Wild Honor Page 6

  "I think so."

  "There's only one reason studios pay insane amounts of money for movie stars to act in their movies.... to get people into the theaters, or to buy the movie on VOD or physical media. That's it. End of story.

  “Ever wonder why a terrible actor is such a star? It's because people want to watch them. Now, there are a whole host of reasons why people want to watch an actor. Maybe they're good? Maybe they’re beautiful? Maybe they're intriguing? It doesn't really matter why, as long as they watch. It's your job to make sure you are utterly watchable. And it's your job to bring an audience. So, if you haven't started already, begin cultivating a social media following. Build your brand. And while we're speaking of brands, decide what your name is going to be. Are you going to present yourself to the world as Scarlett Donovan? Or something else?

  “I like Scarlett. It evokes a certain quality. I think you could stick with Donovan, or you could go another way entirely. It's totally up to you, but pick a stage name that you can live with for the rest of your career."

  Scarlett pondered Joel’s advice for a moment. "I'll think of something. And I just want to say thank you again for everything that you’re doing for me. I know that you don't give this opportunity to many people."

  "I don't," Joel said. “So, you really should be thanking this guy." Joel patted me on the shoulder again.

  "Thank you, Tyson."

  "My pleasure. The best thanks you can give me is hard work and dedication."

  "I will give you that," Scarlett said. "You can bet on it."

  "Now, you and I have business to discuss," Joel said to me. "Between you and me, I think the script for the Bree Taylor story doesn't totally suck. But, you may have some issues with it. My advice would be to fight for your convictions without being a complete fucking asshole about it. At the end of the day, it's their money and their movie and you sold it to them. It's important to be strong in this town, but not unmanageable. So, being a little bit of an asshole is okay... too much is no bueno."

  "I think you know me well enough by now," I said. "I don't mince words, and I don't bullshit."

  "And I think that is a huge advantage. You can be quite intimidating. Use that." Joel paused. "By the same token, I think we can do more business with the studio. I've been putting the bug in their ear, and they're warming up to the idea of this TV show. A Florida mystery series, loosely based on your life. I've got a meeting set up tomorrow. You’ll go in and pitch the show plus a series of episodes."

  "I don't have anything prepared."

  "Of course you do. Fictionalize every case you’ve worked on. You can't make that shit up."

  Scarlett's eyes widened as she saw someone enter the bar. "Holy shit! Is that—"

  Joel craned his neck over his shoulder and looked across the bar at the striking gentleman who just passed the hostess stand. "Yes, indeed that is Chase Michaels."

  He was the number one box office draw, voted the sexiest man of the year, and most eligible bachelor.

  "Would you like to meet him?" Joel asked.

  Scarlett's jaw dropped. "Seriously? You know him?"

  "Honey, I know everybody." Joel twisted around and waved Chase over. "Chase!"

  The movie star nodded to Joel and strolled our way.

  Scarlett squirmed nervously. "Holy fucking shit," she muttered under her breath. "How do I look?"

  "You look fine," I said. "Try not to act like a groupie."

  Her eyes narrowed at me.

  Chase had one of those TV heads—large, square jaw, brilliantly white teeth. He almost looked freakish in person. He strolled to the table, and Joel introduced us. Scarlett looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

  "Scarlett is a new client at the agency," Joel said, proudly. "And Tyson is responsible for the Bree Taylor story."

  "I can't wait to see it,” Chase said. “Bree was a sweetheart."

  "This is Scarlett's first day in Los Angeles," Joel added.

  "Really? Welcome," Chase said.

  "Thank you," Scarlett replied, staring up at him with awestruck eyes.

  "Well, if you need someone to show you around town, I'm happy to do it."

  Scarlett was speechless for a moment. She stammered, "Yes. Absolutely. That would be great. I mean, if I'm not too busy."

  He chuckled at her sarcasm. "Joel has my number. Call me anytime."

