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“Yes, Mr. Goldman,” Peter said, “I’m an admirer of your work as a producer, particularly Chain Letter.”
Goldman looked surprised. “Well, Peter, you have an eye for quality, but perhaps not for commercial success. That one was my worst turkey.”
“Oh, I liked Blast, too,” Peter said. “And I liked your father’s work when he was running Centurion.”
Goldman roared. “That’s more like it. Let’s sit.” He waved them to a round conference table in a corner, and after a few pleasantries, Goldman launched into a description of his first year at the helm, covering grosses and expenses along the way. He talked nonstop for forty minutes, also covering his production plans for the coming year and a number of TV pilots that were currently in production. “Any questions?” he asked when he was done.
“Not from me,” Stone said. “I think you’ve covered everything I could have asked.”
“That goes for me, too,” Mike Freeman replied.
“May I ask a question?” Peter said, half raising his hand.
The three men stared at him.
“Of course, Peter,” Goldman said.
“I noticed that three of the new productions that you’ve mentioned are budgeted at between seventy and eighty million dollars, whereas in the past Centurion has always kept its budgets in the fifty-million-dollar range. Why the increase?”
Goldman blinked. “You’ve been reading the annual reports, haven’t you?”
“I read everything about Centurion,” Peter said. “It interests me.”
“Well, there are three things that have increased these budgets: creeping rises in general costs, which are inevitable; increased salaries for the stars of those films, who are all hot young actors; and the fact that all three of those pictures are action-based and shot on location, instead of just ordinary in-studio productions.”
“Do you think the grosses will justify the increases in budgets?” Peter asked.
“I think the grosses will more than justify the increases,” Goldman said, “and if I’m wrong, I’ll be answering to Stone, Mike, and the other directors this time next year.”
“Thank you,” Peter said.
“Anything else, gentlemen? Peter?”
All three shook their heads. “We’ll let you get back to work, Leo,” Stone said, rising.
As they took their leave, pausing at the office door to shake hands, Peter spoke up again. “Mr. Goldman, I hope this isn’t an imposition, but I wonder if I could ask your opinion about something I’m working on.”
“Sure, Peter. What are you working on?”
Peter opened his leather envelope and handed Goldman a bound sheaf of papers and a DVD. “I’m making a film at school, and this is the script and a recording of the seventy minutes I’ve already shot. I’d appreciate it very much if you could find time to take a look at it and let me know what you think. I could use some expert advice.”
Goldman received the script and the disc. “Where can I get in touch with you?”
“At Stone’s, for the next two weeks,” Peter replied.
“I’ll be in touch,” Goldman said.
The three left the building, and Peter did some window-shopping while Stone and Mike talked.
“How old is that kid?” Mike asked.
“Fifteen, going on sixteen.”
“Going on forty,” Mike said. “He certainly knows how to take advantage of an opportunity, and he has charm, too. Have you looked at his script or the recording?”
Stone shook his head. “I knew nothing about it. He asked if he could come to our meeting, said he was a student of film, but no more than that.”
Mike shook his head and laughed. “He’s got enough chutzpah for the film business.”
