“Good idea. I’ll be right there.”
Marty gave her startled look. “You will?”
“Sure. Give me a minute to put on my jacket and I’ll join you.”
“Look. If you want, I’ll do it for you.”
Was he attempting to help or save them the embarrassment of her ignorance? “Thanks, but I can handle it.”
“You, uh, ever done this before?”
“It’s been a few years, but I haven’t forgotten.” Sure hoped she hadn’t. She closed the window and grabbed her windbreaker.
When she emerged from the car, he added, “Don’t let Old Man Todd get to you. He’s a bit crusty, but he’s like that with everyone. Even his own crew.” He nodded the direction they should go and set off ahead of her.
Ned had arrived shortly after she pulled up, but thus far, they hadn’t spoken. Not surprising considering how they’d left things earlier in the week. He stood off to the side and spoke with crewmembers and signed autographs, but Shae was sure she felt his gaze on her when she wasn’t looking.
“Here she is, Mr. Todd,” Marty called as they approached a ruddy-faced older man who gazed at a roll of site plans.
“The GC usually checks the placement of the stakes around the lot lines and the footprint of the proposed construction,” the older man stated, his tone gruff.
She forced a smile and debated if a handshake was in order. She decided against it when he continued to stare at the maps. “Let’s get started then.” She waited. He didn’t move.
Finally, he did look at her. For all the crevices etched into his windblown face, he had the most blazing blue eyes she’d ever seen. Cold blue. She could have sworn she heard a snarl. He took his measure of her in an instant, then returned his attention to the site maps. Without a word, he pulled one off the top of the stack and held it out to her.
She was tempted to ask, “Now what?” but instead lifted the map to chest height. At first, all she could make out were strange scrawls like a foreign alphabet. But as her eyes focused, one familiar symbol after another emerged. She made her way to the GPS device to assure the stakes lined up with the coordinates.
She was nearly finished with the various markers when she ran into one stake that didn’t check out. She rechecked it three more times.
“What’s the matter?” Todd had come up behind her.
“Huh?” Should she tell him? The last thing she wanted was to make a big production over nothing. She’d save those times for when she really needed them. “I…uh, must have messed up the alignment. The point I’ve referenced doesn’t compute.”
He scowled, like he didn’t believe her. “Let me see.” He pushed past her to check the GPS himself. His eyes returned every so often to the map she still held. Finally, he grabbed it away from her and studied the instrument again. “Hmmph!”
So the marker had been placed incorrectly. Would he admit it? Or had he thrown in a ringer to see if she’d find it?
The answer came shortly. Todd backed away a few feet and waved over a couple of his assistants. With their lowered heads, they resembled a football team huddle. First one and then the other took a shot at the alignment. Each sneaked peeks her direction, then they’d resume their inspection.
Finally, Todd came over to her; a sheepish look had replaced the earlier haughty one. “Good call. It’s corrected now.” No thank you, no apology, but his tone sounded different. Acceptance?
She’d been right! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! A wave of pleasure swept through her, made her almost want to dance a jig. Better sense kept her feet in place. But damn! It felt so good for once to have bested these defenders of the construction world’s male bastion.
Todd turned to go, his lieutenants flanking him, but she heard him say before he was out of earshot, “See if the lady wants some coffee.”
“I’ll get it for her.” Marty, her own man, materialized from out of nowhere.
What do you know? She’d consumed coffee from her own thermos all morning to keep warm, but she wouldn’t waste this invitation. Nor Marty’s nominal acceptance of her. She started for the small silver van that served as the crew’s snack wagon and passed within fifteen feet of Ned. He didn’t say anything, but she could tell from his knowing expression he’d witnessed the scene.
****
They broke ground for the first group of houses a few days later. Shae watched, unable to speak, as the earth was scooped up and pitched to the side. This was really happening. This huge building project was actually underway. With her at the helm.
She pivoted and caught the look of wonder on Ned’s face. Despite their recent differences, in the drama of the moment, she said, “Exciting, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Is it always like this?”
How would she know? This was her first groundbreaking as well. Her dad downplayed stuff like this. But for her, this was a major high. But Ned didn’t need to know. It would be one more sign of her inexperience. She swung her ponytail, attempted to appear less intense. “Enjoy the high but save some awe for the other steps along the way.”
The mound of earth grew higher. Conversation wasn’t necessary. History unfolded before them. History in which they both were major participants.
Ned’s mind went back in time to the summer when he was ten, just shooting up, his shorts hitting his thighs higher each passing week. Both grandparents had been alive then, Grandma Cathy hadn’t passed away until a few years later. She spoiled him with great comfort food and Grandpa Jake lavished him with attention, taught him the elements of farming.
The vision was almost too much to take in today. He needed to escape the dig before he got too sentimental. He slipped behind some of the equipment that wasn’t in use and settled on a large boulder dug up earlier.
Tomorrow, he’d bring some camp chairs, maybe even a tent. Set up a portable office. Some place where he could watch over things yet keep his distance from Shae, although she’d been the one who’d avoided him since her outburst after the second crew meeting the week before.
