Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
B rockwell Media was a multi-billion dollar holding company with subsidiaries spanning film production, digital and print media, radio, and cable television.
Ignacio straightened his tie as a very attractive assistant escorted him down the hall to King Brockwell’s office. After a brief knock, she led him into the room, and King approached right away with his hand extended. As the woman quietly left, both men shook hands.
“Ignacio Santana, nice to meet you,” King said.
He was over six feet tall with dark brown skin and low cut hair. He wore a dark suit and a black Rolex on his wrist. With his looks, he could easily be a star in the same movies his family produced.
“Nice to meet you too,” Ignacio replied, shaking his hand.
“Please, have a seat.” King waved him over to the seating area. “Can I interest you in a drink, or is it too early for that?”
Ignacio eyed the fully stocked bar as he sat down. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
King sat across from him. They spent the next few minutes engaging in small talk, and Ignacio had the impression that King was feeling him out and trying to get a sense of his personality.
Finally, his host steered the conversation toward the business at hand. “I really appreciate you coming in today. I wanted to meet with you one-on-one first before we brought in the team, so I could share my plans and get a sense of your flexibility. My father usually handles the movie deals. That’s how this company was founded. He grew this empire from one film.”
“Impressive,” Ignacio said, though he was already familiar with the story of Brockwell Media and its origins.
“I’ve worked closely with my father for years, and I’m ready to branch out into movie-making myself, which is why I’m interested in Wrong . I’d heard rumors that you were going to make another movie, but I’ll be honest, I wasn’t interested until I saw a piece about you in one of our magazines— The Entertainment Report . Anyway, the article prompted me to do a little research, and that’s why I reached out to Yvonne. I received your proposal and read the script. It’s exactly the kind of project I’ve been looking to sink my teeth into—a project that allows me to experiment and take the kind of risks I can’t with the mainstream projects we usually acquire.
“ Wrong has all the elements of an emotional film, the writing is solid, and I appreciate the theme of the wrongful conviction of the main character. Frankly, I think it could be a contender during awards season.”
Everything he was saying so far was positive, yet Ignacio sensed a “but” coming.
“But,” King said, “I feel as if there’s something missing. I’m not a creative person, so I can’t pinpoint what that something is. Would you be willing to work with one of our screenwriters to take another look at the script?”
Ignacio paused. This was his baby, but he agreed with King. There was something missing, and he couldn’t figure out what that might be. Another set of eyes, a professional, might be what was needed to get past the niggling doubt about the storyline.
“I’m open to the idea,” he said.
“Excellent.” A broad grin crossed King’s face. “In that case, Brockwell Media would like to produce your film. I want to finance the entire project.”
Ignacio, though excited, looked at him with surprise. “Did I hear you correctly?” If Brockwell Media financed the entire project, he wouldn’t have to find other investors, which would simplify the production process and potentially lead to a strong partnership, opening up other opportunities if the film was successful.
“You heard me correctly. Do we have a deal?” King extended his hand across the table between them.
Ignacio grabbed his hand and gave it a firm pump. “You said exactly what I wanted to hear.”
They shared a laugh.
“Listen, there’s one more thing. It’s a favor, actually, and I hope you don’t mind.”
Uh oh. “What is it?”
“My assistant reached out to Delta J’s management team to hire her for a party we’re having, but she was told Delta doesn’t do private engagements. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, but I was wondering if you could convince her to perform at this event. It’s for my mother’s seventieth birthday party. We never thought she’d live to see this particular birthday. She had a cancer scare a year ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ignacio said with sincere sympathy.
“It was rough, believe me. My mother is the soul of our family, and we thought we were going to lose her.” King’s eyes clouded as he recalled that tough period. “To celebrate, my father is throwing a big bash for her, and frankly, I’m in competition with my brothers to get her the best gift. She’s a big fan of Delta J’s. She loves her soulful voice. Says it reminds her of her favorite singers from back in the day. What do you think—could you convince her to make an exception this time around?”
