Lisa eyed her agent dangerously. "You're not the first actress in Hollywood to do a sex scene. You're not the first to get blasted for not doing the sex scene. And you're not the first actress in Hollywood to get insecure and bitch about it to me."

"I AM NOT INSECURE!" Lisa yelled. She looked out the door to see if she had made a scene, turned back to Nicholas, and went red. ". . .Maybe I am still a Canadian towny girl, aren't I?"

"No, no," Nicholas said, his voice full of sympathy. "You were a Canadian towny girl. Then you became an actress. Now, your a Canadian towny girl, who is a world class, Hollywood actress." Nick had made his way to wear Lisa was sitting, and began rubbing her shoulders.

"Aaah," Lisa let out a sound of relief as Nick massaged her neck and shoulders. "Your too good for me."

"Yes, I am," Nick nodded. "And my wife's too good for me, but don't let her find out."

Despite Nick's effort, Lisa left his office that day feeling as insecure about her decision as ever. The movie was finished shooting– she had done the sex scene grudgingly, but well– and she had the next three months off to find a new project.

'Crap! I forgot to get Scott's number.' Lisa rummaged through her contacts to see if anyone would know Scott, when she remembered that Kyle was working on the same movie.

"Looking for that stuntman, Lisa?"

"Huh! Wait– how did you know I was calling? And how did you know I was looking for Scott?"

"It's a gift."

Kyle

Temp & Assistant

Fun Fact: Doesn't own non-V-neck T-shirts

"Also, I have caller ID and I saw you leave with– Scott, did you say?– the other day after the shoot. Hold on, I'll set up lunch for you two at The Hat."

"Sweet! I've never been. You're the best, Kyle."

The Hat

World Famous Pastrami

Fun Fact: One side (fries, onion rings, etc.) order could feed a family of four

This time, Scott arrived first and was already finishing his meal by the time Lisa arrived. "You jerk!" Lisa called out, smacking Scott on the back as she sat down. "Having 'lunch' with someone means you eat together."

Scott Pilgrim

World's Greatest Stuntman

Fun Fact: Eats here all the time

"I can still eat," Scott said defensively. "C'mon, let's order– ah, again. It's on me." Lisa smiled and followed. Once they had gotten their meal, both had pastrami sandwiches that reeked of delicious grease and flavor, Scott became pressed for a conversation topic, seeing as how Lisa became uncharacteristically quiet.

"I hadn't eaten meat for a long time before I came to L.A.– I got a discount at the vegan restaurant when I worked there, and after that it just kinda became habit– so this place got some taking use to. I usually eat here now though: it's by my work and the food is good."

Scott's voice became less and less confident and steady as he went on, as Lisa's face turned into more and more of a scowl as she played with her food. It was obvious that she wasn't really listening.

"Things became hectic after I moved in with that purple monkey," Scott said to amuse himself, "and the owner of the apartment building was always asking for rent– you know how mole people can be–"

"Scott," Lisa said suddenly, looking up into his eyes, "do you think I'm a good actress?"

"Aah," Scott was sweating bullets, "yeah! Absolutely. I haven't seen any of your movies, but–"

"You haven't seen not ONE of my movies!" Lisa had slammed her hands on the table and nearly stood up.

"Well," Scott put his palms up in hopes of mercy, "I've been kinda out of it, and I'm not a big movie lo~la~la~la."

Lisa face was screwed up in indignation and sadness. "See you later, Scott." With her sandwich half-eaten, and the bill paid, Lisa grabbed up her bag and stormed out of the place.

"Hey, wait! Lisa, I didn't mean to–" Scott sat there for a moment looking grumpy, then bolted out of his seat after Lisa. He threw open the door just in time to see Lisa walking up the street. "Lisa, c'mon!" Scott took a deep breathe and yelled, "C'MON!"

Slowly, Lisa came to a halt, and leaned up against the building on the street corner. She didn't look back toward Scott, but grasped in her purse for a cigarette and lighter. She smoked and waited, as Scott stood dumbfounded that his call had actually worked.

Eventually, Scott's body caught up with his mind, and he began walking toward Lisa. "Is this really about me, or is something else bothering you?" Lisa took another hit. "You asked me about being a good actress."

"I'm not sure if I like the new Scott Pilgrim or not," Lisa said dryly. Scott looked puzzled. "Your not so clueless anymore: I guess that's good. Sorry, I went off on you."

