Sean Rosen Is Not for Sale

by Jeff Baron

  “The music business is huge. Everyone doesn’t know everyone. Maybe your dad’s friend can help Taxadurmee.”

  “Leave him out of it. You’re the one who said you could help. Whoever this Dave Motts is, why is he taking so long to listen to two songs?”

  “I don’t know, Brianna. He’s probably very busy.”

  “With what? Your movie? What movie? Now you have a movie? Did you just make all this up to impress Buzz?”

  Thank goodness the bell rang. What is happening? Everyone who used to like me is suddenly mad at me. I just want to go somewhere and hide.

  I came home after school, grabbed my laptop, and sat down at the dining-room table. That’s where I sit when I have to do serious work. I didn’t let myself have a snack. I didn’t look at email, mine or Dan Welch’s. I closed out of the internet so I wouldn’t even be tempted.

  I just sat there and wrote my short story. My dad came home. He saw me at the dining-room table concentrating really hard and typing really fast, so he didn’t even say hello. I didn’t either. I wanted to stay inside the story.

  It’s about a quiet man who’s in the library every day, reading books and taking notes. No one knows anything about him, except his name. Clyde.

  One day Clyde doesn’t come to the library. He doesn’t come the next day either. On the third day, the librarians start to get worried about him.

  Clyde is not a friendly guy. He never even says hello to the librarians, who he sees every day. Still, they’re used to him being there, sitting at the same table, concentrating really hard on whatever book he’s reading and taking pages and pages of notes on yellow paper.

  He brings his own pencil sharpener, and sometimes when he leaves at the end of the day, they find his pencil sharpenings on the table. He usually stays until the library closes, and he keeps working until the end, so he doesn’t have time to clean up.

  On the fourth day that Clyde doesn’t come to the library, Becky, one of the librarians, decides to try to find out why. She doesn’t tell the other librarians, but she’s really worried about Clyde.

  She doesn’t even know if he has a library card, because he never takes out books. When she’s alone at the front desk, she secretly does a search of the thousands of people with library cards. There’s only one person named Clyde. It’s probably him.

  There’s no phone number, but there’s an address. If you want a library card, you have to bring in something with your address on it. Maybe when he first started coming, Clyde thought he would want to take out books.

  After work, even though she knows she shouldn’t, Becky goes to that address to see if it’s the right Clyde, and to see if he’s okay. She gets to a small house. There’s a light on. She’s a little nervous, but she rings the doorbell. She doesn’t hear any sound, and no one comes to the door. She rings it again. And again.

  She thinks maybe the doorbell is broken, so she knocks on the door. The door just opens. It wasn’t completely closed. She doesn’t know what to do.

  “Clyde?”

  No one answers.

  “Clyde, are you in there?”

  No one answers.

  “Clyde, it’s Becky from the library.”

  There’s no sound.

  “Oh. You probably don’t know our names. I’m the one you ask to watch your stuff when you go to the bathroom.”

  She still doesn’t hear anything. She decides to go in.

  No one’s there. There are piles of things everywhere. You can’t tell from looking at the house if someone robbed it, or if someone just lives like this.

  Becky knows she should just stop now and leave, but she can’t. She’s always been curious about Clyde, and sometimes, when he goes to the bathroom, she sneaks a look at what he’s writing on that yellow paper he uses. It’s always a lot of numbers and symbols, and words she doesn’t know, even though she’s very smart.

  She can see through the kitchen that the back door is open too. She walks through the kitchen, which isn’t as bad as she thought it would be, and goes into the backyard.

  It’s not that big, but there’s a tall fence around it. She can tell that Clyde wants privacy, and that makes her think she should leave. Just then, she notices a big circle on the ground where the grass looks burned.

  She decides to leave. She goes back inside. She isn’t sure if she should touch anything, including the back door, but she feels funny leaving it open. She does, though, and then walks back through the house. On her way to the front door, she sees something she didn’t see before.

  It’s a library book. Becky knows that Clyde never checks out books, so she’s surprised to see one. She goes over and looks closely, and sure enough, it’s from her library. Clyde must have stolen it. Becky is surprised, because she never thought of Clyde as a thief.

  The name of the book is Thermal Propulsion Theory. It’s a complicated science book, but looking at it, Becky can see that it’s about launching and flying a spacecraft, using solar power. She sees that someone wrote notes in pencil inside the book. It looks like Clyde’s handwriting.

  Did Clyde build a rocket? Did he launch himself into space? Becky looks around and doesn’t see a note anywhere. She decides she really has to leave. She didn’t touch anything, except for the library book. Part of her wants to take the book back to the library, but she decides to leave it where it is. She moves the front door with her leg so it looks closed, even though it’s really not, just like when she got there.

  Becky goes home and searches the internet to see if any rockets crashed anywhere in the world this week. She doesn’t find anything.

  Clyde never comes back to the library. When the other librarians talk about Clyde and where he might be, Becky doesn’t say anything. Part of it is that she knows she shouldn’t have gone into his house. The other part is that she knows Clyde didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing.

