by Davis Bunn
Myron kept his crinkly eyed gaze upon Emma. “How would you feel about my putting together renditions of a few top-ten melodies and adding voices? Small albums do a great deal better if singers are included.”
Emma turned to Danny. “Is that okay?”
“Only if you like the idea. Understand, we wouldn’t move forward until we see the audience’s initial reaction to the film. But if it generates enough heat, we’d bring you into the studio and use an album as the next step in launching your career.”
Myron said, “All the people you’d be working with would be trained studio musicians. But you will remain in control throughout, both of the melodies and of the people who accompany you. Mr. Byrd and I would see to that.”
Danny could see her digesting that immense word. Career. All she said was, “Wow.”
56
DANNY TOOK TIME to shower and change, then he and Megan drove in both cars to her parents’ house. She hopped out and showed him five splayed fingers, meaning she would be quick. Danny nodded like her swiftness was of any great concern. He leaned against the car and felt the sunlight warm his bones. Then he felt the first wave of fatigue strike. He had endured other sleepless nights while on set. He knew he could still go all day and well into the next night if he had to. The weariness was a measurable factor, like a familiar component of the life he had chosen for himself.
The front door opened and Sarah stepped out. She walked over, bearing a steaming go-cup. “Something for the road.”
“This is great. Thanks.”
Sarah waited until he had fit it between the seats. When he straightened, she gave him a strong, warm hug. “It’s good to see you both together.”
“Your daughter is amazing.”
“She is.” Sarah smiled. “Megan is also a handful and a half.”
Danny wasn’t sure what to say to that.
Sarah seemed to approve of his silence. “Richard and I both think she’s finally met her match.”
Megan stepped through the front door, hurried down the walk, and demanded, “Is she bothering you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Mom, stop.” She hurried around the car. “Let’s go, Danny. We don’t want to be late.”
Sarah smiled at Danny and asked, “Where are you headed?”
“Los Angeles,” Megan replied. “Off to kill a few giants.”
Given what lay ahead, Danny found himself comforted by Megan’s professionalism. He waited until they became caught in the first highway snarl, where the Pacific Coast Highway joined the freeway at Rincon and traffic slowed to a crawl. It gave him the chance to turn from the wheel, look her square in the eyes, and say, “Thank you for being here with me.”
“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” she said softly.
“Always?”
She nodded slowly. “Since long before we ever met.”
The traffic opened up just north of Long Beach, and they made good time until Danny started the climb up past the Getty. Driving in Los Angeles most days meant getting caught somewhere in a metallic sludge. If Megan even noticed the snarl, she gave no sign. She held a yellow legal pad in her lap and made designs of words and exclamation points and daggers and nuclear explosions. She went through the points she expected to emphasize in the day’s conference, giving Danny a glimpse into her interior world. This was how she prepared for trial work, she explained. Going over and over the visible until the unseen became clear.
Whenever they reached a pause, Megan returned to the day’s core issues. She repeated her very first questions, giving Danny yet another chance to change his mind. No, he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with his former partner beyond this meeting. But he also had no real interest in seeing JR go to jail. Yes, he understood that this could well be his only opportunity for payback. But there was nothing to be gained from making JR go through what Danny had endured. All Danny wanted was a clean break.
As far as he was concerned, the entire day had shaped into a realization. This was it. The turning.
Danny Byrd was going it alone no longer.
57
THE PARKING GARAGE BELOW K&K’s offices was blocked by a Full sign, so Danny entered the lot across the street. He drove to the top level, from which he could look across Santa Monica Boulevard at the shimmering glass cube. He turned to Megan and waited. Their meeting was scheduled to start in twenty-five minutes. He had no interest in moving until she gave him the green light. Studying her was a pleasure in itself.
She was dressed in the navy-grey suit whose weave contained some silk because of how it caught the light. She had done something new with her hair, a carefully controlled French twist that was severe and alluring at the same time. Danny thought she looked incredibly beautiful and told her so.
For one brief instant, the other Megan shone in her face and her eyes. The heat, the affection, the love, all of it. Then she said, “This isn’t the time.”
“Or the place,” he agreed.
Even so, she held her open-hearted gaze in place for a moment longer. She reached over and took his hand. “Promise me something.”
“Okay. I promise.”
She smiled. Danny thought she looked almost as tired as he felt. “When this is over, we will have some us time.”
“Us time. I love it.”
“When this is over,” she repeated. “It has to wait until then. You understand, don’t you?”
“Totally. And Megan?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. So much.”
“You’re welcome, Danny. I’m glad to be here for you.”
And just like that, the moment passed. Megan flipped down the visor, inspected herself, and fit her game face into place. Danny regretted the transition but was glad at the same time. This was who she was.
Danny said, “All the new information you gave me last night . . .”
She nodded. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“Will you run it by me once more?”
She glanced at her watch, nodded once, then said, “For years, Sol’s firm has represented the family who until recently owned Thrashers Ridge.”
“A guy who claims to be my grandfather,” Danny said. “A guy I’ve never met.”
