"Just Wren," said Andy.

The director, Martin Wohlers, rolled his eyes but grinned at the same time.

Davis Jordan Bloom, the producer's representative, asked, "You want your credits to just read 'Wren'?"

"That's right," said Andy. "That's going to be my professional name."

Phil and Helen said nothing to this and the producer and the studio lawyer hadn't said anything since the introductions at the beginning of the meeting.

They'd got started late, closer to 12 than 11. The long room with it's twelve-foot oak table and full-height windows looked out on the mountains above the city. Expensive homes, high in the forest above the smog looked back.

Davis seemed to think about it then smiled. "I like it. What about you, George?"

George Upshaw, the producer assigned by the studio to this project, grunted. "Style," he said.

Davis nodded. "Yeah, it's got style. But your legal name has to be on the papers."

"I know that," said Andy. "But if I'm going to have a career after this, I need a way to put some distance between it and what I do in the future. If I go back to Andy Wren in the future, I can play male parts again."

Several people nodded. Phil grinned. "Kid's always thinking," he said.

Wohlers laughed. "You sure you're only seventeen? Or did your agent think of this wrinkle?" He looked at Helen.

She shook her head. "No, that's all Andy's idea. The numbers in our offer are all his, too, but I agree with them. If this is worth what you think it is, Andy deserves a share of ownership."

Davis smiled. "Six percent is a bit steep for an untried talent."

"We're asking for six and a quarter," said Helen.

"And the point of your show is that all of us that will be in front of the cameras are untried talent. It's a necessary part of what you are selling so you can't discount for it; it's a positive not a negative," said Andy.

Everyone stared at him.

Finally, just when Andy thought he could not keep from breaking down and apologizing for speaking up, Upshaw laughed. "Moxie," he said.

Wohlers and Davis nodded and smiled, though they looked a bit uncomfortable about it. Phil grinned.

"This be Glendale, yo," said Phil, clowning around.

Andy suppressed a smile.

"We here in the heart of things, Hollywood, that way; Pasadena, that way; the Valley, that way, Malibu that way." Phil pointed while turning in a slow circle.

"You grew up here?"

"Thass right, ma chile," said Phil. "But sometime you gon' tell ol' Phil how you do shit like that."

"My father talks the same way about Oklahoma," said Andy. "But why the fake accent?"

"Because, heah is wheah Ah is a homeboy."

Andy shook his head, laughing.

Phil pointed. "Bus stop at the end of the block, one change of bus gets you to the studio one way, or to the office the other way." He gestured at the little cottage, "What you think of the pad?"

"Haven't seen inside it yet," said Andy.

After the meeting, Davis had directed Phil to take Andy and show him the apartment that he would be staying in until the rest of the cast of the show was ready. "Bungalow," the producer had said.

Andy looked at it. Yes, it was what passed for a "Spanish" bungalow in Southern California. One of six stand alone houses on a single lot, each had an arched porch, two wide windows on the front shaded by red tile awnings, and a security door of steel mesh and angle iron.

"What kind of neighborhood is this?" asked Andy.

"It's a good neighborhood," said Phil. "The studio owns these 'bungalows' and they are all empty right now, you can take your pick."

"I don't want the front, the back or the alley side."

Phil scratched his head. "That only leaves one of them."

"That's right," said Andy going up the center walk, past the two front bungalows and turning to the middle one on the left, away from the alley. "This one." He took the two steps onto the porch and tried the door. "Locked."

Phil produced a set of keys and chose the one tagged 'C'. He opened both the security door and the inner door and stepped inside. Bare wooden floors, peach-colored stucco walls and white-painted ceilings throughout; a couch, an over-stuffed chair, a bookcase, an entertainment center, a coffee table and a dining room set. The L-shaped front room had two openings off the back walls.

An open archway went to a small kitchen with antique range, oven and sink and a recent-make refrigerator. A black glass microwave hung under a much repainted cabinet. A large bottled water dispenser occupied one corner next to a small table. Through the kitchen, a back porch held an apartment-style washer-dryer combo and a storage cabinet full of cleaning supplies and more bottled water.

The other door in the front room opened on a tiny bedroom with two twin-size beds, a table between them and a small walk-in closet. The attached full bath had been refitted sometime in the last decade or so with modern fixtures. The tub had doors and a multi-function shower head. Way better than the water tank in a tree that Woody had set up one time when the plumbing failed in their mobile home.

Andy smiled. "I like it. When can I move in?"

Phil smiled. "You mean when can Wren move in."

 
"If Woody were driving from Glendale to Palmdale, he'd take California 2 to the crest and pick up Angeles Forest Highway," said Andy as they merged on to I-5 heading north.

