Chapter 8
"Igot a deal set up at a major studio,” Flynn said. "They're totally on board. I told them you were going to write the script, and that sealed the deal."
I hadn't agreed to anything. "What script?”
"Two scripts, actually.”
"Two?" I said, lifting a surprised eyebrow.
"I pitched them the idea of our exploits on La Perdida. They loved it. It's exactly what they’re looking for. A swashbuckling adventure. If we attach the right director, it’s going to be a hit.”
“Oka-a-a-y,” I said with caution. "What's the second script?”
With an even wider smile in his voice, Flynn boasted, "My friend, I have secured the rights to Mickey Malibu's story. You know Mickey, right?"
"I know of Mickey. We’ve never actually met before. He's kind of a legend in these parts."
"So are you, my friend. So are you.”
Flynn knew how to flatter.
"This is a no-brainer,” he continued. “You’re gonna write it. I'm going to play Mickey. It will be a blast. It's obviously a biopic, so we have to stick to the truth, but we can always embellish for dramatic effect. But I don't think we'll have to embellish too much. Mickey’s lived a crazy life.”
Mickey was an infamous pilot who flew drugs for the Colombian cartel in the ’80s. He lived a life of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll until the walls closed in around him.
He made a deal with the feds to save his ass and flipped on Pepe Sandoval.
Something that took a lot of balls to do.
Pepe was not a guy you wanted to cross. Rumor had it that the Colombian drug lord had put a contract on Mickey’s life.
Somehow, the daredevil pilot survived a nickel in federal prison.
Due to his cooperation, he had gotten off light.
Rumor had it that Mickey had stolen $150 million from Pepe and hid around the Keys before he was busted. The feds never found the money. According to the legend, it was still out there somewhere.
The story practically wrote itself.
To this day, there was still supposedly a contract on Mickey's life. But Pepe had been assassinated by a rival gang while Mickey was still serving his prison term. I suspected that was the reason Mickey was still alive. There was no one to pay the bounty on his head.
"I talked to Mickey, and he's totally on board,” Flynn said. “He wants to meet you and get a vibe before he signs off on everything. But I know you two are going to hit it off.”
"Who's financing this?”
With a grin, Flynn said, "It's a co-production with the studio and me.
But I have complete and total creative freedom.
" In a whisper, he said, "That little blue gem I found on La Perdida.” He let out an impressed whistle.
"I'm set for life. That's the beauty of this.
I don't need to do any of this. This is strictly for fun.
That's why it's gonna be a blast. We can do whatever we want.
We'll have nobody looking over our shoulders.
There's no pressure." Then he added, "But there are a few caveats.”
"Like what?”
"Mickey is a big personality. But I told him we have creative control because we know the industry better than he does. He’s 62 and still outrageous as hell.
He's got a 25-year-old daughter who’s smoking hot.
And I mean smoking. So that's rule number one. Nobody sleeps with Mickey's daughter. I don’t want this deal going south.”
I laughed. "How are you going to control yourself?"
Flynn was a notorious womanizer. Sometimes, to his own detriment. Most of the time, to his own detriment.
"I am practically a born-again virgin. I’m the epitome of self-control now. I’m a changed man. I have been enlightened. La Perdida changed me.”
Our adventure on the island had been quite the spiritual experience.
Flynn had anything but self-control, in my past experience.
That was part of his charm. His ability to throw caution to the wind and indulge his every whim.
Somehow, he had made it seem bold and empowering, living a life full of passion and spontaneity.
Some might call it reckless and foolish.
Somehow, he always landed on his feet. Just one of those guys.
"Mickey is flying in the air show. I told him you two would go to the show and meet him afterward.
Take him out for a beer and get to know him.
Let him see that you're the right person for this project.
I've already talked you up. He knows I'm committed to having you on the project, but we just need to earn his confidence. He needs to know with absolute certainty that you’re the one to tell his story.
I have no fear that you can do that. So let's ride the wave, brother.
Let's go with the flow. Let the Universe be our mojo. "
I laughed. "I’ve got a lot going on right now. We just took on another case."
"You've always got a lot going on. There's always gonna be another case. You gotta start living, brother. This is a green light. Go!”
I exhaled. There was no fighting it. "Okay. I'm in.”
Flynn howled with excitement. "Woo-hoo! I'll have my agent call your agent. They can work out all the fine print. This ain’t about the money for me. I know it ain't about the money for you.“
“I’m sure we can work out fair compensation.”
“How about a piece of first-dollar gross on top of whatever fee the suits negotiate?”
It was the only way to ensure reliable payment in Hollywood.
Back-end points were meaningless unless they came off the top.
There were so many ways to hide money with clever accounting.
Countless Hollywood blockbusters showed zero revenue on the books, even though they took in hundreds of millions at the box office.
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’m hopping on a plane and coming into town. I should be there in time for the airshow, barring incident. But if I’m not, I will catch up with you in the evening.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“See you then, brother. Tell Jack I said hi.“
“I will.”
I ended the call and shook my head, wondering what I had just signed on to. One thing was certain—it would be an adventure. It always was with Flynn.
I crossed the passerelle to find Buddy waiting for me at the salon door.
I grabbed his leash and took him out for a late-night walk. The moon glowed overhead, and the stars flickered. It was a nice night, apart from the murder.
Jack returned as I walked back. I met him in the parking lot, and we strolled to the dock toward the Avventura.
"How’d that go?"
He shrugged. "I just took her home. She gathered some things and packed a bag. I drove her to the Seven Seas and got her checked into one of the cabanas.”
"You learn anything new?"
"Not really. As far as I can tell, she's telling the truth. But let's just say I wouldn’t want to close my eyes next to her in bed. I might run if she picks up a pair of scissors or pruning shears.”
I laughed.
We boarded the boat. It was about time to shut it down for the night. I crawled off to bed and did a little research on my tablet before dozing off. I found some interesting articles about Brock, his new bride, and shocking allegations.
I woke with the sunrise. After a shower and shave, I headed down to the galley to fix breakfast. The scent of fresh coffee swirled, and bacon sizzled in the pan.
Jack staggered into the galley in time to join me for breakfast on the sky deck. Afterward, we pulled ourselves together, took my bike into the shop, then returned to Diver Down, grabbed the Porsche, and headed out to find Brock’s ex-wife, Celeste.