recent one over the objections of nearly half our stockholders. Now they’re coming back with a final offer, and I’m going to need fifty-one percent of the voting shares to keep us in business.”
“What was the last offer?” Stone asked.
“Twenty-five hundred dollars a share,” Rick said. “My sense of the other stockholders is that they’ll sell at something near three thousand.”
“How many stockholders?”
“Fifty-five. Arrington is the largest shareholder, with three hundred thirty-three thousand shares, I’ve got a hundred thousand shares-I’ve sold various blocks over the years to studio executives, to keep them-and Charlene has fifty thousand shares.”
“How many shares extant?”
“One million. With Arrington’s shares we’ve got four hundred thirty-three thousand, and I know of one other stockholder who will very likely vote with us-Eddie Harris, who was running the studio when I joined them, in 1938, had two daughters, one of whom died in her thirties. The other is Jennifer, who is in her midseventies now, and she holds twenty-five thousand shares, which can put us over the top.”
“Tell me what will happen to the studio if the sale takes place.”
“The studio was originally on two hundred acres, and we sold off fifty in the 1960s to build Centurion City, a mixed commercial/ residential development. That money got us out of debt, and we’ve stayed that way. Prince’s offer is for one hundred ten of the remaining one hundred fifty acres. That would consist of all of the back lot-our standing sets-our Western town, our small-town square sets, and numerous street sets, including our New York streets. It would rob us of five of our six soundstages, two of our three audio recording studios, and our set storage buildings. We would become, in essence, a small office park, including our admin buildings and the offices we rent to a couple of dozen independent producers who use our production facilities.”
“And what would that do to your ability to make pictures and TV shows?”
“It would devastate us,” Rick replied. “We would have to rent soundstages for our movie and TV productions, which would dramatically increase our production costs and cut our profits. Our hallmark has always been to make quality pictures and TV shows on moderate budgets. We simply could not continue our present production schedule, much less expand it. Centurion would become a shell, like too many of the remaining studios. I didn’t spend two- thirds of my life in this business in order to see that happen to it.”
“Who are the people who want to sell?”
“They’re all studio employees or independent producers on the lot. They own, generally speaking, from as little as fifty shares to twenty thousand shares. Some of them are nearing retirement age, and they can sell us back their stock at a price determined by a formula, which would net them, maybe a third of what selling the studio would.”
“So, some of them stand to make forty million to sixty million dollars if the studio is sold.”
“Yes, and as you can see, that is a strong motive for selling.”
“Yes, I can understand that. Any hope of getting some of them on your side?”
Rick shook his head. “I’ve been working on this for two months; we’ve boiled the list down to the four of us: Arrington, myself, Charlene, and Jennifer Harris.”
“Rick, if you win this fight, how long will you be able to hang on to the studio?”
“I’m leaving my shares to my two grandchildren, and if Arrington hangs on to hers, then we can keep it going as it is for many years.”
“I see,” Stone said.
“Stone, do you understand the importance of keeping Centurion as a working film studio? Not just to the stockholders, but to people everywhere who enjoy intelligent, quality entertainment?”
“I can certainly see why you feel that way,” Stone said. “If I were a stockholder, that’s what I’d want, too.”
“Now we come to the crux of things, Stone,” Rick said. “Jennifer Harris, Charlene, and I are on board. Everything depends on Arrington now. What is she going to do?”
“Has she expressed her intentions to you, Rick?”
“At first, she seemed to be with us, but the last couple of days I’ve sensed that she’s wavering.”
“She has to make some important business decisions not associated with the studio,” Stone explained. “She won’t be able to make a final decision until those have been resolved.”
Rick suddenly looked closer to his age.
“I believe her heart is with you,” Stone said, “and I will do everything I can to swing her shares to you. I’m afraid that’s all I can say, at the moment.”
“I see,” Rick replied.
“Please don’t be disheartened,” Stone said. “This could still work out. When is the new offer expected?”
“Early next week.”
“So we have a week or so to make it work.”
“Yes, I suppose we do.”
“Charlene, are you acquainted with any of the stockholders whom you might be able to swing our way?”
“I’ve pretty much done what I can,” Charlene replied.
Somebody’s cell phone rang. Rick Barron looked at his phone and stood up. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, then left the room.
Charlene turned her attention to Stone. “It’s good to see you,” she said. “I hope we can get together while you’re here. It’s been too long.”
Stone knew from experience exactly what “get together” meant to Charlene, and he hoped his health was up to it. “It certainly has been too long,” he said. “I’d like that.”
Rick returned to the study and sat down heavily in his chair. “Jennifer Harris is dead,” he said.
Stone and Charlene looked at him.
“How?” Charlene asked.
“I don’t know; the police are at her house.”
“Do you know what her will says about the stock?”
“No,” Rick replied. “She seemed in perfect health.”
Stone rose. “I think we’d better talk again, when you have more information. I hope we can get a grip on this.”
Everybody went home, and Stone returned to the guesthouse, where Dino was watching television.
“Nothing’s on at the right time out here,” he said. “The TV schedule is crazy.”
“That’s not all that’s crazy,” Stone said.
6
Stone awoke to the hum of his cell phone on the bedside table. He tried to turn over to pick it up, but he was impeded by an arm across his chest. He looked that way to see a tousled head of blonde hair on the pillow next to him.
His memories of the night before were hazy, involving arms, legs, and various other body parts in interesting, sometimes contorted positions and some loud noises. He lifted the arm and grabbed the phone.
“Hello,” he croaked.
“God, you sound awful,” Bill Eggers said.
“What time is it?”
“It’s after nine… oh, I forgot, it’s three hours earlier out there, isn’t it?”
“Forgot, my ass,” Stone said.
“Well, as long as you’re up, want some news?”
“If you insist,” Stone sighed, struggling to prop himself up with a pillow, in spite of the weight of Charlene’s arm.
“I’ve had chats with a couple of people who are acquainted with Rex Champion’s situation,” Eggers said.
