Page 129 of Stuart Woods' Golden Hour

“Who are the other two?”

“I believe the man is Peter Barrington’s father, Stone Barrington. I don’t know who the woman with him is.”

Braun focused back on Barnett as he and his assistant walked down the aisle and slipped into the row behind where his colleagues now sat. The director’s father and his date followed and took the last two open seats.

A voice came over the speakers. “The World Thriller Film Festival is proud to present Peter Barrington’sStorm’s Eye.”

The lights dimmed, the curtain opened, and the Centurion Pictures logo appeared on thescreen.

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The applause started even beforethe final shot of the film cut to black and continued through the entire credit roll. By the end, everyone was on their feet, whooping and cheering in genuine appreciation.

Billy leaned forward and whispered in Peter’s ear, “You were right. The tweaks you made were just what that scene needed.”

“I don’t know. I think maybe—”

“Stop right there,” Ben said. “You’re not touching another frame.”

When the applause showed no signs of stopping, Tessa, Hattie, Adriene, and Billy stood and waved their thanks, then they turned as one to Peter and began clapping, too.

Peter rose to his feet, no longer able to keep the smile from his face. He waved and bowed his head, over and over.

When the adoration finally began to ebb, Constance Mueller stepped to the front of the theater, mic in hand.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we could have found a better film to kick things off!”

The cheers and claps resumed for several seconds.

“I’ve been reliably told the champagne has been chilled and the hors d’oeuvres prepared, so I hope you will all join me as we celebrate this momentous night!”

The party was set upoutside in a grassy area that had been transformed into a magical space of sparkling lights and live music worthy of a scene from a movie.

Waiters moved through the crowd carrying trays of appetizers and drinks, while members of a world-renowned circus troupe performed acts of aerobatics on small stages spaced throughout.

Billy had just enough time for a glass of sparkling water before one of the event staff approached him and said, “Mr. Barnett, may I escort you to the meet and greet?”

“Thank you.” Billy caught Stacy’s attention and motioned for her to join him.

The escort led them to a small events room in the Haus der Kulturen der Welt building. At least two dozen people were already inside, among them Stone and Vesna, and Braun and his female companion.

A waiter approached Billy and Stacy and offered them champagne. Billy took one for appearance’s sake only.

Stacy helped herself to one as well but was more than happy to take a sip.

Ben arrived in the company of Constance Mueller. Upon seeing Billy, they walked over.

“I can’t thank you both enough for doing this,” Mueller said. “It’s the kind of thing I want to turn into an essential component of future festivals.”

“Our pleasure,” Ben said. “And who knows? Maybe we’ll discover some production partners.”

Mueller did a head count, then said, “I believe everyone is here. Shall we start?”

“Let’s,” Ben said.

Braun kept his gaze onBarnett as the festival director introduced him and Ben Bacchetti to the room. The two men then spoke for several minutes about the industry and the good and bad of investing in motion pictures.

When they were through, Mueller said, “We’d like to keep this informal, so feel free to approach Ben or Billy with any questions you may have.”

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