by Davis Bunn
He wanted to stand there and gawk. But he was two men just then—the teen who was watching a dream from the screen come to life, and a man who had just seen God at work. What he did was turn and walk to the second woman. Candace Chen was deeply bronzed and high-cheekboned, a woman of singular strength. But she wore the same wounded borehole in her eyes as the actress. “An honor to meet you Ms. Chen. I loved your script.”
“You read it?”
“Cover to cover. Which is saying a lot, on account of I never got into the reading habit. Not for pleasure, anyway. A balance sheet can work wonders for me, and there’s a lot of myth in the worst of them. But I treated your work like I did a blueprint, something I needed to slog through and wrestle with and understand. I didn’t get as tight a grip as I’d like. But I tried.”
“Not many producers will read an entire script.”
“I suppose I can understand that. I wouldn’t know a good one if I saw one. But I talked to people I trusted. I hired me a script consultant—I think that’s what they’re called. Actually took the gentleman off a DreamWorks project. They all tell me this is hot. And my folks downstairs said the same thing.”
“Downstairs?” Celia Breach asked.
“I’ll get to that in a minute. You ladies like to relocate to my office?”
“We’re fine here, thanks.”
Celia Breach had either chosen the head spot at the conference table or Fiona had placed her there. Candace Chen was at the seat to her left. Fiona had set up a silver coffee service and little finger sandwiches between them. The two ladies were not unfriendly. Just guarded. Bobby took a seat two places down, far enough away not to crowd. The leading lady’s magnetism was unlike anything he had ever seen or known before. She was not simply a beautiful woman. She had a quality that drew him around and commanded his attention.
“It’s interesting that you used the word blueprint,” Candace Chen said. “That’s how a lot of behind-the-camera people see a working script.”
“I’d like to claim that wisdom as my own, but I can’t. It was one of the things the consultant I hired described to me. He told me to look beyond the script and see how it would be up there on the big screen. And I couldn’t do that. I don’t have that gift.”
Celia Breach turned to Candace and said, “This honesty business is as novel an approach in a producer as it is in a director.”
Bobby started to ask what she was talking about but was struck by a thought. So he got up and went over and made himself a cup of coffee he didn’t want, just so he could have a minute to digest what had just hit him.
Which was, this woman had all the experience in the world at people fawning and gaping and barking and running around at her feet. And that was what she expected from him.
And before that telephone call, it was exactly what Bobby Dupree would have given her.
But during the prayer spoken by that Texas oilman and Bobby’s mentor, Bobby had felt that same undeniable force he had last known when God had told him to get into this project in the first place. The impossible made real. Calm and thrilling all at once.
Which granted enough distance for Bobby to sit there and sip his coffee and realize that the one thing this woman had probably never been offered, at least not from someone in his position, was the sort of bonding he’d just been offered on the phone.
There was no way he could say it. Celia Breach had heard it all. And been told it by people with a lot more polish than he had.
So he’d just have to show her.
Bobby had the feeling that was the real reason for the phone call. Not for the money. For the reminder of why they were here.
He said, “I didn’t have an agenda for today. I just wanted to give you folks a chance to have a look at me. To ask what you needed to put your minds at ease.”
Celia and Candace exchanged a glance. The writer said, “You first.”
“What’s the budget for this film?” the actress asked.
“We’re all feeling our way here. I’ve got some estimates. But I’m not going to hammer nails into the numbers.”
“Ballpark.”
“Eighteen million. That’s production. Another whatever for marketing.”
“You can do that?”
He fiddled with his cup. “I usually keep finances close to my chest. That’s one of the nice things about running a private company. But the biggest thing I was hoping to get out of this meeting was trust. So I’m gonna break my own rules here and lay it out for you. I’ve got financing in place for four films. If we lose it all, I’m done. If not, everything I earn is going back into the company.”
Bobby Dupree couldn’t talk numbers and sit still. He resisted the urge to bound to his feet and made do jerking his chair through tight little turns. “I’m aiming to offer the same thing to everybody on the projects. They’re not my projects. They’re ours . I do the same with all my companies. The only folks able to buy in are people who work with me. So once this first project is out there, if it goes, we’re gonna sit down with the accountants and try and figure out what the real worth is. Then anybody who wants can buy in at the ground level. All I ask is the same as what Jerry says he’s already told you. That folks who sign on for the long haul don’t get involved in projects that run counter to our aims.”
Candace Chen said, “You trust Brent Stark to work on an unlimited budget?”
“Nobody said nothing about no limits. I’ve got two accountants who’re down there costing everything out to the dime. But I told them not to crowd the man. Long as Brent stays true to his word, they’re there to help him. But to answer your question, yes, ma’am. The more I get to know him, the more I think I’ve found myself a winner.”
“So do I,” Candace said. But she didn’t say it to Bobby. She said it to Celia.
Celia studiously avoided the writer’s gaze. “You’ve heard about the Galaxy film Iron Feather?”
“Oh yeah, we’re all over that one. Which is why we’re pushing forward the start date. I understand you’re comfortable with losing a week of rehearsals?”
