The Silver Screen Wars

12 - Price

Kodi pored over the papers, funneling every ounce of her willpower into staying focused and not allowing all the tiny lines to blur together into a mess before her eyes. She knew that a good deal of the text would be disclaimers in the event of injury or death resulting from her own negligence, but she didn't trust Bishop or his Stockholm Syndrome lawyer to not squeeze in questionable clauses somewhere between the thousands of innocuous letters.

She held the papers up to her nose, assiduously dividing the clauses section by section and flipping through the pages whenever one referred to another. Although that did beg the question of why she was expending so much effort for a venture she was sure she wasn't going to be participating in anyway... Perhaps it was just a spiteful motivation to find something specific to quibble over. As it was, the terms appeared almost completely standard - they didn't leave much room to doubt or wonder.

Thankfully, she had Monlavia to answer the several questions she did have.

"What does this mean?" She leaned over to shove his nose into the papers in her hands, covering their faces from the view of Bishop and Boyd sitting across the way.

He leaned in. "Which part?"

She jabbed at the offending lines with her finger.

"Oh, that. That's just to make sure you show up in the event that you're nominated or chosen for any awards. It's not a usual addition since most actors want to make that happen anyway, but there have been some precedents where they had disputes with the creative team and decided to forego -"

"So basically," she interrupted as she turned a severe look on the bald man, "this means I have to act like I enjoyed and appreciated the experience even if I didn't."

There was a flash of an uncomfortable look on his face, a mighty feat for someone of his preternaturally easygoing disposition. One corner of his mouth twitched upward in a cautious half-grin.

"Well, I think you'll find that even if you don't enjoy the experience, you'd still appreciate the recognition that comes from it."

Ahhh, what a careful, safe answer. Kodi lowered the papers and stared over the top of them at the two men sitting opposite her. Boyd was watching her attentively with his back ramrod straight and hands on his knees, but Bishop was lounging back and simply watching her the way he might observe a fish tank. An empty one.

She narrowed her eyes and then slowly raised the papers again. It was a few minutes later before she found the next point of grievance:

"My lodgings - what is this? I have to get a new place?"

This time, Jason understood the question even without a jabbing finger to point out the lines in question. "That. I was going to tell you about it after you did your first read-through in case you missed it," he said quickly. "Bishop has the idea that the cast will come together as a team far better if everyone stays under the same room for the duration of the preparation and filming. He'll take care of the expenses, but it'll be -"

"That's not going to happen."

"Hear me out," he said gently. "It'll only be for three months at the most. The film festival is only ninety one days away. You'll be living rent-free of course."

She dropped her hands into her lap with an incredulous frown. "I have my own place. I pay rent to live there. Why would I want to pay the rent if I can't even live there? I'm just giving them free money then. Also, three months? Is that even possible?"

"It is if you're me."

She looked up and locked stares with Bishop, who had now bent his knee and placed one shoe on the edge of the coffee table. Oh, how about that, she thought sourly. Any chance to stroke his own ego, and he would take it.

"Sounds crazy to me. Anyway, do I still get compensated if it busts and it doesn't finish in time?"

Good. She knew that would draw a reaction from him. He scowled at her and leaned forward with his hands gripping the armrests while she assiduously pretended to not even notice.

"It will finish in time," he said, and there was a tightness in his voice that indicated he was seconds away from exploding. "If I have to whip every ass out of bed and drive you onto the set myself -"

"Which won't be necessary since everyone will do what they have to do," Jason said hurriedly.

Kodi noticed keenly that he didn't say whether Bishop would actually do such a thing in the first place, whether it was just an exaggeration or not. Hm. She looked back over to the quietly fuming director and looked him up and down. Yes, she decided. He was the type of person who would.

She would love to see him try that on her. Her hands balled into fists in her lap as she contemplated sinking her fist directly into the middle of his face. She wondered how quickly she could vault herself over the coffee table, and not at all purely for hypothetical reasons.

"So the contract only lasts ninety days?"

This time, it was the lawyer who answered her question. "No, but it is significantly shorter than the standard at only 365 days - and Mr. Cassius fully expects the filming to be complete in less than ninety, as stated. After that, your only commitment will be to ensure your presence at any premium promotional events."

"And yet during the time of filming, I somehow need to be available...at all hours of the day? Is that even legal?"

"It is if you sign it, Kodiak Clyde."

She glared at Bishop. "So if you called me at three in the morning and told me to get to the set, there'd be nothing I can do about it?"

He c****d his head. "You and the rest of the cast will be staying at the place I designate. So I wouldn't have to call, I'd walk right in."

Was he for real?

"That's going to be a hard no from me, sir," she said. "Not happening. I know what it's like to share a limited space with you already, and I'm not going to like it."

"Your job isn't to like it," he snapped. "That's what I'm paying you for. If everyone only did what they liked, they wouldn't ever need to be bribed to do it."

"That's nice. But I'm not stupid enough to put myself in a situation that's already guaranteed to fail, and then you'll penalize me for that."

"What about this is guaranteed to fail?" he demanded.

He was sitting straight up now, both feet on the ground and fingers digging into the ends of his armrests. Was he about to leap at her throat, she wondered. Well, he was free to try. She would make sure to hit him where it counted at least once before she went down.

"Ninety days, not counting the time you need to edit and finalize the takes. How is that going to work? By making me stay up twenty four hours a day and then blaming things on me when they fall apart? Because that's what you two put into the contract" - she tossed the papers down onto the coffee table, the pages neatly splaying apart - "and then I have to bear appropriate responsibility if I end up not being at your beck and call whenever and wherever you want. Says as much right here, doesn't it?"

