By Degrees (2 page)

I’m fairly certain I know what’s going on in Mel’s head as he looks me up and down because I’ve dealt with people like him before, several times now over the past couples years.
 
He wants to know who the hell I really am and what exactly it is that I can do for him.
 
My job in the next half hour or less will be to convince him that I can do what I promise and that I’m worth the money.

“Come on in to my office.
 
Nanette, get Scarlett some coffee.”

I look at the receptionist who’s taking his terse command in stride and hold up my hand to keep her from going too far in her mission.
 
“I’m not a coffee drinker, but thanks anyway.”

“Tea or water, maybe?” she asks, frozen partway out of her chair.

“Nothing, thank you.”

Nanette goes back to her work, and I follow Mel into his office, taking the chair across from him.
 
I gaze around the room, casually taking in the details.
 
It’s a big place, but then again, they all are.
 
Hollywood money demands that agents’ offices be something to brag about.
 
The view behind Mel’s chair of the Los Angeles skyline is amazing, even though the brownish smog is easier to see from this high up.
 
The chair I’m sitting in is smooth leather and slippery.
 
I’m glad I chose to wear pants instead of a skirt today.
 
I hate when my bare legs leave sweat marks behind.

His desk is big enough to have sex on, and I wonder if he’s ever indulged. Rumor has it that he’s been happily married to the same woman for over forty years, but you never can tell in this industry.
 
He could be boinking the girl who fetches the coffee every morning before nine a.m. for all I know.

“So,” he says, folding his hands and resting them casually under his belly as he leans back.
 
“I hear they call you The Normalizer.”

I nod once.
 
“Some do.”
 
It’s not a name I use for myself, but it does describe pretty accurately what I do for a living.

“Do you know why I called you here?”

“I suspect it’s because you have a problem client who needs some redirection … recalibration.”

He smiles, but there’s no warmth or happiness to it.
 
“Recalibration.
 
That’s an interesting way to put it.
 
As if he were a machine.”

“In some ways, he is. He’s human of course, but he’s also a money making machine, right?” I find there’s no need to beat around the bush or pretend why I’m here with these people.
 
Agents, managers, and producers don’t hire me because they miss their old friends. They need their income sources back online and functioning at optimum levels.

He frowns.
 
“While it may be true that they’re like machines to some degree, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the coldness of it.”

I smile tolerantly. “You’ve worked your entire life in Hollywood.
 
Surely you jest.”

He shrugs, moving his hands to the arms of his chair.
 
“I may be old guard, but that doesn’t mean I have a heart of stone.
 
My clients are important to me as people, too.”

“Good to know. It helps if the client actually
likes
his agent.” What he’s saying confirms what I’ve heard from others.
 
Mel Warner does care about his clients and their welfare, at least more than the average Hollywood agent does.
 
But I’m no fool.
 
It doesn’t mean he isn’t all about the bottom line when everything’s said and done.

“That’s not always the case. That stars don’t like their agents.”
 
He says it like a statement, but I know he’s curious for details.
 
It’s the nature of the beast, to want to know more than what is polite to know. And guys like him don’t get to the top of the food chain without wooing away a few clients here and there.
 
But I don’t give out details like names and dates.
 
Confidentiality and privacy are key in my business.

“No, it’s not always the case.
 
Sometimes I’m fighting the agent at the same time I’m helping him.
 
I prefer not to do that.”

“Is the fee cheaper if we play nice?”
 
He’s smiling genuinely now.

I don’t smile back.
 
“No.
 
I never discount my fees.”

He sits quietly for a little while and then sighs long and loud, staring at me the entire time.
 
I wait for him to speak, which he eventually will.
 
No one can ever just let me walk away with this much left unsaid.

His thumbs rub the edges of the arms of his chair rhythmically as his measured words break the silence. “You’re pricey. My question is, are you worth it?”

Here’s where the rubber meets the road for the agents.
 
For my clients, the celebrities who’ve gone off the range, it’s a different place in the process where they finally have that come-to-Jesus moment.
 
But for the agents, managers, or producers who hire me, here’s where I sprinkle my magic dust over the one who hires me.
 
It’s a special medicine I like to call ‘reality’.

“You tell
me
if I’m worth it.
 
I assume with your agency contract you’re pulling in at least a couple mil a year with him, right?
 
And with your declining roster of clients, this relationship becomes more valuable and important every year, especially with your retirement looming.
 
You’ve put a lot of eggs in this basket.
 
That’s dangerous.”

“How do you know about that? That information is confidential.”
 
He doesn’t seem angry or surprised, and there’s no reason he should. He knows as well as I do that secrets don’t stay secret for long in our world.
 
The key is to keep them secret long enough that their eventual revelation doesn’t matter.
 
We all have secrets.
 
Even I have skeletons that I keep under lock and key.

“I have contacts in the industry who keep me informed. Right now, for example, I know you and your client have commitments for a full, twelve-stop European tour and two movies.
 
Without even considering all the promotional work and endorsement deals, we’re talking a considerable sum for your agency.
 
My fee is just a fraction of that.”

“But if you fail, I lose it all and then some.”

“I don’t fail.
 
Ever.
 
And if I do, you don’t pay.
 
That’s how it works.
 
