The invitation was hand-delivered to me, and written in raised gold-leaf printing.
"Mr. Robert Welles requests your presence at a party commemorating his years in entertainment." I read out loud as Jeff Murphy idly read a magazine nearby.
"Welles...Welles...where do I know that name? Is this the guy that-"
"Yes, it's THAT Welles." Jeff Murphy said without looking up.
"The same guy who produced those old films?"
"That's the guy."
"I don't get it, why am I being invited?"
Jeff looked at me with exasperation in his face.
"Why do you always put yourself down? This is a big invite that even Chuck didn't get!"
"I know but..."
"But nothing! Go to the party!" he said "Do you know how many people get an invite to his place? Jesus, Jim I'll never figure you out!"
With that, Jeff walked out of my office, probably yelling all the way down the hall.
I could tell he was jealous, but he was probably right.
But what some would call insecurity, I'd call disbelief. I knew Mr. Welles from his books and his career in films was legendary, I'll say that. He produced several classic films, ran Hollywood Pictures for many years and was really seen as a classic Hollywood mogul. Even my director friend John McDonald, who never failed to scare the hell out of me at some point, was intimidated by him. But I still wondered why someone like me was being invited to a party at his place and not the higher-up at Artists Unlimited, people like my boss Chuck Tyler. And/or his second in command Jeff Murphy.
Only one way to find out.
Deep in Beverly Hills was a house called Woodland. It was Mr. Welles' pride and joy and would be the site of this party I'd been invited to.
The home wasn't garish or high-tech, it was old time Hollywood glamor, with large double doors, lush greenery outside and antiquities inside. But for what seemed like a huge event, the guest list seemed was either very small or I was an early arrival. I parked my Mercedes SLK convertible and was immediately drawn, not to the house but to another car that had arrived before me, a bright yellow Lamborghini.
"Mercy...mercy me!" I said to myself as I looked over its sleek lines that seemed other-worldly. In all the time I'd been in Hollywood I didn't ever recall seeing one of these on the roads, only in the pages of car magazines. I crouched down to look closely at the gleaming logo on the nose and I could see my reflection in it. I had to get a photo of this.
"Pretty nice wheels, huh?" I heard a female voice say, making me look up from adjusting the camera app on my phone.
"Very nice...I've never seen one of these." I said as I stood up.
"Yeah, I never had either...it was an impulse buy." she said "Still can't believe I own it."
"It does seem like some kind of dream mobile."
"Hi...Jenny McCarthy." she said as she extended an elegant hand.
The mystery woman was revealed to be Jenny McCarthy. She had the blondest hair I'd ever seen, it looked like it had been hand painted in gold. And she wore a beautifully simple and sexy red silk dress.
"I'm Jim." I somehow said.
"Jenny and Jim. Hey, that's got a nice rhyme to it."
"It's all in the 'J's I guess."
"Oh, yee-ah!" she replied with that wiseguy (or girl) tone of hers "So why are you here? Friend of Mr. Welles?"
"To be honest, I'm not sure. I've never met him."
"Same here. Let's go in and find out."
She impulsively took my hand and we went inside the elegant house where we were met by a well-dressed English butler who directed us to the pool out back.
"Holy shit!" Jenny said to me "The only other pool I've seen like this was at the Playboy mansion."
"You said it..." I replied.
At first glance it seemed a little ordinary, an egg-shaped pool. But the elegant fountains and the greenery that surrounded it were unlike any I'd ever seen. It was simple elegance personified.
"The guest list must've been pretty small." I said as I looked around.
"Yeah, where do you suppose we could get a drink?" she asked
"Over there looks promising."
I pointed to a small bar that actually had a few people around it.
"Ah, signs of life." she said
Jenny and I got glasses of wine and she began chatting with a couple who seemed to know her. But their conversation somehow bored me and my eyes drifted back to the house and then to a smaller building near the tennis courts. Several more people began arriving and Jenny recognized them too.
"I wonder if Mr. Welles would mind an explorer like me?" I thought to myself.
The party sounds drifted behind me as I cautiously began walking the grounds. The small building was unlocked and I quietly stepped inside. It turned out to be a screening room with aged leather chairs and framed posters for films Welles either directed or produced, all classics. I might have the nickname of "Hollywood Jim" but what I was staring at was real Hollywood history. Perhaps that accounted for the reverential silence I had as I looked at all the photos and posters on the walls. On a shelf, behind glass that was probably bulletproof, was a glittering gold statue.
"No way..." I mumbled as I looked closer.
It looked like an Academy Award.
Then I saw the inscription;
"Awarded to Robert Welles for best performance by a Cocksman in a leading role"
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jenny making her way to the screening room door.
"Hey, I wondered where you went. I never got to talk to you, you just disappeared."
"Oh, just looking around...curiosity, you know." I said
"Yeah, this place is something...whoa is that an Oscar?" she said excitedly.
"A slightly twisted Oscar if you ask me."
Jenny looked closely at the inscription, then put her hand to her mouth and laughed.
"That is be-yond twisted!" she laughed.
"Demented, maybe?"
"Yes, that's it!" she laughed.
"I think he must have very interesting friends too."
"I found out Hef's one of them."
"Really?"
"Yeah, they had some fun times together at the mansion."
"Maybe he gave him that award."
"It would be the kind of joke he'd do."
"Um, if you don't mind my asking...uh..."
"What's Hef like?" Jenny replied, it seemed like she'd been asked that question many times before.
I sheepishly nodded.
"He's a good guy, he never forgets his friends."
"Sounds about right, I almost met him once."
"Almost met him? What happened?"
"It's a long story, but I helped out a friend of his and he thanked me over the phone" I referred to the time I helped out Bridget Marquandt of "Girls Next Door" fame when her car broke down in the midst of a rainstorm and word got back to Hef "He sorta gave me an invite to the mansion but I never knew if it was serious or not."
"Ah, I see...he probably meant it."
All the time we'd been talking, Jenny had been looking at me and idly twirling a lock of her hair.
"What do you do, anyway?" she finally asked "I've been talking to you all this time and never asked."
"Oh, I work for Artists Unlimited." I said as I fished out a business card and gave it to her.
"Special Photographic Projects Director, huh?" she read.
"A fancy way of saying staff photographer."
We both laughed at that one.
"I like that." she said
Just then her phone buzzed, she quickly took a few steps outside to answer it. She looked at me and flashed that electric smile of hers at me.