  But now, at night, whenever Becky looks up at the stars, she says, “Hi, Clyde. Hope you’re okay.”

  Chapter 15

  I kept writing until I finished. Then I printed it out, read it over, made some changes, then printed it out again. It’s dark outside. Hours went by, and I didn’t even notice. My dad heard me get up and yelled from the family room, “Pizza okay?” That means my mom is working a double shift.

  “Okay.”

  “When?”

  “Forty-five minutes?”

  “Okay.”

  I read my story out loud again. Quietly, so my dad wouldn’t think I was still talking to him. That’s the way I proofread, and you also get to hear how it’s going to sound to whoever else is going to read it.

  I’m glad I did, because I ended up changing about ten things. Which meant I had to print it again. It uses up a lot of paper and ink to do it this way, but I think it’s worth it (even though it’s not me paying for the paper and ink). If it’s going to be late, I want it to be good. With writing, I always want it to be good.

  My dad and I sometimes have pizza on trays in front of the TV, but I told him I want to eat in the kitchen tonight. I have more work to do, and I don’t want to get interested in a TV show. I might be tempted to keep watching it.

  “Why so serious, Seany?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “You know. But if you don’t want to tell me, don’t.”

  Do I want to tell him?

  “Well . . . I forgot to do an English assignment.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “Now it’s done.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  He’s starting to sound like my mom. She’s the detective in the family. I guess it’s rubbing off on him.

  “Oh . . . I told some friends I’d help them with something.”

  “And now you don’t want to?”

  “No. I want to. I just don’t know if I can. I mean if I’m actually able to. You know, actually help them.”

  “Did you try?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?”


  I had to think about that.

  “I’ve been busy. But that’s not it. I guess I’m afraid I’ll find out I really can’t help them.”

  “And you don’t want to let them down?”

  “I don’t. But it’s more than that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t know . . . I liked the feeling. You know, of being someone who can do things for people. Of having them think I’m like . . . important or something.”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean. Be careful with that, Seany. That’s part of what got my father in trouble.”

  Oh, no. I am like Grandpa.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He made the people whose money he stole feel like they were lucky to be in business with him. That was part of the turn-on for him. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Sort of.”

  “He liked feeling important. He liked the feeling that people were chasing after him. His customers, I mean. Not the law.”

  I got a sick feeling. It sounds exactly like me with the bidding war.

  “Seany . . . maybe you don’t want me to talk about Grandpa.”

  “No, no. I do. Really. I want to know about him. I just don’t want to be like him.”

  “I don’t think you are.”

  “I hope not. I do like feeling important sometimes.”

  “Everyone does. But the best way to be important to your friends is to be a good friend.”

  I thought about that.

  “You’re right.” I got up.

  “All done?”

  “Yeah. Is that okay? I gotta go see if I can actually help these friends.”

  “Go.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I started to run out of the kitchen. Then I stopped.

  “You don’t know anyone in the music business, do you?”

  He thought for a few seconds.

  “Bar mitzvah deejay?”

  “Thanks anyway.”

  Okay, let’s figure this out. What can I actually do for Taxadurmee? What can Dave Motts do?

  I can put their music on my website. But what good would that do? I like my podcasts and my songs, but Buzz’s songs are very, very different. I actually don’t think that SeanRosen.com is the right place for Taxadurmee.

  I guess I can think about who else in music reminds me of Taxadurmee, and then I can look up those bands and try to find the companies they work with. Then Dave Motts can send the MP3 to those companies, and maybe they’ll like Taxadurmee and want to buy their songs.

  That sounds like a lot of work. I still have my own career. Plus I have to go to school. And turn in English papers on time.

  Why did I tell them I could help? Oh. I remember. Doug made me. I’m supposed to get my manager, Dave Motts, to be their manager, too.

  All I really promised them was that I would get Dave Motts to listen to their songs. That I can actually do. I know Dave Motts. I am Dave Motts. Okay, so Dave Motts will listen to their songs. He’ll like them too. I know he will. But then what?

  I remember the first time I read something nice Dan Welch wrote about me. It made me feel good. Not good. Great.

  I know. I wrote it myself. You think I’m crazy. You’re right. But still. It gave me confidence. So here we go.

  To: Sean Rosen

  From: Dave Motts

  Dear Sean,

  First I have to apologize for the long delay getting back to you. I didn’t want to tell you until I was absolutely sure about this, but I am both glad and sad to tell you that I am retiring from being a manager.

  Our kids are grown, and my wife has always wanted to live in South America, so we are moving to Paraguay. I will miss the entertainment business, but I’m looking forward to this adventure. I’m sorry we never got to work together. You have a lot of energy and some good ideas. Keep trying.

  I listened to the MP3 you sent me. You’re right. Taxadurmee has a unique sound. I like them and so do my kids. I would pass along the MP3 to someone, but the people I know are in film and television, not music.

  Please tell the band I think they’re on the right track. They should definitely keep writing songs, and play for audiences whenever they can. Tell them to make some YouTube videos, and to send their music to people in the music business.