She could almost hear the grind of his jaw as he glared at her. Unbelievable. He was the one clearly in the wrong, and yet he had the audacity to be angry at her?

"Listen," she said unkindly, making sure her voice fully conveyed every ounce of anger and scorn bubbling up inside her. "I'm a human being, not a sweatshop. I'm not going to live in whatever tenement you've bought for the cast and wake up to you barging in whenever you want just because you feel like it. I want exact hours. Or barring that, a limited and definite window of hours per day."

"A window -"

"I committed fourteen hours a day in my first contract, excluding travel time," she interrupted. "And for the right price, a fair price, I might consider walking through that hell again. But all day availability with no stipulations attached? I'm not crazy. I already got threatened with a lawsuit over failing to commit when I ended up passing out on set, and I don't believe for a second you'll even hesitate where that's concerned. No amount of money in the world will tempt me to cut my own foot off like that."

"I'm not an i***t. Unless you're anemic, I'm not giving you a schedule that's going to make you pass out -"

"I'm supposed to take your word for it? What, based on your reputation? Give me a break."

Bishop was about to hurl back what was likely an insult, but Leonard edged in a reply first:

"That's a fair point. We can work on fine tuning and explaining the limitations of that a little more clearly."

Kodi's gaze darted over to the other man. Well, that was a surprise. Taking her side over his employer's? She almost admired him - until she saw him cringe at the glower Bishop immediately lobbed in his direction. The lawyer had been about to say something else, too, but those words were clearly long gone if his pinched, nervous face was any indication.

That was that, then. Even Bishop's man had agreed with her even if he promptly abandoned the stance a second later, which only confirmed that Kodi was being entirely reasonable. That was all the evidence she needed: Treating her this way because, what, she was an amateur? She couldn't imagine that the same back-breaking terms of contract would have been pushed onto Monlavia. Bishop was doing this because he assumed she was either too desperate or too stupid to know she was being set up for failure.

That was fine. She didn't mind being called an amateur - that was what she was. But after everything else he had put her through today, the insults, the snide comments, the reckless obliviousness to what anyone else wanted or needed, even making her change in front of him in his stupid car - she'd already had enough. She was going to take the nice clothes she was wearing now, the receipts, and consider the money she got for returning them as pay for her time.

"Wish I could have worked with you, Jason. Sucks. I'm getting my stuff out the car and showing myself out; you guys handle your business."

She didn't wait for an answer. Simmering in the injured fury of everything she had been saddled with today as well as the ridiculous demands he was making now, she shot to her feet and spun on her heel, ignoring Jason's hasty plea to calm down and give it a chance.

Give what a chance? Bishop Cassius, the man who'd used up all his chances already? He'd been an asshole from the first moment she walked into the audition until now. She didn't have to follow him to the site, didn't have to come all the way here to Monlavia's house with him. She could have told him to f**k off and then walked away. The only reason she had let him string her along - and yes, now she could finally admit it to herself - was because she couldn't quite let go of the possibility that this might be her big break.

It was a good thing that she suddenly remembered that shortcuts just weren't worth the pain. A year from now she might still be struggling for decent gigs, but at least she wouldn't have had to grovel at Bishop Cassius's feet for a drop of his prosperity. A better man, she would have tolerated. But not him.

The contract terms weren't even generous. Thirteen thousand dollars before taxes for three months? 2.5 percent residuals? The flat rate was decent, but she'd gotten far better royalty rates from her second semi-major gig. And then there had been the disclaimers for injuries that could easily be twisted to even include those that happened on set, disclaimers for this, that, everything. Now that she thought about it, the ninety day time frame wasn't so unreasonable in light of the fact that Bishop was demanding full-day availability for the entire duration. He'd work her to the bone and then toss her to the side when she was too exhausted to do anything else. And then he'd blame her for everything that happened, no doubt.

She knew the stories of the actors who had pissed off Bishop Cassius. One word, and he could bury them forever. If she was going to go out like that, too, then so be it - at least it wouldn't be based on her performance. He could complain to everyone all he liked about how she had turned him down, but he would never get the chance to say she'd been incompetent.

Well, not in her lifetime. f**k him and his trap of a contract.

She was out the door and trotting down the steps within seconds, shoes slapping on stone before hitting the asphalt. She didn't remember Bishop locking his car. He'd better not have, she thought. She wasn't walking home without her old clothes or the receipts.

Somehow she missed the sound of footsteps behind her until it was too late. A hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around when her hand was inches away from the car door, pushed her back into the vehicle and held her there.

"You son of a b***h -"

"How about you hold the temper," Bishop said icily, "until after I tell you what you'll get out of this."

"Get your f*****g hand off me -"

"Sign the contract, and I'll wire you a p*****t so massive that you'll have to store it offshore when the job's done. Get me? I'll cover your f*****g rent in the meantime. I'll take care of everything. Just sign the f*****g thing, Kodiak Clyde."

She wrenched his hand off her shoulder and presented him with a middle finger in his face. He didn't even blink.

"Listen," he said. "You do this, and you'll never have to work another day in your life. After this, if you stay in the biz, you'll do it on your own terms. I promise you that."

Her mouth curled into a venomous scowl. "How much?"

"Boyd will set you up when the time comes with an account -"

"How much?"

He gave her a long look.

"Name your price."