“Pretty amazing, huh?” Amber said. She pointed out where red velvet ropes remained at the top of the grand staircase and across a few other doorways. Other doors were closed. Apparently, renting the facility for an evening did not include unlimited access to the seventy rooms. It would be interesting to see how the evening unfolded.
“Yes, indeed.”
“My parents hang with a pretty well-off crowd in Santa Fe,” Amber said behind her champagne glass, “but I tell you, it’s nothing of this caliber.”
Pen chuckled softly. “There’s not much of this caliber in the world anymore, if you’re referring to the mansion,” she said under her breath. “It’s a bygone era. As for the guests, I sense a fair number of people somewhat out of their depth. These aren’t donors who can freely give money in the millions, but they’d love the opportunity to rub elbows with Hollywood, perhaps visit a movie set or attend a premier, in exchange for a hundred grand or two of their hard-earned savings.” She passed along her quick calculation of what the crowd might be worth.
“Whew!” Amber almost said it a bit loudly. She lowered her voice. “So, you think it’s all about the star power.”
“Look closely. Off-the-rack tuxedos, dresses from Nordstrom, not Versace. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. These people are simply at a different level financially than those who pull in millions a year.”
“That makes me feel better—less out of my depth,” Amber said. “Although I still fit in better at a Beyoncé concert.”
Pen was about to respond when one of the young women dressed in black, with an Intrepid Dog Pictures logo on her jacket, approached. With a warm smile, she offered to show them to their table. Place cards dictated that they would be seated at a five-place table with a couple from New York and a single woman who introduced herself as Maisie Brown. The husband and wife pair—Joe and Virginia—seemed a little quiet, as if the whole experience was a shade beyond their experience. Maisie fairly bubbled with excitement, however.
“I just can’t wait to see what Rob has in store for us tonight,” she said.
Five waiters, with plates in hand, set a salad before each of the diners at the same moment.
“You appear to be familiar with Mr. Williams and his business,” Pen said to Maisie. “You know him personally?”
“I feel like I do,” the other woman said. “This will be my second picture with him.”
“You’re an actor?” Amber asked.
“Oh, heavens no! I’m purely an investor. I love being involved, but from the sidelines. I tell you, there’s nothing like attending a premier. We all get flown to Hollywood, and there’s a red carpet, and the stars come. I mean, the stars of the movie, of course, but a lot of their friends come too, and they sit in the audience right with the rest of us. Even though everybody’s all dressed up, we get popcorn and Cokes, and we laugh together …”
Joe and Virginia were a little wide-eyed at this point.
“I mean, it’s really a special experience,” Maisie said. “My friends back home can’t believe I get to do this. And, you know, I tell Jane Simmons … I say, well maybe if you’d saved more back in your days as a banker, well maybe you’d be investing in Rob’s films now, right along with me.”
“So, the return on your investment in the films has been good?” Pen asked.
“Oh my.” Maisie raised a hand to her chest, her gaze rising. “I can’t even tell you.”
The main courses arrived just then, exactly as ordered when they had procured their tickets, salmon for Amber and a fork-tender filet for Pen. Conversation waned for a few minutes, until Pen turned to Maisie once again.
“I’m curious about something. A friend invested in one of Rob’s films a couple of years ago, but she hasn’t heard much about the finished picture.”
Maisie laid down her silverware and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “You know, I’m still not sure how that works. It does seem to take awhile to produce these things. Tell her to be patient. If Rob Williams is behind it, it’s going to be a great movie.”
Amber caught Pen’s eye as the waiters again appeared and began removing plates. Obviously, her young cohort wanted to discuss something she couldn’t say at the table. They were about to excuse themselves to the ladies room when the lights flickered and a voice came through on a speaker.
“Ladies and gentlemen. In a moment, over your desserts, we’ll begin Mr. Williams’s presentation.”
Precisely on cue, plates containing slivers of a rich chocolate cake, drizzled with an attractive ribbon of raspberry puree, appeared from each diner’s left side. Pen noticed the red decoration had been formed in the shape of a strip of film. In the uppermost frame of the filmstrip was a tiny, almost imperceptible dollar sign. She wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t looked directly at it before the lights dimmed.
At the end of the room a white projection screen began to lower from the second floor balcony’s stone balustrade. Sparkles and crisscrossed klieg lights showed on the screen, and an extremely handsome man in tuxedo stepped into the spotlight beneath it.
An unseen announcer said: “Ladies and gentlemen—Mr. Robert Williams!”
With the collective intake of breath, it felt as if the air had been sucked from the room.
Chapter 6
Williams took a bow, his hands in prayer position, and gave a tiny salute to the audience. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” His voice cracked the tiniest bit, right on cue.
Pen tapped Amber’s leg beneath the table. Amber casually laid her notebook beside her dessert plate, shifting herself and her place setting slightly to aim the hidden camera toward the speaker and the oversized screen. She gave a slight shrug to Pen. I don’t know if we’ll capture anything.
“We are all so honored to welcome you here as our guests,” Williams continued. “Isn’t this a special place?”
Across the table, Pen saw the New York couple nodding, soaking up all that honor. Maisie Brown seemed starry-eyed.
