Sean Rosen Is Not for Sale

by Jeff Baron

BEN: How did you get started with that?

  ME: Well . . . there’s this donut place I like to go to after school. I would sit there and eat my donut, and just . . . I don’t know . . . listen to people’s conversations. All kinds of people go there—kids, grown-ups, rich people, poor people, people from all different countries—so it’s always interesting. My MP3 player has a microphone built in, so one day while I was sitting there, I hit RECORD. When I got home, I listened to it. I liked it. You felt like you were actually at the donut place. Then the next time I went, I asked someone if I could interview them.

  BEN: A stranger?

  ME: Yeah.

  BEN: About donuts?

  ME: Exactly. It was fun. I had fun, and the lady I talked to had fun. People like being interviewed. Then I went back a few more times. I taught myself how to edit on my laptop, and I put together a little donut show.

  BEN: And that’s the donut podcast on your website?

  ME: No. I liked what I had, but it was a little hard to hear. This was right around Hanukah and Christmas—we celebrate both in my family—so I asked my parents for a digital voice recorder. They got me a good one, so now when I record interviews, they sound a lot better. Then I started taking pictures, so you can see the person I’m talking to.

  BEN: But you never show us anyone’s face.

  ME: I know. It’s partly so people will let me take their picture. More people say yes if they know you won’t see their face. Plus, I like that you have to imagine what people look like from hearing their voices and only seeing parts of them.

  BEN: You’re a songwriter, too.

  ME: Sort of. I knew I wanted music in the podcasts. I thought I would just use songs that I like. Like famous songs. But I found out you have to get permission and you also have to pay someone a lot of money. It’s just easier to write the songs myself. Plus, I couldn’t find any songs about donuts. I had to write one.

  BEN: I like it.

  ME: Thanks. It’s fun to do, but it takes me a long time, because I don’t play any instruments.

  BEN: Do you make any money doing this?

  ME: No. I actually spend money. You know, on donuts and things.

  BEN: Would you like to do this professionally?

  ME: Make podcasts?

  BEN: Yeah.

  ME: I don’t know. Maybe.

  BEN: Why wouldn’t you?

  ME: I like doing it the way I do it. If someone was paying me, I’d have to do it the way they want me to.

  BEN: What would you like to do professionally?

  ME: Something in entertainment.

  BEN: Like be a performer?

  ME: No. You heard me sing. I’m not really a performer.

  BEN: Then what would you do?

  ME: I don’t know. Make movies. Make TV shows. Maybe games.

  BEN: Do you have any specific ideas?

  ME: Actually . . . can you hold on a minute?

  BEN: Sure.

  I walked out of Mr. Parsons’s office and closed the door. Only Trish was there.

  “How’d it go?”

  “It’s still going. But I want to stop.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s asking me some questions I don’t want to answer.”

  “Is he still on the phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll tell him you’re done.”

  “Is that okay?”

  “Definitely. How was the rest of it?”

  “Good. He sounded really interested in my podcasts.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “What will you tell him?”

  “I’ll say you had to leave, and that you said you enjoyed talking to him.”

  “That sounds really good.”

  “Sean, I do this all day long.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter 31

  What is going on here? Does this Ben guy work for Hank Hollywood too? Is any of this actually happening, or am I just going crazy? That’s what I was thinking as I walked out of school.

  “Finally.” Brianna was standing there.

  “Hi.”

  “We’re going to Buzz’s.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t right now.”

  “Yes you can.”

  “He still hasn’t answered your text?”

  “Texts.”

  “How many?”

  She pulled out her phone and looked at it for a little while. “37.”

  “Wow.”

  If I texted someone 37 times and they didn’t answer, I definitely would not want to go to their house and try to talk to them, but I’m not Brianna. She grabbed my arm and started walking toward Buzz’s.

  “What are you gonna do when we get there?”

  “Ask him what’s going on.”

  “I don’t want to be there for that.”

  “Too bad, Sean. You got me into this.”

  “No I didn’t!”

  “He’s your friend, right?”

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “We’re going there.”

  She started walking faster.

  “Let go of my arm.”

  She did. I stopped walking.

  “Brianna . . . are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m sure I don’t want to wait one more minute to see if some boy is ever going to text me back.”

  “Do you want me to find out?”

  “Oh! Look who’s finally ready to help a friend.”

  “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

  “Only because I dragged you. Is there something you know that you haven’t told me?”

  “Well, actually . . .”

  “I am so mad at you right now.”

  “It isn’t much. Buzz . . . hated Le Bistro.”

  “Duh. Anyone with a brain hated Le Bistro.”

  “But you made him come see it.”

  “Because I was in it.”

  “I know, but did you say, ‘The show is really bad, but I want you to see me’?”

  “No.”

  “Then he probably thinks you thought it was good.”

  She thought about that.

  “He said he wanted to come.”

  “Because you made him think it was going to be good. Anyway, even if he wanted to come, he didn’t want to stay.”

  “He left?”

  “Yes. You don’t know. You never see the show. It’s bad. Really bad.”

