I woke up early that morning. I had a lot on my mind. I
couldn’t stand not doing anything, so I left the hotel and took a run in the
park. I had been held up in that hotel for a week trying to work out these
rewrites and present it to the brokers. The early morning fog, still caught up
between the tree branches, made for an eerie site. The run energized me and as
I got back to the hotel, my mind was racing with new ideas to fill the gaps. I
showered and ordered room service of Santa Fe scrambled eggs, tortillas, raisin
bran, coffee, and orange juice. I sat in front of my laptop in my bathrobe and
a pair of boxers. Like a surgeon, I began cutting up the script meticulously,
making the necessary adjustments to make it work better overall. It was 8:00am.
The meeting with the brokers was scheduled for 1:00pm. Come
11:30am I felt the script was surred up enough that the final fate of the
script was left up to the ones brokering the film. I got dressed, wearing black
Visum denim jeans, a light blue chambray short sleeve Staples design button
down, a black Nike destroyer letterman jacket, a crisp pair of Air Force Ones,
and my gold Rolex. I got downstairs and outside, on the street the doorman
hailed me a cab occupied by a young attractive woman in a white cleavage
bearing dress. She didn’t pay me any attention, as she was so into the moment
with her iPhone. I told the cabby my destination, and we were off.
The rewritten script was bound and in a manila folder in my
Marc Jacobs messenger bag on my lap. I was told this script could go for as
much as five hundred thousand, and I was looking forward to negotiating for
more as these brokers came from money. The trip wasn’t as long as expected, and
yet I still was able to take a few good looks over at the woman next to me.
When I got to the building the cabby pulled up in front. I paid, got out, and
made my way to suite 375. I was to be meeting with three brokers at their,
office a Victorian style space with two giant double-panned windows with a
breathtaking view. I sat confident in front of the three brokers. They were all
lawyers, or all lawyers and accountants. I don’t remember exactly what I was
told initially, but I wasn’t impressed. They wanted to enter the filmmaking
business. They were told I was the “hottest” screenwriter out with an eye for
the provocative. After seeing my latest film they wanted to do business with
me. Before we could get down to business we had some “manly’ conversation, as
one on the brokers talked about his new black Lamborghini. I mentioned to him
that I had gotten the chance earlier that year in Paris to race the exact model
he was talking about on a professional track. The look on his face was
priceless, as living in the city he probably never got his lambo over 55 mph.
I figured, after a little side conversation, that we’d get
to the point of the meeting. The broker seated in the middle of the other two
proceeded to offer me a drink as he made one for himself. The other two
followed suit pouring themselves a drink. I proceeded to stay focused on what
was at hand. Each of the brokers made their way to the bar and back to their
seats, as the conversation continued moving to another topic. All of the men
dressed in muted neutral colors looking like a bunch of grown frat boys at a
social. Now the broker seated in the middle began talking about a masquerade
party that was held over the weekend. He went on to describe his backroom
rendezvous that night with the secretary from down the hall, going on about her
adept oral capabilities. At that moment I got up and made myself a drink. I
explained to the brokers, that if they were serious about having me as
screenwriter on this project, we needed to work now. I could relate to the
“Boys Club” mentality. I mean, I remember each of the models I’d worked with
that we later ended up expressing our animalistic desires for each other
whether it be in their trailer, the back of Bustolini’s, or after a gallery
show. I still talk to a lot of them to this day, but I knew now these guys were
getting into the business for the wrong reasons. They were thinking that films
would be another pool of women they could dip into or another stream of money
to collect from. I’d seen it before. Those types don’t last, and if they did
stick around for a bit their work was shit. I was always told, “Do what you
love, and love what you do”. I had a commission piece of artwork that said that
exact thing back at the studio. I instantly became home sick.
I thought to myself, “How did I end up meeting with these
guys?”, as their conversation went on a bit more in graphic detail. I sipped my
drink while looking out the window. “This was a great script,” I thought to
myself; maybe even an Oscar contender. Did I want them to reap the benefits of
my labor...? I thought hard and deep. I finished my drink, walked over to the
coffee table where my script still lay in the manila folder, unaddressed or
even looked over. They’d need time to look at it, but I wouldn’t give them the
chance putting the envelope back into my bag. It was 2:30pm. I set my drink at
the bar and left with no consideration for the three brokers. Once outside of
the broker’s office I got on my phone and called my assistant Nicole to inform
her that I was coming home early, and I asked her to look and see if we had it
in the budget to shoot another film this year. My heart began to beat faster,
aroused at the thought of working on another film. I knew I’d be ready when the
time came. I just didn’t know it would happen like this.
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