Lakeside Golf Club, California Wednesday 3:00PM

Parked by the first tee Samuel Langford sat in his golf cart at the Lakeside Golf Club. His playing partner had not yet arrived but would be along any second. Langford had been out until around 4:00 am following the release of his newest film. By the time he got home and fell asleep it had been closer to six. As a result this was his activity of the day.

He had a newspaper spread open wide and he was looking in the entertainment section. Across the front page in bold block letters was the headline Strong Winds Blowing for Potential Blockbuster. The headline made Langford grimace. No mention of the film title and his name was absent from the headline. Still the article had a chance to redeem itself.

Moving to the opening paragraph Langford began to read:

Dutch Winds masterful performance has him positioned for Oscar success this March. Winds performance saved a meandering plot that constantly looked doomed for failure without his brilliance.

A strong scowl was now forming across Langford’s face. He had directed Winds. He had pulled the performance out of Dutch despite his resistance. If it wasn’t for me the film would have been a colossal failure. No other director could have turned Winds into what I did Langford thought. The next three paragraphs continued to gush over Winds. Langford couldn’t read any more. He scanned the remaining sentences of the article for his name. It only appeared in the last sentence. The film was directed by Samuel Langford. Dutch stole the show. This article should have more about me, Langford thought.

Folding the newspaper Langford heard his phone chime. He looked down to see Elbert Figgins had texted him. Figgins was the most respected director in Hollywood. Eagerly Langford unlocked his phone to read the message.

“Dutch really saved your bacon. You’ll owe your career to him. Good job finding him. He really saved your boring film.”

Langford quickly looked at his 37 unread text messages and saw they were all congratulatory but they all prominently featured Dutch Winds. Langford was not happy.

This was supposed to be a celebratory round of golf but not anymore. Dutch Winds had eclipsed him. What kind of name was Dutch Winds anyway? A fake stage name of course. Petros Dinentopolos just didn’t roll off the tongue in the same way as Dutch Winds. It was time for a shift in the winds. Petros’ star had been shining too brightly. He needed to be knocked down a few notches.

“Hey Sammy, are you ready to play? Get out here and show us that new driver.”

Langford had been so immersed in his messages that he had not even noticed anyone else had arrived. Langford gave a fake smile as he stood and selected the club he was going to use on the first hole. His executive producer Willie Pierson was ready to play and the fresh air and exercise would be good for Langford.

He walked up to the tee box. Placed his brand new ball on the tee, took a couple of practice swings and turned to Pierson and said “Are you ready for me to show you how this is done?”

“Let’s see what you got.”

Langford stepped up looked down at his ball and then looked out at the flag 330 yards away. He should easily get a par score on this hole. As he began his swing he felt gentle gust of wind. Instinctively he thought I hate Dutch Winds. With his concentration distracted he unleashed a miserable shot. As he watched his ball skip far to the left Langford noticed even the birds had stopped chirping. Clearly they hated Dutch Winds as well.

After watching Langford shank his tee shot Pierson remarked. “I guess someone was out celebrating too late last night.”

“What is there to celebrate?”

“You are joking right?”

“Take your shot.”

Pierson stepped up for his first shot. He skipped his practice swings and uncorked a beautiful drive. It bounced a couple of times and ended up about 45 yards from the cup.

“I’ll get you on the next hole,” Langford said as he thought if it wasn’t for Dutch Winds I would have got you on this shot.”

“Want to put a wager on it?” Pierson asked.

Langford didn’t answer as he took his seat in the golf cart to track down his errant shot. Pierson chuckled as he followed him to the cart.

Taking the silence as a no Pierson reverted back to the prior conversation. “But really though you have to be pleased with how your film debuted last night right?”

“Have you read the reviews today?”

“Of course. It was a smashing success. You could be well on your way to an Oscar for this one.”

“No, the only possible Oscar winner from this film is Dutch.”

“Again that shows your genius. No one else was going to make him that great. You brought out the best in him.”

“He ruined everything.”

“We just had the best opening night for a film in 22 years. How exactly did he ruin everything?”

Quoting online reviews Langford said “Winds took a meandering script and turned it into gold. Winds may have just opened up new opportunities for everyone involved in this project. None of the reviews mention me.”

“That’s not true. There were several that praised you.”

“But none of the big five. They only had words of praise for Dutch. I am the one who made him.”

“Of course you are. That is why the studio is pairing you together for a three film run.”

“No, I can’t do that. I can’t bring him more success at my expense.”

“You are both locked in. The contracts have been signed.”

“How do I get him out of his contract? I need to be the star.”

“You can’t.”

“There is always a way. Whose ear do I need to get a hold of?”

“No one man, he is the golden goose right now.”

“It should be me.”

“The spotlight is big enough for the both of you.”

“No the spotlight belongs to me.”

“You are going to have to share.”

“I will destroy him first.”

Pierson stared at Langford in shock. He had met his share of irrational characters in Hollywood but if Langford was serious this was something next level. Calculating he decided to play it off as a joke.

“Oh yeah, how are you going to do that?”

“I will find a way, but mark my words from now on you will only be hearing about Samuel Langford. Dutch Winds days of success are done. When I am finished with him even the two am infomercials won’t touch him.”

Pierson shook his head in disgust. “You have a strange way of handling success.”

“Well you know what they say…. Wait is that attendant running towards us.”

“It sure looks like it, and he has a phone in his hand. Perhaps one of the big five are looking for their interview with you.”

“It’s about time. Now how do I look?”

“It doesn’t matter it is a phone call.”

“One day people will ask that attendant how I looked when he handed me that phone, so I need to look good.”

“I have no words.”

“Mr Langford you have an urgent call.” The attendant said in between breaths as he handed him the phone.

“This is Samuel Langford.”

A cold robotic voice responded “Inimicitia Aeterna,” before the line went dead.

Langford nodded his head. “Yes,” he mumbled under his breath, “for Dutch Winds,” he said clearly for those who were listening. He handed the phone back to the attendant and said “sorry Willie, I am going to have to rain check.”

“It must be tough being a Hollywood star,” Pierson called after him as he made his exit. Maybe with a big interview under his belt Langford would appreciate the success that Winds had helped bring him.