Page 38 of All That Glitters
She shifted the phone further away from her ear as Carrie’s voice rose to a pitch that would shatter glass. Amy made silent talking motions with her hand while nodding mechanically, a skill she’d perfected over years of handling dramatic clients.
“Mm hmm, absolutely unacceptable behavior from a fictional character,” Amy agreed. “I’ll have Eli call you the second he’s back on U.S. soil. Have a good day, Carrie!” She hung up the phone with a quiet click and looked over at Eli, who was now straightening his tie as if nothing had happened.
“If I wasn’t married, I’d have sex with you right now,” he said, his voice laced with genuine gratitude as he emerged from behind a potted fern. “Or we can just do it anyway.”
Amy didn’t even blink. “Chocolates will be just fine,” she said. “The expensive kind. From that place on Robertson, not the drugstore ones you got last time.”
Eli smiled, blew her a kiss, and headed down the hall. “You’re a goddess among mortals, Amy. I’ll be in my office writing poetry about your excellence!”
“You’ll be in your office hiding from Carrie and her werewolf trauma!” she called after him.
Just as Eli disappeared, the glass doors swished open and Tony entered, disguised in a Domino’s Pizza uniform that was several sizes too large. He carried the pizza box over to Amy’s counter and set it down.
“Pizza delivery,” he announced.
“Who’s it for?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Tony said, shifting nervously. “You know someone I could bribe with a pizza to read my screenplay?”
He flipped open the lid. Inside it was his script, resting on a waxy paper liner on top of the pizza. The cover page was spotted in marinara sauce, with a slice of pepperoni clinging to the title.
Amy stared at the saucy manuscript. “You need a napkin?” she asked.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Tony said. She handed him one from a stack next to her phone.
“So you’re trying the pizza boy approach?” she asked, a note of amusement in her voice. “Interesting choice. Not original, but interesting.”
“Yeah, kinda. Did it work?” he asked, dabbing at the marinara sauce.
“Ask those guys,” she said, nodding toward the hallway.
Tony looked. Leaning against the wall outside of Eli’s office was a line of guys in uniforms from pretty much every pizza chain Tony ever heard of. They looked less like delivery drivers and more like the world’s saddest boy band. One of them was reading a copy of ‘Screenwriting for Dummies.’
Tony turned back to Amy. “They’re all writers?”
“Yup,” Amy said. “The Pizza Hut guy has been coming every Tuesday for three months.”
“Does it work?”
Amy shrugged. “Do you mean, are the pizzas getting eaten? Then that’s a definite yes.”
“But the scripts aren’t getting read?”
She shook her head. “That would be a definite no.”
“Ouch.”
Amy nodded. “Sorry.”
“What about you?” Tony said. “Can I bribe you with a pizza to read my script? And if you like it, pass it on to one of the agents?”
“I wish I could,” she said, and she sounded genuinely sympathetic. “But they won’t accept unsolicited material. It’s a legal thing. If I passed your script to Eli, and then he later represented someone with a similar idea, you could sue him.”
“Even if I promise I won’t sue?” Tony said. “I’ll even name my firstborn after him.”
“We had a Chinese delivery guy say the same thing,” Amy said. “Now he’s threatening to sue because Eli’s client wrote a similar script about fortune cookies that predict death.”
Tony looked at her oddly. “Two people had that idea?”
