Chapter 51: Business is Business

By ten o'clock, Kate Winslet had left. Martin mixed three refreshing mojitos and planned to leave after finishing them.

Kelly's words caught his attention: "The director Benjamin, who has been working with our company for years, just gave me a script. He wants to make a theatrical movie."

She opened the bag she brought and handed a script to Louise: "You have a lot of experience, take a look for me."

Martin was quite curious but refrained from joining in as scripts often involve commercial secrets, and it's better to be cautious.

Louise flipped through the first dozen pages and commented, "You could find piles of these in any Hollywood script library. You've been in Hollywood; for these kinds of B-movies, the film's quality isn't really tied to the script."

She didn't mince words: "Zombies, the most cliched B-movie theme. The only fresh twist is that the zombie showgirls are now zombie showboys."

Kelly suddenly turned to Martin: "Actually, the initial idea came from Martin. He played a corpse once and joked about the female lead reviving it. I casually mentioned it to Benjamin, and knowing Martin's real background working in a male revue club, Benjamin wrote this script."

Martin had a perfect reason to chime in: "Kelly, shouldn't you send me a tip or some royalties for the copyright?"

Louise looked slightly surprised: "You really are a jack-of-all-trades. You even worked as a male dancer?"

Martin corrected her: "Lead bartender at a male strip club," and then said to Kelly, "Did you tailor this script for me? I'm touched. How should I thank you?"

Louise suddenly said, "Penicillin cures everything; thank you for everything."

Kelly looked utterly confused: "What does that mean? Penicillin? Did you do something behind my back?"

Martin and Louise exchanged a knowing smile but said nothing.

"You damned pair!" Kelly laughed and cursed. "To make this script work would cost at least $1 million. The director's estimated budget is severely understated. Once filming starts, who knows how much more will need to be added."

Louise, knowing her friend well, responded, "Grey Company can't be so broke they can't come up with $1 million, can they?"

Kelly said, "I'm planning to buy a few of General Motors' factories, convert them entirely into movie studios for rent. With the current state of the automotive industry, GM will definitely not restart the ATL production center. The factory area is near a large cemetery; the land isn't worth much."

Getting promoted to Vice President had given Kelly confidence. "The film incentives in Georgia can attract your film crew and others as well. Atlanta doesn't have a dedicated filming base. I'm negotiating with City Hall and the state government through the Liberty Society, looking for subsidies for the construction."

Louise agreed, "You're right. Many Hollywood companies are drawn to Georgia's tax breaks. Grey Company can provide complementary services, and they'd be happy to cooperate. Kelly, you're a newbie at filmmaking, but in business, I'm no match for you."

Kelly picked up the script: "If my funding chain has issues, not only will the plan be heavily impacted, but the company could go bankrupt."

Martin observed Kelly. This woman wasn't just a sweet innocent; he could utilize her to climb up because she saw value in using him as a tool.

Kelly leaned against Louise with a wine glass in her hand. "Spread the word in Hollywood for me."

Louise, the playful woman, grabbed Kelly's chin and looked at the mirror opposite. "If I don't help you, who would I help? We're in the same boat now."

Martin spread his arms: "Mind your language."

Kelly laughed. From the moment she tasted that Paper Plane cocktail, she had decided to use Martin as a tool.

Martin had figured most of this out but had gotten what he wanted.

This tripartite deal looked like a win-win for everyone so far.

Louise noticed Kelly putting away the script: "Really giving up?"

Kelly replied, "Unless there's sufficient funding."

Louise turned to Martin: "Big guy, you can conjure up a kettle. Come up with something for Kelly."

Martin asked back, "If I come up with it, would you use it?"

"Spit it out." Kelly didn't expect much from him.

Martin wasn't entirely joking: "Kelly, you're like... let me think... yes, you are Wendi Deng, Rupert Murdoch's wife, Wendi Deng. Then call those who want fame, saying there's a movie project needing a male lead. You happened to see his performance and praised him as a genius. To participate, send money quickly."

