Unscripted

by Davis Bunn

  JR started in once more. “No, hang on . . .”

  One swift glance from Carl stifled JR. He then switched his attention back to Megan. “In exchange for what?”

  Aaron said, “Matter of fact, it’s time she remembers that deal was contingent on Byrd dropping the Chambers project.”

  “Aaron,” Carl said, “shut up.”

  Megan breathed out once. A silent hum of pure pleasure.

  Carl said, “Go on.”

  Megan turned to Aaron, ignoring the crimson burn from the internal rage he was forced to swallow. “In exchange, Mr. Rexford will formally agree to never seek contact with my client. We’ll want that in writing.”

  JR said, “Wait, no. Danny, tell them—”

  Carl turned to him. “Get out.”

  No one spoke or met JR’s gaze as he rose slowly, shot a pleading look Danny’s way, then departed.

  When the door clicked shut, Danny released a long sigh. Megan resisted the urge to reach for his hand.

  “Next?” Carl said.

  “You now have a choice,” Megan said. “Before I give you the alternatives, you first need to accept that you are not acquiring Thrashers Ridge for your personal use.”

  Carl sneered at Danny. “You think one television spot will pull that loser out of the fire?”

  Danny had resumed his thousand-yard stare. If he even heard the question, he gave no sign.

  Megan asked, “May I continue?”

  Carl clearly disliked it. But he was curious. Drawn in. “Go on.”

  “You can sell your share back to Danny and his new partner. They will pay you in cash.”

  “What new partner?”

  “It’s a bluff.” Aaron sounded like he had gargled with gravel. “She doesn’t—”

  Carl stifled his attorney with a look.

  “I’ll come to the new investor in a second,” Megan replied.

  “The alternative?” Carl said.

  “You form a partnership with Danny. The Byrd-Legend Project. Thrashers Ridge becomes a haven for low-budget indie filmmakers. Similar in structure and function to what George Lucas and the Skywalker Ranch became for the early computer animators.”

  Aaron laughed. “You don’t have the clout. Skywalker Ranch worked because they had the cash to make the projects move forward! You peons are hanging on by your fingernails.”

  “Which brings us to our new partner,” Megan replied. “Danny Byrd has now been named head of a nine-million-dollar film investment fund.”

  She gave that news the long beat it deserved. Then she gestured at her silent companion. “Meet LA’s newest green-light guy.”

  It all came down to the bombshell of a phone call from Zhang’s associate. After Mei-Li had introduced herself, she had passed Zhang the phone. Zhang spoke briefly, just long enough for Megan to know it really was him. Then he handed the phone back, and the woman said, “I am Dr. Zhang’s niece.”

  “Doctor?”

  “He is a professor at Shanghai University. International accounting and bookkeeping standards.” She had some difficulty with the word “international,” but she managed. “Everybody trust him.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Yes. That is why he traveled to your country.” The man spoke in the background, and Mei-Li translated, “Before he received your email, my uncle called your firm.”

  “Former firm.”

  “Yes. They refuse to say where you are. His emails were not answered. Dr. Zhang was very worried about you. He was most glad to receive news of your new partnership.”

  “I’m actually just an associate.”

  “Please?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I am fine. Better than fine.”

  “Dr. Zhang says, are you still in contact with the gentleman you and he discussed?”

  “I serve as his attorney.”

  “This is very good. Because my uncle, he and his friends still wish to buy the product, you understand?”

  Megan hesitated, then said, “I think so.”

  “Yes. He says, the first price you discussed, it was too high. He thinks nine dollars is a better price.”

  Megan pondered that for a time, then repeated, “Nine dollars.”

  “Yes. The original price you discussed, one hundred, it is not possible.” The woman placed a heavy emphasis on each word.

  Megan nodded to the sunlight shimmering off the concrete. “I think I understand.”

  “Perhaps in the future, you and Dr. Zhang can discuss a higher price. For future purchases. But right now he must stay with nine.”

