Authors: Kelly Favor
“Great.” Max grinned. He was positively beaming. “Fantastic.”
Bryson blew air out his mouth and sat back, but said nothing. Kallie wasn’t sure
what she thought, because although they’d changed the title—she also thought their
new idea was pretty good.
“So you were saying,” Kallie prodded Max to continue.
“Right,” Max huffed. “Bridge and Tunnel is moving fast, guys. Faster than any picture
I’ve seen in my whole career. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s not.
Barbara and Martin can back me up on this—we’re getting tremendous heat right now.”
Martin leaned forward. “It’s true. We’ve already done some focus groups on this
and the response is off the charts. People around the country are aware of your story,
and the horrible tragedy that unfolded for you all. It’s made everyone extremely
curious about this film. We think that it’s going to give us a shot at reaching the
kind of audience, the kind of numbers, that’s typically reserved for action films
and children’s movies.”
“Obviously, that’s part of the reason Sony signed on to do this,” Max said.
Barbara shot him a look. “That’s a part. But we also love the script. We think
it’s fantastic, and we love Bryson’s writing.”
“Okay,” Hunter’s voice buzzed from the conference phone. “Let’s cut to the chase.
Let’s deal with the issues.”
Max shifted in his seat. “We want to get moving on pre-production right away, with
plans to hit the ground running in four to five weeks.”
Hunter said something unintelligible on his end—it sounded like he’d either laughed,
or shouted an obscenity. “Are you serious?” he said, after a moment.
“We are,” Barbara replied. “Now, we need pre-production to include some rehearsal
time with the actors, some possible rewrites, and then we’ll also need Bryson to be
finished with his storyboards and master shot list within that month. It’s a lot
to put on his plate.”
Bryson folded his arms. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Max gave him a look. “Of course, you might not know what it takes to do that much
work in such a short timeframe.”
“I can do it.” Bryson stared confidently at him, and Max lowered his eyes.
“Good, then. Are we in agreement on the time frame?”
“It’s super aggressive,” Hunter said. “I’m not sure…”
And then his line went dead. Max began trying to dial him again, but it seemed as
though the problem was with Max’s phone line. Kallie called Hunter back and tried
to put him on speaker, but he wasn’t able to hear everyone through her cell.
“Look, you’re going to have to handle this meeting until they can patch me through
the conference line again,” Hunter told her. “I can’t hear anything over your phone.”
She was aghast at the idea of doing this without him. “Are you sure?
Ummm…I’m not certain that’s such a great plan…”
“You’ll be fine,” Hunter told her. “I trust you.”
“Okay…we’ll keep trying to fix the line here.”
“Love you—call me when it’s over.”
She got off the phone and said that Hunter wanted them to continue without him until
they could get the speakerphone working again.
Max smiled and nodded. “Certainly. I’ll put my assistant on it right away,” he said.
But Kallie, being paranoid by nature, couldn’t help but think that they’d intentionally
screwed up the connection for just that reason. They wanted to gain an advantage
in this meeting. She was certain that Max wasn’t above these kinds of sleazy tactics.
“So the timeframe,” Max said once more. “We’re in agreement?”
Kallie nodded, trying to project an air of certainty that she didn’t feel. “Yes,
we are.” She didn’t know how to argue something like this—she didn’t know a thing
about pre-production or what it would entail.
“Moving on,” Max said, sitting back and looking happy as a pig in its own excrement.
“We need to discuss location.”
“We want to film here in L.A.,” Barbara said. Martin nodded as she spoke. “It has
to be in L.A.,” he agreed.
Bryson stiffened next to Kallie. “My script was tailored for New York City,” he said.
“New York and romantic comedies are inextricably linked. All of the best ones have
the Manhattan backdrop. You guys know that.”
“Be that as it may,” Max said, “it’s much more cost-effective and streamlined to do
it locally. We have all the people here, and we can get set up much faster.”
“Not to mention, the locations. New York can be very difficult with certain locales.
Here we have soundstages galore,” Martin added.
Kallie wasn’t sure what to think. She was starting to be angry at Hunter for telling
her to just take over. This was ridiculous—she was way out of her depth here.