  “My dad liked it.”

  “Buzz isn’t your dad. Seriously . . . did you really think he’d like it?”

  “Seriously . . . I just wanted him to see me in it.”

  I stopped walking and just looked at her for a second.

  “What do you like about Buzz?”

  “What do you like about him?”

  “I asked you first.” I said that in a little-kid voice. We started walking again, but not as fast. I thought about it. Then I answered the question. “He’s my friend. We’ve been friends since we were little. We see each other like once a month. We play Wii baseball. I don’t know. I like him. I like his music.”

  “I like his music. Sort of.”

  “Sort of? What else do you like?”

  “I like the way we look together.” She showed me a picture of her and Buzz on her phone.

  “When was that?”

  “That first night at band practice.”

  “What else?”

  “I like kissing him.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say.

  “Did you ever kiss anyone, Sean?”

  “Actually . . . no.”

  “Well, it’s nice.”

  “Good. So . . . what are you going to say to him when we get there?”

  “I don’t know. That I’m mad at him for ignoring me.”

  “Show me the last text you sent him.”

  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???

  “I think he already knows you’re mad at him. Do you just want to know if it’s over?”

  She didn�
��t say anything. This time she stopped walking. “Why does he spell like that?”

  I laughed. “He just does.”

  “He’s not being clever or creative, is he?”

  “No.”

  She looked at me for a second, then said, “I could show you what it’s like.”

  “What what’s like?”

  “Kissing someone.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s nice of you, but . . .”

  “You don’t want to.”

  “No. It’s just . . .”

  “There’s someone you like.”

  “No. There isn’t. I just . . . really have to pee.”

  She laughed. I laughed.

  “Okay, Sean. You can go home.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “Go home.”

  “You’re not going to Buzz’s?”

  “No. I don’t feel like playing Wii baseball. Whatever that is. I’m going to stop texting him too.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Thanks.”

  Chapter 32

  I hurried home. Should I have kissed Brianna? I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I really do have to pee. And I don’t think I want my first kiss to be a friend doing me a favor. Especially after she said she liked kissing Buzz. What if I’m a bad kisser? How do you even know?

  My phone beeped. It’s from Ethan.

  How was the interview?

  I tried texting back while I walked, but I’m not really good at that, so I stopped walking.

  Good, then not good. Tell you later.

  I got home, and my dad was there.

  “Hi. Bathroom.”

  He laughed as I ran up the stairs.

  Okay, I feel better now.

  I want to call Ethan to tell him about the interview, but I’m going to check Dan Welch’s email first.

  Finally! She wrote back.

  To: Dan Welch Management

  From: Ashley ____________

  Dear Dan,

  Sorry for the delay getting back to you. I wanted to have my ducks in a row first. Unlike Stefanie and that horrible business affairs department at my previous employer, we don’t believe in trying to screw the artists we’re going to be working closely with for the next few years (and hopefully, the rest of their careers). A refreshing change, wouldn’t you agree?

  Here’s what we’re thinking:

  — $25,000 for a two-year option on A Week with Your Grandparents

  — $85,000 production bonus when the movie gets made (in addition to the option money)

  — 2% of the net profits

  —as soon as the deal is signed, two business-class tickets to Los Angeles and first-class hotel accommodations for Sean and a parent, to begin work on the project

  —my personal guarantee that Sean will be heard, and that I will work tirelessly to make sure A Week with Your Grandparents is the movie he wants it to be.

  Dan, I’m just realizing that I don’t even know where Sean lives. Where will we be flying him in from? Doesn’t matter. Timbuktu? No problem. He’s going to love being out here. We’ll make sure he sees the sights, and maybe he’ll even meet a star or two.

  Give me the word, and I’ll send the paperwork. Do it soon, though. I can’t wait to get started, and the sooner we start, the sooner the world will know Kris and Chloe and their unexpectedly cool grandparents.

  Best,

  Ashley

  Hmmm. She spelled Chris’s name wrong. I guess she only heard me say it on Skype. We’ll have to tell her. I wonder if I get to choose which stars I’ll meet when I go to Los Angeles.

  Everything she offered us is more than Stefanie.

  ASHLEY STEFANIE

  Money I get now $25,000 $20,000

  When they make the movie $85,000 $80,000

  Net profits 2% 1.5%

  Other Trip to LA

  That’s interesting that everything is just a little bit more. It’s like Ashley knew what Stefanie offered.

  Does Ashley have a spy at her old studio? Maybe Stefanie’s assistant, Brad, is telling Ashley things. I never knew Hollywood was like this. I actually don’t know if it is, or if I’m just imagining it. Like, is Ben Patel from Teen Doers actually a spy for Hank Hollywood?

  I looked up Teen Doers online before my interview, and it’s a real site. Maybe Ben Patel really was just asking the next question, not helping Hank Hollywood steal my big idea.

  Just as I opened my phone to call Ethan, there was a sound from my laptop. It’s Stefanie, starting a chat.

  STEFANIE: Hi Dan.

