Heartland (25 page)

“Audience surveys have shown it's not
Heartland
that has died, but their interest in Neil Townsend. Eighty-five percent of those surveyed who claimed to watch most or all of the previous season's shows said they no longer felt he was a viable character.”

“We have one other interesting phenomenon which confirms this. Gloria?”

His unflappable secretary had only one speaking voice, a semi-metallic monotone that implied an absolute authenticity. “Since the wildfire incident, our mailbag has trebled in size.”

“Not the
Heartland
bag,” Martin emphasized. “We're talking the studio's total daily mail. And what about the website, Gloria?”

“In the past eight days,” Gloria droned, “the
Heartland
website has received over a million e-mails directed at either ‘the new JayJay' or ‘the real hero' or simply ‘the Incredible Hunk,' which apparently is a nickname spreading all by itself. According to Yahoo, last week Centurion's website entered the top ten nationwide in terms of total hits.”

“Which means, ladies and gentlemen, that
Heartland
has crossed the generational divide.” Martin had no genuine evidence this was true. But he was not dealing in fact here. It was, after all, Hollywood. So long as they swallowed, he would feed. “A feature film starring John Junior could become a genuine phenomenon.”

Milo toasted his boss and partner with a Perrier. “If they gave Oscars for boardroom antics, Martin, you'd walk away unchallenged.”

Martin Allerby did not drive his Touareg so much as wade through the traffic headed west. A million metal lemmings, all desperate to escape the dreary hinterland and pretend they could claim a place in paradise, even if it was only the size of a beach towel. “I wonder if there's any chance of our winding up with what I described. A phenomenon.”

“Not on your life.” Milo redirected the a/c vent straight at his face. “Remember what we're talking about here. A team who's never worked on a feature. Directed by a has-been. Starring two total unknowns. Working with an unfinished script by a drone who's never written anything longer than sixty minutes minus commercials. Camera work by a guy who until last week made ends meet by chasing firetrucks. Know what that spells?”

“Yes.” He used a halt in his lane to slip his sunglasses onto the top of his head and rub tired eyes. He had not been sleeping well.

“Tell me, Martin. I want to hear you say it.”

“A disaster.”

“No, Martin. A disaster would be something that actually makes it onto the screen. Which this won't. This charade only needs to last until the deal is signed. Then we kill it.”

“We might keep the show alive,” Martin mused. “See if this John Junior can deliver. At least for another season.”

Milo waved his Perrier unconcernedly. “What we have is an insurance policy. And like I said when you came up with it. This is a true work of genius.”

“We just need to make sure the set dissolves into total madness,” Allerby said. “When the rumors start flying, I want there to be enough juice for the
LA Times
to carry the tale.”

Milo shook his head. “I'm thinking overkill.”

But Allerby was already reaching for his phone. He speed-dialed Gloria and said when his assistant came on the phone, “Give me Contracts.”

Pritchard came on with, “Legal.”

“Glenn, we need to be ready for an onslaught of agents. Hold hard, but be reasonable.”

“There's no such thing as reasonable, Martin. This is Hollywood.”

“Tough but fair,” Allerby insisted. “And fast. I want to make this move without a single missed day. I want to have the feature in theaters before our January season opener.”

“That's pushing things.”

“That's what I want. Use standard guild levels for mid-budget features right across the board. Remind anyone who balks they can be easily replaced. Oh, and open a new expense line for our star. Whatever John Junior wants, he gets.”

There was a stunned silence. “You can't be serious.”

“Run anything outrageous by me. But I want this guy to deliver. And if he's the star I think he'll soon be, I also want him to stay good and bought.”

Martin slipped the phone back in his pocket. Saw his partner's grin. “What.”

Milo said, “You're thinking you can corrupt this guy, ruin him in one season?”

That was exactly what he was thinking. But some things were to be savored in secret. “Don't talk silly, Milo. I'm just protecting our assets.”

Milo laughed and turned back to the road. “Whatever.”

