tables at restaurants, and the only thing that is gonna screw that up is if they say yes to a picture and the studio spends tens of millions to make and release it, and it bombs. If they say no, they won't be proved wrong, except once in a few thousand pitches, like the time some development exec at Paramount turned down Jaws and Universal made it and it grossed a few hundred mil. Some people lost their jobs over that, but it's a rare occurrence. The vast majority of films shot in this town tank. If you're a studio exec, your odds of not fucking up are a thousand times better if you say no rather than yes. Get it?'
Valentine nodded. The waiter came to the table to take Shane's order, but Valentine waved him off. He wanted to hear more.
'Then how do films get made?' he asked.
'They get green-lit when the elements are so tantalizing that only a fool would say no. For instance, let's say you have Nelson DeMille's or Michael Connelly's latest bestselling novel. You've got Spielberg to direct, Julia Roberts and Tom Cruise to star. Now if the film tanks, you've got a prepackaged excuse. You can tell your boss, 'How could I not make this picture with all these A-list people involved?' '
'I see.' Valentine put down his glass and studied Shane. 'You're a smart guy. Maybe you are a movie producer.'
'I busted a buncha these A-list players for drugs when I was still in Vice. I cultivated contacts, did some favors. What goes around, comes around.'
'So we work together. Your knowledge and Hollywood contacts, my East Coast relationships and ancillary toughness.'
'By that, are we talking about muscle?'
'I have valuable things I can offer.'
'You can't have a piece of my movie,' Shane repeated. 'This piece blends neo-impressionistic heroism with gut-wrenching social commentary. It's ferae naturae, which is a term we use, meaning full of untamed nature. Obviously I'm in no hurry to sell off pieces.' Stealing the better part of Jerry Wireman's riff in these few sentences.
'I'm not used to being turned down.'
'Lucky you.'
'According to this news article, your wife runs the LAPD Detective Services division.'
Shane nodded.
'If what I read in this paper is true, that may not last much longer.'
'She's as pissed off about the way they run things down there as I am,' Shane snapped.
'Maybe there's a way I can help both of you. From what I see, and from where you're living, you must be in way over your head; either that or you're already selling police favors to people with money. Maybe I can help you get more of what you want. While this is an offer, you should also think of it as a demand.'
'Am I supposed to get all shook up 'cause you're a mobster?' Shane said softly. 'I should agree to anything so you won't unleash Gino on me?' Shane leaned forward. 'This isn't New Jersey. We aren't too scared of the mob out here. We've had a few cheeseball Mafia families over the years, but they have never been a problem for us 'cause they couldn't buy any influence. Being a mobster in L. A. is kinda like being an admiral in the Swiss navy. It's all protocol and no boats.'
Valentine also leaned forward. 'What if I was to tell you that's all about to change?'
'I wouldn't believe it. In order for you guys to get any foothold here, you've gotta have cops and politicians on the pad, and that's never happened in L. A.'
The mobster leaned back. He seemed to change his mind, or pick a new direction. He studied Shane carefully, like he was an intricate puzzle that needed solving. 'I don't wanna argue with you. You're a smart guy, but one way or another, I intend to get a piece of the Fallon movie. Gotta be a way that can happen without a lot of pain and suffering.'
'It's not for sale.'
'Okay. Before I give you the fist, here's the carrot. How much you figure this movie is gonna cost?'
'It's a film, and we're still budgeting it, so I don't have a clue. Michael has some very expensive codicils in his talent agreement with us, but we can get bank financing off his box-office power, so it's really a moot point.
'Okay, let's say, just for the hell of it, that it's gonna costyou fifty mil below-the-line. That sound reasonable?'
'All right, let's say.' Shane tried to sound bored. He had a fair grasp of how the movie industry worked from Nicky and friends in the business, and of course, everywhere you went in L. A., people talked about film production, so you couldn't help picking some of it up. But he was far from an expert. He decided if he got in over his head with Valentine, he would just be vague.
'What if I can cut the cost of production to around half that?' Dennis was saying. 'What if I can get it made for twenty-five mil instead of fifty? How many points is that worth?'
' 'Cept you can't. It's a union film. We're gonna be stuck with union rate cards, union overtime, meal penalties, force calls. No way it gets made for half-cost.'
'But let's just say I can. What does that buy me?'
Shane decided on the spot that a dollar-for-dollar formula probably made sense, so he cleared his throat and said, 'Okay. If you could do that, and I know you can't, but if you could, it might be worth a percentage equal to the percentage saved, less maybe, ten points.'
'There, you see? We got us the start of a negotiation.'
'We got shit, because nobody can cut the cost of a union shoot,' Shane said. 'I. A. unions don't deal on their rate cards.'
'What if I put it on paper that you don't pay for it if you don't get it… what then?'
'I'm not negotiating with you, okay?'
The waiter returned. Valentine looked up, and the glower in his eyes was so fierce that it froze the man, who spun and left quickly.
'You ever heard of an Italian Alka-Seltzer treatment?' Valentine said softly.
'What's that, three goombas bubbling in a hot tub?'
'You're a funny guy, but now you're pissing me off. An Italian Alka-Seltzer is made of Semtex. It goes under your car. When it pops, you fizz. I could take you out hard, like that, or I got guys I can import who do vehicular hitand-runs; turn you into a sack a crosswalk vegetables, separate your brain stem from your spinal column. Let you finish your tour down here sucking oxygen out of an iron lung. Or I can go easy and just put you in a body cast for half a year. These guys I got do surgical bumper and fender hits. The victims all get booked as traffic accidents. I got a guy works for me we named Thirteen Weeks. He's so good on crosswalk jobs, I once told him to put a guy in the hospital for thirteen weeks and he did it to the day.'
Shane slowly stood and looked down at Valentine. 'Guess I'll pass on dinner. Nice knowing ya.'
'Why don't you let it percolate for twenty-four hours?' the mobster suggested. 'Why don't you ask Nicky the Pooh about me? Ask him what kinda guy Dennis Valentine is. Then maybe we revisit this in a day or so.' Dennis stood up and Shane rose with him.
'Anything you want. But the answer is still gonna be no.'
A Mexican busboy came up to Shane. 'You have telephone call,' he said.
'Nobody knows I'm here,' Shane said.
'You Scully?' the busboy asked.
Shane nodded, now wondering if something had happened to Chooch and they'd somehow tracked him down here. Valentine was opening his wallet.
'Let's get outta here,' he said to Parelli, who had magically appeared at the table.
Shane watched Valentine throw a couple of hundreds down on the table to cover his vegetarian lasagna and the champagne. The busboy led Shane to the back of the restaurant near the kitchen, then pointed to a pay phone in the corner. The receiver was off the hook and balanced on top of the box. Shane picked it up.
'Hello?'
'Shane Scully?' a voice with a Mexican accent said. 'Yeah, who is this?'
'Momentito.'
Then Shane was put on hold… for almost a minute. As he waited, he was looking into the brightly lit kitchen when the busboy who had led him to the phone took off his white coat, revealing a wife-beater tank-T underneath.
