Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [9]
Morrison explained that Johnny had been active in securing part of the financing for the movie through a low-interest state loan. He’d just finished negotiating the final details of a contract that guaranteed the state a percentage of the profits from the film.
Kerney asked Morrison to tell him about the role of a technical advisor.
“Well,” Morrison said, “it all depends on the project, the cast, and the crew. In some cases it can be a demanding, frustrating role, or it can be an enjoyable, low-key experience.”
“I’m not looking to take on something that winds up being a heavy burden.”
Morrison smiled. “I can certainly understand that. You should have an opportunity to meet with the producers and key personnel before filming actually begins. If what you learn isn’t to your liking, you can always opt out of the project.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Kerney said. He thanked Morrison for her time and left with a copy of 100 Years of Filmmaking in New Mexico, which she insisted he should have.
Johnny Jordan lived and worked in a late-nineteenth-century brick building in downtown Denver that had originally been a warehouse. The developer who renovated it had added a two-story penthouse with a wall of glass that looked out at the Rocky Mountains. It featured a large balcony, a media room, four bedrooms, two home offices, and a huge living room adjacent to the kitchen and dining area. This was where Johnny and his wife, Madeline, a partner in a law firm that specialized in corporate mergers and hostile takeovers, lived. Madeline retained sole ownership, having bought the property prior to their marriage.
Johnny loved living there, loved waking up to the city views and the distant mountains, and especially loved that it hadn’t cost him a penny.
He didn’t expect Madeline to be home, and she wasn’t. Johnny always timed his trips out of town with other women to coincide with his wife’s travel schedule. It reduced the odds of discovery. This week she was in Toronto, heading up a team of lawyers negotiating the merger of two multinational lumber companies.
Johnny cared about Madeline, maybe even loved her every once in a while when she wasn’t obsessing about her career. But like every other woman he’d been seriously drawn to and married over the years—Madeline was wife number four—she now bored him.
With all his wives he’d been faithful until the boredom set in. Then he went fishing for fresh talent. At the end of his second marriage he’d tried to figure out why he became so easily disconnected from women he thought he loved. After pondering it he’d decided most women were like well-presented but uninteresting meals: nice to look at but no fun to feast on time and time again.
When his third wife left him, Johnny had struggled briefly with the question of why he kept getting married. The only thing he could figure out was that he was too damned impulsive. With Madeline he’d thought he had chosen more wisely. In her early forties when he’d met her, she was stunning to look at, had a great sense of humor, and was extraordinary in bed. He liked the fact that she was mature, sophisticated, and successful. He dated her for a year, seeing no other women during that time, before popping the question.
After the marriage she’d held him at the banquet table far longer than any of his other wives. But that had all gone south a year ago.
In his office Johnny stuffed a copy of the screenplay in an envelope for Kerney, filled out the airbill form, and phoned to have it picked up. Then he called his lawyer and left a message about his DWI arrest in Santa Fe. Finished with the small stuff, he dialed the private office number of Bill Esty, vice president in charge of programming at a cable sports network in New York.
“Is it wrapped up?” Esty asked.
“The film office is drafting the final contract. We can move ahead.”
“Johnny, we still have some