  "I will."

  Chase smiled before leaving the table to meet his friends across the bar.

  Scarlett leaned back in her chair and clutched her heart. "I think I can die now."

  "Don't die just yet,” Joel said. “At least wait till you've made a few movies.”

  "I want to have that man's babies," Scarlett said.

  "You and every other aspiring actress in Hollywood,” Joel said. “But hold off on the babies—"

  "Until I make a few movies. I got it."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "And on another note, don't give it away too easy around here. I know some girls use their assets to work their way up the Hollywood ladder, but more often than not, it doesn't always work out as anticipated. And be safe. Everybody around here is screwing everybody." Joel leaned in and muttered. "And let me tell you, everybody has got something. But you didn't hear that from me."

  Scarlett cringed.

  Joel looked at his watch. "I've got to run. Dinner at the Palm. Feel free to stay here as long as you like. Put everything on my tab." Joel looked to me. "You’ve got a 10 AM tomorrow at the studio. Don't be late."

  "You're not going?"

  "Unlike my talent, I work for a living. I can't hold your hand every time. You know the drill. You'll be great." He smiled at Scarlett and extended his hand. "It was a pleasure, my dear. I look forward to great things."

  Scarlett’s eyes sparkled.

  Joel left just as the waitress brought the appetizers. He grabbed a crab cake and stuffed it into his mouth before sauntering out of the bar.

  "I can't believe this is my life," Scarlett said.

  "Just try to balance things out. Not every day is going to be like this."

  "But it could be," she said in singsong with a smile.

  I happened to glance to the door as I chowed on a grilled shrimp. I grimaced at what I saw.

  14

  Reagan stood at the hostess stand with some guy.

  "Hey, isn't that…?" Scarlett asked.

  "Yup," I said.

  "Did you tell her you were coming to Los Angeles?"

  "No."

  "Who do you think the dude is? New boyfriend?"

  My eyes narrowed at Scarlett.

  "Sensitive... Still not over her, huh?"

  I didn't respond.

  "She's coming this way," Scarlett muttered.

  "Tyson? Is that you?" Reagan shouted, strutting toward me.

  I stood up, and she gave me one of those casual hugs.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I have a few meetings, and Scarlett has a new agent."

  Reagan smiled at Scarlett. "Impressive."

  The dude she was with hovered nearby, looking awkward.

  Reagan stammered uncomfortably, "Oh, this is my… boyfriend… Dylan. Dylan this is Tyson Wild and Scarlett Donovan."

  I did my best to hide my disdain as I shook the man's hand.

  "Dylan is a producer," Reagan said, filling the awkward silence.

  Nobody said anything.

  "Well, it was good to see you," Reagan said. "You should have let me know you were coming in town. We could have done… lunch."

  I shrugged. "Quick trip."

  "Scarlett, are you living here now?"

  She nodded.

  "Well, if you need anything, you’ve got my number," Reagan said.

  "Thanks," Scarlett replied.

  The new boyfriend dragged Reagan away to their table. Reagan kept looking over her shoulder at me.

  "New boyfriend, huh? That was quick," Scarlett said, snidely.

  I played it off. "She doesn’t owe me a
nything."

  "Yeah, but still.“

  I flagged the waitress down and told her to put our bill on Joel's tab. We made short work of the appetizers and got out of there quickly.

  We walked down the sidewalk back to the agency. I called Zaven and let him know we'd be there shortly. Scarlett took in the skyline of Century City. She pointed at a building. "Isn’t that the building they used in Die Hard?"

  "It is. Isn’t that movie a little before your time?"

  She gasped. "Best Christmas movie ever!"

  I had to agree.

  We reached the agency and climbed into the back of the limousine. Zaven drove us back to the Valley, and we got a taste of LA traffic at its finest—but sitting in the back of a limousine during rush hour wasn't so bad, especially with a stocked bar.

  "You need to call Jack and let him know we got here okay."

