Kelly's Quest
by
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Kelly watched them doing it on the bed. There were brief flashes of nakedness from beneath the cover, and panting, moaning sounds from the girl's parted lips. Occasionally they rolled over, spilling the sheet and revealing a full view of bare buttock. Then he was on top, more active. The girl's breath now heightened into accelerated gasps, crescendoed into a wild little cry of ecstasy. There was a pause followed by diminishing convulsions, a relaxed creeping smile and stillness. "Cut and print." Two "all clear" rings from sound. The director, pudgy, bald pated, stubble bearded, wiped his fogged glasses as he and his camera operator straightened up from their kneeling position, bedside. Their proximity to the subject had compressed the focus range of the hand-held camera to its close-up limits. "That's lunch! One hour for the cast, half hour for the crew!" The A.D.'s announcement galvanized the set. Work lights popped on. Scene lights popped off as sound level on stage jumped with the general resumption of conversation and happy migration toward the door. Kelly stood for a moment. She had watched the scene with the rest of the crew -- he new ones, glassy eyed, drooling, the old hands yawning. Copulation, she noted, even simulated, still packs substantial viewer appeal. Kelly posed herself a question. Would she ever take her clothes off in public like that, and simulate this ultimately personal and properly private act of physical intimacy -- for money? Not on your cotton-picking life she told herself as the subliminal flash from her catechism hit her subconscious readout screen. "As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman which is without discretion." "Where the fuck is my bathrobe?" Superstar hunk, Brooks Rutherford's voice challenged the set. Three assistants jumped. "Wardrobe! Where the hell is wardrobe?" "Mister Rutherford's bathrobe! On the double!" "Your car is waiting, Mister Rutherford." "Your lunch is ready in your motor home, Mister Rutherford." By the time Mister Rutherford's bathrobe arrived, his simulated sex partner had already slipped into hers and quietly departed. While Rutherford donned his robe, Kelly noticed him consciously favoring the new script girl with a flash of his considerable physical endowments, enjoying her blush. There was no doubt that he "owned" the set, was aware of it, and let you know he was aware of it. To say that Brooks Rutherford's rating with his fellow workers was "lacks charm to a remarkable degree", would be flattery. The crew privately dubbed him, "Our four million dollar asshole." But they knew his presence meant work - and you can't have it every way. Hurriedly, the producer arrived, a revised script under arm. Martin Brice Junior, a slim young man with weasel eyes and a message. "Just saw yesterday's stuff, Brooks. Looks terrific." Brooks grunted. "Yeah, so what else is new?" "I'll run them for you," Brice cajoled. "You want to eat first?" "I want a drink first. Let's go, Morgenstern." Rutherford's command summons tore the director away from his hurried conference with the script girl. As the three moved toward the door, Rutherford addressed his director. "Dave, did you ever hear of bad rushes?" Morganstern deadpanned, knew what was coming. "Not on my pictures." Rutherford grumbled on. "You give the goddamn producers and cutters a string of Rembrandt's and what do they make out of them? Garbage. By God, I am not doing another picture ever, unless I get final cut. Are you listening, Marty baby?" He delivered this last into Brice's face, accenting it with a triple too heavy paw pat on the cheek. Brice forced a grin. This was familiar small talk. His mind was on weightier matters. Time is money. A thirty-million-dollar picture and a ninety-day schedule. Each shooting day $441,178 goes out the window. Each hour, $55,147. If Rutherford now takes an extended lunch period, each extra minute costs $919.11. If the leading lady has to go to the john and she doesn't arrange to do it while they are lighting the set, it could cost $5,000 - six if she has problems - Ten? The grab in Brice's gut warned him to stop thinking, settle down his stomach for lunch, so he wouldn't just be drinking Maalox. They were almost to the door when it happened. Had Kelly followed the crowd, gone directly to lunch without volunteering to help her brother move some lamps, it would never have happened. Bending over to unplug a cable just as this top-level trio sauntered by, Kelly's well-formed jeans-filling derriere became their focal point. As they passed, the super star, with a smirk and a wink to his companions, dragged his hand lightly, caressingly, across Kelly's tempting bottom. They snickered. Having played touch football with her brothers and their friends as far back as she could remember, when tackled by some fresh new kid and touch went to feel, it triggered instant response from Kelly, long remembered by previous recipients. Automatic, swinging from the floor, Kelly Ryan's leather gloved fist caught Rutherford full on the mouth, knocking him off balance and backward into the arms of his producer.
