by De-Ann Black
‘Can’t I just talk normal?’
‘The producer is a hard businessman. He’s a very successful producer and property owner with houses all over the city. The bottom line with him is money.’
‘It’s the same in the newspaper business.’
‘True, but you can’t just speak your mind at this meeting, Phred.’
‘I’ll be tactful. Truthful but tactful.’
Vaughn smiled quietly and e–mailed the five scripts to my laptop.
‘Got them,’ I said. I wanted to finish my tea and read them in bed, something I was used to. I could concentrate there, though it would be different being in Vaughn’s bed. I’ll just correct that — one of Vaughn’s spare bedrooms. He’d suggested I sleep in the room I’d used before to try on the dresses. I was happy to sleep there. It was cosy and luxurious.
While I drank my tea, I read the list of scripts. Two of them were action scripts. A note to Vaughn highlighted they’d like me to work on these. My fighting prowess at the party had been part of the reason these were suggested.
‘Why is it an advantage for me to be able to fight?’
‘As a scriptwriter who is also able to write the action scenes, the fight scenes, as I think you could with your ability in martial arts, this would put you in quite a unique position with this particular production company. Usually they have to hire someone else to write the fight scenes, that’s before the script even goes to the movie’s fight coordinator. The basic fights are part of the characters and storyline. So if you can do it all, well, you’ll earn more money and the script is often better for it.’
‘I could rewrite one of these. The espionage one is workable, but the other is tosh. These types of movies never do well.’
‘You can’t tell him that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they’ve already optioned the script.’
‘They’ll lose out financially on this one.’
‘It’s not your job to tell them that. You have to keep within the perimeters of your brief. They don’t like ructions. You won’t fit in. It’s your job to rewrite the script they’ve chosen, fix anything that’s wrong with it, polish it until it sparkles, and leave the rest to them.’
I nodded.
‘I don’t mean to sound harsh, Phred, but if you walk into this meeting, you need to be prepared or they’ll chew you up.’
‘Sounds lovely.’
‘You think the newspaper industry is fierce, but the movie world is ferocious.’
I closed my laptop. ‘Well, if I’m going to be back in the circus ring, I’d better get to bed.’
He frowned. ‘The circus?’
‘Never mind.’ Royce had cracked the whip relentlessly at the paper. But by the sounds of it, the snowman was the new ringmaster. I’d be careful what cages I rattled.
‘Listen. You can do this. I know you can. I see the potential in you.’
‘Why are you so determined to help me, Vaughn? Not that I don’t appreciate it.’
He gazed at me, at first with softness in those grey eyes, and then with building passion.
‘Because I care about you.’
And then he took be totally unawares.
‘Apart from your writing, what do you think about the future? Ever think of settling down?’
‘I don’t know if I’m the settling down type. But if I met the right man . . .’
‘You could be tempted?’
‘If he was kind, loyal and honest.’
‘I’m tempted to kiss you. Is that honest enough?’
I caught my breath, and nodded.
Vaughn wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close and kissed me. I didn’t resist.
His kisses were warm, sensuous, lingering.
Then, still holding me close, he said, ‘Tomorrow’s meeting is too important. We both need a clear head.’
My head was anything but clear. I could still feel his kiss and the effect he had on me.
‘If the meeting goes well, we’ll celebrate tomorrow night,’ he said, hinting at a romantic evening.
‘And I’ll kiss you breathless,’ I said, smiling.
‘Promises, promises . . .’ he said, leaving the bedroom.
‘Never broken one yet.’
‘Goodnight, Phred.’
I went to bed. The blizzard was blowing outside. From the window I could see the snowman we’d built earlier.
I sat up in bed with my laptop. The bed was luxurious; the duvet and satin quilt were clean and new.