  She had to assume the woman was speaking for all the invisible ears and tried to respond in kind. “But when we met, Dr. Zhang said even nine was impossible. There was an issue with transport.”

  “Yes. Exactly. One moment, please.” There was a rapid exchange of Chinese. “Dr. Zhang says, the nine is now possible. Within one week, he thinks.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yes. He says, can you please establish a bank account to receive his . . .”

  “First payment,” Megan said. “For the initial purchase.”

  “Yes, exactly. Email those details and he will send you confirmation when he is ready to make the first purchase.”

  “And details,” Megan said. “About how to handle the first product shipment.”

  The woman did not laugh or sing. But it sounded to Megan as though she wanted to do both. “So nice to know you are exactly as my uncle has said.”

  Megan did not relate any details about the new investment funds or the people behind it. First of all, it was none of their business. Secondly, it would have reduced Aaron’s burn, which she hoped Danny was enjoying as well.

  “She’s bluffing,” Aaron said.

  Megan slipped a single sheet of paper from her purse and slid it across the table. “An escrow account has been established with the San Luis Obispo branch of Wells Fargo. As you can see, Daniel Byrd and I are cosignatories.”

  The page represented a great deal of work on Megan’s part, much of it done without any guidance whatsoever. The money was theirs. No restrictions. Which meant she had nine million dollars in an escrow account under the name of a film group that did not yet exist. By four that afternoon, Thrashers Ridge Films would become a going concern. And a wealthy one.

  Carl shoved the paper back. His eyes glinted with bitter resignation. “So I’ve lost.”

  “With respect, sir, I would suggest the exact opposite is true.”

  His jaw muscles clenched and relaxed. Again. “Say I’m interested.”

  “Three things. First, you transfer your partial ownership of the hotel to Thrashers Ridge Films. We’ll value that at four million, which is twenty percent above current market value. Second, you invest five million dollars more in the escrow account. Third, you agree to consider marketing and distributing the films developed by Thrashers Ridge.”

  “In return?”

  “Thirty percent of the company.”

  “I want what I’ve got now. Forty-nine.”

  “Thirty for you,” Megan repeated. “Thirty for our other investor.”

  He did not need to ask where the other forty percent went. “I green-light all projects.”

  Megan started to deny him when Danny spoke up. “Legend works because there’s only one green-light guy. That’s how it has to be, and you know it.”

  Carl studied him intently. But to his credit, he did not argue.

  Danny said, “We’ll meet as often as you want. Discuss all projects under consideration. Go through the roster under development. I’ll take all the input you want to give. But the green-light decision stays mine.”

  Carl’s jaw muscles worked for a time. “Once a month. Maybe more often if you’re going into production.”

  Danny rose to his feet and offered his hand across the table. “A pleasure, Mr. Legend.”

  He rose and took Danny’s hand. “Carl.”

  Danny said to Megan, “I’m done here.” He left the roo
m without acknowledging Aaron or his minions.

  Megan waited until the door clicked shut and all eyes returned to her. Then she rose, the movement almost sinuous with pleasure. She smiled at Aaron and said, “Why don’t you go draw up the papers regarding John Rexford’s future.”

  60

  LOUISA DELLACOURT was a small porcelain figure with hair of spun silver-white glass. Her features held a Victorian perfection, a balance of refinement and strength. Her gaze was a pale golden brown, like autumn leaves seen in early dawn light. Danny liked her immensely even before she invited him to sit down.

  When Megan started to take a chair by the parlor’s west-facing windows, Louisa asked, “Are you the young lawyer who arranged for Danny to be released from jail?”

  “Sol Feinnes did all the heavy lifting,” Megan replied.

  “That’s not what the gentleman told me.” She waved one arthritic hand. “Come join us. Unless of course the young man objects.”

  “The young man most definitely does not mind in the slightest,” Danny replied, carrying over Megan’s chair.

  “So it’s like that, is it.” Louisa smiled. “How nice.”

