Page 33 of Ignacio

“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 herof 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 onWrong. 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 sandwichand 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?”

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