“And no one knows who the hell she is. You can’t expect Galaxy to sign off on some no-name understudy who just had her first turn on Broadway for a film of this scope. This is a lot of money. It’s a huge investment and they want to make their money back. We need a big name.”
“What weneedis the right actress, and I found her. Figure out how to convince the studio.”
“Don’t dig your heels in with me, Canon.” He leans forward to set his smoothie on my desk and gives me a direct look. “You may intimidate everyone else with your grunts and glares, but not me. This is my business, too.”
“This is my story.”
“You’re a producer on this, too. Not just the director. Not just an artist, so act like one and hear me out.”
No one talks to me like this and gets away with it.
Except Evan.
We met at USC, and knew each other casually, but didn’t keep in touch after graduation. OnceThe Magic Hourwon so much critical acclaim, I expected all the doors to fly open, but that’s not really what happened. I struggled to find the right projects for a couple of years, served as assistant director on a few projects, paid my dues. Finally, I managed to make an indie film on a shoestring budget, which garnered moreattention. Out of the blue, Evan reached out to congratulate me and proposed we work together. I had the stories, but Evan had a lot to offer. He grew up in the business, had money to invest and perfect instincts.
Most of the time. This time he’s wrong.
“Iamthinking like a producer,” I grit out. “If we cast some big name who isn’t right for the part,Dessi Bluewill flop. Like Francis Ford CoppolaCotton Clubflop. It could easily become some overblown, overbudget albatross that checked all the boxes—right director, lots of money, big-name stars—so no one can figure out why it failed.”
“We won’t let it fail.”
“You damn right it won’t fail. I found this story literally on the side of a country road.” I pound my chest for emphasis. “Iinterviewed Dessi’s family.Igot them to tell me all the things the world doesn’t know about this woman.”
“I understand that, Canon, but—”
“I don’t know if youcanunderstand. Do you have any idea how many Dessi Blues there are? Black artists who shaped our culture, made our music, but whose contributions have gone unacknowledged? Their stories just slipped through the cracks. People who, by all rights, should be household names, butnobodyknows their names? All they have to show for what they did is a plaque in their hometown or a line on Wikipedia,ifthat.”
“You’re making this personal.”
“Black artists getting their due is personal for me. All my life I’ve seen their talents mined and appropriated, even while being told they weren’t as good. They paved the way for me to be sitting in this office arguing with my bullheaded privileged business partner.”
Lips twitching, Evan drops his head back, releases a heavy sigh, and stares up at the ceiling. “I hate it when you do this.”
I chuckle, making a conscious effort to loosen the tight muscles in my shoulders. “You hate it when I what? Be right? Or be Black? I’m one most of the time and the other all the time.”
He lifts his head to glare at me, but relents with a smile. “I’ll set up a meeting with Galaxy. They assigned an exec to us as our contact. New guy named Lawson Stone. We’ll start there.”
TEN
Neevah
“So how are we looking, Doc?”
Dr. Ansford filters my hair through her fingers, touches a few tender places on my scalp.
“Better,” she murmurs.
“I promise not to say I told you so,” I tease, looking up at her over my shoulder.
“I will admit you’re doing well without the drugs, but we’re not out of the woods yet. I still see some spots here along your crown. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”
“I cut out all red meat, gluten, and dairy, like we discussed. Eating lots of wild-caught fish, leafy greens, avocado. Taking my supplements. Fish oil, vitamin E. All of them. I’ve always had to stay fit for my job, so I was already exercising, and that seems to help.”
“Good. Good.” She runs a cool finger along a small bald patch at the base of my skull. “This seems to be healing nicely. What are you using on your hair?”
“All natural products. Lots of jojoba oil and shea butter. My roommate is a hairdresser. She mixes them for me herself. I wear protective styles like braids as much as possible.”
“And no sign of the malar rash again?”