Kelly frowned: "Such a cheap scam?"

Martin shrugged: "You can't expect me to pull off a financial scam. I've never been involved in that. Ladies, I'm just a small fry."

Louise considered: "It could work, provided you impersonate someone high-profile."

"Successful scam, and the FBI will come knocking soon after." Kelly could foresee the consequence. "Whether impersonating Wendi Deng or Katharine Kennedy, the other side will surely pressure the FBI, and then I'm done for."

She added casually: "I'd rather learn from Hollywood and partner with money launderers."

Louise laughed: "Can you pull that off?"

Kelly was confident: "I couldn't before, but after the kettle, as long as it doesn't involve big-shots in Atlanta, I can manage."

Even in the new century, money laundering and under-the-table deals were still common in this industry and didn't bother Kelly and Louise much.

Martin poured himself another drink and slowly savored it.

After a while, he asked Kelly, "Can I take a look at the script?"

Kelly handed it to him, "Don't get any ideas. It's not tailored for you. Our friendship is one thing; business is business. If it's under $500,000, I might consider."

"I just want to look." Martin continued reading the script.

It was a typical cliched B-movie plot. Zombie showboys lure women using their charm, feed on them, and offer them to an evil god. Meanwhile, a sister seeking revenge for her sibling investigates and leads a group of fierce female hunters into an epic battle at the male stripper club.

The primary roles were the female lead and the head zombie showboy.

Having been involved with many film crews, Martin roughly estimated from the script; just the costume, makeup, and action stunts would cost more than $500,000.

...

West Street, Black Bar.

In a large private room on the second floor, Lynne slumped on the sofa, lost in a strange daze, feeling light-headed and unaware of his surroundings.

Adam Smith and Ward were looking at the dozen pages of script copies he brought.

Ward said, "This zombie showboy role suits you perfectly."

Adam Smith closed the script and picked up the accompanying materials: "Martin Davis worked at a male strip club. Lynn mentioned that Benjamin wrote the script with Martin as inspiration."

He was very tempted: "A theatrical movie lead role!"

Ward had some inside info, including various public details about Martin, such as living in the Clayton community, working part-time as an extra at sixteen, having been a repairman, owing loan sharks, bartending at the Beast House, and by chance joining the ATL Free Society among others.

The room's door opened, and the boss, Boyette, and his Latino assistant, Diego, entered.

"How's it going, Adam?" Boyette habitually scratched his crotch. "Is my new stuff good?"

Adam pointed at Lynne: "Top-notch. Look at him; he's thoroughly enjoying it."

Boyette sat beside Adam: "I heard from Ward you've got some trouble?"

Adam indicated the materials: "A guy named Martin Davis is trying to steal my job."

"That damn name rings a bell." Boyette couldn't recall and said, "You can't lose your job. You connect me to those goddamn upper-middle-class folks to sell the stuff at a high price!"

Then he suddenly remembered: "Isn't the bartender across at the Beast House named Martin Davis?"

Adam said, "Damn Martin is indeed part-timing over there."

Boyette stood up abruptly, pulling out a gun from his crotch: "I'm gonna kill him! Word is that Beast House stealing customers is all his plot!"

Diego quickly held Boyette back: "No, don't!"

Boyette argued, "He's just a poor kid from the slums!"

Diego grabbed the gun, handing the file to Boyette. Boyette glanced at the long text, feeling bewildered: "I can't make sense of this."

"Martin Davis is an official social investigator for ATL Free Society, and he's received honorary certificates from them." Diego had a clearer understanding of the social situation: "With the current uproar from Free Society, if you kill Martin Davis, can they ignore it?"

Boyette reassessed his impulse: "And we're just Black folks. No, you're not, and neither are you."

He lightly tapped Adam's forehead: "Buddy, keep your damn job. Don't make me see you worthless."

After Diego and Boyette left, Adam and Ward looked glum.

They discussed a bit, and Adam suddenly recalled some entertainment news he saw earlier in the year: "Robert Downey Jr. was released from prison last year."

*****

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