Квентин Тарантино - Once Upon a Time in Hollywood - The First Novel By Quentin Tarantino

“She’s purity personified,” Sam counters. “And these hard men, who’ve lived these hard lives, worship this little girl. And now the worst thing that can possibly happen has happened. You, an unscrupulous scoundrel, have taken the most precious shining jewel of their lives! And now you must impress upon them beyond a shadow of a doubt that you will kill her like that ”—Sam snaps his fingers, and Rick snaps his fingers in response—“unless they dance to your tune. Got it?” the director asks his actor.

“Got it!” the actor answers.

Then, with one final theatrical gesture, Sam points at the wooden chair. “Caleb, assume the throne of Denmark.”

Rick steps past his director and lowers himself into the seat of the chair, then, once seated, grips the arms of the chair with his hands, straightens his spine, and does his best to mimic the posture of a king on a throne.

Sam’s face lights up, as he declares to the set and the crew, “Behold, Prince Hamlet!”

Rick doesn’t understand three-quarters of what Sam just said, but he appreciates Sam’s enthusiasm. And apparently Sam has forgotten Rick’s fumbling with his lines earlier. The director turns away to deal with his crew, while Rick sits on his throne, goes over the lines in his head, and tries to think of himself as the Prince of Denmark.

The eight-year-old actress playing Mirabella enters the saloon, eating an onion bagel slathered in white fluffy cream cheese, which smears all over her face every time she takes a bite.

“I thought you said you didn’t eat on set?” Rick asks her.

“I said I don’t eat lunch when I have a scene after lunch, because it makes me sluggish,” she corrects, “but by three or four I hafta eat something or my power will crash.”

“Well, you ain’t sittin’ in my lap till you finish eating that monstrosity and wipe your fingers,” he tells her. “I don’t want you getting that white shit in my wig.”

“You’re just jealous you can’t have a bite,” she teases.

“No shit,” he says. “I ain’t been able to eat all fuckin’ day with this Cowardly Lion shit all over my face. Every bite of chicken I ate during that earlier scene was coated in hair.”

That makes the little girl giggle.

“But I gotta admit—that not-eating-lunch idea, especially when you have a scene later when you hafta eat, that ended up being a strong choice.”

“See, I told ya.”

The 1st AD, Norman, walks over to the two thespians and instructs Mirabella to sit in Rick’s lap. She ditches the bagel and climbs aboard. Then hair and wardrobe come by and start fussing and adjusting both actors, preparing them for the take. After vanity sciences finish their priming and shove off, the two actors wait for Sam to finish talking to the crew and give them the cue to start the scene. However, there’s a problem with the harsh daylight coming in through the big saloon picture window. So the director holds up the scene while one of the grips tapes a tan gel to the window to cut down the harshness of the afternoon sun.

While the little girl sits in Rick’s lap, waiting to perform their first scene together, she asks her scene partner, “Caleb … can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” he says.

“If Murdock Lancer doesn’t pay the ransom, or if something happens to the money,” she asks, “would you really kill me?”

“But he does pay the money,” Rick says matter-of-factly.

“Jeez Louise,” she rolls her eyes and says in exasperation, “I’m not talking to Rick, who’s read the script, I’m talking to Caleb , who doesn’t know what’s going to happen till it happens. So again, Caleb , if Murdock Lancer doesn’t pay the ransom, would you kill me?”

“Absolutely,” he answers immediately.

She’s a little surprised by the lack of hesitation in his answer. “Really? Absolutely? No question, no hesitation?”

“None whatsoever,” he answers. “That’s my thing when I play villains. I make them no-bullshit, real, real bad guys. Like, I did that horseshit Tarzan show with Ron Ely. Now, that show’s horseshit, but the guy I played was a real bastard. I played a poacher—you know what a poacher is?” he asks the child.

She shakes her head no.

“It’s a guy who kills wild animals he shouldn’t,” he explains. “So I enter the show carrying a flamethrower, setting the jungle on fire so I can stampede the animals to the area where I can kill ’em. Like I said, that show ain’t shit , but I dug playing that fuckin’ bastard. And same thing here. I commit to Caleb’s cruelty. I think it’s a strong choice.”

Listening to his explanation, she nods her head; then, when he’s finished, she offers up her interpretation.

“Well, naturally I understand what you’re talking about. I mean, you are the villain of the piece, so your character has storytelling concerns that my character doesn’t have. But putting aside the label ‘villain,’” she makes air quotes around the word “villain” and continues, “you’re still a character , and characters can be affected by a wide array of things that can cause them to act out of character.”

This is an interesting train of thought , Rick thinks, and he twists his upper body a little closer to her, to indicate he’s giving her his full attention.

She gives an example of where she’s coming from. “I mean, the way you talk in our big scene we’re doing tomorrow, it sounds like you kinda like me. Not this scene,” she quickly clarifies. “This scene you don’t know me yet. I’m still just Murdock Lancer’s little girl. But in our big last scene, we seem to know each other more.”

“Well, yeah,” he explains, “we’ve spent a couple of days and nights together on horseback ridin’ into Mexico.”

“Exactly my point,” the little girl insists. “And … apparently … you like me?”

“Apparently,” he concedes.

She fixes her eyes on him, and the moment Trudi does that, there’s an audible click sound in the air. It might have just been one of the land-pirate extras playing with the hammer of his pistol, but the timing was exact.

“What do you like about me?” she asks him.

He gets exasperated at having to be this clever, and says, “Oh, I don’t know, Tru—”

She cuts him off before he can say her real name. “Mirabella!” she interrupts.

Correcting himself, he repeats with contrition, “Oh, I don’t know, Mirabella.”

“No, that’s a cop-out, man. You know. If Caleb likes me, he knows why.” Then she instructs, “And you should know why.”

Rick says, “He likes—”

“ You like,” she interjects.

He rolls his eyes but goes along with the rules of the game as she has decided it must be played. “Excuse me,” he corrects himself, “ I like the fact I don’t hafta treat you like a child.”

“Ooh, great choice.” She claps her hands together in mini applause. “I like that answer.”

He smirks. “I bet you do.”

Pointing her finger to emphasize her words, she says, “So to get back to my original question: You will kill me … but you don’t want to?”

“No,” he concedes.

“No what ?” she fishes.

He gives in and tells her what she wants to hear, and slowly says, “No, I don’t want to kill you—”

Then she fires back quickly, “But you will?”

“Yes, I will,” he says with conviction.

She holds for a beat, then asks with eyebrows raised, “Are you sure?”

Her question makes him blink.

“Yes … I’m pretty sure.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, so you’re just pretty sure now, so maybe not?”