Phil made a noise like he'd had a sudden chill or someone had dragged fingernails over a blackboard. "Your dad is crazy. That would take three or four hours on those twisty mountain roads. In good weather; I wouldn't try it this time of year."

"Don't tell him that," said Andy, smiling. "He'd bet you he could do it in two, or even one. He probably could which is why I don't ride on his motorcycle with him anymore."

"I...." Phil thought a moment and grinned. "I don't blame you." He laughed.

Neither of them said anything until they reached Burbank then Andy turned almost sideways to face Phil and asked, "You grew up in Glendale? Did you know anyone famous?"

Phil shrugged. "Besides the people in Forest Lawn? Not really. My dad went to kindergarten with Freddy Krueger, though."

"Robert Englund? That's cool. I hear he's a really nice guy and a hard working actor."

Phil nodded. "He transferred to some private school for gifted students so my dad lost track of him until he appeared as that alien in V."

Andy laughed. "He's good."

They fell silent again until Phil took California 14 toward Palmdale.

"What do you think your dad will say when he finds out what you're going to be doing?"

Andy shrugged. "Woody won't care. I mean, he cares what happens to me but as long as it's something I choose to do, he'll be okay with it." Another moment of silence. "I think he already thinks I'm gay."

Phil said nothing for a bit until he pointed at the road that led to the Vasquez Rocks, famous in western and science fiction movies for the odd formations there. "Kirk and the Gorn at the Vasquez Rocks," he said.

Andy laughed because Phil had said it in the exact intonation of the aliens in one of the weirdest of all Star Trek episodes, the one where Picard had to decipher the communication of aliens who talked only in allegory.

Phil grinned. "I'm surprised you've seen that one."

"Which one?" asked Andy, turning again in the seat to almost face Phil.

"Either of them, are you a Trekkie?"

"Not really but I guess I do geek out about classic television."

"Ouch. Classic? I remember that one."

"Which one?" asked Andy, grinning.

They climbed the pass above Agua Dulce while talking about favorite television shows and came back down into the Acton Valley discussing movies. "There's the turnoff to Tippi Hedren's place," said Andy. "She has tours of her animal rescue park. Lions and Tigers and Heffalumps, Oh, My."

Phil waggled a hand. "You're mixing your children's classics there."

"Hmm," said Andy.

Phil glanced at him sideways. "You look a bit like Tippi Hedren."

Andy, still facing Phil, shook his head. "Not what she looks like now, I hope. It's the forehead, I've got a tall forehead. I get that from Woody but since he's going bald he's got a really tall forehead." Andy demonstrated by moving his hands apart until the upper one hit the roof of the Lexus. "But Tippi Hedren has blue eyes, very blue. Mine are brown."

"Hazel," Phil said. "Always say your eyes are hazel."

"Huh? What color is hazel, isn't that like, brown?"

"Yeah, but nobody knows for sure, some people think it means green or gray or puce. And no one knows what color puce is."

"Puce is the color of French dressing, no one has eyes that color."

"No, it's not, it's more like French dressing made with pomegranate juice." They laughed, again, a lot.

Phil kept glancing over at Andy. Finally Andy asked, "Now what?"

"Why do you always turn almost completely toward me when you look at me?" asked Phil.

"Speaking of eyes," said Andy. "I'm almost blind in my left one. It's why I don't drive."

Phil blinked. "You could drive with one eye, lots of people do."

Andy shook his head. "It scares me. I won't do it."

"Okay," said Phil. "Huh."

"What?"

"It, uh, it...." He rolled his own eyes. "I think it's part of your charm. That eye is always catching up to the other one when you look at someone. It attracts people to look right at you."

Andy muttered something.

"What?" said Phil.

"I said, I've got Tippi Hedren's forehead and Sammy Davis, Jr.'s eyes," said Andy, louder.

Phil started laughing and couldn't stop.

Andy chuckled a bit but didn't seem that amused.

Phil laughed some more.

"All right, what is it? It wasn't that funny."

In a breathy, gulping voice, Phil sang, "She's got Sammy Davis eyes...."

They laughed until they went through the pass into Antelope Valley and the edge of Palmdale.

After they quit laughing, Phil said, "Barbra Streisand, too."

"At least I don't have her nose," said Andy.

"Point," said Phil.

"Woody's place is all the way through the town, on the way to Lancaster." Andy turned sideways in the seat to look directly at Phil again. "You are going to stay and help me pack and take me back tonight, right?"

"Of course. To the motel one last time, then tomorrow, everyone starts calling you Wren."

"And I get to move into my cute little bungalow," said Andy.

Phil squinted. "Cute?"