Chapter 61: Intermediary

Gray Film and Television Company had been bustling for nearly two weeks. Benjamin Galvin received the preliminary budget for "Zombie Stripper."

"$1.2 million?" Benjamin nearly crumpled under the weight of that figure. He exclaimed, "I told the boss it could be done for a maximum of $1 million."

Prowse, the head of the budget team, countered, "Ben, do you want it done right? We have a cast, stunts, and numerous action sequences. We're aiming to make it in four months, from pre-production to post-production, just in time for this year's Savannah Film Festival. We can't cut corners with $1.2 million." Benjamin slumped into a chair and lamented, "The boss won't approve it."

Prowse whispered, "There's another option: we could follow the old format and make it a late-night drama."

"Late-night drama? I'm sick of those mindless late-night dramas!" Benjamin shot up from his seat. "I want to create a cinematic movie, one that can be shown in theaters, even if it's just in Georgia." Prowse sighed, "I don't have any other options, unless you can secure outside investment."

Benjamin tossed the budget report onto his desk, exclaiming, "Where am I supposed to find that investment? Sell my soul?"

Prowse picked up the budget report, saying, "There's only one way – you need to find a way to convince the boss."

Benjamin remained silent until Prowse left. Then, he dialed Martin's number, a sense of desperation in his voice, "Martin, it's Ben. How are things over there?"

Martin replied, "Kelly's returning to Atlanta tomorrow, and some matters require face-to-face discussion."

Benjamin inquired, "How confident are you?"

At the bar, Martin lowered the newspaper he was reading and replied, "The preliminary budget's out." Benjamin was deflated, as if all the air had been let out of him. He sounded utterly defeated, "We need at least $1.2 million."

It was a bit less than the estimated $1.5 million Martin had in mind. He paused for a moment, allowing Benjamin to soak in the uncomfortable silence. Then he said, "We all need to brainstorm a solution." Benjamin sighed, "Seems like that's our only way."

Martin hung up his phone, the mellow music in the bar providing a soothing backdrop. Elena stood behind the bar, conversing gently with the middle-aged female owner.

The owner had sampled some of Elena's homemade cocktails and was impressed with her skills.

Not long after, Elena approached Martin with a sense of urgency, "I've got some news for you..."

Quickly, she amended her usual language, leaving out the colorful words she often used and opting for a more refined tone, "Mary decided to hire me, offering $7 an hour plus tips, and I can start today." Martin beamed with pride, hugging her tightly. "I knew you could do it!"

Elena gave him a passionate kiss, "You were an excellent teacher."

Martin released her and asked her to sit down, "You've mastered all the paper airplane flavors. If anyone asks, tell them you invented the recipes. If someone wants to buy the formulas, you can sell them."

Elena handed the paper airplane back to Martin, saying, "The paper airplane is yours."

Martin shook his head, a determined expression on his face. "It's not for me, but it's valuable to you. Elena, I've observed closely, and your talent in bartending surpasses mine. Don't waste this gift. Paper Airplanes can help you gain recognition in this industry."

Just like penicillin, these things only hold value only when put to use.

Martin's aspiration was not to become a bartender himself.

Elena, never one to be coy, agreed with resolve, "Alright." She playfully winked, adding, "I'll reward you handsomely when you return." Martin tore a corner from the newspaper, meticulously folded a delicate paper airplane, and handed it to Elena. "This is for you."

Elena accepted it graciously, but her customers at the bar required attention. She excused herself, saying, "I have to get to work."

Martin resumed reading his newspaper, where the headlines of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution focused on the DEA and APD's anti-drug campaign. They were cracking down hard in South City, raiding drug dens and also apprehending major black-market dealers.

His phone vibrated, and it was Bruce calling. Martin picked up, answering, "Are you here? I'm at the Clayton Bar, a clear bar. I'll buy you a drink."

Bruce and Monica entered the bar together.