I began reading the scripts. I made a copy of each one and edited them as I went along. Old habits and all that. But if I did get a contract to rewrite these, I’d be ahead of the work. That would surprise them and take the pressure off me. If the meeting bombed and I was never to darken their doors again, then fine, I’d done this work for nothing. I knew with everything that had happened today, leaving the paper, the fight, the meeting tomorrow, and kissing Vaughn, especially kissing him, I’d never sleep tonight, so I’d be as well working. Vaughn’s bedroom was downstairs. Mine was on the first floor, so he wouldn’t hear me tip-tapping away at the keyboard.
I had a habit of ticking over on a couple of hours sleep when things felt pressured. A habit I intended to break. Tonight my bad habit was advantageous. I could tear through two of these scripts by morning. I could.
‘Sleep well?’ Vaughn said next morning when I went down to the kitchen for breakfast. I’d showered in the en suite bathroom, washed my hair, and tidied myself up. I didn’t look tired. The excitement was buzzing through me.
‘I was very cosy and comfortable,’ I said, not lying, just not giving him the full picture.
‘I don’t have anything fancy for breakfast,’ he said. ‘I’ve made toast and there’s cereal. Hope that’s okay.’
I pulled up a chair at the breakfast bar, poured myself a glass of fresh orange juice, and had cereal with milk, topped with fruit.
‘This is delicious,’ I said.
His hair was still damp from showering, and he wore an expensive white shirt and smart black trousers. His tastes were classy but they suited him.
We kind of matched, because I was wearing a white shirt under a black jumper and skinny black trousers tucked into black boots. The white cuffs of the shirt were long and open, adding a bit of style to my outfit.
‘You look lovely,’ he said. ‘Wear that to the meeting. It’s ideal. You look like a writer.’
‘I do?’
‘Yep.’
The kitchen had patio doors that led on to the back garden. I gazed at the beautiful wintry scenes through the glass while I ate my cereal.
‘So,’ Vaughn said, sounding like he was leading up to something, ‘how many scripts did you rewrite while I was sleeping?’
He knew! How did he know?
‘Is there any point in lying?’
He shook his head.
I drank some of my tea. ‘Two.’
‘Only two?’
‘And a bit.’
‘Hmm. I’m impressed.’
‘How did you know?’
‘I figured out the formula while I was lying in bed. Phred plus bed plus laptop plus scripts needing rewritten equals — a hell of a lot of writing done in the night.’
I had another sip of tea. Vaughn drank coffee.
Then we both laughed.
‘I don’t ever want you to work at that rate,’ he said, ‘but I’ll be honest with you. Just this once, if you can hand those over today at the meeting, I’d say the contract will be yours.’
‘One of the scripts only needed four scenes rewritten. That was a couple of hours work.’
‘Well, I think they’ll be impressed.’
After breakfast, I made more tea and coffee and we went through to the lounge. We chatted about the scripts, and then Vaughn had work to do and left me to write in the lounge while he worked in his office.
There was no mention of our kissing but I could sense the attraction between us. But more than anything, it
felt heart warming to be treated with some kindness. I’d become so used to the sarcasm and snide remarks from Royce the ringmaster, that backbiting and harshness had become the norm. That was wrong on so many levels. This morning was like taking the blinkers off and realising how things could be. Yes, I was sitting in a millionaire’s mansion, not worrying about the heating bills and rent for the first time in . . . maybe ever, but it felt more normal with simple things like having tea and cereal for breakfast.
Bradley’s world with his glitzy parties was anything but normal, and yet I was comfortable with him. I’d never cared what anyone said, rich or poor, if you find someone you’re comfortable with, that friend is worth their weight in gold.
But I’d no intention of dropping my guard yet. If I treated this meeting as if it was a fiery day at the newspaper office, hopefully I’d come out unscathed.
Vaughn cleared the snow from his car and we got ready to drive to the meeting. The car had been sitting in the snow since last night. When he tried to fire up the engine, the car wouldn’t start.