It’s a no-risk proposition for you.”
 
I finish silently with,
You’d be stupid to say no
.
 
I don’t have to say it out loud, though.
 
That would be overkill, and I never do overkill.
 
I hit strong and I hit quick, but then I pull away and let things settle out.
 
Eventually, he’ll figure it out for himself.
 
Hopefully, he’ll do it before his client ends up dead. I ignore the slight twinge in my chest as I think those words to myself.
 
Dead.
 
No, I can’t let that happen.

He rocks back in his seat, now in pensive mode. His chair squeaks as it goes back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
 
I can practically see the figures swimming around in his head, right next to the visions of his retirement trip to Fiji and the around-the-world cruise his wife already booked for two years from now.

“But if you fail, even if I don’t pay, I lose.”

I stand in front of my chair, preparing to leave.
 
I’ve accomplished almost all I came to do.
 
Now for the
coup de grâce
.
 
“Like I said, I don’t fail.
 
And without me, you’re going to lose it all anyway.
 
He’s on a downward spiral straight into hell, and if you don’t do something to stop it, he’ll be gone or at least out of commission within sixty days, unable to do anything but
cost
you money.
 
That’s my prediction.”

He stopped rocking, coming to sudden halt.
 
“How accurate are your predictions?”

I stare him down because this is important. I feel very strongly about my work, and not because I like the money.
 
The money is just something that allows me to do other things I’m passionate about. “I’m never wrong about downward spirals.”
 
My expression softens.
 
“But you don’t need me to tell you what’s going to happen, do you?
 
He’s clearly off the rails.
 
He’s been arrested five times in the last two months, he’s doing massive amounts of drugs including H possibly, and he’s out every night of the week wrecking cars, hotel rooms, and cameras.
 
He has six civil suits pending against him, five of which will stick, half of his road crew has bailed, and you’re about to lose his drummer, who, incidentally was in the hospital for a heroin overdose just last week.
 
Who do you think was shooting up with him?”

“How could you possibly know that?” he asks, sitting up straighter and staring at me with a mixture of fear and respect.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere.
 
It’s my business to know these things.
 
Besides, I’ve had my eye on your man for months.
 
He needs me. You both do.”

“Why didn’t you contact me and offer me your services?”
 
He’s a little offended now. Hearing the truth so unvarnished tends to have that effect, but it’s one I intended.

“That’s not how I work.
 
I don’t solicit.
 
People come to me.”

“What…? Is that some kind of ego thing?” He’s angry.
 
Frustrated.
 
But not at me.
 
I know this, so it doesn’t bother me.

“No.
 
It’s about privacy.
 
It’s about ethics.
 
I only come to those who need me and who know they need me…those who are willing to let me into their private worlds and relinquish control to me.
 
In my experience, until people recognize they need help, they won’t be in a position to accept it and do what needs to be done.
 
I don’t like wasting my time or making empty promises.
 
There are other people out there who need me.”

“But it’s not the agents who need your help … it’s our clients.”

I shake my head, letting my disappointment show through.
 
He needs to see it … to
feel
it.
 
“No.
 
It’s
both
of you.
 
And your client’s friends, family, and crew.
 
Everyone is involved.
 
You’re all enablers.
 
Everyone will be involved if you hire me.”

He waves his hand in a downward motion at me.
 
“Please sit.
 
I didn’t mean to upset you.
 
I’d like to talk some more about this.”

“You didn’t upset me.”
 
I shrug casually.
 
“I get this all the time.
 
It’s a natural reaction.
 
But I have another appointment, so I have to get going.”
 
I sidestep away from between the chair and desk to begin my walk to the door backwards.

He frowns and stands.
 
“But what if I want to hire you?”

“Sign the contract my assistant emailed to Nanette and send it back along with a receipt for the funds in trust.”

“Funds in trust?”

“You put my fee into a trust account with your attorney, and he or she pays me when the job is done.
 
All the terms are in the contract.”

He nods.
 
“Smart.”

I turn to go, not reacting to his approval of my financial and legal acumen.
 
Power shifts are very important in my world, and I never let it shift out of my hands when dealing with anyone in this business.
 
I wouldn’t last an hour if I did.
 
Mel can never think for a single second that he’s in any position to control me or issue demands.
 
It makes my job ten times harder and my motto is always to work smarter, not harder.

He comes out from behind his desk.
 
“Wait one more second … I just have a couple more questions.”

I turn back and raise an eyebrow, waiting for it.
 
I know what’s coming next.

“Are you a psychiatrist?
 
I mean, what are your qualifications?
 
And how do you do this… thing you do? Because he has a lot of commitments, and we really can’t afford for him to disappear for a month.
 
That’s why he refuses to go into rehab.
 
He says he doesn’t have time.”

“My qualifications are that I do this and do it well.
 
You can talk to my references.
 
I’m sure you know most of my former clients at least casually.
 
And
how
I do it is my business.
 
I’m not big on sharing.
 
But I’ll tell you this … I get complete control.
 
Every aspect of his life, I will control it.
 
I have ultimate authority.
 
Anyone who crosses me or pisses me off, gets fired.
 
And by fired, I mean permanently gone.
 
You agree in our contract not to re-hire anyone I let go during the process.
 
It’s non-negotiable.”