HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire

Chapter Nineteen

19

It was only two hours after Al Jr. had received Zach Zane's call that he received a follow up call from Iced Benz. Al's dessert had not yet arrived. He savored a steamed lobster at one of his favorite cafés. All the beautiful people ate there, and their agents.

Al wiped his hands carefully before reaching for his cell phone. "Yell-o. This is Big Al."

"Hey Al," said Iced Benz, "Big Al. It's B."

"B., how are you my man? Things are looking up around here." Al raised his glass of port, and he sipped.

"Yeah Al, I'm in a meeting with my manager and my agent."

"Hello," said Benz's manager, in the background.

"This is Rod, Al. I'm here too," said the agent.

"Hi guys. So, you've got news for me?"

Benz cleared his throat. "Yes I do. We've gone over the Terra script real careful. Line by line as a matter a fact. And we worked out a solution."

"I'm all ears."

The agent whispered, "A morality clause."

"Yeah," said B. "Like a morality clause, on things like the rapes and stuff. My character doesn't have to do that."

Smith ruminated. "I haven't seen a morality clause in quite a while, especially one coming from the talent. Can you fax me exactly the wording you would like in the contract?"

"Yeah. We had a lawyer draw it up." Benz spoke joyfully, and he assumed that this would fly.

Al knew instantly that agreeing could be interpreted as an unacceptable 'compromise' by one Lou Seaford, director of the picture. Al knew, also, that he could hire Iced Benz under any terms he pleased. Al intended to make the agreement, but he couldn't risk having Lou melt down like the last time. Al's arsenal of negotiating skills would either make or break the project, or that's what he told himself.

Al had still not yet read the Terra script. He never received a file from Lou, and he was feeling fed up with Lou's stiff-arm tactics.

"I'll tell you what," said Al. "Why don't you write your concerns in marker pen, right on the script itself, and fax me the whole script over, so I can look at it from your perspective?"

Benz paused. "Okay. Yeah. I could do that."

"Fabulous."

"Okay. We'll do that."

"I really want to see what you have to say. Can't wait."

"All right Al. It's coming."

Al hung up, and he plowed through his crème brûlée. He dialed up Anna next, and he waited for her to pick up.

"Yes, Mr. Smith?"

"Anna, Iced Benz's people are faxing over a huge document. Can you let me know as soon as it arrives?"

"It's just begun."

"Okay. I'm coming back in."

Back at the office, Al hid in his sanctuary with the script and a cup of coffee. Al's jaw repeatedly dropped as he read through the actual Terra screenplay.

"Oh, no. Oh, you can't be serious!" As Al pressed on, it only got worse and worse. He said, "What is wrong with this guy?"

Al turned the screenplay page, knowing where it would arrive next, but disbelieving that it actually would go there. "Oh fuck's sake. Just killing and killing women and children. Why?"