  Her assisted-living facility was one block off the ocean in a residential neighborhood. Through the open window Danny tasted salt and heard the sound of children playing in the park to the south. “This place is nice.”

  Louisa inspected him closely. “Looking at you is like seeing my Daniel in his prime.”

  Danny worked through several responses and settled on, “I’m sorry I didn’t know him.”

  “Are you really, young man? If anyone has reasons to resist the lure of family, it would be you.”

  Danny liked her directness. The sense of knowing she had no time for wasted words. “I’m learning to set down the past.”

  Louisa turned and gazed at Megan. “That’s your doing, I assume.”

  “I’m trying to help. Danny’s the strong one.”

  “Another trait he’s inherited from my late husband.” She touched the edges of her mouth. “My Daniel was born in the wrong season. Do you ever feel that way, young man?”

  “Not really.”

  “Daniel used to say that living in this century left him feeling like he was wearing someone else’s clothes. He yearned for the gold-rush era. He would not have been a miner. He had no interest in hunting wealth in the muck. Gambler, casino owner, hotel operator. I think he and Mark Twain would have been the best of friends.”

  Danny didn’t know how to respond.

  Megan filled the silence. “You and Thrashers Ridge gave him rest.”

  “We gave him a home, most certainly. The first my Daniel ever knew. Oh, he had houses before then. And a family, of course. Daniel never spoke of his first wife with anything but remorse. They were only married a year. Then he took a job working the offshore oil rigs, first in Alaska and then in the gulf and finally off Long Beach. It was a dozen years later that he learned he had a son. He had the occasional nightmare about the boy right up to the end.”

  Danny struggled with the surge of conflicting emotions. It must have shown, for Megan reached over and took his hand. She asked, “What did your late husband learn about his son?”

  “Very little, and almost none of it good. His name was Daniel also, ironically. You are a third, young man, if that means anything.” She sighed and stared at the afternoon light glinting off the glass. “Your father was not a good man, by all accounts. He did not marry your mother. He—”

  “I don’t want to know anything more about him,” Danny said softly.

  “That may be best.” She turned back and inspected him once more, her gaze as gentle as her voice. “The detective my Daniel employed was very thorough. I know far more about you and your early years than is polite, young man. Have you managed to heal?”

  “I’m trying.”

  “And I am glad to hear it. I have seen far too many wounded people lay down in the grave before their time and never get up again. Your grandfather had an upbringing similar to yours, orphaned early and handed from one family to another. He struggled with his wounds for most of his life.”

  “Until he met you,” Danny finished.

  She shrugged. “I gave him a reason to move on, perhaps.”

  “A home. A place that fit him as well as anything in this era might.”

  She shrugged a second time. “I like to think that is the truth.”

  Danny felt the warmth and the strength in Megan’s hand. He turned to her and found the molten heat strong enough to ease his own aching heart. His gaze still on Megan, he said, “You can come back and live with us if you like. At Thrashers Ridge.”

  Megan added, “We can arrange for home care.”

  “Thank you both. I am touched by the offer. Truly. But my Daniel’s absence would be too keen there, do you see? He loved Thrashers Ridge, something I never did. Until he entered my life, the place was just an albatross, tied to my existence by too many years and obligations. He turned the old place from a wreck into our home.”

  “If you ever change your mind, the offer stands.” When she didn’t respond, Danny asked, “Can I come see you again?”

  “I would count that a rare treat.” She stared at him, but her gaze was unfocused now. Looking through him to the man who was no longer present, at least in human form. “I have become a citizen of two worlds. It would be incorrect to say that I look forward to the passage ahead. But I do not especially regret its coming. The tie of a love like ours is not severed by one’s demise.”

  Megan swallowed and said, “A part of you left with him.”

  “Indeed.” Louisa’s gaze refocused. “Do be sure to bring your young lady when you return.”

  Danny rose and thanked her and started for the door. Then he turned back and said, “Would you be willing to come to Thrashers Ridge just once? Next week we’re going to have a party.”

