“He did. I figure we must be more important than we thought.”
We entered the building and the receptionist smiled, “Mr. Shells is expecting you, go right in.”
We opened the door and saw the long, rectangular desk had two people sitting there, with each of them studying a script. David Shells was one, and he sat at the end of the table, the power position. He motioned for us to sit, “Your scripts are there. We’ll discuss some proposed changes and then do a reading.”
He indicated the woman studying the script. “This is Amanda Streeter.”
We knew who she was. Amanda Streeter is a beautiful, fast-rising young star, known for playing supporting roles in several dystopian and horror films.
She reached across the table to shake Hondo’s and my hands, “Call me Mandy. Nice to meet you.”
Shells said, “We thought it would be good to see the chemistry between you three, and Mandy has some ideas about the sexual dynamics we need to work out.”
I smiled at Mandy and said, “If it’s sexual, I’m dynamic.”
She said, “Both of you stand up, please.” She walked around the desk, moved us to the wall and placed us side by side.
Shells said, “Face me. We want to see how you look beside Mandy. We’ll take a few photos.” Mandy walked to stand beside Hondo, and as she did, I pushed up on my toes to make me taller. I strained to go as high as possible and was afraid of getting a cramp in my calves, but the maneuver made me only a hair shorter than Hondo.
Hondo smiled and put his arm across the top of my shoulder like we were pals. Mandy stood beside Hondo, sandwiching my friend between us, and then Hondo pushed down on my shoulder with his arm.
It was like a hydraulic press. I almost pulled a groin muscle straining against it, but in the end, my heels rested on the floor and I was, again, two inches shorter than Hondo. When I stopped fighting him, he smiled and we both relaxed.
Mandy had David take a dozen photos of her in different poses beside and in front of Hondo, and she did the same with me. I started to lift on my toes again, but Hondo kept his arm on my shoulder until David took the last photo and we all sat down again.
David printed out the photos and placed the images on the table so he and Mandy could study them.
“I’m wearing low-heeled shoes,” I said, “That’s why he looks taller.”
Hondo said, “So am I. I didn’t want to dwarf you.”
Mandy said, “This is a twenty million dollar production. Let’s be serious.”
We relaxed in our chairs and watched Mandy study the script’s rewritten pages. I read my mine. The only thing remaining from the original was the title and that it takes place during wartime, sort of. Every single page showed new characters, new scenes, new locations, and a new, weird story line. It didn’t look to be in a good way, either. My character’s name now read Flint Blades. Hondo has been transformed into Colt Steele. I flipped through the pages again to see if this script might be for a porn film. This new script and new storyline made little sense to me. I had a bad feeling.
Mandy’s name now showed as Xenetta. That’s the whole name. Described as a Xena-like, time-travelling warrior princess fighting the forces of evil.
Hondo raised his hand and said, “This is different than what we read for in the audition. That story was about soldiers and resistance fighters in Europe. This is about mafia hit men taken hostage by Vikings who,” he flipped pages and read some more, “travel through time to get them. So they can save the world.”
Mandy’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Hondo, then me. She let silence hang in the room for a few seconds, “And your point?”
Hondo started to say something else and I cough-said, “Money.” Our bills are coming due and our funds are in the drought stage.
Hondo took a deep breath to relax and said, “Oh nothing. I just wondered who wrote this version. It’s…unique.”
Mandy let her hackles down and said, “My boyfriend, Gunter Shelvassen, we call him G. He’s putting up the money. It’s his first script. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
I said, “His first script? Wow.” I looked at Shells, the writer of the original script. He had a rictus smile on his face. I continued, “And the other pages?” I shuffled the two-dozen pages I held.
“G will write them as we film. He says watching us shoot the first scenes will give him a better idea of how the story should unfold. He’s also writing the musical score for the film, and arranging for a toy line, a graphic novel, and a video game for it. This is going to be huge.”
“He writes music?” Hondo asked.
“G listens to a lot of it, and he says the program on his Mac will take care of the small stuff, like musical notes. He’s an idea guy.”
I felt myself sinking into the floor with every statement Mandy made. I asked, “What does G do?”
“Oil.”