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About the Book
To learn more about Buddy Ebsen's music, please go to:
Kelly’s Quest is a character driven love story. It is a book about a beautiful, forthright, standup young woman and her rebellion. It is about the qualities of human nature, such as ambition, greed, corruption, personal values, sexuality, loss of scruples, and the dilemma of combining the need for love and personal success.
Kelly, a beautiful, disillusioned girl working in a man's job, flees Hollywood after her quick temper has cost her a job as a stagehand, as well as her relationship with her father. After being clobbered because she dares to stand up for herself in a man's world, Kelly goes in search of a man that will make her feel like a woman, her Mr. Right. Her path is strewn with obstacles and uncertainties
There is in Kelly's life, a list of men with whom, in some manner, she became involved. Father Hennesy, her minister, Noel DeLacey, sensitive young film maker, Jerry, the millionaire who mistook her for a hooker, Jack Slade, a bad guy, and finally Gary Hunnicutt, a young Montana cowboy, who qualifies in every way as her Mr. Right. If she can steal him from Billie Jean, the seductive young Texas rodeo queen?
About the Author
Buddy Ebsen's best known characterization is that of "Jed Clampett patriarch of that celebrated piece of Americana The Beverly Hillbillies. His second best known is the television sleuth Barnaby Jones." Prior to that he was "Georgie Russell," Davy's pal in the Walt Disney classic Davy Crockett. Surprisingly, Buddy had never intended to be an actor. His goal in life was to be a doctor. However, after completing two years of pre-med studies at the University of Florida and Rollins College, the Florida landboom collapsed, affecting the fortunes of the Ebsen family. Since Ebsen senior was a dancing teacher, he had taught all his children his trade. Buddy shuffled off to New York to try show business, arriving there August 4, 1928. His Broadway credits include: Whoopee 1928, Flying Colors 1933, Ziegfeld Follies 1934, Yokel Boy 1939, Showboat 1945 and Male Animal 1953. His film credits include: Broadway Melody of 1935 with his dancing partner, sister Vilma, Broadway Melody of 1938 with Judy Garland, Born to Dance, the Shirley Temple picture Captain January, Banjo On My Knee, Girl of the Golden West 1938, Parachute Battalion, Night People with Gregory Peck 1954, Between Heaven & Hell 1956 with Robert Wagner, Attack, Breakfast at Tiffany's with Audrey Hepburn 1961, Mail Order Bride 1964, The One & Only Family Band 1968, The President's Plane is Missing, Fire on the Mountain 1981, Stone Fox 1986, to name a few. His creation of Cabaret Dada, a musical was inspired by the Dada artistic revolt as a protest against World War I. A song from that show was selected for world-wide broadcasting in seven languages by the Voice of America. In 1968, he won the Honolulu race in his 35 foot catamaran, "Polynesian Concept." Buddy had painting lessons as a child but this introduction to art did not flower until his later years. From casual pen and ink sketches of old Duke and Uncle Jed he was encouraged by his wife, Dorothy, herself a painter, to try oil. This led to a brisk sale of originals and three limited edition serigraphs of 300 each, Hong Kong, Sea Power, and Sedona presently 90% sold out. The Uncle Jed Country limited edition series of ten paintings represent a return to, and the development of his original inspiration Jed Clampett and Old Duke.