  61

  THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Louisa rose slowly from Megan’s car. She took her time inspecting the hotel property, the ridgeline, the crew hustling to set up lights framing the entrance. As Megan unfolded the wheelchair and helped Louisa settle, Danny emerged from the hotel. Louisa smiled and said, “Good afternoon, young man.”

  “Thank you for coming, Louisa.”

  “I wasn’t sure I should. Twice yesterday I started to call and say I wouldn’t be able to make it. But I’m glad I did.” She allowed Megan to settle her into the wheelchair and said to her, “Be so good as to show your young man the photograph.”

  Danny felt an electric shock when Megan turned the framed picture around. “Wow.”

  “Yes.” Louisa traced an arthritic finger down the edge of the frame. “This is my Daniel.”

  Daniel Sr. resembled a pre-war film star. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, either black or dark grey. His tie was fastened with a diamond stickpin. A matching silk kerchief was tucked discreetly into the jacket pocket. He smiled into the camera as he stood with both hands resting upon the shoulders of his lovely bride.

  A magnetic power reached from the frame and gripped Danny. Like the man came as close as he could to shaking Danny’s hand.

  “He’s a stunner,” Megan said.

  “Take a good look, my dear. I suspect your Danny will age well.”

  Megan asked, “Shall we go inside?”

  At a gesture from Danny, two muscled grips hefted Louisa’s chair and carried her across the gravel forecourt and up the front stairs. Danny handed Megan his grandfather’s photograph and personally pushed Louisa inside. “Welcome back.”

  The hotel’s interior had not looked so good in decades. Louisa said as much, and Danny thought the compliment sounded real. Rick’s crew had lit it to hide none of the flaws. Their aim was to create a softened reality. The threadbare carpet, the peeling varnish, the split planks—all of it remained visible and yet gentled in the manner of an Impressionist painting.

  Greg had brought back the two Santa Cruz film crews for this day’s shoot. The locals who had agre
ed to participate had signed release forms that also required them to stay as long as they were needed. But the emotions would only stay fresh and real for so long. Greg’s team needed to get as much as possible in the can during the first few takes.

  As the guests arrived, Rand and Annie and Megan prepped them just outside the camera’s reach. The families had all brought photographs of their beloveds, the ones who would not be joining them that day. The hotel’s interior was filled with Valentine’s Day decorations that sparkled in the candlelight. One by one the families found a place for the pictures they had brought. As the main chamber gradually filled, the walls and side benches became encircled with smiling faces, only some of which rested in picture frames.

  The cook had truly outdone herself, creating a buffet feast of Central and South American delicacies. There was pargo veracruzana from Mexico, casado from Costa Rica, pupusa from El Salvador. They dined on sudado de pollo from Colombia and Argentina’s puchero and Brazil’s fiejoada. Soon enough the guests grew accustomed to the roving cameras and chattered and visited and ate.

  Danny was the one member of the film crew with almost nothing to do. Myron Riles, the film’s newly hired director of soundtrack, had asked if he might prep Emma alone that day. Because the shoot was focusing on her music, Danny agreed. He filled one plate for Louisa and another for himself and seated himself next to her wheelchair.

  Louisa complimented the food, ate almost nothing, and asked him, “You know the story of Captain Wainwright?”

  “Some of it.”

  “Your grandfather considered him a close personal friend. He went up to the grave site every few days. They talked, or so my Daniel claimed. One buccaneer to another.” When Danny didn’t respond, she changed subjects. “I like your lady friend. Very much.”

  “Megan is more than I deserve,” Danny said. “Or ever hoped for.”

  “If my Daniel were still here, he’d tell you to mind that your scars don’t become hers as well.”

  Danny set down his fork. “Ouch.”

  She patted his hand. “I’m so glad you and I understand one another.”

  When the time came, the crew collected the plates while Greg arranged the families and Rick adjusted the lights. When Danny explained what they intended, Louisa asked, “Might I hold my Daniel?”