Not that anybody else cared. They were too busy arguing.
“I don’t think soundstages are a bonus in this case,” Bryson said. “In fact, I think
they’re a horrible idea. I want to use authentic New York landmarks and locales.
That’s what will make this film feel timeless—classic.”
Tempers were rising now. Kallie could feel the temperature in the room starting to
go up, and the beads of sweat on Max’s forehead were an endorsement of that fact.
“What makes a film classic is good writing, good acting and good directing,” Max said.
“And frankly, kid, you don’t know how to make something timeless. You don’t even
have film one under your belt, so let’s not talk about competing with Annie Hall just
yet.”
Bryson was about to come unglued. Kallie could see it in his face, and she was determined
not to let him explode. If he lost his cool, the people from Sony would lose faith
in him before the first shot of the movie was even filmed. Kallie knew enough about
human nature to know that—and she knew enough about Max to suspect he might want that
to happen.
Then he could fire Bryson and bring in someone else to direct.
“Hold on a second,” Kallie said, before anybody continued. “Let’s just back up a
step or two.”
Everyone turned to look at her now.
“We’re not going to film in New York,” Max said. “It’s too expensive, the production
won’t get started in time—there are just too many issues with New York.”
“Bryson’s script is tied to New York,” Kallie said. “If you didn’t want to shoot
in New York, you should have discussed that with us before now. It’s too integral
to the film. It’s the third lead.”
Max made a face. “Don’t say that. Please. Manhattan?” He waved his hand at her.
“Manhattan’s like that cute girl who’s been screwed by the entire college football
team. She’s overrated and she’s been done. By just about everyone.”
Martin snorted a laugh, and Barbara just shook her head sadly. “I happen to agree
with him,” she said. “Not his choice of words, but the spirit of what he’s saying.”
Kallie knew that this was one of those times she needed to hold firm. “We’re not
shooting this movie in Los Angeles. Bryson thinks Manhattan is integral to the film’s
success, and that’s reason enough for me.”
The room fell silent. Max muttered under his breath and then exchanged glances with
Barbara and Martin.
“Okay, it looks like we shoot in New York.” He sighed. “This sadly puts even more
pressure on the director. You’ll be dealing with weather issues, noise issues, location
issues, and it just gets worse. But who am I to keep a first-time director from committing
career suicide?”
“I think I’ll be just fine,” Bryson told him.
“We’ll see,” Max sighed again.
“That brings us to casting,” Martin said, making notes now.
“Eliza Johnston is still in, right?” Kallie asked.
“She is,” Max replied.
“But we also were able to get Dale Nolan to sign on for the male lead,” Barbara said
softly. Her pale blue eyes fixed on Bryson as she said it.
Bryson’s head came up. “Are you serious? Dale Nolan?”
Barbara and Martin grinned at his reaction. Even Scarlett, who had basically been
mute the entire time, made a noise of disbelief. Dale Nolan was probably one of the
hottest actors in Hollywood. He’d just won an Oscar the previous year for The Long
Night, in which he’d played a renegade Nazi to astounding and unmitigated critical
acclaim. Not only was he a fantastic actor, but he was fantastic looking—women adored
him. He had huge box office appeal.
“That’s incredible,” Kallie said. “When did this happen?”
“We just got word about an hour before the meeting,” Max said, his eyes sparkling
with delight. “You understand that between the male and female leads, we’re now in
possession of possibly the two fastest rising stars in all of Hollywood.”
Bryson was sitting back and just shaking his head. “I really can’t believe it. I
mean, to land a guy with that kind of talent—“
“But he needs a strong director,” Max interrupted. “As good as he is, you must have
heard the rumors.”
“Of course,” Bryson said.
“Rumors?” Kallie asked. “What kind of rumors?”
