The Last Movie Star Page #2

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for my brother.

I don't know who it is.

I mean, what, do you think

I Googled him or some sh*t?

- Oh, what?

- Hi. I'm Vic Edwards.

- Oh, Mr. Edwards.

- Yeah. Yeah.

I... I have to call you back.

- Hello, Mr. Edwards.

- Hi.

Um, welcome to Nashville.

How was your flight?

Was it delayed? I mean,

I've been waiting here forever.

You've been waiting here

forever my ass.

Now where is my limo?

I don't know anything about a limo.

- Really?

- But I'm Lil McDougal,

your personal assistant

and chauffeur

for the duration of the weekend.

We're off to a great start, aren't we?

[cell phone ringing]

Bjorn, shut up. I'm working.

- Come on!

- Hmm?

Sorry. Sorry. Come on. Let's go.

[tires squealing]

[keypad clicking]

[Lil sighs] All right.

We'll get you checked into the hotel

but there's no time to relax.

Gotta get to the film festival

in time for the opening ceremony

- and you're running late already.

- Whose fault is that?

- [horn blaring]

- [tires screeching]

[breathing heavily]

[tires screeching]

[engine sputtering, knocking]

This is an upgrade?

What's wrong with it?

Look, it's got a kitchen.

This is a kitchen?

Are you familiar with the term

"false advertising"?

Yeah.

Well, I was promised

first class accommodations.

I've got a good mind to have you

take me back to the airport

right now.

It's like I'm on Candid Camera.

Is this really a film festival?

Dude, there's a film festival,

and if you don't like

your accommodations

because they don't measure up

to your big Hollywood expectations,

don't gripe to me.

I'm just your assistant

because I'm the one with the car.

Take it up with my brother.

It's his stupid film festival.

- I'll meet you in the lobby.

- You call that a lobby?

Your key. Really?

I've seen phone booths

that were bigger than that.

See you soon. Can't hear you.

Yeah, right, right, right.

What a shithole.

- [horns blaring]

- [exhales]

Don't be crazy.

You're there already. Just enjoy it.

Enjoy it?

You should see this rat hole.

It smells like piss and Pine-Sol.

Well, you should feel

right at home, then.

Those boutique hotels

are always small

but they're very hip.

There's nothing hip or boutique

about this place.

And my assistant, my God.

She's just a basket case on wheels.

Oh, just relax, Vic.

It's one lousy weekend

and you'll get to the festival,

everybody will spoil you.

You'll feel like a big shot.

How bad can it be?

De Niro, Clint.

There must be something to it.

I guarantee you Clint

didn't stay in this shithole.

Oh, stop it.

I'll talk to you later.

I'm sorry about that.

[country music playing]

You are such an a**hole!

Well, I was just sitting here

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