He reached inside his windbreaker and brought out his phone to reread the email from his banker, Zoe Johansen. She wanted to meet and discuss the status of finances. Despite Ned’s previously spotless record, her board of directors was asking questions. He’d already read the note several times this morning, but, like the prey frozen by the hypnotic stare of the cobra, he couldn’t seem to leave it alone.
“That the only place to sit around here?” Mike stared down at him, a quizzical look on his face.
Ned shifted sideways while he slipped his phone back inside his jacket. “Make yourself at home. This is probably the most comfortable spot, aside from our vehicles.”
No sooner was he situated alongside Ned than Mike shoved a hand in his slacks pocket, brought out his own cell phone, and checked for messages. Finished, he said, “Thought you’d be over at the dig. That female GC ban you? You know, I’ve still got the contact information for the other general contractors you considered, whenever you’ve had your fill of her attitude. Has she pissed off any more crewmembers this past week?”
Ned kept his eyes focused on his hands. “Can’t say. Haven’t been around her much.”
“Ah, so she’s pissed you off, too.”
Though Mike was spot-on with his assessment of the situation, Ned wasn’t about to agree with him. Shae’s reaction to the champagne at the second crew meeting still rankled, even though she’d handled herself pretty well in the meeting. So he’d left her alone. “She’s more than pumped today, this being the first day of excavation. I hung around to watch the first few loads of soil come up, congratulated her, and then came over here to take it all in.”
Mike studied him a moment. “It’s a bigger day for you. Does she know about this land?”
Ned recalled the day a few weeks before when he’d brought Shae out to see the site. “A little bit. Told her how Gramps had entrusted it to me, and now I wanted to put his plan into action to get my mom back here. I wasn’t sure
Mom would ever consent to live on the land where she grew up after she defied Gramps to marry my dad. Grandpa Jake really wanted her to marry a farmer and carry on here.”
“I liked your grandfather, the few times I saw him before his death. He never struck me as the vindictive type.”
Ned swiped dirt off his jeans. “He wasn’t. He never said so, but I think he and Gram long suspected Mom wouldn’t be content to live in the country. She was too much into the cultural scene that went with her art.”
“So she set down roots in Des Moines?”
“Yeah, well, that was Dad’s doing. His parents were older. He wanted to be in town near them. I considered bringing her out here today to witness the dig for herself but decided to wait a little longer, until it’s framed and she can begin to visualize all the color and design she wants to put into it.”
Mike gave him a small nudge. “You’re turning out to be a pretty good son. Despite the way you put yourself down for not being here when your dad died.”
He fought off the urge to hug his friend, who’d clobber him if he did. But Mike’s reassurance really helped. “Your turn’s coming. One of these days your parents will tire of the social scene in Palm Beach and come back home. Long before the urge will hit your siblings. They’ll need you then.”
“Yeah, right.” As if to change the subject, Mike checked his phone again.
“Expecting a particular message?” Ned asked, only slightly curious.
Mike placed the gadget back in his pocket, then stuck his hands in his pockets as well. “So aside from Hardhat Harriman’s temper tantrums, how’s everything else going?”
“The crew showed up today, so it appears she got past that challenge. Remains to be seen how they’ll treat her now construction has started. A lot depends on her attitude. At least we’re pretty much on track. As long as this weather holds up.”
Mike nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response.
“What brings you out here? You’re not into anything rustic. Did you manage to get me that movie scoring gig we discussed?” He tried not to sound too hopeful, but he could use about ten scoring gigs to keep his head above water.
Mike turned away. “Uh, not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
“Uh, well, I haven’t heard on one. Yet. I expect to hear from them soon. That’s why I’ve been checking my emails.”
“Okay. I can wait. I’ve got my hands full here for the time being.” True enough, although he really couldn’t wait much longer on the scoring project.
“Yeah. Uh, well, it’s the other deal we need to discuss. The one you finished a few weeks ago?”
“Oh. That. They want rewrites?”
Mike shifted his gaze to his pants. “They’ve dropped the project.”
His words didn’t register. “It’s been postponed?”
Mike faced him at last, his expression an attempt at studied nonchalance. “No, man. It’s off. Done for. It ain’t gonna happen.”
“But…it had already gone into production.”
“Leading lady went into drug rehab. Claims she’ll be out in a few short weeks and threatened to sue if replaced. Rather than mess with her attorneys, they pulled the plug on the project, which they can do without fear of a lawsuit.”
“But they’ve already invested so much. How can they afford to walk away?”
Mike shrugged. “You know how these things work. They may recover more in insurance than they would have made on the film. Or a year from now, a similar project with a different title will show up with a different actress as lead.”
Ned rose, his gut ached. That score had been his reserve for overruns on this project. He tried to recall the details of his contract. “They’re paying me whether they use my music or not. Right?”
Mike made a face. Not a happy one. “You’ll get to keep the initial fee, but the rest of the deal was based on production and release.”
Ned’s stomach fought him, as if he’d eaten spoiled meat. “So that’s that?”
“About the size of it. If they do pursue a similar project down the road, they may contact you then.” Mike pushed off the boulder. “This is a setback. But you, we’ve, got other irons in the fire. That other movie deal could break any day now. Just be patient and keep your spirits up.”