Monica chose to stay at the bar, ordering a glass of wine and striking up a conversation with Elena. Bruce, on the other hand, came over and took a seat across from Martin.

Martin ordered two glasses of wine and two plates of dried fruits, inquiring, "Did everything go smoothly?"

Bruce gazed intently at Martin, suspicious. "What kind of mischief are you up to now?"

In all of Atlanta, Martin trusted Bruce the most, aside from Elena and his brother. He responded diplomatically, "There's a business deal in the works, and we might need to act as intermediaries." Bruce seemed intrigued, "Tell me who's involved."

Martin couldn't help but smile, changing the topic, "Bruce, we're decent folks, civilized folks. Let's not stir up trouble all the time." He probed cryptically, "Aside from causing mayhem, what else do you do?" Bruce, understanding Martin's inquiry, chose not to respond directly. Instead, he asked, "Do you like avocados? They're all the rage in the United States, and their prices keep rising. We're heavily dependent on imports from Mexico, but getting an import license isn't easy." Martin wasn't well-versed in avocados but understood the underlying message. He replied, "I want to pitch an investment idea to Vincent."

Bruce furrowed his brow, skeptical. "Vincent might not go for it."

Martin contemplated his upcoming meeting with Kelly and added, "In a couple of days, I'm planning to see Vincent." Bruce shrugged, "I won't touch that club business of yours, you cheeky rascal. But you know where Vincent is, you can go see him anytime." Martin chose to drop the subject and talked to Bruce about other matters.

...

At Atlanta International Airport, Erica, Julia, and Kelly Gray emerged from the arrivals gate, accompanied by their respective assistants.

Members of the ATL Women Association awaited them to provide transportation.

Kelly spotted Martin immediately, nodding in acknowledgment. She directed Erica and Julia to their respective cars before turning her attention to Martin.

Martin helped Kelly with her luggage and loaded it into the trunk of the BMW.

As they got into the car, Kelly asked, "Why are you here?"

Martin pointed to his ID badge on his chest, grinning. "I'm an official member of the Women's Association. Isn't it my duty to pick up the vice chairman at the airport?"

Kelly raised an eyebrow, observing, "What's with your accent?"

Martin chuckled, "I'm practicing Hollywood-style pronunciation, starting with daily drills."

The two engaged in light conversation as the car quickly transported them to Kelly's downtown apartment.

Martin handled her luggage and escorted her inside.

Once inside, Kelly kicked off her high heels, flopped onto the couch, and stretched luxuriously. "Home sweet home."

Martin approached the wine cabinet, asking, "Care for a drink?"

Kelly remarked, "I'm not a teetotaler." She reclined on the couch, eyeing Martin. "I'm surprised you didn't go to Los Angeles with that pervert."

Martin fetched a USB flash drive from his pocket and handed it to her. "Louise left this for you. It contains her suggestions for transforming the GM production center into stodio. She mentioned you have the encryption password."

Kelly sat up, taking the USB flash drive and acknowledging, "That slut has a conscience."

Martin looked thoughtful. "There's something else, Director Benjamin is looking for me."

Kelly was quick to react. "He asked you to lobby for the Zombie Stripper?"

Martin affirmed, "Yes, he did. The primary budget estimate from the team came in at 1.2 million dollars"

Kelly acknowledged with a slight nod, "Indeed, the investment is quite high."

Martin continued, explaining, "You were in Washington at the time, and Benjamin called me repeatedly. I was unsure how to respond. So, I sought Louise's advice, and we revisited a topic you had previously mentioned."

Kelly inquired, "Which topic was that?"

Martin lowered his voice as he revealed, "You mentioned to Louise that you would consider collaborating with money launderers."

Kelly's response mirrored Louise's sentiment, "I thought it was something significant, but it appears rather straightforward." She probed further, "Do you think you can secure the necessary funding?"

Martin affirmed, "I've been paying attention since you brought it up, and I've gathered some leads."