  What should I do? I wanted a bidding war, and now I have one. But I still don’t know if Hank Hollywood is going to bid. Oh well. Here goes.

  DAN: Hi Stefanie. How’s Marisa?

  STEFANIE: She’s fine. It’s my in-laws who are driving me crazy. Hovering grandparents. I’m tolerating it now in exchange for free babysitting later.

  DAN: Sean just visited his grandmother. Research for the movie.

  STEFANIE: Yes, the movie. When can we start?

  DAN: Sorry I didn’t get back to you. Sean was away, and we’ve actually gotten a higher bid.

  STEFANIE: From that snake Ashley? Dan, friend to friend, her bid is meaningless. Sean will only see the option money. She is not capable of getting a green light. With her, the movie will not get made.

  Is that true? How does she know?

  STEFANIE: We’ll match whatever she offered, though I know and you know that in this case, the intangibles are worth more than money.

  I looked up intangibles. “Not tangible.” Great. Now I have to look up tangible. “Something you can touch.” What is she talking about? Can you touch a trip to Los Angeles?

  DAN: You said that Sean would have a significant consultation with the screenwriter. What do you mean?

  STEFANIE: Sean will be part of the team. It’s his idea. He’ll meet with me and the screenwriter before he or she starts writing, and Sean will tell us every single thought and idea he has about the characters and the story.

  DAN: Then after he or she writes the screenplay, will Sean be able to read it and make changes?

  STEFANIE: Dan, you know this. NO ONE has script approval. Academy Award–winning screenwriters don’t control their screenplays. It’s the law of the land.

  DAN: I’m going to have a hard time convincing Sean.

  STEFANIE: I know it’s a bitter pill for writers and would-be writers to swallow.

  No one said anything for a little while.

  STEFANIE: I’m going to promise you something, and if anyone ever asks, I’m going to say that I never said this. But I promise that when the screenplay is finished, I will secretly slip you a copy to show to Sean. I will personally review each and every note he may have about the screenplay. Here’s where you’ll both have to trust me and my years of experience and my track record in this business. I will take his notes and use my judgment about what makes sense for the project, and I will communicate that to the right person.

  Hmmm.

  STEFANIE: No one, no one, no one will offer you more input than that. If they do, they’re lying.

  DAN: I’ll tell him.

  STEFANIE: Do more than that, Dan. Tell him the facts of life. Tell him I’m not in the habit of going this far out on a limb, and tell him that I’m not going to stay here forever. I love him, I love his project, but soon I will move on. I’ll be very sad, but I’ll move on.

  DAN: Okay. Thanks, Stefanie.

  STEFANIE: You know how when you break up with someone, all of your friends finally tell you the truth about them? Well, that’s what happened when Ashley left. If you want to talk to some other people about her, let me know, and I’ll put you in touch. It’ll make your hair curl.

  Is that true?

  STEFANIE: OMG, Dan . . . do you even have hair? I keep forgetting we never met.

  DAN: I do have hair.

  STEFANIE: Phew. I have to run to a meeting. Let’s do this, Dan.

&nb
sp; DAN: Talk to you soon.

  It’s so weird. When I finished reading Ashley’s email, I was sure I was going to work with her. Now I’m sure I’m going to work with Stefanie. Why wouldn’t I? She’ll match whatever Ashley offered. I guess that includes the trip to Los Angeles. But how about meeting stars?

  I read Ashley’s email again. She never said anything about me writing the screenplay. According to Stefanie, no one will let me. Might as well find out.

  To: Ashley ___________

  From: Dan Welch Management

  Dear Ashley,

  Good to hear from you. I know Sean would want me to tell you that his character’s name is Chris, not Kris.

  I have to run to a meeting, but before I take your offer to Sean, I want to make sure that Sean will be writing the screenplay for A Week with Your Grandparents.

  Best,

  Dan Welch

  Chapter 33

  When I came downstairs, my dad was in the kitchen standing on a ladder, changing a lightbulb.

  “I can’t wait for you to grow a few more inches, Seany.”

  “You would trust me on a ladder holding a lightbulb?”

  “Yes. I’ll train you, then I’ll trust you.”

  I opened the refrigerator. I’m not even hungry. But sometimes you don’t know that until you’re looking at food.

  “Dad . . . how do you know who to trust?”

  “In business or in life?”

  “Is it different?”

  “Is it different . . .” He stopped working for a minute to think about this. “Well . . . with anyone, you listen to what they say . . . and then you see what they do. But you may not know for a while if you can trust them or not. They either screw up or they don’t.”

  “When you say screw up, you mean like Grandpa?”

  “No. That was worse than screwing up. That was out-and-out stealing. No. I’m talking about when someone does something selfish, something he knows is gonna hurt you . . . then he pretends he didn’t know it was gonna hurt you.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Okay, someone I know, a guy I did a few small jobs for, made me think I had this really big job. A new building. He picked my brain for hours and hours—like three separate times. He got me to tell him how I’d do it, what products I’d use, how I’d work with the electrician, everything. Then he used all of my ideas, but got another plumber do the work.”