“You think she’d really find somebody else?”
CERTAINLY. IN THE MEANTIME, YOU CAN FIND A REALLY CHEAPO OUTFIT TO PRODUCE YOUR NEW SHOW AND GET OFF THE FISCAL HOOK THAT WAY. PRODUCTION COMPANIES OUTSIDE THE U.S. WORK MUCH MORE CHEAPLY THAN OUR OWN UNIONIZED PEOPLE.
“Where?” Sheldon asked, suddenly eager to travel. “Yugoslavia? Argentina? New Zealand?”
NONE OF THE ABOVE. YOU’VE GOT TO BALANCE YOUR TRAVEL EXPENSES AGAINST THE EXPENSES OF PRODUCTION. CALCULATIONS ARE THAT CANADA WILL BE THE CHEAPEST BET.
“Canada?” Sheldon felt his enthusiasm sinking.
CANADA. MEXICO LOOKS CHEAPER ON THE SURFACE, BUT MY SUBROUTINES TELL ME THAT YOU’VE GOT TO BRIBE EVERYBODY IN THE GOVERNMENT, FROM THE CUSTOMS INSPECTORS TO THE TRAFFIC COPS, IF YOU WANT TO DO BUSINESS DOWN THERE. RAISES THE COSTS BEYOND THOSE OF A CANADIAN OPERATION. THE CANADIANS ARE HONEST AS WELL AS PRETTY CHEAP.
“Canada?” Sheldon repeated. His mind filled with visions of snow, sled dogs, pine trees, Nelson Eddy in a red Mounties jacket.
“Canada,” he said again.
Fad’s office wasn’t very large, considering he was an executive producer on the rise. Merely a couple of leatherite couches, a few deep chairs scattered here and there across the fakefur rug, his own desk and keyboard terminal and a few holographic pictures where windows would normally be. Sheldon preferred the holographic views of Mt. Shasta, San Francisco’s Bay Bridge and Catalina Island to the view of ‘a tinted smog that he could see through his window. He wasn’t high enough in Titanic’s hierarchy to be above the smog level.
When his secretary told him that Gabriel and Morgan had arrived, Sheldon carefully clicked on the record button on Murray’s controls. A friendly blue light glowed steadily at him, from an angle that could be seen only from behind the desk. Sheldon felt as if he had a silent ally standing beside him.
His visitors were ushered into the office by his secretary, who discreetly went no further than the door. But Gabriel was already jotting down her phone number in the little book he always carried. She was giving him her most dazzling smile; he had apparently already turned the full force of his charisma on her.
Morgan was still wearing his same tired old red zipsuit; it had been out of style for a year or more. Gabriel, who was a style setter, wore tight black leather slacks and what looked like a genuine antique motorcycle jacket, complete with studs and chains.
Sheldon got up and came around the desk, arms outstretched. “Fellaaas… how are you?”
Morgan, who was tall enough to be a laughable contrast to the smaller, stockier Gabriel, backed away automatically. Gabriel aimed a mock punch at Sheldon’s stomach. They ended up shaking hands.
“Isn’t it great to be starting something new?” Sheldon enthused. “This is going to be the best series Titanic has ever done. I just know it!”
“Great. Great,” said Gabriel, with something of a scowl on his face. “Where’s Brenda? I thought she’d be here.”
Retreating back to his desk chair, Sheldon answered, “Why no, she’s not part of this project. She works directly for B.F., you know.”
Morgan had taken the nearest deepchair and started to say, “We got all the financial arrangements ironed out with Les Montpelier last week. He says the legal department is drawing up the contracts.”
Sheldon nodded. “That’s entirely correct. Want some coffee? Juice? Anything?”
Gabriel was prowling around the room, still scowling. “I thought Brenda was going to be here. She was in on the beginning of this idea…”
“Brenda,” said Sheldon patiently, “is B.F.’s assistant. She does not get involved in preproduction planning for a specific show.”
“Lemme use your phone,” Gabriel said, heading for the desk.
Sheldon quickly swivelled the phone around so that Gabriel could see the screen without coming around the desk and noticing Murray’s recording eye. Gabriel sat on a corner of the desk and started punching numbers on the phone’s keyboard.
Sheldon had to push his chair over a bit and lean sidewise to see Morgan.
“You and Les settled all the financial matters?” he asked, while Gabriel was saying:
“Brenda Impanema… whattaya mean she’s not at this number? What number is she at? Screw information! You look it up, why dontcha?”
Morgan seemed to be taking it all in stride, the eye of Gabriel’s hurricane. “There are a few minor matters that we’re not happy with, but I’ll straighten those out once the contracts are drawn up. Nothing to worry about. It’s not as much money as we expected, though.”
Sheldon shrugged. “Money’s tight all over.”
“Brenda! How the hell are you? Where’ve you been keeping yourself?”
“If money’s so tight, how will this affect the production values on ‘The Starcrossed?’” Morgan asked.
“Thats what I wanted to discuss with you. I know Ron thinks big and I agree with him, I really do— but…”
“Whattaya mean you think it’s best if we don’t see each other? Is this Finger’s idea of getting even with me?”
“You know,” Morgan said, “I’ve seen a lot of shows with great potential fold up because the producers didn’t put enough backing into them.”
“Yes, I know. But I think I’ve worked out a way to get the best production values and still keep the costs down…”
“I don’t care if Finger cancels the whole season!” Gabriel yelled at the phone. “I don’t want you pussyfooting around because you think it’ll make him sore if you see me. He can stick it…”
“How are you going to do that, Sheldon?”
“Well, after an
“I know you’re doing it for me,” Gabriel was shouting now, “but I’d rather see you than win an Emmy. Yah, that’s exactly what I said.”
“You were saying?”
“Our analysis shows that the optimum choice for producing the show…”
“This is just a stall, isn’t it? What you’re really saying is that you can’t stand the sight of me! Right?”
“…would be outside the U.S., away from the high rates that all the unions here charge.”
“Okay, kid. Maybe you’re protecting me. But I think it’s a Pearl Harbor job and I don’t like it!”
“And where do you want to put it?”
“Goodbye!”
“In Canada.”
“Canada?”
“Canada!” Gabriel leaped off the desk corner. “Who the hell’s going to Canada?”
“We are.”
“You are?”
“No, you are.”
Morgan said calmly, “He wants to shoot the show in Canada.”
Gabriel looked as if he was ready to lead a bayonet attack. “Canada! I can’t go to Canada! What in hell is there that you don’t have more of here? And better?”
Sheldon sank back in his chair. It was going to be just as rough as he had feared. Only the friendly stare of Uncle Murray’s steady blue eye gave him the courage to go on.
Two hours later, Sheldon was still in his desk chair. His jacket was crumpled on the floor and had Gabriel’s bootprints all over it. His suppshirt was soaked with sweat. Morgan hadn’t moved at all during that time, nor hardly spoken; he still looked calm, relaxed, almost asleep.
But the walls were still ringing with Gabriel’s rhetoric. Two chairs were overturned. Both couches had been kicked out of shape. One of the holographic pictures was sputtering badly, for reasons unknown. The Bay Bridge kept winking and shimmering… or maybe, thought Sheldon, it was merely cringing.
