Slow Kill - Michael Mcgarrity [127]
The hostess came to escort them to their table, and they were seated next to a group of eight women loudly discussing a planned fund-raising event for a local charity. Over their noisy chatter, Kerney again asked Johnny what he’d been doing over the past years.
“Sports management, for one,” Johnny said, taking a menu from the server, “and media relations. Most of my clients are pro rodeo cowboys, but I’ve got a few up-and-coming country singers in my stable and some minor league baseball players who have the talent to make it to the big show. But I’m branching out. That’s why I wanted to see you.”
A server appeared with menus and recited the specials. Johnny ordered a salad, steak, and another whiskey. Kerney went with the asparagus soup and lamb. “Are you in town on business?” he asked. “Or just to see me?”
Johnny leaned back and grinned devilishly. “Both, but it’s all business. I met with the director of the state film office yesterday and the governor today. You’re the last person on my list.”
“So are you going to tell me what business you have with me, or is it a secret?” Kerney asked.
“You’re gonna love it, Kerney. I’ve just brokered a deal to film a movie in New Mexico. It will be produced by a cable channel network and a Hollywood film company, costar two of my clients, and be shot entirely in the state. The governor and the state film office are putting a chunk of money into it.”
“Sounds like quite an undertaking.”
Johnny spread his hands wide to match the grin on his face. “It’s big, and it’s gonna be a hell of a lot of fun. I want to bring you in on it.”
“Doing what?” Kerney asked, as the server brought Johnny his whiskey.
“First let me tell you the fun part,” Johnny said. “The movie is a modern-day western about a rancher who’s facing bankruptcy due to drought and the loss of grazing leases on federal land. He decides to fight back by mounting a fifty-mile cattle drive to dramatize his plight. But when he tries to drive his cattle across closed federal land, the government bars his access. The story takes off from there.”
“I’ve always liked a good western,” Kerney said. “Let me know when it hits the theaters.”
Johnny laughed as the server placed his salad on the table. “Hear me out. The fun part is that we’re filming some of it on my father’s ranch in the Bootheel, and we plan to hire as many New Mexico cowboys, wranglers, stuntmen, stockmen, extras, and qualified film technicians as possible. That’s part of our deal with the state. I want Dale Jennings to be a wrangler and you to be a technical advisor on the film.”
“So that’s why you talked to Dale,” Kerney said. “What did he say?”
“He’s gonna do it.”
Kerney tried the asparagus soup. It was good. “You can hire whomever you want?” he asked.
Johnny, who hated tomatoes, picked them out of the salad and put them on the edge of the plate. “For the key, nontechnical New Mexico personnel, I can. I’m an executive producer for the project. The story line was my idea. I’m even getting a screenwriting credit for it.”
“I’m impressed. When does all this take place?”
“In September, after the rainy season, when it’s not so damn hot.”
“I’ve got a full-time job, Johnny.”
‘We’re talking about three weeks on location, maximum. That’s all you have to commit to. Use your vacation time. You’ll get top dollar, housing, meals, transportation, and expenses. Plus, you can bring the wife and your son along gratis. In fact, we’ll hire them as extras. That’s what I promised to do with Dale’s wife and daughters.”
Johnny finished his greens and slugged back his whiskey. “We have a ninety-day shooting schedule. Three weeks in the Bootheel to do the major cowboy and rodeoing stuff, then some other location filming around the state in Silver City and Las Cruces. We’ll do the set work here in Santa Fe at the sound studios on the college campus. We’re hiring film students as apprentices.”
Kerney put his spoon down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Sounds like a major undertaking.”
“It’s big,” Johnny replied. “My sister, Julia, is in on it.