“Rehearsals are a wonderful thing, Mr. Dupree. But timing is everything in this business.”
He grinned. “That’s the nice thing about working with pros, Ms. Breach. They don’t shed tears over the difference between perfection and nitty-gritty.”
Celia studied him. “You’re not what I expected.”
He resisted the urge to squint. He could have sworn her eyes just changed color. “Why’s that?”
Candace said, “Your secretary said you were so nervous she doubted you’d be much use to anybody.”
He found it hard to pry his gaze away from Celia Breach, but he did. “Tell the truth, I was nervous as a kitten in a rainstorm. But a friend called just before you arrived, and when he spoke to me, it felt like I was hearing God’s voice at the same time.”
Celia studied him some more but did not say anything. Instead, Candace Chen asked, “Do you see many films?”
“You mean in the theater? Two or three a year. I buy some. Mostly the older ones.”
“You’re not addicted to the theater. You’re not driven by ego to own a studio. By your own admission you don’t read all that much. I’m just curious. Why are you getting involved here?”
Celia added, “Most outsiders who invest in films get badly burned.”
“You know the old Hollywood adage,” Candace said. “The best way to have ten million dollars is to invest a hundred million in a Hollywood film.”
Celia said, “Not that we’re not grateful to be here.”
“We’re just curious, is all.”
Bobby let his grin show through. He loved the interchange and what lay behind it. Two very smart ladies who were being open about their doubts. And growing tight with one another, despite what Bobby had heard about Candace Chen’s dreams being fried by another Hollywood star of the female variety.
Definitely a God thing.
He bounded to his feet. “Would you ladies like to take a little walk?”<
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There was something to be said for strolling through his office building beside Celia Breach. The reception area beyond Fiona’s station was one notch below jammed. They got a lot of smiles, plenty of quiet whispers. A number of comments popped into Bobby’s head, as usual. But he decided to just walk along, see how a star handled this. And the answer was, calmly. Celia wore dressy casual, a silvery-white off-the-shoulder sweater long enough to be a short skirt, gathered at the waist by a woven leather belt a shade lighter than the sweater, designer jeans, and boots that matched the belt. The sweater’s sleeves were bunched up around her elbows. She had a platinum and diamond bracelet on one wrist, a matching watch on the other. Bobby’s wife might play at not caring, but she’d eat these little details with a spoon.
Candace Chen walked a half step behind them, clearly comfortable with being outside the spotlight. Her dark complexion and strong features formed a striking mix. Not beautiful, but unique. Bobby was certain many folks found her intimidating.
Bobby punched the elevator button and said, “Mind if I get your take on something about Brent?”
He felt more than saw the sudden change in Celia Breach. “I suppose.”
There was something between them, he realized. Not in the past. He knew all about the accident and the court case. Something now. He filed that away for future reflection. “Y’all know about him spending the past week and a half with the country boy. I was just wondering, you know, we’re pushing hard on this new timeline. Even so, he dumped a load of gotta-get-dones in Jerry’s lap and took off.”
Celia stepped into the elevator. “He’s learning the ropes.”
“Do all actors do this?”
“Brent Stark is not all actors,” Candace Chen said.
“The good ones do,” Celia said. “I will. He’s found a ladies’ group that keeps the frontier traditions alive. I intend to work closely with them.”
Candace said, “Like the men have war enactment groups, or back in Hawaii we have groups that keep the old traditions alive.”
Celia touched the hair gathered tightly away from her forehead. It was only then that Bobby noticed the scar. He found it added to the woman’s appeal, this touch of human fragility in an otherwise perfect image.
“It’s not about learning frontier life,” Celia told him. “Not directly, anyway. What Brent is doing is preparing the role. He wants to become comfortable with the forest and the rifle and the knife.”
“And the hatchet,” Candace said. “The frontiersmen adopted the Cherokee throwing hatchets.”
“Brent’s goal will be to own these items. The clothes, the weapons, the environment. He wants to arrive at a place where he can slip into his character every time his hand touches one of those items.”
Bobby said, “Sounds to me like there’s a lot more to this acting gig than it appears.”
“That’s right,” Candace said. “There is.”
They stepped from the elevator. Beyond the doors with the music video company’s logo etched into the glass, Bobby saw his team ready to spring. He held up one hand at the young people. Wait.
“Four years back I bought the town’s largest music video production company. I got them involved in doing some TV and theater ads. They’ve been real successful. When they outgrew their place on the outskirts of town, I put the production group in one place and gave Admin and Editing and Sound Stage this entire floor. Folks think I keep them locked up here so the zoo animals don’t run wild. I just love having all that energy down here where I can slip in and feed off it. The oldest person you’re about to meet looks like she’s shy of her thirteenth birthday. I’d have told them to dress up for today, but all they’d do is put on a clean Tshirt. And no, none of them have ever worked on a film project before. But they’re just about the best I’ve ever met at what they do. And I’m proud of them. So all I’m asking is that you give them a chance.”
Celia gave him another of those careful inspections. This time Bobby was certain the color of her eyes actually did shift along the blue gray scale. “It’s nice to hear you talk about your people like this.”
