Page 15 of Second Act
“You lie. This is my country. We don’t have fine weather.”
“You should move to Miami.” Andy dished it back to him.
“Can I lure you to London to get shamefully drunk in the pubs with me?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, for the first part. I’m not sure about the shamefully drunk. I did more than my share of that before I got here.”
“I don’t blame you,” Dash said. “I’d have done a lot worse than that. You’re a hero, man, and you’re still standing.”
“That’s debatable. I’d like to have dinner with you. I have a manuscript in my pocket, by an unknown. She’s incredibly talented. It’s a killer manuscript. I think it should be a film first. She can follow it up with a book later, if the movie is a success. She wrote it as a book.”
“So, we’d need a screenwriter,” Dash said thoughtfully. “It takes time to find the right one. And they’re usually booked up for months, and slow as hell. She couldn’t write the script?”
“She’s never done it. I think you’d be better off with a pro on that.”
“Yeah, me too. So are you thinking of making a little indie film now?” Dash teased him again.
“No, I’m hoping you are. Making indie movies isn’t my gig, it’s yours,” Andy reminded him.
“I’ll make a convert of you yet. It’s the way to go now. No studio bullshit.”
“Maybe. But it’s damn hard to put an independent movie together and get the same quality. You’re one of the few who does it right. And you do it best.”
“Flattery will get you whatever you want. What kind of shape is it in?”
“I think she’s got five or six chapters typed. The rest is all longhand, she still has to type it. She’s writing the last chapter now.”
“I’ll read whatever you’ve got,” Dash said willingly. A studio wouldn’t have done that. It had to be clean, digital, finished, andperfectly typed. “I’ll read it on cocktail napkins or newspaper, which is how I see most first drafts.”
“When can I come to see you?” Andy asked him, and Dash was impressed that Andy was so committed to the property. That told him a lot. Andy Westfield was no fool about movies. His judgment was sound, and his instincts legendary.
“Does tomorrow night work for you?” Dash asked him.
“Perfect.”
“What’s your part in this?” Dash inquired, curious.
“I just want to make the introduction. After that, if you like what she’s got, it’s up to you and her. I have no stake in this. I believe in what I’m bringing you. You’re the indie guy, I’m not.”
“I’d like to change your mind on that. I would love to work with you. It would be an education for me.” Dash was a huge fan of Andy’s.
“Don’t overestimate me. And don’t forget, I’m the guy who just got kicked out on my ass.”
“They were fools. Corporate assholes. You’ll be back on top again, and they’ll be sorry.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Dash hated to hear Andy so down, and so unsure of himself. His ego had taken a nuclear hit. It was the nature of the business, especially in the big studios that were owned by corporations and conglomerates now, with the shots being called by people who knew nothing about the business. Andy had movies in his DNA. “Where should I meet you?” Andy asked him.
“The Shed,” Dash suggested. “It’s near my place. You can carry me home if I get too drunk. Where will you stay, by the way?”
“I always stay at Claridge’s.”
“Very posh. I’m glad to hear you’re not broke. At least they paid you off decently, or I hope they did.” Andy had been successful for so long that Dash doubted he was dependent on his job for his lifestyle by now.
“They did,” Andy confirmed. It wasn’t enough to soothe his ruffled feathers or his broken heart, at least not yet, but it was something. His investment advisor was happy with the influx of a large amount of money, which never hurt.
“See you tomorrow at eight,” Dash said. “And Andy, thank you for bringing it to me first.” Andy felt mildly guilty about his call to Dirk Howard, but no harm had been done. He was glad he had called Dash.
They hung up, and Andy went straight to the library to find Violet. She was copying what she had written at home the night before. She had stayed up late to do it.
