Agent to the Stars by John Scalzi (read me like a book .TXT) 📕

Roland had closed his office door behind us. “I’ve got a deal for you on the Kordus material.”

“That’s excellent,” Roland said, taking a seat at his desk. “I hope your price is not too steep. We’ll be doing this story on a shoestring.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be able to afford it,” I said. “You can have the rights to excerpt any of Krysztof’s writing at no cost.”

Roland sat, silent. “That’s impossibly generous,” he said, finally. His intonation stressed impossibly more than generous.

“I spoke to the Kordus family,” I said. “I showed them the script. They love it. Moreover, they are well-acquainted with your work and trust that you will do a brilliant job. They feel that if giving you the rights at no cost will help this script make it to the screen, it’s worth it. They expect that the additional book royalities that will be generated through the exposure of the work in the film will offset any loss they take giving you permission to use the work. They’re taking the long view. Of course, they will want your permission to use artwork from the film to help promote the book reissues.”

“Yes, of course,” Roland said. “Of course. Tom, we’d be happy to do that. And you must thank the Kordus family for me, profusely. This is a true gift.”

“Well, yes and no,” I said. “There is one thing you have to do for me first.”

“What is that?” Roland said.

“Give Michelle Beck another reading for Hard Memories.”

“Um-hmmmm,” Roland said. “That might be difficult.”

“Why is that?” I said.

“Well, to begin with, I understand that she is currently in a coma.”

“She was,” I said. “She got better.”

“Better?” Roland blinked. “How does one get better out of a coma?”

“We took her to an exclusive clinic where we tried some experimental therapies,” I said. “She’s fine, really.”

“Experimental therapies.”

“Very experimental. You wouldn’t believe how experimental.”

Roland continued to look dubious. “If you say so,” he said. “However, there is the more pressing issue that Avika Spiegelman is dead set against Michelle for the role. I don’t think that there’s anything that could be done to change her mind. And without her consent, nothing happens.”

“Let Michelle worry about that,” I said. “All you have to do is get Avika to come here for another reading.”

“She won’t come if she knows it’s Michelle who is having the reading.”

“Surprise her,” I suggested.

“I’d rather not,” Roland said. “Tom, you don’t understand how close I am to losing this project to begin with. If Ms. Spiegelman shows up with Michelle here, I will be well and truly screwed.”

“Roland, you’re well and truly screwed anyway,” I said. “You don’t have an actress. None of the actresses who could carry this film are available. You have slightly under two weeks to cast this thing, if I’m correct. If you blow it now, you’re only losing something that’s already lost. This is in fact your last chance to save the project. All Michelle wants is a second reading, Roland. That’s it. You really have nothing to lose.”

“Except possibly my professional reputation,” Roland said. “It might be cheaper just to pay cash for the Kordus rights.”

“All right, Roland,” I said. “You force me to bring out my big gun.”

“I can’t wait, Tom,” Roland said. “Are you going to suggest Pamela Anderson Lee in a supporting role?”

“How much would it take for you to produce the Kordus film?”

“The Kordus film?” Roland said. ” I did a preliminary budget not long ago. My first estimate is about eight million. Possibly less if I film entirely in Poland.”

“How would you finance it?” I asked

“I’m still thinking about that,” Roland said, “I have a nice arrangement with BBC, which will finance a couple million in the front end in exchange for broadcast rights in the UK. The CBC will kick in just under a million for Canadian rights. I might be able to extort financing out of the French if I hire enough French nationals to work on the film. Miramax or Fine Line might be worth a few million, although with these sorts of properties, they tend to purchase distribution rights on the back end rather than up front.”

“But no matter what, you end up a couple of million dollars short,” I said.

“That’s the drama of making small, serious films,” Roland said.

“Here’s the big gun,” I said. “Get as much financing as you can from your usual sources, and whatever your shortfall from eight million, Michelle will cover it. Whatever it is.”

“What if I get less financing than I expect for the Kordus project? Or none at all?”

“Then Michelle will bankroll the entire eight million,” I said. “Though I think we should reasonably expect you to make the effort to line up other financing as well. But no matter what, you get the eight from Michelle if you need it. It’s solid.”

“And all I have to do is give Michelle another reading,” Roland said.

“That’s right. If Michelle dazzles, then you get to make Hard Memories and then go with the Kordus story. If not, you can get to work on the Kordus picture right away. No lost time. You win either way.”

“Christ, Tom,” Roland said. “You sure know how to pack your five minutes.”

“You know me,” I said. “Always go for the dramatic gesture.”

“When do you want your reading?” Roland asked.

“Give me three days,” I said. “I need that much time to prepare Michelle.”

“Tom,” Roland said. “I appreciate your offer, and Michelle’s as well. But I have to tell you I suspect that three days is not going to be enough time for Michelle to get herself up the level she needs to be to convince Avika Spiegelman.”

“I think you’ll be surprised,” I said. “Michelle’s accident changed a lot of things. In some ways she’s a whole other person.”

*****

“I still don’t know why I’m going to Arizona,” Michelle said.

“You’re going there because I asked you to,” I said.