Candace nodded. “Hollywood is full of parasites who suck away the credit due to other people.”
“That’s not my way,” Bobby said. “And in case you missed it, we’re a long way from LA.”
Taking Celia Breach through his music video group’s headquarters caused a very quiet riot. It was a lot for these young people to absorb in one morning, hearing they’d been tagged to do the promo work for a feature film, then having a star arrive to see their work. Bobby thought they handled themselves pretty well, all things considered. It was hard to say what Celia thought of them. She remained poised, calm, distant. Offering very little. Which was probably why the team managed to keep from shooting off like a barrel full of bottle rockets.
Celia clearly knew her way around sound studios and filmediting rooms. She listened to their explanation of what it meant to go digital and asked intelligent questions. Bobby held back and let the team take over. Which gave him a chance to study the two ladies openly.
He saw a pair of strong women who had been beaten hard and come up stronger still. Stronger, in fact, than they realized themselves. That was Bobby’s impression. He knew neither of them had worked in years. And it had bothered him at first, the thought that he was tacking all his hopes on a bunch of hasbeens. But now, with the clarity of prayer still lingering, he saw the whole thing was knitting together in a truly amazing way.
Their destination was a rear windowless room. The team had done what he’d asked, which was to clear away the old pizza and drinks, but not even the building’s AC on full could erase the smell of popcorn. Bobby settled them into the sofa that appeared the least stained and said, “I expect you’re used to a lot nicer viewing rooms.”
Celia said, “This is the most comfortable I’ve been since touching down.”
Candace agreed, “You ought to see some of the working studios out in LA.”
“The equipment is first rate,” Celia said, “and your people talk a good line.”
Bobby nodded his appreciation. “I contacted the three best ad companies in town—they’ve all worked on art house films. I told the group here they didn’t have much chance, but they could give it a try if they wanted. Y’all heard what the Hollywood trade magazines said about us and our little project?”
Celia’s voice turned copper hard. “We’ve heard.”
“We assumed it was a line fed to them by Galaxy,” added Candace.
“I can’t confirm that yet, but I’m working on it.”
“A shoestring operation,” Celia said. “That’s what they called you.”
Bobby nodded with his whole body. “Like being careful with money is a failing.”
“A lot of people think it is in the movie business,” said Candace.
Celia sighed. “I’d bet you anything you’d care to wager, that concept came from somebody in Galaxy.”
“Wherever it started, I’d sure like to prove the whole bunch of them wrong,” Bobby said. “Then I got to thinking and decided Shoestring might make a nice name for our little project.”
The two ladies shared a look and a grin. “I like it,” Candace said.
“Shoestring Films,” Celia agreed. “It will stick like a thorn in their side.”
“That was my thinking too. So I went to those outside ad agencies and my own video team and I gave them the same challenge. Take that shoestring idea and make something positive of it.”
Bobby turned in his chair. At his insistence, only the team leader was in the room with them. “Show them.”
The lights dimmed. Music swelled from a dozen speakers, an orchestral wash. The wall-size screen came to brilliant life.
All they saw was a man’s hands and work-stained trouser legs. The hands were massive and old and curled by a lifetime of hard work. The man hoisted an open Bible onto his legs. The Bible was as ancient and scarred as the man. The pages were yellowed and frayed and we
re coming loose from the binding. The Book was open to the first chapter of John’s gospel. A light shimmered around three words of text: In the beginning.
Gingerly the work-scarred hands lifted the Bible’s front cover and shut the Book. The unseen man took a length of twine and bound the Book together. The camera tightened upon the knot he made.
The knot turned into a cross of fire.
The cross became the t in the word that rose from the twine to fill the screen.
Shoestring.
The word shifted up and to the left, still written as though made from the twine.
The music swelled to a crashing wave of inspiration. Bobby had heard it a dozen times now and still got chills.
The screen continued to form twine-shaped words with that single fiery letter, the one like a misshapen cross. Shoestring Productions presents …
The visual faded with the music, until only a softly thunderous drumbeat remained and the screen drifted with gray smoke. The smoke sharpened into a fog-wrapped forest. The drumbeat became a man’s pumping breath. The man was just a silhouette racing through the forest. He ran at an impossible speed, such that the fog swirled behind him, as if his footsteps generated smoke.
The fog coalesced into a title of gray steel, formed in an ancient script.
Long Hunter.
The film ended.
Fifty-seven seconds from beginning to end.
Bobby glanced at the women. And had to grin. These two hardened pros refused to look away from the empty screen.
“I’ll tell you what I think,” Bobby said. “All of a sudden, the dreaming and the scheming and the prayers and the sense of calling, it’s been turned into something real.”
Candace took a shaky breath.
“You think we could see that again?” Celia asked.
Bobby turned to his team leader. The kid looked ready to weep. “Oh, I reckon we could manage that.”
19
Four days after the Chateau Marmont party, Shari emerged from her bedroom two hours later than normal. She poured herself a cup of coffee and shuffled into the living room to find her grandmother seated in the sofa reading Variety.