“The Breakers is a very special place to me, because …” a long pause “… because this is where we’ll be filming a large part of our next production! Yes, folks, you heard it here first because this is a new announcement. Trust me, the networks will be all over this in a few days, but you—you—are the first to know. And you’re the first to know because you will be a part of it.”
He turned, one arm upraised, sweeping the large room with his gaze.
“We’re signing a full cast of A-Listers for this one, folks. Liam Neeson, Kate Winslow, Julia Roberts, Sean Connery. That’s right.” His tone dropped to an intimate level. “I know—can you imagine what the premier’s going to look like? I know a lot of you in this room have been with me on previous films. Some of you have been on the set, a lot of you have been to premier night. Yeah. Yeah! You know the excitement, that feeling of sitting next to Julia or Sean in the audience.”
Scattered applause went up, joined in a moment by nearly the entire audience. At their table, Maisie was practically on her feet.
“Okay, I know—you want to know. What’s the story line? What are the roles? What’s going to draw millions of people and hundreds of millions of dollars in returns for our investment in this film?”
Pen recognized the familiarity as a common sales pitch—our investment, you know the excitement … The guy was very good at this.
“Hey, everyone—let’s not wait any longer!”
The spotlight went out, the screen brightened, and dramatic music filled the room, reverberating off the stone walls and marble columns. The familiar recorded voice began the litany, the setup for a psychological thriller pitting two sisters against an evil, shadowy father. The setting in the background did, indeed, appear to be the famous mansion where the party had convened. Pen had a momentary thought that perhaps this man was for real, that a couple of the big movie stars might step into the spotlight at the moment the trailer ended. She shook off the thought—these were skilled Hollywood production people. They could make their vie
wers believe anything.
Amber had lifted the cover of her notebook and tilted it, getting a good angle on the screen. If the images came out halfway decently, the Heist Ladies could take their time and analyze them later. To cover her movements, she’d pulled out a pen and was making notes on the page.
The music rose to a crescendo, then dropped off abruptly.
“Wow,” came a woman’s voice through the microphone. The screen withdrew and the spotlight was back. This time an efficient-looking brunette woman in a perfectly tailored business suit stood in the light, holding the microphone. “Does this look like an Oscar winner, or what!”
Many in the audience cheered.
“All right, the big moment is upon us, and Rob and his associate producers are available to meet with you, one-on-one, and you’ll surely want to have your checkbooks ready.” The brunette delivered her lines with a quirky smile. “Meanwhile, finish your desserts and enjoy this beautiful place, and soon we’ll have carriage rides around the grounds—it’s just beautiful out there on this crisp autumn evening.”
The lights came up, and within moments young men and women in the black uniform with the logo began appearing beside the diners.
“Ms. Fitzpatrick?” said a twenty-something girl with blonde hair in a tight bun. “Come with me. Your assistant is welcome to join a group for the mansion tour.”
With subtle assurance, the girl guided Pen from the table and made sure Amber was steered to another assistant who already had a group of about ten he was leading toward the grand staircase. Amber gave a backward glance at Pen, her eyes conveying that she would learn as much as she could.
Very efficient management of our movements, Pen thought as she was escorted down a marble corridor to an elegant sitting room. Six small round tables had been set up, each with two chairs on one side and a tuxedoed man in another chair facing them. Couples sat at four of the tables and another single woman at the fifth. Pen was taken to the sixth. Because of the size of the room, she realized right away that conversations could not be overheard between them. A boiler room, billionaire style.
By the luck of the draw, she was seated facing Rob Williams himself. He’d apparently consulted some kind of cheat-sheet because he greeted her by name and knew she was a novelist.
“You know, Ms. Fitzpatrick, we’re always considering new material for scripts, and I have a feeling your book could be our next big find.”
Master flatterer. “Oh, which title are you most interested in?”
His research hadn’t gone quite that deep, but he was smooth. “They’re all good. Why don’t you send me the one you would most like to see brought to film.”
She sent him a tight smile.
“Meanwhile, I know you’re here because you know a great investment when it’s presented.” Repeating two or three of the same points he’d made during the presentation, he pulled out the contract. In less than thirty seconds, he had filled in her name on the blank line near the top.
“Well, Mr. Williams—”
“Please. It’s Rob.”
How apt, since it’s what you do. “Yes, well, Rob. I’m very intrigued with this. One of the women at our table just couldn’t say enough about what a wonderful opportunity it is. And I’m sure that’s true. All I need to do is take the contract to my business manager, have him review the terms, and a check will be coming your way.”
Not signing on the spot was obviously a common objection because Rob was ready with an answer.
“Mm, that’s too bad,” he said. “You did understand from the presentation that this is an extremely limited opportunity. The terms we set forth here …” He turned the contract to face toward Pen, but kept his Montblanc waving back and forth across the page just enough to make it impossible for her to focus on the print. “These types of returns don’t come along often, and for you to be included on the initial offering, I’m afraid we must have your commitment tonight. Surely you understand.” His face rendered a perfect sympathetic smile.
Oh, I understand. More than you know.
“The contract appears to be quite concise,” she said. “Shall I just give it a quick read, then?”
