Slow Kill - Michael Mcgarrity [132]
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 issues to clear up.”
“What issues?” Johnny demanded. “I’ve got a movie deal in the bag that will feature two ex-national pro rodeo stars, two up-and-coming Hispanic cowboys from the circuit, and a screenplay with a humdinger of a gut-busting rodeo in it.”
“We know all that,” Esty said slowly, “but it’s been suggested that rodeo may already be nearing its saturation point. Bull riding is on cable almost every night, and the numbers aren’t moving.”
“Rodeo is much more than bull riding,” Johnny said, “and right now everyone is presenting it in the same old way. Like we’ve been saying, this is a chance to do for rodeo what the X-Games did for skateboarders and snowboarders. We can take this sport to the next level on your network.”
“If I didn’t think there was a chance of that, we’d have stopped talking a while ago. But I don’t have a completely open field here.”
“This movie is going to generate a wave of interest in rodeoing and cowboys. Do you really want to be standing on the sidelines when I produce the first rodeo Super Bowl? I’ve got the talent already tied up, sponsors interested, and an agreement in the works with two pro rodeo associations.”
“The project isn’t off the table, Johnny,” Esty said. “Now that I know you have the full funding, I’ll talk to the Spanish-language television people in Florida and Mexico City about taking the next step and formally bidding on a share of the rights.”
“Why have they been dragging their heels?”
“It’s human nature in the television business,” Esty replied. “No one wants to go out on a limb with a project that doesn’t already have the market’s seal of approval. But they loved the footage of your Hispanic cowboys, Lovato and Maestas. Now that the production financing is nailed down, I don’t think it will take too long to bring them on board.”
Johnny had put every dime he had into developing the movie. He’d get a producer ’s fee for the film and an agent’s fee for the cowboys who had appearances in the movie, but he was out advances against the rodeo stars he’d signed up for the new circuit. Unless he could get corporate sponsorships and seal the deal with Espy, his super rodeo circuit would be dead in the water and he’d be bankrupt.
“When do you expect a response?” he asked.
“No telling,” Esty replied. “But I’d like to see us finalize contract negotiations by this summer. If it all falls into place, we can start preproduction right away, and you’ll have a contract.”
Johnny heard footsteps in the hallway. “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.” He hung up to find Madeline staring at him from the doorway with a composed look on her face. Five-three with narrow hips, dancer’s legs, and pert little breasts, she was built just the way Johnny liked them. Her jaw was set, her eyes were frosty, and she didn’t look at all happy to see him.
“You’re back early,” he said with a grin. “I didn’t expect you home until