“Remind me not to listen to you when you ask me to jump off a cliff.” Michelle said.

“Arizona is not so bad,” I said. “It has some lovely scenery.”

“Are we going to visit any?” Michelle asked.

“No,” I said. “But you can look out the window.”

Our chartered jet was descending into Sky Harbor International Airport.

“Let me take a different tack,” Michelle said. “Why did you want me to go to Arizona?”

“Because there’s someone here I want you to meet. Someone I think will make a difference in your reading tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes, that,” Michelle said. “The one you gave me so much time to prepare for. Thanks.”

“You said you still retained Michelle’s memories of the script and her reading ,” I said.

“I did,” Michelle said. “But Tom, just because she read it doesn’t mean she understood it. It was not as much reading as staring at the page and waiting for the sentences to come into focus. Michelle was a nice person, but she really was in over her head.”

Our jet was now sliding over the runway. We landed with a small bump and much squealing of tires.

“Thank God,” Michelle said. “I’m afraid of flying.”

“You were never afraid of flying before,” I said. “And you weren’t scared when we dropping into the atmosphere in a cube at Mach 20.”

“Welcome to the new me,” Michelle said. “And I trust Yherajk technology a lot more than I trust yours. Now get me the hell off of this plane. I have to go kiss the ground.”

A limo driver was waiting for us as we exited the plane. We went through the crowd rapidly, before anyone could recognize Michelle, and were in the limo and on our way in a matter of minutes.

I rolled up the barrier between us and the driver almost immediately. “How flexible are you?” I asked.

“Why?” Michelle asked. “You looking for excitement in the back of a limo?”

“No,” I said. “What I mean to say is, can you generate any tendrils or tentacles?”

“Sure,” Michelle said. “It’s not like when I was in Ralph and I was stuck in his digestive system. I’ve got Michelle’s whole head undergoing transformation. See, look.” Michelle’s eyes suddenly bulged, dropped out of her eye sockets, and began swinging around.

“That’s the most disgusting thing I think I’ve ever seen,” I said.

“Now you know what I’m going to be doing for Halloween,” Michelle said.

“Can you make the tendrils any smaller?” I asked.

“Of course,” Michelle answered. “I can make them invisible, if you like.”

“I would like,” I said. “I think you may need them where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” Michelle asked again.

“We’ll be there soon enough,” I said.

Less than half hour later, we were there.

“The Beth Israel Retirement Home,” Michelle said, reading the stone sign out front of the facility. “Tom, I realize that Hollywood stops hiring actress after a certain age, but this is ridiculous.”

“Hyuck, hyuck, hyuck,” I said. “Come with me.” We went inside.

The nurse at the reception desk wasted no time looking at me, preferring to look at Michelle instead.

“Aren’t you Michelle Beck?” She asked.

“I’m not Michelle Beck,” Michelle said. “But I play her on TV.”

“Excuse me,” I said, drawing the nurse’s attention to me. “I made an appointment to see Sarah Rosenthal. I’m Tom Stein, her grandson.”

“I’m sorry,” The nurse said, snapping out of her celebrity stupor. “Of course. She’s just woken up from a nap, so she should be quite alert. It’s good of you to visit. We’ve heard a lot about you. Your mother comes in quite frequently, you know.”

“I knew that,” I said. “Since I was in town, I thought I might come for a visit as well.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” the nurse said. She glanced over at Michelle. “Are you two together?”

“For the first 10%, yes,” Michelle said. The nurse looked slightly confused. Below the nurse’s view, I stepped onto Michelle’s toes. Hard.

“Yes, we’re together,” I said.

“Follow me,” The nurse got up and motioned towards the corridor.

Sarah Rosenthal, my grandmother, was in her wheelchair, staring out her window. The nurse knocked on the open doorway to get her attention. My grandmother turned, recognized me, and broke into a wide grin. Her teeth were in. I went over to give her a hug; the nurse excused herself. Michelle stood in the door, attentive but uncertain.

“I didn’t know your grandmother was still alive,” Michelle said.

“She is,” I said, crouching down and holding my grandmother’s hand. “But I don’t see her very much. She retired down here while I was still in elementary school. We’d see each other at high holidays and during the summer, but not very much beyond that. Grandmama was a very independent soul. She had a stroke not long after my father died, which took away her power of speech; my mother came down to be closer to her.”

My grandmother peered over at Michelle and motioned her over. Michelle came over; Grandmama held out her other hand, and Michelle gave her hand. Grandmama shook it in welcome, and then turned it over. Then she looked at me.

“What is she doing?” Michelle asked.

“She’s looking for an engagement ring,” I said. “Grandmama’s been pushing me to get married since I was about thirteen.” I turned back to my grandmother. “Michelle’s just a client, grandmama,” I said. “But you’ll be happy to know I have a nice girlfriend now. Very nice.”

“She’s a little like me,” Michelle said, to my grandmother.

“I’ll bring her down next time,” I said. “Okay?”

Grandmama nodded in agreement, and then patted Michelle’s hand, as if to say, I’m sure you’re a very nice girl, anyway.

“Michelle,