Page 3 of Velvet and Valor
“Hello?”
“Hello,” comes the melodious, bass voice on the other end. “I’m trying to reach June Mayweather?—”
“Willis?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s me, Ma’am.”
“For god’s sake, don’t call me Ma’am. I’ll confess, I’m a little bit surprised that you’re calling me.”
He sighs heavily.
“I have a confession to make. I was ready to make a deal with Universal, but they asked for some changes I wasn’t down with.”
“Oh, like what?” I ask, suddenly excited.
“They wanted me to re-do it shot for shot.”
I wince.
“I can assure you we don’t want to make changes to the film,” I say quickly. “I thought it was brilliant, to be honest with you. I wouldn’t have made you an offer otherwise.”
“So, does that offer still stand?”
I bark with laughter.
“Willis, baby, what do you think?”
“I think we have a deal.”
“Fantastic.” My heart hammers in my chest. I got it! Oh sweet Jesus, I got it! This movie is going to take home at least one statue, even if it’s just a golden globe, or one of those crummy critic’s choice awards. Gold is gold in Hollywood! “I’ll shoot a message to our legal department and you’ll have a contract proposal in your inbox by the end of the day.”
“That sounds great. I’m eager to get the ball rolling on this,” Willis says. “Universal was also going to slow-walk the release.”
“We’re not slow walking, my friend,” I say. “Autumn is coming up, and that’s when your type of movie comes out.”
“My type of movie?” he says stiffly. “What are you trying to imply?”
“I’m trying to imply, Willis, that movies that come out this time of year do so because they are expected to perform well during awards season. You’re going to be in some elite company, my friend, so I hope you’re ready to swim with the big fish.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Willis says. “This is great news. I have to go, but thanks for taking a second chance on me.”
“No, Willis, Thank you!”
I wave off Bartender Bob as he comes over for a refill.
“I’m good, Bob. I’m good. Don’t need to drink myself to oblivion after all.”
I finally have a driver assigned by the app. My ride will be here somewhere between five and fifty minutes. Sighing, I decide I’d rather stand around and wait outside than risk missing the ride.
I put a hundred on the bar, because airport drinks are inflated and I want to leave him a good enough tip that he doesn’t notice I’m leaving his script on the bar.
It almost works. I get out to baggage claim before Bob comes huffing up to cheerfully hand me the script I ‘forgot.’ Damn, he runs faster than he looks like he would.
Once I get my lone rolling suitcase—I always travel light—I meander my way out to the sidewalk. I text up a storm, both to our legal department as promised, and to my fellow producer girl-bosses. Lots of emojis in their responses. I showed them some footage from the biopic and they were bummed when it looked like we’d lost it.
I stop my texting when a message from the ride app comes in. I only see the first sentence of the message.
Good news! We upgraded you to a luxury express driver at no additional…