She’d gripped the edge of the pages before he could react. As she suspected, the two-page document was short on promises and vague on payouts and timeframes. She reminded herself the goal was to get out of here tonight with a copy of the contract, no matter what it took. She set an eager expression on her face.
“Is a credit card all right as a deposit? I assure you, it has a six-figure credit limit, with the full amount available right now. A letter of credit or wire transfer shall follow for the balance, Monday morning when the bank opens.”
“Absolutely. Just fill in your banking information here … and add your signature at the bottom.” He handed her the Montblanc pen.
“Just one thing,” she said, lowering her voice. “Penelope Fitzpatrick is actually a pen name. I’ll just need to—”
She blacked out the space where he’d written her name and filled it with the name of one of her fictional characters, Clarissa Claremore. A random string of digits went into the spaces for banking information, and she signed the bottom line—C. Claremore—in an unreadable flourish. In the space labelled Amount of Investment, she wrote $200,000. There—that should make the man extremely happy.
“Thank you so much, Ms. Fitz—um, Ms. Claremore. I assure you, you will be among those most handsomely rewarded when the box office returns come in. And, I shall personally make certain you have a seat at Julia’s table on Oscar night.”
He reached for the contract, but Pen managed to be quicker.
“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll mail you a copy of this in the morning,” he said.
No way. This must be exactly why Janice had no copy of the document she had signed.
“I’m sorry. That doesn’t work for me. This is a mansion, granted, but there’s a business office attached somewhere. We’ll simply go there now and make the needed copies.” She gripped the contract and stood up.
Rob’s mouth pinched tightly in a straight line, but Pen still had the upper hand. She noticed the turnover at other tables. Couples who had completed their contracts had been escorted out and new faces were coming in. In fact, the same young woman who had escorted her into the room was standing at the doorway with new customers. He wouldn’t want a scene.
“Shall we find that business office?” Pen pressed.
Rob signaled his employee over and told her to show Ms. Fitzpatrick to the copy machine. He muttered something that sounded like a demand that the girl bring back the original, not the copy, but the moment he looked up he was once again all smiles. All those zeros were counting for something.
“A pleasure,” he said, even as he was walking toward the new victims waiting at the door.
Although her escort had been sent with orders about getting the contract original, she’d also been well schooled in politeness. Pen had no trouble keeping control of the document as they walked to a narrower corridor and into an office. She operated the copier herself, rather than turning the pages over to the employee. It was crucial that no trickery occur.
Her handler stayed with her throughout the process, saying something into a previously unseen microphone. The only part Pen caught was her own name. They left the office area, traversed the great hall again, where all signs of dinner had vanished, leaving only the white-clothed tables and red floral centerpieces. Beyond the great hall, doors opened to a wide veranda where a few people milled about.
Pen’s escort touched her elbow and indicated Amber standing near the edge, with a white horse-drawn carriage coming to a stop in front of her. One of the uniformed escorts was standing beside her.
“How was the tour of the mansion?” Pen asked, as the two were handed up into the carriage.
“Wow,” Amber said. “It’s the most amazing place. Hard to believe people actually lived like this. It seems like a fairy tale.”
“It does, doesn’t it? And to
think I’m now an investor. Rob told me I’ll be hearing from him and we may be invited to come to the set sometime,” Pen said with a wink, assuming the coachmen were part of the enemy camp.
The carriage ride lasted no more than ten minutes, ending at the front of the property where Pen’s hired limousine waited, idling. Incredible timing, she thought cynically. She thought back to the subtle hand signals, the brief radio exchange, the many escorts who made certain every guest was exactly where he or she was supposed to be. Nothing had been left to chance, and she supposed that’s how it had to be with such big money involved.
Chapter 7
“I could use a cup of tea,” Pen said.
Back at the hotel, each had changed into something soft and comfortable and they’d met in the suite’s sitting area. Pen had set the contract on the coffee table and was figuring out the instructions for the room’s little beverage device.
“I’m definitely too keyed up to sleep yet,” Amber agreed. “Is it too late to call Arizona? Maybe we should report to Gracie.”
Pen looked at her watch. “Ten o’clock here, so it’s only eight there. Let’s do it.”
Pen brought up Gracie’s number on her mobile phone and set it where both could hear over the speaker.
“What’s happened?” Gracie asked immediately. “How did it go?”
“Well, I can easily see how your mother got hooked into this, and why she can’t find any paperwork other than the glossy brochures. The guy is a master at the game,” Pen said. She described the intense atmosphere of the boiler room, even though it had taken place in a dazzling setting. “Even easier to intimidate average people when you put them into surroundings like that.”
“The couple from New York, Joe and Virginia, they were really out of their element,” Amber said. “After you were taken away, they were looking around for the exit, but one of those assistants practically jumped right on them.”
“I saw them in the sales room,” Pen said, “but you know who I didn’t see … the other woman, Maisie Brown. I was thinking about that during the carriage ride. I have a very strong feeling she was planted there among the rest of us. Did you notice that? Each table had one or two who were the most enthusiastic, the ones who always started the applause or the cheers when Rob Williams appeared.”
Movie Mogul Mama Page 3