“When is the birthday party?”
“Saturday. I know, I know, it’s short notice, but I’m willing to pay any price to have Delta J perform. She doesn’t have to do a big production. A couple of songs in her beautiful voice will be enough to make my mother happy. I’d love to surprise her with that gift.”
“I’ll talk to her and see what I can do,” Ignacio promised.
“Thank you.” King stood, and Ignacio did too.
They strolled to the door, and King opened it. “Again, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. I look forward to working with you on Wrong . I’ll have my people reach out to yours so we can get the ball rolling.”
“Sounds good.”
When Ignacio entered the house, he was still in a good mood. The meeting with King Brockwell had gone better than expected, but now there was the situation concerning Delta. Though King hadn’t suggested the deal hinged on her willingness to sing at his mother’s birthday party, having Delta perform certainly wouldn’t hurt.
He found her in the kitchen sitting on one of the stools, slathering mustard on wheat bread as she made a ham sandwich.
“That’s what you’re having for dinner?” Ignacio asked.
“I’m cheating today.”
“You’re eating a ham sandwich on your cheat day?”
She shrugged, slicing the sandwich in half. “Dad doesn’t usually approve of me eating carbs.” She bit into the sandwich and closed her eyes, humming with appreciation as if she were eating lobster thermidor.
He understood the need to stay in shape. In between films, he exercised regularly and ate healthy food because his body was as important as his acting skills.
“I eat cake on my cheat day and then exercise harder to offset the extra calories. Which reminds me, Maria arrives tomorrow, and she makes a delicious tres leches cake.”
Delta groaned. “Don’t. I have a weakness for homemade desserts.”
He fought a smile. She looked genuinely tormented by the idea. “I haven’t forgotten. Whenever you came to the house, you weren’t shy about devouring the pies and cakes my mother made.”
“Or the chocolate chip cookies with macadamia nuts. Lawd have mercy.” She lifted her hands in silent praise. She turned hopeful eyes to him. “Does she still make them?”
“Not as much as before, but I can make sure you get some.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said dismissively, almost as if she were embarrassed.
“Maybe I want to.” The words slipped from his lips before he realized they were leaving. He froze.
Delta blinked, surprise evident on her face.
“Oh. Well, if you want to.” She lifted a shoulder in an adorable one-shoulder shrug.
“I’ll put in a good word for you with my mother. I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Thank you.”
An almost bashful smile touched her lips, and his heart constricted as he was reminded of that same bashful smile when they met at thirteen in the performing arts club and had to practice their lines together. Even back then, he had been smitten by her beauty—her lovely dark chestnut skin, those beautiful brown eyes with curled lashes, and her hair braided into thin ropes that framed her face. They may have started out as friends, but he had known right away that she was special.
Going down memory lane was dangerous, but Ignacio sensed a shift in their relationship ever since move-in day. They were more relaxed with each other and willing to joke around, and since they both had their own schedules keeping them busy, living in the same house wasn’t as terrible as he had thought it would be. He had dreaded seeing her every day and dealing with the constant tension coursing through his body whenever she was near.
Instead, a tentative truce had been established between them. He certainly didn’t mind when he heard her humming in the halls or her voice carrying from downstairs to the second floor as she worked with her vocal coach. The sound of her voice was… soothing. He understood why King’s mother was a fan.
He went to the stainless-steel refrigerator and removed a small bottle of orange juice. “I need to talk to you about something. I had my meeting with King Brockwell at Brockwell Media today.”
“How did it go?” Delta took a bite of her sandwich.
“He wants to do the movie.”
Her eyes widened. “For sure? So it’s a done deal?”
“Yes. He’s financing the whole project.”
Her mouth fell open. “That’s great! Congratulations!”
He laughed at her genuine enthusiasm. Back in the day, she would have flung her arms around his neck, but this reaction would have to suffice. “Hold on, the details have to be worked out and contracts have to be signed,” he said, not only to temper her excitement but his own as well.