Chapter 29

A
hn arrived late that afternoon, accompanied by a man who would have looked comic except for the somber way he carried himself. The stranger had white quarter-moons of fluffy hair that grew above his ears, a bald head burned the color of old oak, an eagle's hook of a nose, no shoulders whatsoever, and a beer barrel for a belly. But his gaze was clear and direct and very intelligent. His voice was his finest quality. “Mr. Junior, I'm Barry Henning. I teach the business of film at UCLA. Before I retired I was an agent with CAA. Ahn asked me to join him today. May I call you John?”

JayJay and Kelly had migrated to the ranch because they were growing stir-crazy hanging around the pool. There was no filming that day. But the activity around the ranch was something to behold. All day long, trucks and people kept coming and going. Derek had sprinted by them so often they had stopped counting. The AD kept wandering past, worrying over whether they needed something. All of a sudden Kip's first duty in life was to make sure they were coddled like poached eggs.

He slipped off the rail and shook the man's hand. “JayJay's worked well enough all my life long.”

“Yeah, I hear the PR folks are salivating over you and this name thing.” Barry Henning eyed JayJay like he was a prize heifer. “Now that we've met, I can see why. And you must be the lovely Ms. Channing.”

Kelly sat on the railing beside JayJay's shoulder. She wore his hat far down over her eyes. She accepted Henning's hand without moving from her perch. “Call me Kelly.”

Every now and then Skye trotted over to their side of the corral, looking for sugar or an excuse to break free and gallop. Which to JayJay's mind was looking more inviting with each passing moment. “What can I do for you, Mr. Henning?”

“Call me Barry. Ahn here tells me you've appointed him your manager.”

“We shook hands on it.”

“That is definitely a bad idea, JayJay. You'd be handing your career to a minnow and sending him into shark-infested waters.”

“Is that a fact.” JayJay disliked the way Ahn held back, picking a splinter from the fence post.

“Yes sir, it is. Now, I'd be happy to make an introduction to my former partners. CAA handles some of the biggest names in the industry.”

“What about Ahn?”

“He would certainly have some cachet attached to his record when he graduates, having negotiated an initial agreement on your behalf.”

“Ahn, this is the guy you were telling me about?”

“My thesis adviser.”

“Well, I guess that means I've got to be polite here. On account of how I think the world of this young man.” JayJay pushed himself off the fence. Something in his expression caused the agent to falter. “Now let me tell you how this is going to work out. Him, I trust. You, I don't know. That goes for every single one of those mighty important folks in your alphabet soup of a company. If Ahn here tells me he needs to bring in somebody else to help, that is Ahn's decision. But he stays in control.”

“But JayJay—”

“Mister, you keep pressing me, and I'm bound to tell you where you can stick that cachet of yours.”

Kelly coughed discreetly. Which the former agent most definitely did not like. “I've watched a lot of new stars wreck their careers, JayJay. It never gets easier.”

JayJay retorted, “Who's talking career? I just want somebody I can trust to make sure these fellers don't treat me like a rogue steer, wrestle me to the ground, and brand my backside.”

“Your attitude toward this incredible opportunity doesn't make your actions any less of a mistake. Ahn, I'll wait for you in the car.”

When the agent had moved off, Ahn said quietly, “He was on the phone the whole way up here. Talking to his former partners. Trying to decide which one of them he was going to pitch to you. Loving how they had to suck up to him. He mentioned me every now and then. Like he was throwing me a bone.”

“Like I was already roped and saddled.”

“Pretty much.” Ahn started kicking the fence post. “He's right, JayJay. This is so far beyond what I can handle it's silly.”

“So go out there and hire yourself an expert. That's what they're there for, right?” When Ahn did not respond, JayJay guessed, “Your folks giving you a hard time?”

“They alternate. One minute they're thrilled for me. The next they're worried I'm going to drive your career off a cliff.”

“See, that's the same mistake everybody keeps making. I'm not after any career.”

“That could change.”

“It might. But that is in God's hands. Right now all I want is somebody I trust to count the numbers and keep them fellows honest.”