Concerned we’d be late for the meeting, I got out of the car. He wondered what I was doing, and it crossed my mind that we should use my car, but I decided to see if I could get his started.
‘Pop the bonnet open,’ I called to him through the window. It had stopped snowing but it was freezing cold.
Vaughn clicked it open. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Tinkering with it,’ I said. ‘Okay, try it now.’
He did, and the car started up.
I closed the bonnet and got back into the car, shivering slightly.
Vaughn was laughing at what I’d just done as he revved up the engine and we were on our way.
We arrived for the meeting with the producer at his Manhattan office. There were two sides to the company — movie production and property.
The producer (I kept thinking of him as the snowman), a director, a production assistant and Vaughn and me sat around a large table. The office had an expansive view of New York. I could see the newspaper building a few blocks away. I wondered what they would be doing. What I would be doing if I was still there? Was it really only yesterday that I’d walked away from the paper?
The first thing we discussed was Bradley’s script, the one I’d doctored. They confirmed what they’d said in the e–mail, that it had been approved, and they were paying me, as Bradley had promised, and crediting me as one of the scriptwriters.
So now I had the ten thousand dollars, plus the additional payment, and I had the money from the paparazzi work.
I planned to buy one treat, a few necessities and save the rest in case everything went to rats. The treat would be a camera. Strangely, I missed the paparazzi camera. And I wanted a new duvet and covers for my bed. A nice big fluffy duvet and pillows so that I could sit up in bed with my laptop and write the scripts.
The producer was talking. ‘We’d like you to work on a few scripts. One of them, the espionage screenplay, we want it in a hurry. If you can finish it in three days we’ll pay you fifteen thousand dollars. If you finish it in two days, we’ll pay double.’
‘What if I gave you the script now?’ I said.
The producer blinked. ‘I’d write you a blank cheque.’
‘Make it payable to Phred. I’m waiving my fee on this,’ said Vaughn.
The producer leaned forward. ‘You’ve finished it?’
‘I worked on it last night. I changed a few of the main scenes. The rest seemed okay.’
Vaughn e–mailed the script to the producer’s assistant whose laptop was on the table.
‘And I’ll e–mail the other one that she’s finished,’ said Vaughn.
‘She’s finished another one?’ the director said, looking in surprise at the producer.
I nodded.
‘If we approve these,’ said the producer, ‘you’ll be well paid. In the meantime, can you start work on the other three projects?’
I hesitated.
‘Something up?’ the producer said.
‘I’m interested in two of the scripts, but the third one . . . ’ I glanced at Vaughn whose eyes were willing me not to tell the truth. The producer sensed the tension.
‘Speak up, Phred. Say what you think,’ the producer said.
‘It won’t work. Movies with those types of themes and storylines are never successful, and yet people keep making them. Name me any in the past few years that have been box office hits.’
The producer looked at the director.
‘Could you rewrite it?’ the director said to me.
‘It still wouldn’t work. What matters is when people are in the cinema, bums on seats, whether they enjoy it. People don’t like these movies.’
The producer nodded. ‘She’s right. I’ve been thinking this myself. She’s the only one to say what needed said.’ He said to me, ‘You’ve just saved us at least $30 million in pre production costs.’ He looked at Vaughn. ‘We’ll have to figure out some form of payment for that.’
‘Does it have to be in money?’ I said.
‘What other form of payment did you have in mind?’ the producer said.
I liked him. He was sharp. He didn’t play games.
‘I’m looking for somewhere to live. A house, with a garden. In New York. You have property. Houses to lease.’
‘You want a house?’
‘The lease of it for free.’
‘For how long?’
‘One year.’
‘Done.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
He nodded that he was happy with the deal. He stood up. The meeting was almost over.
‘Remind me to let you make the deals from now on,’ Vaughn whispered to me.
‘Sorry, I know you could’ve handled it, but I’m used to dealing with things on my own.’
‘Don’t ever lose that ability,’ said Vaughn.