“He doesn’t claim anything. He is. Sol is certain the man’s evidence is solid, and I think you need to accept this.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “Your grandfather married into the family. Together with his wife, they ran Thrashers Ridge for almost two decades. He tracked you down. The details of that search can wait. But it happened, and it’s part of why we’re here today.”
He nodded acceptance. “A big part.”
“After your grandfather died, his widow followed her beloved’s final wish and deeded you fifty-one percent of the hotel. But as Sol’s group was preparing to contact you, the family’s investigators reported that you had been arrested. Your grandfather’s widow instructed Sol to represent you. Because Sol had never tried a case in the Los Angeles court system or had anything to do with the entertainment industry, he sought me out.”
Danny stared across the parking deck to the sunlit vista. When Megan went silent, he continued the conversation in his head. How because of the arrest, Danny had met Megan. The love of his life. Which meant they were together because of JR. The same JR who had robbed him of everything and was now back in LA as a K&K client. Waiting for him next door.
Megan brought him back with, “You know what to do, yes?”
“From this point on, keep my trap shut.”
“You can speak to JR if you must. Only, please signal me in advance.”
Danny shook his head. “I have no interest in talking to that guy ever again.”
58
DANNY AND MEGAN were kept waiting for over half an hour. He didn’t mind in the least. Among the lower LA film dwellers, the K&K lobby was a mythical place, one that might as well have a neon sign posted where the elevators opened: “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Earn Less Than Ten Mil per Year.”
The lobby’s c
entral waterfall was exactly as a young director had described it to Danny. The stream rushed down curved plates of what might have been polished tungsten steel. Or maybe sterling silver. The lobby’s only source of light came from the spotlights that flickered through the flow. Danny had heard the waterfall cost a cool two million dollars.
The resulting effect was a little eerie. Three different groups occupied the forty-by-forty cube, clustered on the backless sofa stools that dotted the shadowy space. The waterfall smothered all other sounds. The groups looked like semi-frozen set pieces, part of a shifting artwork combining stress, hunger, ambition, and film.
Danny stared at the sparkling waterfall and the liquid rush of mysteries. His lack of understanding was not all that important, even though a lot of what Megan had told him the previous night had been hard to take in. What he had heard most clearly was how she had worked through the weeks, putting together a puzzle the attorneys inside this high-rise legal palace assumed remained concealed.
Danny watched Megan pace and text, then grip her phone in both hands and frown at the water. And he decided that just then, he really didn’t need to understand. He didn’t need to take control. He didn’t need to figure things out. Because he had Megan to do this for him.
When Brandon Lee came through the portal leading back into the offices, Megan knew how it was going down.
Or so the power guys inside K&K assumed.
They expected her to respond just as she had in Lawrence Abbott’s office—become so involved in her simmering ire against Brandon, her former nemesis, that she would miss the big picture. While the real players, the real power, the real issue, all remained hidden.
Not today.
Brandon smirked his way toward her, with three junior associates in line behind him. Megan halted him with, “Don’t even think about handling this meeting.”
Brandon laughed. “Megan, please. You’re not calling the shots—”
“Aaron Seibel. Here. Now. Or I walk. Now get out.”
Fifteen minutes passed. Megan paced and planned. She liked how Danny did not press her with questions she could not answer. Every time she glanced over, he met her with a calm gaze. For once, the latent rage that had defined Danny was not present. But she didn’t need to be thinking about such things just now. For the moment, Danny Byrd was her client.
Aaron barreled through the door minus his suit jacket. He had the sleeves of his tailored seven-hundred-dollar Turnbull & Asser shirt rolled up. His tie was down a careful inch and a half. His suspenders glinted in the uneven light. When he appeared, the cube’s atmosphere instantly shifted. The water cascaded with an electric hiss. The other people waiting their turn in the inner sanctum rose slowly to their feet. The gazes of Brandon and the younger minions flickered about, nervous, fearful.
Aaron snarled, “Where do you get off, giving my people orders!”
Megan didn’t respond.
He misread her silence as uncertainty. “You got some nerve. I’m in the middle of a major deal. You think I got nothing better to do than play nickel and dime with the likes of you?”
“This won’t take long.”
“It’s already taken more than you deserve.” He chopped the air. “I should have fired you—”
“Shut up, Aaron. Just be quiet. Your histrionics aren’t working. Nobody is impressed. Either you behave or we walk, and you have to tell the people hiding in your office that the deal they want isn’t happening.” Megan resisted the urge to smile at Aaron’s need to clamp down on his customary rage. “Now go tell the Legend execs they need to join us.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re wasting my time, Aaron. And theirs. It’s the only way this meeting is happening. With Legend seated at the table.”
59
DANNY FOUND HIMSELF PULLED in two opposite directions, entering the boardroom and finding JR seated across from him. The guy was dressed like he belonged, a Canali suit over a black silk T-shirt, sporting the little reddish-blond goatee he’d started growing about a year ago. JR was as fresh-faced as ever, a fashion-conscious pixie with his bad-boy grin. He stood a hair under five ten and never gained an ounce of fat no matter how bad his diet, which was pretty appalling. His idea of exercise was walking the four blocks from his Valley condo to the nearest gourmet coffeehouse. Usually he drove.
