Julian
Shaun had not been exaggerating. The team that bought Revenant is extremely eager to get going. Thursday evening, I fly to Los Angeles, and Friday, I have lunch with the producer, Kyle Donovan. He's accompanied by another man he introduces as Francisco Flores.
Donovan is enthusiastically, embarrassingly happy to meet me. “I am a huge fan of your work,” he says. “Have been for years, ever since Kingdom Night.”
Kingdom Nightwas my first breakout comic. Kyle Donovan might or might not be a fan, but he's done his research. I'm impressed and more than a little flattered. “Thank you,” I mumble.
“It’s a pity Shaun couldn't be here,” he continues. “But don’t worry, I'm not going to discuss contracts today. I really just wanted to meet you and introduce you to Francisco.”
It turns out that Francisco Flores is a well-known screenwriter. “I want the two of you to work together,” Kyle says. “Francisco will take your vision and translate it for the screen, but Julian, I want you to be involved. No, more than that. I want you to be in charge.”
I happen to catch the look on Flores’ face when Donovan says that. He’s clearly not thrilled by the idea.
While I wait for my flight back home at the airport, I call Shaun and ask him about the arrangement. “I looked up Flores. He's an experienced screenwriter, but Donovan seems to want me to be in charge. Is it typical?”
“Usually, no,” Shaun replies, confirming my suspicions. “Only the really big-name writers get a say in the script. If you're J.K. Rowling, if you're E.L. James, you can have an opinion. Everyone else, no. And that's a good thing, trust me. After all, you wouldn't take advice from Donovan on how to make a comic.”
“So why am I even involved?”
“Because Kyle Donovan wants you to be, and he’s the producer.”
This has disaster written all over it. “Shaun, I don't think Francisco Flores is looking forward to this collaboration.”
“It is what it is. Work with him and don't make waves. Francisco might be annoyed, but he's a professional. He'll get over it.”
The film company paid for my flight, but they put me in coach. Donovan might be a fan, but he's not wasteful of his money. Normally, I’d pay for the upgrade, but with my house needing extensive maintenance, I hold off. It was fine on the way to LA, but the return journey is hell. The plane is packed, and unfortunately, I get stuck in the middle seat. I'm six feet tall, and there is no legroom.
And when I get back home, I find that there’s been a freak storm in my absence. I covered the roof with a tarp, but it wasn't enough. The hothouse floor is dotted with puddles of water.
There won’t be any tile removal today, not until I get this floor mopped.
I've just started the shop vac when Hannah calls. “Hey Julian,” she says cheerfully. “I know we talked about doing the wedding at the house, but I wanted to check in and see if you're still good with it.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Because I was talking to Jamila,” she continues. “You remember her, don't you? She still lives in Highfield. I asked her to be my maid of honor, and we got to talking. She was pretty surprised when I told her where I was getting married.”
Crap.
“She said the house wasn't in great shape. She called it a wreck.”
I run my hand over my face as I think about how to respond. “It's not in the best of shape, no,” I say carefully. “But I have a plan. I thought we could have the wedding in the greenhouse. It's a big, bright space, and it's large enough to accommodate your guests.”
“Oh, I like that idea,” she exclaims. “We used to feed the fish there, remember? And it’s in good condition?”
Far from it. “It needs some maintenance,” I hedge. “But the damage isn't too extensive.” Lie. “I’m looking for a contractor, but even if I can’t find one, I don't have a lot going on right now. I have time to work on it myself.”
Another lie.
“I trust you,” she says. “You'll handle it. But you have to tell me what it costs, Julian. If you’re renovating the place because of my wedding, I should pay for it.”
I have no idea where her faith in me comes from, but I’m determined not to let her down. As for me sending her a bill? Yeah, that’s never going to happen.
I make a noncommittal noise. Thankfully, Hannah’s in wedding-planning mode, and she doesn’t register it. “Can I come take a look at it?” she asks. “Samir’s sister Priya is a florist, and she's offered to do the flowers for the wedding. I promised I sent her some pictures of the space.”
If my sister sees the greenhouse in the shape it's in right now, she's going to hold her wedding somewhere else. I cannot disappoint her. I need to buy myself some time.
“I have a deadline,” I lie. Again. “It’s going to keep me busy for the next few weeks. How about the second week of October?”
That’ll give me just over five weeks. It’s not a lot of time, especially with the developments around Revenant. But hopefully, it’s long enough that I can fix the worst of the mess.
Once Hannah hangs up, I look around the hothouse again. This time, without rose-tinted glasses. Then I get on the phone with Damien.
“Julian, it is eight in the morning on a Saturday, for fuck’s sake.”
Ouch. So it is. Hannah must have gotten an early start on her day. “Sorry.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Are you doing anything today?” I ask him. “I need your help.”