Randall folded his ring-laden hands atop his menu. “You have such a gift, Finlay. The danger, the intrigue, the sexual tension. It allfeels so real. So authentic! I love how you put me so deeply inside the head of a killer. It’s all so inspired.” He leaned closer. “Tell me everything. You must have an inside source.”
“Nope. No source,” I said, snapping open my menu and hiding behind it. “It’s all just… right up here.” I fired a finger gun at my head.
“Don’t be silly,” Sylvia said. “Of course, she has a source. Tell him about Nick.”
Randall raised an eyebrow. Sylvia pushed my menu down and jabbed an elbow in my side.
“Sylvia, I really don’t think—”
“Nick is a detective,” Sylvia said with gravitas. “And he’s every bit as hot as the cop in her book.”
Randall rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s just the kind of angle that could help me pitch this as a series.”
I could practically see the dollar signs twinkling in Sylvia’s eyes. She gestured above her to an imaginary marquis. “Steamy legal drama featuring a star-crossed romance?”
“Better,” Randall said with a flourish. “Gritty, sexy procedural based on real-life events. The networks will eat it up. Tell me, Finlay, how do you feel about the small screen?”
My mouth went dry and I nearly dropped my menu. “I guess that depends…”on how small the TV screens are in prison.I reached for my ice water, spilling some down the front of my dress. The smell of wet lavender hit me square in the face as I sucked down a huge gulp.
“I think what Finlay means,” Sylvia said coolly, passing me a napkin, “is that it really depends on the deal your studio is prepared to make. We have several other parties interested in her book.”
If we were counting crime lords, detectives, the IRS, and my ex-husband’s divorce lawyer.
An ice cube clanked against my teeth. I held up my empty glass and looked around the room for a server. With any luck, they’d sense my desperation and bring me something with booze in it.
“I’m sure you do,” the producer said as he perused his menu. “But not everyone can attach the kind of talent that I can to a project like this.”
Sylvia narrowed her eyes. “What kind of talent?”
“We’d plan to go out exclusively to A-list actors for reads.”
“Keep talking.”
“And of course, there’s the issue of expense if we want to stay true to the source material. Between the set pieces, the pyrotechnics, the extensive stunt work, and the high-end sports cars, it would require quite an investment to get it off the ground.” He stared at me as he stroked his chin. “Not just any production company can commit to that kind of budget, but I’m prepared to make a big up-front commitment for this.”
“How big?” Sylvia asked eagerly.
“I can get Finlay fifty thousand for the rights if you take it off the table today.”
“A hundred,” Sylvia countered.
I fought back a laugh.Thatmightbe enough to cover my bail bond.
“Seventy-five,” Randall said. “But I’d insist on bringing in her source as a consultant.”
Great.Maybe they can hire Nick to consult at my criminal trial, too.
“Throw in executive producer fees with her own card in the opening credits, the surf and turf with the tiramisu, and we’ll call the whole thing good.”
“Sure you didn’t miss anything?” I deadpanned to Sylvia.
“You’re absolutely right. I almost forgot.” She turned to the producer. “We want a cameo in the pilot, too.”
“Done,” he said, shaking her hand across the table. “I’ll even throw in a bottle of bubbly to celebrate.” I covered my face as Randall signaled to a waiter.
Sylvia clutched my knee under the table and whispered, “See? The socks really did the trick. You’re going to be huge, Finlay. The talk of the town. In a few months, you’ll be headline news.Hometown Mystery Author Locks in a Killer Deal for Her New Hit Series.”
I just hoped my killer deal included a decent plea bargain.