JR grinned at Danny’s arrival. Actually grinned. Like it was all just part of the huge joke they had been telling each other for years. Underneath the Hollywood exterior was still the same old JR. Johnny Rocket. The guy Danny had always assumed would be with him to the end.
And JR knew it. The gaze locked on his held the same electric mirth, the challenge Danny could never resist.
Until now.
The other part of Danny, the one forged in the fires of the Beverly Hills jail, did not have room for sorrow over what might have been. The world had turned, the new day started.
Danny seated himself across from his former partner and gave himself a mental shove backwards. Off to the thousand-yard line.
Megan slipped into the chair opposite Aaron Seibel and said, “Let’s get down to business.”
All Megan’s suppositions locked into crystal clarity the moment Carl Legend entered the room. The man himself. Green-light king at Legend Partners. He was compact in the manner of a tight fist. He wore his greying hair in a modest bowl cut. His suit was good, but he wore it carelessly.
Major studios might have a hundred execs burnishing their vice-president brass plates. But only one person within each group held the real power, the ability to make the crucial go/no-go decision on a new project. Carl was the eldest of three brothers and the one whose voice mattered most. He looked furious to be caught out. Which Megan regretted, at least a little. Carl Legend was one of the LA powers she had admired.
“I wasn’t kidding you,” JR said to Danny. “This new gig is the real deal.”
Megan touched Danny’s wrist, a one-finger restraint. But she had not made the gesture to silence Danny. She was showing the opposition who controlled their side of the boardroom table.
Aaron had a bruiser’s ability to turn everything he said into an invitation to do battle. As soon as Carl Legend took the seat next to his, Aaron said, “So we’re here. Now what?”
Megan held to her bland courtroom voice. The best impact she had found for both judge and jury was when she wove a story that carried its own emotional impact. She spoke directly to Carl Legend. “Thank you so much for joining us.”
Both Aaron and Carl grimaced like they had bitten down on something putrid. Hating how she was declaring herself their equal. For now.
There were nine people rimming the table’s opposite side. JR, Brandon, Aaron, Carl, and five minions. She assumed at least one of the minions was a Legend in-house attorney. But none of them mattered except the green-light king.
Megan said, “With your permission, I’ll try to save us time by bringing us up-to-date.”
Aaron laughed, a tight bark that Megan knew preceded his bite. But whatever he was about to say was stifled by a single look from Carl.
Megan went on, “You’ve been looking for a unique property somewhere within chopper distance. A weekend residence that would become your secret retreat. Thrashers Ridge is perfect. The site is protected on three sides by a ridgeline that is actually part of the property. Not to mention a lake in case of another drought. A Victorian hotel you could turn into a palace. Outbuildings for guests and servants. But Sol Feinnes, the lawyer handling the estate, convinced you an outright purchase was not going to happen. Your research told you all the chips were on your side of the table. Even though Danny’s grandfather died with the deal still not done, his widow’s health was failing. The hotel was approaching bankruptcy. Your contract gave you purchase rights. It was only a matter of time.”
She gave that a long beat, then finished with, “Until Danny Byrd entered the picture.”
Everyone’s gaze shifted over. Danny had a th
ousand-yard stare, his attention locked on the LA sky beyond his former partner’s head.
Megan said, “Danny proved a harder target than you imagined. Not jail, not your attempts to pull the Chambers project, not even the lucrative offers to people JR had stiffed in Danny’s name.” Megan felt the heat build inside her chest and mind. “Or the way you tried to damage his reputation with your Blackwater detectives. Nothing worked. Did it?”
Carl Legend revealed a rough-edged voice as if he had shouted for years, yelled and pushed and bellowed until softer words came out as unnatural. “My brothers and I, we built our company from nothing. Eleven years of penny-and-dime horror flicks, scraping together the money and the contacts. Moving into mid-budget action features, the sort of stuff studios won’t touch. But the theaters, they know. There’s a market for them. It fills a few seats. As long as budgets are kept tight, everybody wins a little. And we made it. Twenty-one grueling years it took. From the trenches to the penthouse.”
Megan had the feeling Carl had rehearsed the words a million times, at least in his head. “You’re a winner,” she offered. “In a tough town.”
He jerked like he was scoffing silently. “Lady, you got no idea how tough.”
Danny spoke for the first time. “I know.”
Carl inspected him across the table. The exchange was tight. Hard.
When neither man budged, Megan said to Carl, “Here’s how we’re going to resolve the current situation. First and foremost, Legend Partners will honor its commitment to John Rexford, pay off his outstanding debts, and finance his current project.”
JR jerked as though electrocuted. “Legend has offered us a three-picture deal.”
Megan looked at him for the first time. “Point of order. There is no ‘us.’”
“That’s crazy. Danny and me, we’re—”
Megan cut him off by turning back to Carl and continuing, “What Legend does after that initial film is entirely up to you.”