  "I sent him a text earlier," Scarlett replied.

  "Well, check in with him from time to time so he doesn't worry."

  "Jack? Worry?"

  "About you? More than you think."

  Zaven dropped us off at the Oakmont, and I cut him loose for the evening. He said he’d pick me up in the morning to take me to breakfast and the studio. I said 8 AM would be fine.

  Scarlett still had a look of wonder in her eyes when she strolled into the apartment. "I can't believe this is mine."

  "For the next few months, at least."

  "It will be longer than that. I promise you. I'm not going home a failure." She paused. "You should have kept the limo. We could have partied tonight?"

  I gave her a stern look.

  "And when I say party, I mean we could hit the bars on Sunset. You could drink, and I could watch you drink. I would be the designated sober person to keep you out of trouble."

  I rolled my eyes. "Keep me out of trouble? That’s rich. And you're not supposed to frequent bars while you're on probation."

  "Who will know?"

  "If you get arrested in a bar out here, your probation officer will know."

  "Easy.” Scarlett smiled. “I just don't get arrested."

  My scowl persisted.

  "Fine,” she sighed. “I'll just continue leading the same boring life that I have been leading back in Coconut Key."

  "Good. With all this spare time, you can focus on your acting."

  Scarlett's phone dinged with a text message. Her eyes sparkled, and she bounced up and down. She looked like she was about to explode. "Oh my God! He's texting me!"

  "Who?"

  "He got my number from Joel." Scarlett spun the phone around and showed me the display.

  It was a text message from Chase.

  Just as quickly as she showed me the screen, she snatched it back to read the text message again. "He wants me to meet him at Star Bar!"

  "I don't think that's such a good idea," I said.

  "Don't be such a party pooper! It's Chase Michaels. Do you really expect me not to go?"

  "Come on. You know exactly what he wants."

  Scarlett smiled. "And I expect to give it to him.”

  I arched an eyebrow at her.

  "I'm kidding. Sort of. Not really." Scarlett planted her hands firmly on her hips. "I am a woman with needs. And, my God, he's Chase Michaels!"

  I raised my hands in surrender. “It’s none of my business.”

  "It's not like I'm going to get any sitting around here," she said, her eyes blazing into me, pointedly. “Lord knows I’ve tried.” She sighed. "I'm not going to drink or do drugs or anything that could screw up my probation."

  "Except for illegally entering a bar. How are you going to get in?"

  "Look at me. I'm smoking hot. Who's going to turn me down? I’ll be with one of the most famous movie stars in the world. I think he could pull a few strings." She paused. "Do NOT tell Jack."

  "I'm staying out of this."

  Scarlett scheduled an Uber. A few moments later, she got a notification that the driver had arrived. She gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

  With that, she was out the door.

  Jack was going to kill me.

  15

  The morning sun blazed through the blinds, painting a pattern across the Murphy bed. I never heard Scarlett come home last night, and I was beginning to get concerned. I climbed out of bed and staggered to her bedroom door which was wide open. The sheets had been untouched, and her clothes were still scattered about the room from when she tried them all on last night.

  I sent her a text message: [Are you okay?]

  There was no immediate reply.

  I took a shower, got dressed, then called Zaven. He picked me up and drove me to Bob’s diner for breakfast. I had enough time to shovel a plate of scrambled eggs in my mouth, then get over to the studio for my meeting. We drove onto the lot and stopped at the security gate. The guard checked the list, then gave Zaven a pass.

  The limousine cruised past mammoth soundstages to the executive offices. Zaven pulled to the curb, hopped out, and got my door. “Break a leg!"

  "Thanks."

  I strolled into the building and found Susan's office. Her assistant greeted me with a smile. "Susan will be with you shortly. Can I get you anything? Water, juice, tea?"

  I remembered Joel's advice to always take a bottle of water into a pitch meeting. I didn’t anticipate getting nervous—I didn’t get nervous about this type of thing. “Water, please."