“Patient? Keep my spirits up?” Even though he was supposed to take it easy on his vocal cords, Ned’s voice rose. “I was depending on that deal now that my personal appearances are on hold.”
“It’s a disappointment. But you’re fixed quite well with all the residuals coming in from your last tour. Plus sales of your CDs.” He paused. “Hey, how far along are you with that song for Renee Dechamps? Want me to turn up the heat there?”
“Not yet. I need to work on the coda and the bridge.” Plus a decent melody and a hundred other things. The creativity needed for scores was one thing. But to produce another chart-climber for Renee was not easy when so much of his mental energy was currently invested in this project.
Damn! The bulk of his residuals and royalties as well as a large part of his bank account were tied up in this building project. He thought he could swing the rest he needed with these two movie deals. Hopefully a few others. But now that the one had netted only a fraction of what he’d anticipated and the other was still just a possibility, his remaining options were fast disappearing. He still owned property and a somewhat healthy stock portfolio, but his liquid assets, those he’d used as his equity stake to finance this project weren’t going to stretch far enough. He owed that banker, Zoe Johansen, a response. What was he going to tell her now?
Mike stared at him, his brow wrinkled in concern. “Hey. It’s not the end of the world. We’ve got more than these two ventures on the horizon. I’ll just have to ratchet up the charm with my next pitch.”
Ned attempted a smile. “Sure. That’s all we need. For Mike the Schmoozer to hit the trail.”
Mike thumped him on the back. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. I need to get back to town. Work some more angles.”
“Yeah, you do that. Keep me posted.” And then, partly because he wanted to pay Mike back for the good news and partly because misery loves company, he said, “Mom’s got this big reception for some new artist in a few weeks. I agreed to go.”
“Uh-huh. So?”
“So, you can be my date.”
“Ah, you know I dig your mom. Even that faux hippie look. But those artsy things drive me wild. My parents dragged me to too many New York galleries when I was a kid.”
“C’mon, Mike, gimme a break. I’m not crazy about them either.”
Mike lifted a brow. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You must’ve finally run out of excuses. That lady’s tried countless ways to get you there. Okay. Guess it’s the least I can do after my less than positive news.”
“The very least.”
Mike headed off, his pace increased with each step, as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Before he’d gone more than twenty feet, his phone was once again out of his pocket.
The humming sound of excavation equipment in the background made Sullivan’s Creek actually seem real. Hadn’t been the case when he’d returned to town several months ago to check out the infrastructure. Utilities, sewers, newly laid streets had seemed oddly alien, unrelated to his building plans. But watching the beginnings of actual homes emerge from the soil took his breath away.
Ned rubbed his hand along the boulder’s rough surface, examined the gray residue on his fingertips when he finished. Iowa dirt. He was the steward of one of the world’s most valuable natural resources. “Do you see all this, Gramps? Catch the irony—on the day excavation begins for the homes you envisioned, I discover I may no longer be able to pay those in charge of the dig, if I can’t get my finances straightened out.”
He slapped his hands together to remove the dust. He felt like such a failure. Maybe this was God’s way of reminding him that fame, and the wealth that came with it, could be temporary and indif
ferent. Had he taken it for granted and squandered his chance to realize his grandfather’s dream? It wasn’t just the pipedream of an old man who fought to retain a dying way of life. No, Grandpa Jake had foresight. The guy had been ready to surrender to the inevitable, embrace the inevitable, and shape it to the needs he anticipated. Do it the right way.
Maybe Mike would strike gold in the days ahead and find him more work, but Ned couldn’t count on that. He had to take care of this himself, although his alternatives were more limited now than an hour ago.
“What do I do, Gramps? I’m down to two choices. I either convince the bank to increase their backing, near impossible but worth the attempt, or find additional backers. The first option means I have to bite the bullet and contact this Johansen woman. Or I swallow the bullet and call Irv Farley.” Hadn’t been in contact with Farley since he’d collapsed at the guy’s fundraiser in Malibu.
“Of course, there’s always Option Three: let Mike invest in the project.”
But he couldn’t risk harming Mike’s relationship with his family. At the beginning of Ned’s musical career in Europe, he’d made the mistake of allowing his first fiancée, Gillian, to manage his band’s affairs. She claimed she knew what she was doing and he’d trusted her. The result? She’d signed them to an ironclad contract that kept him in England during his dad’s illness and then left him when a job for her came up in the States. Ned had barely been able to return home for the funeral until Mike loaned him money to buy his way out of the contract.
Mike had taken the money from his trust fund without his parents’ knowledge at the same time he refused to join the family business. Even though his parents wouldn’t have begrudged Ned the money, Mike’s defiance of his parents’ wishes infuriated them so much they threw him out of the house and had very little communication with him for months.
It had taken Ned years to get past his guilt from causing friction between his friend and his family. He’d been almost as relieved as Mike when the Woodleys began to come around a few years back. Though Mike was still a bit skittish about anything concerning family, these days the reconciliation was almost complete. That is, if Mike didn’t loan him any more money.
Tough Enough to Tango Page 9