“So you’ve decided not to get too happy?” she asked in a teasing voice.
“You know how I am. But also, he asked me for a favor.” Ignacio went into detail about King’s request and finished with, “He said he’s willing to pay whatever price you want.”
Delta frowned. Not the expression he had expected to see on her face.
“It’s not about the money,” she quickly explained.
“If it’s not about the money, why don’t you do private parties?” Ignacio asked.
She sighed. “Dad thinks they cheapen my brand.”
“Do you agree?” Ignacio sipped from his bottle of orange juice, keeping his eyes on her.
“To a certain extent, but I mean, there are plenty of artists who do them and charge a hefty fee.”
Ignacio watched her pick at the bread. “Is that the only reason?”
“There was a… security issue once, a long time ago when I used to do them. Ever since then, we’ve avoided small parties.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about a security issue with the Brockwells, and I’ll be there. We can make sure Ava is there.”
“I don’t think all that is necessary. Besides, I like the idea of celebrating King’s mother’s birthday because she overcame cancer. If I did perform at her party, I wouldn’t charge. I’ll just need to run it by my father. When is the party?”
“This Saturday.”
“ This Saturday?”
He nodded.
Her eyes widened. “That’s not very much notice to put together a set.”
“King insisted you don’t need to do much. I got the impression it’ll be a small affair. He just wants to give his mother a nice gift, and that’s hearing you sing.”
“Do you think your movie hinges on my singing at the party?” Her brow wrinkled.
“I can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t matter. If you really don’t want to perform for the Brockwells, you don’t have to. Don’t accept the invitation just to make sure my film deal goes through.”
“Isn’t your film deal the reason we’re doing all this?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t want you to be in a situation that makes you uncomfortable or goes against what you normally do in business. It’s your career. You make the choice.”
Hearing him say those words seemed to alleviate her concerns, and she visibly relaxed.
“It’s short notice, but I can practice a few songs to be ready by this Saturday. I need to find out which ones are her favorites.” She tapped her chin.
“You’re sure you’re okay with singing at the party? You’re not worried about your father’s reaction?”
“He’ll be fine,” she said dismissively. “He came up with that rule about tarnishing my brand when I was on top of the charts. That’s not exactly the case anymore. I’m in.”
She bit into her sandwich.
Ignacio drained the last of his orange juice and placed the bottle on the counter. “What happened with the security risk?”
Delta’s shoulders tensed, and she shifted in her seat as if she wanted to escape the question. “It was a small group.” She started slowly, hesitantly. “Three men and their wives—and one of the guys got handsy. He’s the son of a hedge fund owner. Because it was a small group, I didn’t have security with me. Just me and the band and Dad. The guy’s wife was furious at his behavior, and eventually, Dad hauled him out of the room. He was obviously drunk and completely out of control. The family ended up paying another twenty-five percent on top of the regular fee for the trouble—and probably to keep the incident quiet.”
If Ignacio had been there, he would have done more than drag the man out of the room. The asshole would have taken a fist to the jaw. “You shouldn’t have had to put up with that.”
“It was nothing.”
“I wouldn’t call it nothing,” Ignacio said.
Eyes downcast, Delta picked up her sandwich and drink. “Compared to other stuff… It was nothing. I’m going to finish my meal upstairs. Congratulations, Ignacio.” Her voice ended on a soft note, her words heartfelt.
“Thank you.”
She walked out of the kitchen, leaving him to stare after her. He got the impression she was running.
Women in the entertainment industry had to put up with so much shit, and as beautiful as Delta was, he suspected she’d dealt with major dickheads. Men who thought women were property, existing solely for their pleasure. He hated to think she had been subjected to that sort of behavior.
But her words stood out to him, forming a knot of unease in his belly. Compared to other stuff.
What other stuff? What the hell had happened?