  Sorry I can’t help the band or you, but for whatever it’s worth, I’m a fan. Good luck.

  Best,

  Dave

  I’m not going to say this to Buzz, because I don’t want to make any more promises to my friends that I might not be able to keep, but I actually think the best thing I can do for Taxadurmee right now is to keep working on my movie and on my big idea. If I actually get into the entertainment business, that’s when I’ll be able to help my friends. Especially the talented ones.

  I saved this in Dave Motts’s email account. I’m not going to do anything with it right now, because I don’t want it to look like Dave Motts finally wrote back on the exact day that Brianna yelled at me.

  Next I’m going to do my homework. I’m getting so much done today. Staying off the internet really works. It’s a miracle. Nice work, Seany.

  Okay. Homework. Here I go. Stay away from the laptop. Okay. In five minutes, I absolutely promise I’m going to start my homework. After one very, very quick look at Dan Welch’s email.

  Finally! Something from Hank Hollywood! No. From Hank Hollywood’s assistant. Kendra.

  To: Dan Welch Management

  From: Hank Hollywood Assist.

  Dear Mr. Welch,

  We are updating Hank’s database, and we’re missing a few pieces of information. At your earliest convenience, would you or your assistant send us the following:

  —the phone number for Dan Welch Management

  —the street address for Dan Welch Management

  —the logline for A Week with Your Grandparents

  Thank you in advance.

  Best,

  Kendra _____________

  Executive Assistant to Hank Hollywood

  I’m confused. There’s nothing about setting up a meeting to talk about the big idea. Why not? What’s a logline? Why do they want Dan Welch’s address and phone number?

  I don’t know what to do, but my five minutes are up. I’m going to keep my promise and do my homework. We’ll figure this out later.

  Chapter 16

  School today was . . . school. I still can’t believe how long each day is, but knowing all my homework was done actually felt good. I turned in my story. Miss Meglis gave me a fake mad look when I handed it to her, but then she smiled. I smiled too, because I think she’s going to like that story. And she’s still my favorite teacher.

  Brianna ignored me all day. She ignores a lot of people, but usually not me. I decided to ignore her ignoring, because I know I’m going to bring in the letter from Dave Motts tomorrow. Anyway, she isn’t thinking about me. She’s “In a Relationship.”

  On my way home, I stopped and said hello to Baxter, who was outside his house. “Sorry, Baxter. I have to go home. I have a date with destiny.” You can get away with saying things like that to an animal.

  I was happy no one was home. I grabbed some lemonade and pretzels and ran up to my room. I opened my laptop and read the email from Hank Hollywood’s office again.

  I wonder if Kendra is the same assistant that Martin Manager heard asking questions about me at lunch in the commissary. By the way, I finally looked up commissary. It means a lot of different things, but one of them is “a lunchroom, especially in a motion-picture studio.” I’m sure it’s nicer than a school cafeteria. I’ll probably want to eat there.

  I looked up logline. It’s a brief summary of a story that will get someone interested in it. What would the logline be for A Week with Your Grandparents?

  A brother and sister find out their grandparents are a lot more interesting than they ever thought they were.

  Not bad. Not great. Too many theys.

  Why do they even want the logline? We weren’t trying to sell them the
movie. We only mentioned the name of it so Hank Hollywood would know we were already in the business. Why aren’t they asking Dan Welch about my big idea?

  Maybe Hank Hollywood is more interested in movies than in big ideas.

  Or maybe he’s only interested in things that other people are already interested in.

  He doesn’t even know that Ashley, Devin, or Eva is interested in it, too. This could actually be good. A three-way bidding war.

  Chris, who’s 15, and Chloe, who’s 12, use Grandpa’s virtual reality time machine to spend time with their grandparents back when they were teenagers.

  This isn’t so easy. Would I want to see the movie if I read that logline? Maybe, but it leaves out so much of what’s cool about the movie.

  In the Skype meeting with Stefanie, one of the Directors of Development, I don’t remember which one, said the idea was “edgy.” I like the sound of that word. Let’s look it up. It means “bold, provocative, or unconventional.” I like it. I’m going to use it.

  Wait. Do we even want to tell Hank Hollywood’s company the logline? Do we want them to bid on the movie? They’re the ones I want to work with on my big idea. Would working with them on two things be too distracting for them?

  I guess they’re used to working on a lot of things at once. They make lots of movies and TV shows, and they also publish books and magazines and do plays and music and theme parks. That’s what makes them perfect for my big idea, because you can use it on all those different things.

  Okay, Kendra asked for Dan Welch’s address, his phone number, and the logline. But like Thorny Rosen says, “You never get everything you want.”

  To: Hank Hollywood Assist.

  From: Dan Welch Management

  Dear Kendra,

  A Week with Your Grandparents—An edgy family comedy where a virtual reality time machine lets you meet your grandparents when they were young and cool.

  Best,

  Dan

  Dinner with my parents was fun. Mom is off tomorrow, Dad’s working on two jobs, both with non-annoying clients, and I’m not worrying anymore about Dave Motts or Hank Hollywood or my short story. Everyone’s in a good mood.