Chapter 2 - Dean
“This isn’t going to work.” I toss down the stack of illustrations for movie poster ideas. “I hate them all.” Jabbing my finger into the face on the top one, I push the paper hard enough that it slides towards Allen. “Where are you getting these people? I need a professional.”
I hate that my tone comes across as pissed.
Except I am.
“We have a twenty-five million dollar budget for marketing on this picture. I need better than a discount bin.” I’ve been a director and a producer for nearly ten years.
Today I’ve officially seen the worst art in my entire career.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Harpson. I’ll be sure to double check the next batch before they hit your desk.” Allen bobs his head quickly and gathers up the pile.
Reece raises an eyebrow watching him scurry out the door. “You’re too hard on the kid, he’s new,” he grumbles. “Most of those weren’t shit, you know it.”
I wag my finger at my best friend. “Don’t fucking scold me. Just because you’re older, doesn’t mean you’re wiser.”
He chuckles and runs his fingers through the thick graying whiskers on his jaw. “We’re about ready to wrap on it. You’re just wound too damn tightly. Ever since you and Debra split—”
My groan cuts him off. “Why say her name when I was in such a good mood already?”
I glance reflexively at the missing band on my ring finger.
Call me crazy, I was one of those suckers who loved being married.
Unfortunately, she also loved being wooed by vapid movie stars instead of staying loyal.
Weirdly, I almost would have been okay with an occasional tryst. She’s the one who wanted to walk away to be with Geoff Dublanc, Italian action star.
“Yea, you’re a jolly old elf. First thing I think of when I see you.” Reece snickers as he tosses his empty coffee cup in the garbage can. “Hey, since the show is going to be in post for the next few weeks, what do you say we take a trip like old times?”
Oh, that has me leaning back in my chair. “You mean like that time we went to Vegas and lost half a million on craps?”
“Nah.” The diamonds in his watch reflect the hostile LED lights from above the planning table. “Although, that was a fun weekend. I was talking about when we were younger and holed up for two weeks to bust out the screenplay for Bury the Shadows that ended up winning an Oscar?”
“Didn’t you meet your ex-wife that weekend?” I roll my eyes at him, shaking my head. “I have way too much to do.”
“Bullshit,” he snaps. “We need a reset. This—” He gestures at the smattering of notes across the extensive oak surface.
“—is getting repetitive. We need to go back to where we started. Hell, we’re both flirting with forty now.
I don’t want to be Coppella struggling to still produce hits at eighty.
” His fingers thread behind his dark hair as he tilts to look at the ceiling.
“I want to retire young on a beach somewhere. A pina colada in one hand, and the fine ass of a pretty woman in the other.”
That makes me snort.
“You don’t think we can find models and actresses everywhere?
I’d rather have someone who wants me for who I am, not my damn bank account.
” My elbows drop to the table. “Maybe we go on this little ‘retreat’ and play lowball with anyone we meet. No glitz. No freaking Rolexes—” I point emphatically at his wrist, knowing full well I wear one too.
“I could use a break,” I admit. “I want to go where no one knows who I am.”
“Two broke bums on vacation,” Reece muses, his lips pursing. “I can get behind that. Might even be the premise of a good show.”