Doin’ the Town

David Bojorquez looks like any other aspiring actor around town, with the kind of open good looks that instill confidence.

If he told you he worked for Steven Spielberg you’d say sure, he’s the type, a guy who wants to be close to the action.

He’s got trust-me eyes, a voice like honey in warm milk and a smile that melts ice cream.

The kid’s a winner, right? Wrong. The kid’s in County Jail.

Bojorquez, 29, lived high for three glorious, champagne-filled weeks by charging it to Spielberg’s Amblin Entertainment.

As a result, he’s facing three not-so-glorious years of hard time in state prison.

It was all a con. He didn’t know Spielberg and he didn’t work for Amblin Entertainment . . . but he did have one hell of a party at their expense.

“Why’d you do it?” I asked.

He sat facing me in a visiting room at the County Jail, looking contrite. A small Bible was tucked in the upper left hand pocket of his prison greens.

“It was stupid,” he said, eyes downcast.

He was like a kid being scolded for pulling a cat’s tail.

“It was a free ticket to a good time. It got started, and I got caught up in it.”

He got caught up in it, all right.

Bojorquez charged up to $800 for a single dinner for himself and a few friends at places such as La Petit Chateau and La Serre.

They dined on scampi, escargot and wild duck. They drank bottles of Dom Perignon like there was no tomorrow.

Nothing was too good for them. A 40% tip for the waiter. A limo home. Let the good times roll.

All parties end. By the time this one was over, Bojorquez had charged more than $5,000 to Amblin Entertainment and in turn was charged with eight counts of felony grand theft.

He pleaded guilty to four of them, plea-bargained away four others, and now awaits shipment to wherever the penal system finds him a cell for the next three years.

I tracked him down to see if the party was worth the cost.

“I’m not comfortable with this,” he said the other day. “When I get out, things are going to be different.”

He says it like he means it, but then he said he worked for Spielberg like he meant it too, so you never know.

Even his lawyer isn’t sure.

“Most scam artists try to con the system,” Robert Fefferman said. “David didn’t try to con anyone when he got to us. It was, ‘Yeah, I did it, I’m guilty.’ ”

He added: “Even bright, good-looking guys make stupid decisions.”

The way Bojorquez tells it, he was waiting tables in the Valley when a friend who worked for a movie company came up with the scam.

The friend, never arrested, knew where Spielberg had charge accounts and wanted the information put to mutually beneficial use.

“He had the information, I had the smarts,” Bojorquez said. He smiles in spite of himself. “So away we went.”

They hit restaurants Spielberg himself is said to frequent. No one ever asked questions when Bojorquez said charge it to Amblin.

He was smooth. He oozed warmth and self-confidence.

Girlfriends came along sometimes. If they wondered how their men could suddenly afford such luxury, they never asked.

Bojorquez said he considered the consequences, but only briefly.

“It would flash on me at dinner. This isn’t real! But I didn’t want to think about it, so I just had another drink.”

What really bothered him was cheating the guy who rented him the limos.

“I liked him and felt bad about doing this to him,” Bojorquez said. “I called him later and apologized.”

Everyone wants to live good.

We envy guys such as Spielberg and their millions. We view the Haves from a perspective of Have-Nots.

That’s what happened to Bojorquez. It just got to be too tempting. He saw a peach and picked it.

But before you shed tears for the guy, be aware he’s fallen twice before for committing fraud to support a cocaine addiction.

This time was different, he says. There’s no more coke habit and he didn’t go after money. This time he only wanted to live out a fantasy.

When I asked what he’d say to Spielberg if he could, Bojorquez lowered his eyes in studied atonement.

“I’d tell him how sorry I was,” he said. “I’d tell him I’m not proud of myself.”

Then he looked up, suddenly smiling the kid smile. “And I’d tell him I really liked ‘E.T.’ It was a wonderful movie.”

Hold on the smile, freeze frame and fade out.