"It's 'kay."

"It's just," Lisa grabbed at her hair, "these stupid dime-a-dozen reporters who think your some pre-madonna, wannabe, pretentious bimbo– y'know?"

"Ah. . .no, not at all, really."

"C'mon," Lisa put out her cigarette and grabbed Scott's arm, "movie marathon."

"Wait, what? No, I got to–"

"–Comfort your friend. That's right, Scott. Isn't it?" The two had stopped in the middle of a crosswalk. Lisa looked determinately into Scott's eyes– he had meant to look away, but wasn't quick enough.

Defeated, Scott agreed.

It wouldn't have been hard to sit through three straight movies– even with Scott's short attention span– if it weren't for Lisa's constant commentary. She would explain everything from the wardrobe, to the cast, to how she got the role, to the director, the sets, the food, the drama, and on and on and on.

Try as he might– and he did try– Lisa's constant stream of information over nearly seven hours was too much to handle.

"I never liked the credits on this one. But what did you think of it, Scott?" Lisa tore her eyes away from the screen and looked to her side.

"Bblleeeehh. . ." Scott looked like a depressed pancake.

"I'm not catching you," Lisa said casually.

"goooood. . ."

"Huh?" Lisa pulled back her hair and inclined her ear toward Scott's mouth.

"You were good," Scott groaned.

"Really! All of them? Or just one? Or two? Which one was it?" Lisa had gripped Scott's hoodie and started to shake him back and forth, in and out of his seat. "Sssccoott, don't you quit on me!"

"I'm freaking out," Scott gasped, his voice trembled because of Lisa's shaking. "Lisa, you're freaking out!" Scott grabbed Lisa by her shoulders and shook her back. Lisa let go of Scott, endured the counter-shaking for a moment or two, and then broke free.

"I AM FREAKING OUT!" Lisa ran out of the house-theatre and Scott went after her. He chased her down the hallways and into the large kitchen.

"Who's house is this, anyways?" Scott asked a pacing Lisa.

"What?" Lisa asked dismissively.

"The owner of this house...and the theatre, I guess."

"Bill Murray," Lisa answered quickly, resuming her pacing.

"Y'know Bill Murray!"

"Of course not," Lisa said shortly. "Aren't we trying to cheer me up, Scott!"

"Rrright," Scott responded determinately. "You need to tell me what's bothering you now." Lisa stopped pacing, but didn't look up from the floor. And she didn't answer Scott. "Why don't you think your a good actress?"

Lisa glanced up at Scott, ever so slightly, but continued to stare at her shoes. Scott clenched his fist and screwed up his courage. He walked over to Lisa and hugged her gently, like she was made of something delicate. Lisa, slowly but surely, hugged back.

"I don't think it matters whether I– or anyone else– thinks your a good actress. If you like doing it, and the people you like likeyou doing it, then its no problem."

Lisa hugged tighter and tighter as Scott spoke. "I like you, Scott. And I like being an actress." Lisa let go and wiped her eyes. "And I'm a damn good actress!"

"I think so too," Scott smiled.

Lisa smiled back. "Let's get you home, Scott. It's past midnight."

A quarter till 3 a.m., Scott and Lisa found themselves stumbling on the sidewalk.

Outside "Rock the Bar"

Pub and Entertainment

Fun Fact: "Rock the Bar" executes paparazzi on sight

"How old are we?" Scott asked through slurred lips.

"Mmmm..." Lisa thought seriously. "Old enough to know this was a bad idea. Oohhh," Lisa, who was hanging onto Scott for support– who thought he was hanging on to Lisa for support– suddenly placed her hands upon her stomach. "Pull over, I need to–"

Lisa suddenly veered off the sidewalk into an alleyway, where she puked up the drinks that she had consumed with Scott over the past two hours or so.

"Hey," Scott looked around, and, spotting Lisa, fell over himself to get to her. "You need me to hold your hair back?"

Lisa panted and wiped her mouth. "I have short hair, Scott. Oh no–" Lisa croaked.

"Hey," Scott looked up and down the street. "Isn't bad if someone, like, gets a picture of you out like this?" Lisa *blurched* in response. "I'll get a cab."

