The Writer and his Muse - Part IV

      Kenny spotted Jackson approaching him at the baggage claim area of LAX and waved him over. Kenny held out his hand and Jackson shook it. Kenny asked, “So, you ready to write a movie script?”
     “They want me to write it?”
     “They want you to consult with the writers. I want you to write it though.”
     “I’m okay with either option. This isn’t about the money for me at this point. I’m living the dream, brother. Let’s step out. I need a smoke.”
     They walked outside and Jackson inhaled a deep whiff of the L.A. smog then lit a Marlboro. He’d lived in L.A. for four years in his early twenties and always regretted moving back to Chicago. “It’s good to be home,” he said.
     “Jax, you’re star is on the rise. If you write the script, you won’t only make more money than you would as a consultant but you’ll also have a film credit in your arsenal. It’s a win-win situation.”
     “Alright, agent. Work your magic then. When’s this meeting?”
     “Tomorrow at noon at the studio.”
     “Okay. Speaking of meetings, I need one. Any idea where the closest A.A. club is at?”
     “I’ll find us one. Let’s get settled in at the hotel first.”
     “Let’s get some lunch too. I’m starving. It’s good to see you, brother. This constant traveling has taken a toll.”
     “It’s good to see you too, Jackson.”
     Jackson put out his cigarette and went back inside to collect his luggage. They took Kenny’s rental car to the hotel, checked in, and went to lunch together in the hotel’s restaurant. After they ate, Jackson went to an A.A. meeting. Kenny took a nap.

     They met up the next morning in the hotel lobby. Jackson was relaxed; he’d spent the night with McKenzie, an old friend and fuck buddy that he kept in touch with after moving back to Chicago. Kenny was nervous. He’d never represented anyone as successful as Jackson and he had no experience in Hollywood. Kenny drove and they were both silent until they reached the parking lot of Brandywine Studios. Jackson could sense his friend’s anxiety.
     “Relax, Kenny. You’re making me nervous.”
     “I’m in virgin territory here, Jax.”
     “I know you are. So am I. They came to us with this idea. We didn’t go to them. So, chill. Worst case scenario, I’m a consultant. We get a royalty and the movie promotes my book. We’re in a better position than we were a few days ago. Take a moment to get with your higher power and find the courage you need for this meeting. It’s all good, brother. Just chillax.”

     Frank Seymour, President/CEO and founder of Brandywine Studios, stood, walked around his desk and formally introduced himself to Jackson and Kenny. Seymour’s Executive Assistant, Samantha Michaels, was also in attendance along with Executive Vice-President, Tom Walsh.
     Jackson suddenly understood why Kenny was nervous. Kenny had failed to mention to Jackson that they would be meeting with the studio’s top brass. Jackson felt a twinge of anxiety but his anger at Kenny for not informing him exactly who they would be meeting with took precedence over his fear. Jackson didn’t like corporate big wigs because they were usually phony and conniving individuals and Kenny knew that about him. Jackson did, however, take an instant liking to Samantha. She was an exotic Irish-Armenian mix and she carried herself with confidence and grace.
     Samantha asked, “What can I get you gentlemen to drink?”
     Jackson said, “Coffee, please. Winston Wolf style.”
     Samantha smiled, “Lots of cream. Lots of sugar.”
     Jackson smiled back at her, pleased that she caught his reference to his favorite film, Pulp Fiction.
     “For you, Mr. Aylward?”
     “Long Island.”
     “I’ll be back in a moment, gentlemen,” Samantha said as she left the giant office to fetch the drinks.
     Jackson stared at Kenny in disbelief while Kenny looked around at all the awards and pictures on the walls. Jackson was furious with Kenny but maintained his composure. Samantha returned with the drinks and after a few minutes of small talk it was Walsh who began, “Let’s get down to business. Shall we?”
     Walsh explained his vision for Heroin Highway. It was clear that he would be the point man and that Samantha would handle most of the details. They discussed contracts, royalties, actors, directors, producers, and of course, writers. After a few hours of negotiating and brainstorming, Seymour called the meeting to a close. It was decided that Jackson would write the script. Samantha agreed to meet with Kenny and Jackson at the hotel that night to deliver the contracts.
     As soon as they exited the building, Jackson laid into Kenny.
     “What the fuck was that?”
     “A great success!”
     “It was an epic fucking failure, is what it was!”
     “What the hell are you talking about?”
     “You know exactly what I’m talking about! Why didn’t you tell me we were meeting with executives and when did you start fucking drinking again?”
     “I wanted to surprise you.”
     “Well, you certainly succeeded with all those fucking Long Islands you guzzled.”
     “No, with the big wigs.”
     “Kenny, I don’t really give a fuck about that. It’s the drinking that I’m concerned about.”
     “Relax, Jackson. Besides, who are you to judge? You were a fucking junkie!”
     “And you were my agent. You’re fucking fired until you sober up. Give me the keys. You’re not driving.”
     “I’m fine.”
     “You’re drinking again and you just lost your most lucrative client because of it. You’re not fine. But you’re still my friend so give me the fucking keys before you hurt yourself or someone else. Think about Jessica and the kids.”
     “Jessica left me two weeks ago. She took the kids and went to her mother’s house.”
     “Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”
     “Because she left me when I started drinking again. I didn’t want to tell you that I relapsed because you had enough on your mind out on the road. So, I showed you instead.”
     “Jesus, Kenny. I’m sorry, man. How bad is it?”
     “Every day.”
     “Does anyone else know?”
     “Just you.”
     “Give me the keys. I’ll drive you back to the hotel. You can drink to your heart’s content there, I’ll deal with Samantha tonight and we can discuss this in the morning when you have a clear head. Deal?”
     Kenny nodded and handed over the car keys. Jackson hugged him. They got in the car and pulled out into the dreadful Los Angeles traffic. It was the only thing that Jackson didn't like about L.A.