“Just a roast beef sandwich on white please.” He handed the menu back to the waiter. “Hold the mayo.”
“To drink, sir?”
“A tall glass of milk. It’s been a long time since I’ve had just a simple glass of milk.” He smiled as he turned back to his companions.
“Going back to the basics, Jamey?”
James Redfield shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? We may all be right back where we started soon.”
“Don’t curse it, for God’s sake.”
“Sorry, not being negative, Dave. We know this is a gamble, I’m just trying to be frugal.”
“Not a thing wrong with that.” Lucille smirked. “This time next year, we can rub the studio’s nose in it. A diet of nice basic fiber will only make it all the richer.”
“We’re all putting everything we have into this film.” Turner said. “It’s either the beginning or the end.”
“This was your idea, Dave.” She glared at him. “Don’t tell us you’re having second thoughts now.”
“Not at all.” He sighed. “The studios don’t like it. They’ll try everything they can think of to stop us. I’m just bracing for a difficult time.”
“You know they offered to buy the script.” Redfield admitted. “When I told them I wouldn’t sign the new contract unless they let us do it.”
Lucille perked up, half mad, half intrigued. “They made a counter offer? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Not a counter offer.” James picked a pack of crackers up from the basket in the center of the table. “They offered to buy the script, but they didn’t want me in it and didn’t want Dave to direct.”
“Bastards.” Dave mused.
“It’s a period piece they said.” Redfield mashed the crackers in the package to let off steam. “You don’t do period pieces well, Fairbanks is perfect. We'll decide on your next picture. Don’t go thinking beyond your abilities. What an insult.”
“What did they say about Dave directing?” Lucille asked.
“I’m not sure I want to hear this.” Dave leaned on the table. “Or if I even care.”
“Too large a scope for a B-movie mindset.” Redfield said anyway.
“They made an offer for the script.” The fourth companion said. “Booker called me and told me they offered him the moon.”
“He didn’t sell it on us, did he?” Dave sat straight up.
“Of course not.” The man said. “He’s as fed up with the studio as we are.”
“How did Forbush react when Booker turned them down?” Jamey smiled. “I assume it was Forbush.”
The man nodded his head. “Oh the usual, told him Four Stars could make the picture the way it should be made, guarantee a big market push even offered a contract for just two more films…of their choice.”
“And?” Someone at the table encouraged.
“Booker said the man turned into Rumpelstiltskin when he told him to kiss his behind.” The group laughed. “Threatened none of us would ever get this made and no one would ever work again.”
“We’ll get it made.” Dave was determined.
“And I can guarantee distribution.” Lucille smirked. “Four Stars has ticked off enough houses, and I’ve got the goods on enough others to make sure that we get it in every major market for at least a week.”
“If it’s a bomb though, none of us will ever work again.” James reminded everyone.
“I will.” The fourth man said. “No one gives a rat’s ass about make up people.”
“If worse comes to worse, you may have to teach us all.” Dave smiled.
“Jamey’s pretty good at it already.” He laughed.
“What are you talking about?” Jamey wanted to know.
“Remember last Halloween? You got drunk and dressed up in Lucille’s ball gown?”
Lucille laughed and James turned red. “Herman, do not remind me.”
“I thought you looked real pretty.” Lucille pinched her husband’s cheek.
“I couldn’t get over how much you looked like my sister.” Herman joked.
“I guess I’ve got a career in Vaudeville then, if there’s even a Vaudeville left.” James sighed. “Has anyone heard from Malvina?” He changed the embarrassing subject.
“She’s in.” Dave confirmed. “She just has to finish up this last picture and her contract with Four Stars is complete. She’ll jump right in.”
“Malvina Golden and James Redfield in ‘Breathe’ directed by David Turner.” Three of last year’s Oscar nominees in one film, that will pack ‘em in.” Lucille drummed happily on the tabletop.
“Four Stars won’t know what hit them!” Turner added.
The waiter came carrying a tray with their order. He began to serve. As he put Lucille’s fillet in front of her she sneered at him.
“It’s about time.”
“Sorry for the delay, Mrs. Redfield.” The waiter apologized. “The chef wanted to make sure everything was perfect. It’s not every day stars of your caliber grace our humble establishment.”
It was just what she wanted to hear. “Give him our gratitude. We are always willing to wait on perfection.”
“Of course, Mrs. Redfield.”
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