“A script consultant?” Jesse flared. “The script was perfect. Do you know how many rewrites we went through?”
“They want it cut,” Jeremiah said with a near heart-stopping resolve. “Ten percent.”
Zarzour reached into a leather shoulder bag and tossed a crumpled script onto the center of the table. “There are some scenes that can go. Also, what’s on B-roll? Use it.”
Jer picked up the script, flipped through a few pages, then tossed it to Jesse. “Just use B-roll. Sure, why not?” He shot Jesse an apologetic look.“Hey, I can use the extra scene where Chloe comes screaming out of the barn claiming a rooster was trying to kill her. How about that, Zarzour?” Jer flipped through the last pages and slapped the script down on the table. “Death by rooster. We’ll turn this film into a parody, a farce.”
Chris laughed. “When was this? How’d I miss it?”
“You were still celebrating New Year’s,” Jer said.
“I told you I was sorry, man.”
“And now I have to work with you seven thousand miles away.”
“That roosterwastrying to kill me.” Chloe pecked the air with her fingers.
The silent blonde between Zarzour and Chris laughed softly.
“Be serious, Gonda. Now look, Jesse, the changes should be straightforward,” Zarzour said.
He picked up the script and skipped through the pages, finding the last half filled with red lines. The cuts were deep. And costly. It was over. His first movie. Done. Failed.
Chloe leaned to see, squeezing his arm.
“We’re not cutting the script.” Jeremiah remained determined. “This is a serious project, Greg. We’ve spent too much money to—”
“Agreed, Jer. The changes we’re suggesting are not major. Just little snips. You’re under budget here, so I’m rerouting some of your money to make up the losses onSea Dragon.”
Jesse had always known Jeremiah Gonda to be calm and in command. But now he flew around the room to confront the studio head.
“You can’t just hack up a war-period piece, Greg. This isn’t a ninety-minute romcom. The script went through all the proper channels, we took our notes, made our changes. Jesse worked tirelessly on this. You can take me out and hand it over to Sharon, but Painter has to finish. As is.”
Zarzour remained unmoved. In his posture. In his countenance. “What do you think, Jesse? Can you make the changes?”
“Greg,” Jeremiah said, his voice low and taut, the sound of a man losing a fight. “This is my project and—”
“My studio’s money.”
“I won’t go to New Zealand if you slice and dice this film.”
Zarzour sat forward, his countenance dark. “If you don’t go to New Zealand, I’m closing down this shoot. What you’ve already spent doesn’t compare to the money hole Bookman and Sherwood dug in New Zealand.” He offered a fake smile, adjusted his suit coat, and reclined again. “Premier Studios and Gonda Films have enjoyed a long and prosperous relationship. Let’s not have this hiccup ruin things. Right now I don’t seeBound by Loveas one of our lead films next year, but I might reconsider... if things go my way.”
The man held all the aces and knew it. Everyone in the room knew it.
While Jeremiah didn’t need the studio system, ruining a powerful relationship with Premier would be foolish.
The tension settled over Jesse, consuming his raw spaces, the ones that echoed with his past. He glanced at a white-faced Chloe and moved into the debate.
“I’m looking at the notes,” he said, flipping through the pages again. “Th-they’re pretty good. Shortening a scene here and there.” He glanced around with a shallow smile. “I can work on these this afternoon.”
“There you go, Gonda. A team player.” Zarzour beamed. Round one to Premier Studios.
“Yeah, I think we can live with most of these.” He paused as he neared the end, where red lines eliminated the pivotal Christmas scene between Hamilton and Esther.
“Jess, what is it?” Jeremiah reached for the script.
“The Christmas scene,” he said. “We can’t cut this. It’s pivotal to the love story. Where Hamilton and Esther declare their love.”