“There are a lot of them. Numbers, I mean. What with the move to feature.”

“You're telling me they want to pay me
more
?”

This time Kelly laughed out loud.

“You know what? I don't even want you to tell me.”

“You've got to know, JayJay.” This from Kelly.

“I'm not dancing that tune just so y'all can laugh at me again.”

“Tell him,” Kelly said to Ahn.

“Who's giving the orders round here?”

“Go on,” Kelly said.

Ahn said, “Your role in the feature is going to bring in somewhere in the neighborhood of two point three million dollars.”

Kelly slugged his shoulder. “That's a mighty good neighborhood to be in, Slim.”

He staggered away.

JayJay spent the next three days just walking through the routine. Trodding a path from one action to the next. Breakfast. Prayer group. Limo to the site. He waited by the corral between shoots. When the day grew too hot he moved into the shadow of the barn. He avoided the cabin, which was nothing but a hollow shell filled with generators and Britt's on-site office and a growing mass of equipment. He never set foot in his trailer except to change clothes or have the makeup folks work on him. When people spoke to him he responded. Ten seconds after they walked away, he couldn't recall what he'd heard or said. Dinner. Bed. Kelly gave him worried glances, but stopped asking if he was all right when he gave her the same response every time. Fine. He was fine. Nobody died from being faced with impossible facts, or being hollowed by questions that had no answers.

They brought in a couple of extra horses for scenes Peter was writing. The wrangler was a young Latina named Felicita, who spoke little English but dearly loved the horses. She grew used to JayJay leaning against the fence or the barn, saying nothing and seeing less.

On the afternoon of the fourth day JayJay was at his accustomed spot, hidden away from the growing tumult around the ranch. The number of actors had doubled, those behind the camera tripled. He was done with his scenes for the day. He had no reason to remain except that the hotel offered less respite than the barn's shadows. At least here he had hills and a horizon to pretend to watch.

He had no idea how long he had stood there. Long enough for his legs to stiffen. Until a voice carried through the dust storm in his head.

It took JayJay a long moment to recognize the pastor of Ahn's church. “What on earth are you doing up here?”

Floyd Cummins had a grip as weathered and sturdy as his features. “I'm headed to a pastors' conference in Fresno. Thought I'd stop by and see how things are going.”

JayJay turned back to the railings. “I wish I knew.”

The pastor sidled up to the fence. “Ahn told me how you got spooked by the thought of all that money they're tossing your way.”

“I asked him not to even tell me. Still wish I didn't know.”

“I don't suppose I need to ask what you thought of that Hollywood agent he drove up with.”

JayJay bent down, grabbed a fistful of pebbles, and began tossing them at the dust.

“Ahn seems to think that if you decide to hang around, you'll probably need somebody like that agent in your corner.”

“Won't happen.”

“What if—and I'm not saying it will happen, mind you—but what if you get done with this work here, get all ready to ride off into your own little sunset, and then you learn God isn't done with you yet?”

“There you go again.” JayJay tossed another rock. “Every time I say something you don't like, you hit me with the God thing.”

“Some folks wouldn't call being made famous and rich such a hard life.”

“Yeah, well, they can have it. I'd give it all just . . .”

“Just what, JayJay? To go back to how it was before?”

He let the remaining pebbles fall to the earth by his feet. Locked and helpless, staring into lengthening shadows, washed by the afternoon sun.

“In the time it took me to park my car and ask where to find you, a half dozen people told me about the prayer group you've started.”

“It was Kelly's idea.”

“But you're the one who made it happen. Nobody can ever remember such a thing before, JayJay.” He moved in closer. “You recall our conversation after church?”

He replied softly, “I can't get it out of my head.”

“You told me you didn't have any business being here. And I told you, it's the same miracle each one of us faces when God breathes life into dust, and then allows us to rise and face a new dawn.” Floyd Cummins stepped into JayJay's frame of vision. “So God has granted you a miracle. And somewhere down deep, you're expecting everything else to just be clear as day. Every answer laid out in fiery script.”