Or... he could have a little fun.
He texted:
Do you mean by any chance drunk and horny, Missy?
She texted back:
That’s what I said!
He texted:
Get a cab from wherever you are to 11493 Excelsior. Tell the driver the guy who answers the door will pay your fare.
In about a half hour, Franco Francone would have his hands full of a drunk, homey, unruly, incensed Missy Van Cleve.
J. T. grinned.
His smile vanished when “Taking Care of Business” erupted from his phone. His agent was calling instead of texting. Which could pretty much only mean one thing.
J. T.’s heart went from about zero to ninety just like that.
He took a couple of deep breaths before he answered.
“Hey Al.”
“It’s a no onLast Call in Purgatory, J. T. It’s a no they delivered with convincing anguish, but it’s a no.”
Al was a big believer in ripping the Band-Aid off quickly.
J. T.’s breath whooshed out of him.
“They thought you were amazing,” Al went on. “They never dreamed anyone could be so perfect for a part. They made it sound like it was a reenactment ofTwelve Angry Menin there, deliberating every point of your performance for days. They really wanted you. They pleaded for you. The director says you’re everything he ever envisioned. But the producers are worried you can’t open the film big enough, and your sketchy track record...”
“...is ten years old,” J. T. said tersely. “If that’s what they’re worried about. I mostly haven’t been an asshat in public or on a movie set for ten years, anyway. Look at my work onAgapé...”
Even as he said it, J. T. knew that the producers knew all of this, and knew all aboutAgapé, too.
“Yeah. Well. I think they know that and the producers just wanted to whip out an excuse. You know how jumpy they get when money’s at stake. I guess they want the pope or someone infallible for the part. But it’s really about the money and the numbers, J. T. It’s what it always boils down to.”
J. T. was numb. The wordnohadn’t quite sunk all the way through him yet.
“Do they want me cheaper?”
“They won’t get you cheaper. We both know what you’re worth.”
J. T. was in agreement with that.
He was silent.
Al let him be silent.
“They have anybody else yet?” J. T. finally said.
“Nope. They’re still looking for the female lead, though. Threw out a few names you might know.”
Al did ironyverywell. J. T. could just imagine what one of those names was.
He closed his eyes, mouthed an expletive.
