Chapter Twenty-Two #4
Sharpe smiled so tepidly that Mazelle noticed that he hadn’t recovered since their talk of the fire, keeping his eyes cast down. He looked like he wished he were somewhere else.
“You know my model,” Mr. Lorenzo said. “I can’t build Mazelle up as a lead and then have someone else steal her away. I’ll want to sign her to a contract.”
They all hated the word contract as much as it intrigued them, maybe more, but they couldn’t afford not to listen.
Daddy glanced up at Richard, who took the hint and eased farther back into the dining room to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping.
For a moment, Mazelle had forgotten that Richard was in the house with them.
“What kind of contract?” Mother asked.
“Well, I want to move pretty quick on this thing, so let’s call it… a hundred fifty a week to start? Four years. Probably at least four pictures.”
Mother coughed politely into her fist, trying to hide her excitement.
“Four?” Daddy said. “Which four?”
“Other properties we think she’d be a match for,” Mr. Lorenzo said. “Tell ’em, Sharpe.”
“I’ve been doing more writing,” Mr. Sharpe said. His voice was phlegmy until he cleared his throat. “So, I may whip up some other roles. Me and Millie.”
“After Reaper,” Mr. Lorenzo said. “That’s down the line. We’ll find some smart choices. But we do Reaper first.”
“Mazelle was making two hundred a week ten years ago,” Mother said as if a hundred and fifty dollars wouldn’t bring her to tears if it appeared in her hands in that moment. Her voice wavered slightly, but probably not enough for Mr. Lorenzo to notice.
“How did I know she would say that?” Lorenzo said to Sharpe, but Sharpe didn’t play along with his call-and-response, his face grim as he stared at Mazelle. “Little Mazy was a big star back then, you know, and we’re all rebuilding. But I’ll see if I can match it.”
“And we have the power to renegotiate financial terms after the first year,” Mother said. “We can’t lock Mazelle into a four-year contract without bumps.”
“Of course, Mom, of course,” Mr. Lorenzo said. “Let’s leave that to the lawyers.”
Mazelle couldn’t afford a lawyer anymore, but that wasn’t Lorenzo’s business.
Richard’s voice floated from the dining room singing “I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good),” a lovely new ballad from Jump for Joy. His deep voice was indigo silk. He came striding out of the dining room with a grin as he ate one of Mother’s delicate turkey triangles.
“Don’t y’all worry about that,” Richard said, and wiped his hands free of crumbs. “After a year, Mazelle won’t need to worry about money. No wife of mine will need to work. If she wants to do pictures, that’ll just be her hobby.”
Mazelle nearly gasped, and all eyes went to Richard.
He was talking as if they were already engaged!
Daddy recovered first. Mazelle thought she could easily fall in love with Richard, but it felt strange to have her business and romantic milestones so tightly entwined.
For the first time, Richard’s presence annoyed her a little.
“That’s fine and well, young man,” Daddy said sternly. “If Mazelle ever agrees to become your wife, that will be for you and Mazelle to discuss.”
Richard got the hint. He walked a U-turn back into the dining room.
Mazelle was so excited by the day’s events that she barely heard Mother and Mr. Lorenzo talking about her contract.
Daddy caught her eyes, silently asking: Do you want this?
Mazelle didn’t know if Daddy meant the contract with Lorenzo or a potential marriage to Richard, but either way, her face split into a grin.
This felt like the best day of her life.
Be careful what you wish.
Mazelle glanced at Sharpe again. He was staring at his hands on his knees. By contrast, Mr. Lorenzo was relaxed and jolly beside him, his leg crossed casually at the ankle near his shiny black patent leather shoe. Something felt wrong.
“… So read over the script, think about it,” Mr. Lorenzo said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d love to get Mazelle signed next week.”
“But take the time to really think about it,” Mr. Sharpe said directly to Mazelle. He communicated with his eyes the way Scout used to. His pointed gaze might as well have been a shout.
Mr. Lorenzo cut a glare at Sharpe. “Sure, but don’t take too long. We need to jump on this before someone else tries to tempt me to send it to that Dandridge kid.”
Mr. Lorenzo offered his gentle threat with a smile. Same old Lorenzo.
And yet…
Reaper was the best script Mazelle had ever read.
Mr. Lorenzo had described the basics, but he had left out the tragic accident when Louvenia’s younger brother falls from a thresher in the cornfield, crippling him, and Louvenia’s sweeping romance with a bandleader, who even reminded her of Richard.
The script had both epic outdoor scenes and intimate character exchanges.
Each page astounded her more than the last. These parts were for Negroes?