The Sony people smirked and laughed a little. Kallie felt her face flush. Max answered
her slowly, as if speaking to a child or an idiot. “It’s a poorly kept secret that
Dale Nolan can ruin a film if left to his own devices. He’s a genius who needs lots
of care and feeding. Under the guidance of a strong director, he produces incomparable
work. But if a director lacks vision or strength of character, then Dale has been
known to destruct…”
“And take down the whole picture with him,” Martin finished. “I can name at least
four films from Dale’s past, where his behind-the-scenes antics essentially killed
the movie before it had even gone to post-production.”
Max smiled grimly, but also with some glee. “And coincidentally, four directors who
never worked in Hollywood again.”
Bryson sat up taller. “I won’t be number five, Max. You can bet on that.”
Max shrugged. “Obviously, my interest is in seeing you succeed.”
“Is it?”
“Of course it is. Why would I want to see this film fail?”
“I don’t know,” Bryson replied. “You tell me.” His eyes were flinty and Kallie became
aware that there was a vast reservoir of anger beneath his lighthearted appearance.
The realization unnerved her slightly. What else hadn’t she realized about Bryson
before so closely tying her fate to his?
“The answer is that I want this film to do well,” Max said. “But everyone in this
room knows that I don’t think you’re right to direct.”
Bryson laughed without humor. “Here we go again.”
“Max,” Kallie said. “Come on. Let’s not do this.”
“All right, all right. I apologize,” Max said. “I’m just putting cards on the table.
Dale Nolan is a huge win for us. But there are some downsides to his acquisition.”
“I’m ecstatic that you landed him,” Kallie said. “I think Hunter will be, too.”
After some brief discussion about logistics, Max asked if there was any other pressing
business to attend to before ending the meeting.
Nobody said anything, and it was about to end there. But then Kallie had a burst
of inspiration. “Just one quick note,” she said.
“Yes?” Max replied.
“Well, as I mentioned earlier, Scarlett is someone who’s been a huge asset to our
production team. And…well…I was wondering if we might be able to find a place for
her on set in some capacity.”
Max and Barbara looked confused. Martin just shook his head.
Scarlett shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” Martin said. “I don’t see where something like that fits
into this meeting.”
Kallie felt like she’d been squashed underfoot. After doing so well the entire meeting,
she’d gotten greedy and made a fool of herself.
“You can put her on the catering team,” Max said, gathering his notes.
“I just thought maybe there was a role for her to fill…” Kallie’s last attempt trailed
off as she realized they were no longer listening to her.
Bryson turned to her then. “She can be my assistant,” he said, “if that works.”
Kallie broke into a huge smile. “Actually, that’s perfect.”
“Seems like I’ll be needing the help,” he said.
Kallie looked to Scarlett, but Scarlett’s expression was stony and cold. She didn’t
seem pleased with the assignment.
Kallie didn’t care. She’d accomplished all of her goals now. As they left Max’s
office, she knew that this was where she wanted to be.
Kallie loved the movie business.
***
Scarlett was still in shock as they left the building. She hadn’t expected Kallie
to do any of that, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
One thing Scarlett knew was that she didn’t want to work with, near, or for, Bryson
Taylor. He’d rubbed her the wrong way from the first time she’d laid eyes on him,
when he’d stomped around the hospital waiting room and shouted like an imbecile.
But the real reason you don’t like him is ridiculous
.
It’s not Bryson’s fault that he
looks like Owen.
Not just looks like Owen, she thought. He acts like Owen, speaks like him, and has
the same arrogance.
Although Bryson’s better looking.
No. She couldn’t even allow herself to think such a thing. Men like Bryson Taylor
were a dime a dozen. He was so clearly used to things being easy, especially with
women. He was entitled, opportunistic, and immature. She was no longer attracted
to the Bryson’s of the world—and in fact, had a hard time even being civil to that
type of man.
Meanwhile, Bryson and Kallie were congratulating each other on the meeting having
gone so well. “Can you believe that we got Dale fucking Nolan?” Bryson cried out,
at one point in the elevator.
Kallie giggled. “Dale freaking Nolan!”
Scarlett feigned excitement, not wanting to disappoint Kallie too much. She wondered
if it would be really wrong of her to tell Kallie she didn’t want the job.
I think I’d rather wait tables.
But she couldn’t bear to imagine how hurt Kallie would be when she told her.