  "Certainly, Mr. Wild."

  I was surprised she remembered my name. I took a seat on the sofa in the reception area and waited a few minutes.

  The assistant returned a moment later with bottled water then took a seat behind her desk. She answered calls and clacked on the keyboard. She was a pretty girl. Raven black hair, short bangs cut in the shoulder-length bob. I wondered if she was secretly an actress, or an aspiring writer? Everyone had aspirations in this town.

  A few minutes later, she said, "Susan will see you now."

  I stood up and strolled toward Susan's office, and the assistant held the door for me.

  "Tyson, it's so good to see you again!" Susan said with a beaming smile.

  She was one of the most powerful women in Hollywood. The gatekeeper. The one who could launch or destroy careers. She was always warm and friendly to me, but I got the impression that if you got on her bad side, you might never work again in this town.

  She gave me a hug and an air kiss. "I am so excited about the script for the Bree Taylor project. I hope you are too. Have you had a chance to read it?"

  "I have. Joel gave me a copy."

  "And… What did you think?"

  I took a deep breath.

  Susan motioned for us to take a seat on the sofa. There was a central desk with a computer, two opposing couches with a coffee table in between, and a large flatscreen display. Susan had access to every motion picture created by the studio, and their competitors. She could bring up films, trailers, and other promotional materials at the click of a button.

  "I can give you my thoughts, if you want to hear them, or I can smile and tell you the script is great as is?" I said.

  "I'd like to hear your honest reaction."

  I hesitated a moment. Did honest actually mean honest? This was Hollywood after all.

  "I liked the script," I said. I knew better than to go straight to the bad news. I always liked to start on a positive note, give my feedback, then finish positive. "But there were a few areas that… need some work."

  Susan arched a curious eyebrow.

  "There are some factual inconsistencies and several scenes that are complete fabrications. And there are some incorrect things from a technical standpoint."

  "Keep in mind we will need to take some dramatic license to create suspense and manage the pacing."

  "I understand.“

  I proceeded to give her detailed notes, then finished strong. “Overall, I think it's a fabulous script and a compelling story.”

  "I value your input. These are keen observ
ations. I will pass them along to the writers and the director. This is the first draft. It’s a long process, and the script will go through several iterations before it hits the screen."

  "At the end of the day, it's your show,” I said. “You know what you're doing. I trust you."

  As long as the studio kept writing big checks, I wasn't going to put up too much of a fight. I just wanted to make sure that Bree’s memory was respected, and that I didn't come off looking like an idiot.

  We talked about a television series based on the happenings around Coconut Key. I told her about the Sandcastle Killer, and she seemed intrigued.

  The meeting lasted about 45 minutes. Susan thanked me for my time, and I told her it was nice to see her again.

  I had turned my phone on silent during the meeting, and a few text messages had buzzed my pocket. I swiped my screen anxiously as I walked through the hallways of the executive offices.

  A text message from Scarlett read: [Just got home. How did your meeting go?]

  [Fine. Heading back to the apartment now.]

  Zaven drove me back to Oakmont. I told myself I wasn't going to ask about her evening, but the question slipped from my lips as I entered the apartment. "So, how did it go last night?"

  "It was so cool. He's a really nice guy. I thought he might be totally full of himself, but he was really down to earth. He said he would help me with my career." She paused. "And no, I didn't sleep with him if that's what you're wondering?"

  I raised my hands, innocently. "None of my business."

  "We hung out at the bar, I met a bunch of his friends. We danced, then we went back to his place for an after party. I got tired early and crashed in one of the spare bedrooms."

  "I'm glad you had a good time."

  Jack called, and I was glad that Scarlett was back at the apartment. I didn't know what I would have said to him if I hadn't heard from her.

  "I hate to cut your trip short, but you need to get back to Coconut Key," Jack said.

  "What's going on?"

  16