I have it.
“Marcel, about that scene… about the whole third act really…” I start to say, not even minding when he groans and starts swearing in French.
“Don’t do this, Tony!” he exclaims. “Actors always want to fuck around the formula. Just get here and shoot the fucking scenes,” he whines, and I can hear him drawing hard on one of his long brown, foreign cigarettes before he exhales noisily.
“Marcel,” I reason with him. “I have a new leading lady in mind, someone I just met, she’s an actress,” I try to tell him, but he cuts me off.
“You’ll be on the plane, you’ll do the scenes and you’ll get paid. That’s your job, Tony… fuck! What’s gotten into you? You never used to mess us around, now in one day you’ve become a prima donna,” he exclaims again.
Flipping him to speaker while I switch to my phone’s camera, I snap a picture of Ashlee; a perfect photo with her looking out onto the view of Hollywood, the lighting, everything just perfect.
“Are you still there?” Marcel asks angrily once I have him back in my ear once I hit send, shooting him a thousand words of Ashlee.
“Yeah, I’m here. Marcel, take it easy. I’m thinking of the whole project here, not just my part in it.”
“The fuck’s this?” he asks gruffly after a few seconds once I hear his phone pinging.
“That’s Ashlee. She’s the one-”
His dry laugh turns into a cough, then reverts back to a horrible sounding laugh.
“Ah! Good one Tony! You nearly had me there. I thought for a minute you were serious… your American humor, no?”
But I’m not joking.
“What did you just say?” I hear myself growl, my voice turning to gravel as I watch Ashlee’s face turn to mine, her eyes filling with concern again.
“I thought you honestly wanted me to consider… never mind, where do you get these pictures from Tony, internet? It’s almost disgusting… just get here soon eh? I need you on set tomorrow morning, our time.”
And then it happens.
I have the clearest, most sobering realization of my entire career. Of my entire life.
The industry I’ve sold myself to for over twenty years, it’s shown its true colors to me as if for the first time.
I can handle criticism, put-downs and even scandal when it comes to me, but my Ashlee?
No.
It ends today.
“Listen to me you French fried fuck!” I spit. “Ashlee is worth a hundred of me. Either she gets a scene in this movie or I walk, contract be damned… and I’ll sue you for slander and discrimination faster than you can whistle ‘breach of contract’ you snail sucking piece of shit.”
The line goes quiet, but I know he hasn’t hung up, I do some math in my mind, kissing my retirement fund goodbye with the caseload Max is gonna have on his hands next.
Marcel takes a deep breath in.
“Okay, okay,” he drawls. “You Americans, always with your demands.”
I relax a little, my heart lifting as I picture Ashlee by my side at work as well as at play, at home afterwards. The awards I can shower on her myself.
“Now hear this,” Marcel continues, his own voice dropping low, sounding cold.
“I have three major European and American studios behind me, billions, Tony… billions of Euros and dollars to fight you and win… You wanna fuck with that? Be my guest. I’ll see you in court you motherfucker, and if we need some fat girl to get stuffed in one of our films, we have a continent full of them too.”
My phone creaks in my hand, and I hear Ashlee asking me if I’m okay.
I hold a flat hand up to her, smiling. Glad she’s here. I want her to be here when I do this. It’s about us now, nothing else matters.
Holding the phone to my chest with my hand over the microphone of the cell phone, I ask her. I have to.
“Will you still have me, even if I have nothing? If I’m dirt poor and not a movie star?”
She doesn’t even flinch. “Of course Tony, I love you,” she tells me, looking concerned for me now, forgetting her own bag of problems.
That’s how I know she’s the one.
That’s how I know I can never lose.
I’ve already got everything I need, all the riches in the world, in this very room, right in front of me.
I give Marcel my ultimatum. “Ashlee has her passport and we can be on that flight, but if she’s not even considered for a part in this project, then I can’t continue with mine in it either. She’s a part of me now, Marcel and I’m giving you a chance to understand that,” I tell him, calmly but firmly. Not caring what happens next, half thinking about what Ashlee might want to spend the rest of the day doing instead.
“Then you’re mad! I won’t fire you either if that’s what you want, this is a breach of contract!” Marcel screams, and before he has a chance to hurt my ears anymore, I hang up.
Ashlee, wringing her hands, wants to cross the room, to hold me, to ask me what’s going on but I hold up a finger while I dial Max back.
He can have it. Let him have it all.
He picks up just before the phone stops ringing, and I give him the brief of my next legal challenge: Breaking movie contract over terms, libel and discrimination.
Max breathes through his nose before replying, and I move over to Ashlee, hugging her with one arm to let her know she doesn’t have to worry.
“It’ll take some doing, but not too much for me personally. International law, multi-continental contracts… this could go on for years, Tony,” he muses.
“I don’t care, Max. I want-” But even Max cuts me off.
“You want everything your own way, Tony. I understand that much, but I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says slowly, and I almost detect a giggle at the end of his sentence.
“What do I do now then?” I ask him.
“Nothing,”