Scott, sobered slightly by the smell of vomit, helped Lisa into the cab. 'Crap, I don't know where Lisa lives.' Scott tried to get an answer from Lisa, but she just held up her hand, as if to say, 'If I open my mouth, words aren't what will come out.'

"Hey, man," Scott asked the cab driver, "I don't suppose you know where Lisa Miller lives?"

"Who? The actress? Shit, is that Lisa Miller?"

"Uh," Scott kicked himself internally, "No. Just drive, I'll show you where to stop." There was nothing for it, Lisa would have to sleep at his apartment.

Scott's Apartment

Time: 'Almost' Noon

Fun Fact: Scott is caught up on his rent

Scott woke up drearily from a recurring dream. In it, he found himself running toward a rainbow. Or was he running away from it? And no, he wasn't running: he was rollerblading– on top of mountain-sized waves of sand.

He got up, put on a shirt, and walked out to the main den. Last night, he vaguely remembered putting Lisa down to sleep (on the couch?). Then, he had ate some cereal, and went to his bed. He looked twice around the den, but didn't see Lisa. He looked in his room, in the closet, again in the den, but Lisa wasn't there. Then he noticed the note on the kitchen sink.

"Dear, Scott, Thanks for taking care of me last night. Lo3, Lisa."

'Who puts "3" in a hand written letter?' Scott took a bite of the week old pizza he had recovered from the fridge, then looked at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. Before he could think of what he had to do today, his phone rang.

"This is Stuntman, Scott Pilgrim."

"I like the introduction, Mr. Pilgrim," a handsome, silky voice complemented from the other end.

"Uh–" But before Scott could respond, the voice continued.

"We haven't met, but a mutual friend suggested you give me a call. Seeing as how you don't know my number, I thought I'd take the initiative."

"And how did you get my number?" Scott asked, his voice full of suspicion and danger.

"Calm down, fighter: this isn't a thriller or action movie, and I'm not evil. Well...I'm more ambiguous than good."

"Get to the point," Scott demanded. " How'd y–"

"From Lisa Miller, of course. She's my client, and you could be to. Why don't you come in for a meeting today. Let's say, lunch?"

"So you're an agent?"

"Nicholas Block: talent agent. It was a pleasure talking to you. I'll see you at lunch."

"But how will I–" The phone line went dead and Scott sighed. "This sucks. I'm going back to bed."

*Ding Dong* Rang the door to Scott's apartment. Grudgingly, Scott answered it. On the other side of the door stood a man in what looked liked a drivers suit. 'He had the hat at least,' Scott thought, glancing down at the cap under the man's arm.

"Hello, Mr. Pilgrim," the young man said. "I'm here to take you to lunch with Mr. Block."

"What! That was like, ten seconds ago. I just got up. It's not lunch for another five hours or something!"

"It's past Noon, Mr. Pilgrim." Scott looked at the clock again, then back at the driver, then towards his room.

"Your right," Scott conceded. "Alright, let me get pants on. And call me Scott, please."

Nick's Office

(?) Minutes after Noon

Fun Fact: Located on the 143rd floor

"Nicholas Block: talent agent. It was a pleasure talking to you. I'll see you at lunch." Nick hung up the phone.

"So what'd he say? No, wait: how did he sound!"

Lisa Miller

Status: Distressed & Neurotic

Fun Fact: She's the protagonist of this story

"He sounded groggy and overly suspicious– like I kidnapped you or something," Nick replied, his temper becoming shorter by the second.

Lisa had barged into his office in a panic. He thought she might have picked up another article that bad mouthed her. Instead, she insisted immediately that he call Scott.

"Why? And what am I saying?"

"Anything! Talking to him about being his agent– but don't forget to mention me– and listen to how he reacts to then!"

So, Nick had done it; but Lisa hadn't calm done one bit. "But did he mention me!"

"The phone was on speaker, Lisa. What's this about? So you slept at his place," Nick commented dismissively, "You were drunk."

"I woke up in HIS BED, NICK!" Lisa collapsed in a chair and buried her face in her hands. "God– I'm such a tramp. I'm back to three years ago– NO! I'm back in high school!"

"Hold on," Nick said, seriously worried about Lisa. He hadn't seen her this rattled since she first got off the bus in Hollywood. "You didn't sleep with him–?"

"I told you, Nick, I don't re–"

"Right, right. But you don't think you slept with him, right!" Nick insisted.

"THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT, NICK!" Lisa launched out of her seat, and started pacing again. "I was going to take him home," Lisa went back over the play by play. "But then I took him to a bar. And I got drunk, and I got him drunk– I wanted to–"

"Forget about the article," Nick finished for her, putting his hands on her shoulders to stop the pacing. "And to have drinks with a friend who you had feelings for in the past."

"But, I–"

Nick let go of Lisa, who was attempting to shrug him off. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Puking in the alley," Lisa answered confidently.

"Did you get any on your dress?"

". . .yes," Lisa said again, hesitantly, but none the less confident.

"Well, that explains why were wearing one of his shirts. Good thing you called me the moment you woke up. A picture of you coming out of a guy's house, in his clothes, is not what we need after your stunt at–"

"Nick! Back on track, please!"

"I apologize. Anyways, my point was: who is gonna make out with a girl who tastes and smells like vomit? And besides, this Scott Pilgrim doesn't seem like a complete asshole."

"He's not!" Lisa said. Her tone sounded as if she were defending herself, rather than a friend she hadn't seen for three years. "He's sweet, and– well– kinda a pussy. He can be a dick sometimes, mostly cause he's stupid and lame. But mostly, he's just. . .sensitive, and sweet."

Nick eyed Lisa suspiciously. Lisa caught his glaze and blushed. "Well, there we have it. Two pieces of advice: don't go out drinking, unless you have a sober chaperone; and don't sleep with this, Scott Pilgrim." Lisa's head shot up. She looked scandalized, but didn't say anything. "Would you like to come to lunch with us, just to make sure you two didn't hump each other senseless?"

"No," Lisa said, huffing, "Thank you." And she left the office.

Powder

What, again?

Fun Fact: This place serves complimentary (white) cigars and cigarettes

Scott got out of the car, and looked around. Wasn't this where he and Lisa ate, before? Maybe he should go visit the cook he knew in the back. " *Ahem* " The driver caught Scott's attention and pointed over to a corner booth. Scott looked, seeing a well-dressed man sitting alone in the large booth, then looked back to confirm that this was Nick. The driver nodded. Scott walked over to the booth confidently, and Nick met his eyes with a formidable look. He got up to greet Scott, extending his hand. Both men shook without saying a word, and they sat down at the same time at opposite ends of the booth.

"What's this about?" Scott began, after he ordered an appetizer and iced tea.

"I told Mr. P–Scott," Nick remembered at the glint in Scott's eyes, "Ms. Miller thinks I can help you." Nick took a drink of water. "Professionally, that is." Scott said nothing, but shifted uncomfortably in his seat without breaking eye contact. "Tell me, Scott. Do you have an agent?"

"No."

"Manager?"

"No."

"Any representation at all?" Scott shook his head once. "How do you keep finding work?" Nick asked, for the first time, sounding genuinely interested.

"People find me," Scott said innocently.

Nick smiled. "I bet they do." He took another drink, finishing off his water. Suddenly, startling Scott, Nick stood out of the booth and buttoned up his suit jacket. "Well, Scott. It was good meeting you. I believe I will help you, if you like. You can tell anyone you like that Nicholas Block is your agent. And if that doesn't solve any problems, answer any questions, or fulfill any requests you may have in this town, then feel free to give me a call."

Nick held out his business card, and Scott took it. "One last thing, Scott." Nick fixed Scott with a look, and Scott got the first definite feeling that not only was this suit powerful, but he was dangerous– or, untamed. He leaned in and asked softly, "Did you sleep with Lisa Miller last night?"

Scott was caught off guard, but didn't say anything. Nick neither moved, spoke, nor breathed, waiting for an answer. Scott thought back to what happened the previous night. 'I brought her home. . .she thought she was back at her place, and she began to undress. I threw a shirt to her and she put it on. . .she collapsed on my bed. . .and I went to get cereal. . .then. . .then. . .I forgot she was there, and I collapsed on the bed too. Yes, that's definitely what happened.'

Scott often had a bad memory, and some times he plain remembered things wrong. But he knew that if he really thought about, really wanted to know, then he could remember correctly. He finally answered, "No."

Nick smiled. "Good. And Goodbye, for now." As Nick walked out and his food arrived, a curious feeling welled up in Scott– and a thought. 'I guess they're together.'