The producer buttoned the jacket of his suit. ‘I’ll have the contracts drawn up and get them to you by the end of the day.’
‘Great,’ said Vaughn.
We all shook hands.
‘Welcome to our world,’ the producer said to me.
As he said this, I saw the newspaper building in the distance. Despite everything, I felt my heart ache that it was gone.
I saw Vaughn put together my thoughts. ‘You made the right decision, Phred.’
I nodded. I had made the right decision. I just wished I didn’t feel so sad about it.
Vaughn and I went to my apartment to pick up some of my own scripts that I didn’t have on my laptop. He wanted to read them after we’d had dinner at his house.
Vaughn looked around. ‘I’d hoped to say that this apartment was okay. Homely maybe, but it’s not. You can’t stay here, Phred.’
‘I’ll stay until I get the house.’
‘You could stay with me.’
‘I’d never get any work done. I’m going to start on the scripts tonight. Besides, I can afford to heat this place, and I’m used to it. I’ll write quicker here.’
‘Okay. But you’re still having dinner at my house.’
I picked up the scripts.
‘I’ll even bake a cake,’ I said.
The snowman was waiting for us. The frosty one, not the producer. I shook the fresh snow off his scarf and tidied him up as I went by. He was frozen solid.
While Vaughn dealt with catching up on some business calls for his clients, I made dinner and baked a cake. A Victoria sponge with buttercream filling, raspberry jam, and white icing.
‘Smells delicious in here,’ Vaughn said, coming into the kitchen carrying his laptop.
‘Dinner’s almost ready.’
Vaughn smiled at me. ‘You’ve been offered the choice of ten properties.’ He handed the laptop to me.
I put the laptop down on the kitchen counter, and my jaw dropped when I saw what was listed. Photographs of each house showed beautiful mansion style homes that looked like they were out of some exclusive estate agents listing. And I
supposed they were.
I couldn’t take my eyes of them. ‘I can have any one of these?’
‘You can view them tomorrow.’
We had dinner, and then Vaughn drove me round that night to see the houses. He seemed as excited as I was, and I couldn’t wait to see them. ‘All of them are great, but this is it. It’s got the right feel to it. I love it. It’s perfect.’
The house was smaller than Vaughn and Bradley’s houses, but a mansion in normal terms. The garden had trees around the front and back lawns that were covered in snow. The property was a lovely mix of traditional and modern, with large windows that would let lots of light in.
‘We’ll view it inside in the morning,’ he said.
I nodded, jumped up and threw my arms around him. He swung me round and round in the snow in front of the house that was to become my home for the next year.
We went back to Vaughn’s house for cake, though I’d made him drive past the new property three times before we headed back.
I snuggled on the sofa near the fire and viewed photographs of the house on my laptop. It was in the same upmarket area as Vaughn’s. The description said that the house was semi–furnished which was exactly what I wanted. If I had the basics, I could make it what I needed. It had four bedrooms, so that gave me three spare rooms to use as an office or writing room, a room to set up as an art studio (always wanted one of those), and a dressmaking room. I hadn’t done any sewing since I arrived in New York and it was something I used to enjoy. I planned to pick up a sewing machine, and the thought of it filled me with excitement. And I had a brilliant excuse — with all the parties Bradley had I’d need plenty of dresses. If I made my own it would save me from dressing up as an alien.
In my mind, all the rooms were accounted for, including the lounge which was a long room from the front window to the patio doors leading on to the garden. The polished wood floor would be ideal for dancing, and I could practise my martial arts. No furniture was in it and I intended keeping it like that. It would be like a dance studio. A smaller lounge was on the ground floor and it seemed cosier, so I’d use it for relaxing and for writing.
The kitchen was wonderful, and my bedroom, which was furnished in creams and pale lemon, had an en suite bathroom. The rooms were carpeted or had wood floors, and the colour scheme was creams and neutrals.