Chapter 24.5: When the Wind Blows

WB Offices London, UK. December 2006.

There’s a famous saying about crisis. I don’t remember what it was or who said it, but the one thing I do know is that it had nothing to do with Uno.

“Draw two.” Damn it! Emma smirked at me as I pulled two from the draw pile and then laughed when I had nothing to put down. I had ten cards in hand and all of them were green.

I turned away from her and looked at Rupert. I couldn’t give Emma the satisfaction of seeing me lose. “You sure you don’t want to talk to Anita about representation while she’s here?”

“Reverse, back to me!” He gleefully announced. Yes, we were playing with house rules. No, Uno did not know the rules of their own game.

Cadbury shot him an irritated look from behind her cards. And by that I meant her eyes narrowed a fraction of a millimeter. “Nah mate, she gave me her card anyway, though. So I’ll call her if I ever change my mind. Or if mum does.”

My turn. “Why not?” I collected another card; of course it was green. “Pass.”

“Give it some more careful consideration, Rupert.” Emma flicked out a skip. “Even ignoring the vast disparity between the types of scripts my old agent had been acquiring, Miss Specter has been far more able with tertiary aspects as well. It was actually the Chanel sponsorship that put the nail in the coffin for my previous representative. They’d not been able to capitalize on that at all.” My personal attack shark wasn’t mine alone any longer. Anita had finally snapped up Emma in her jaws as well. Which was half the reason Anita had flown down to London; a last bit of paperwork with the studio to notarize it.

Now that filming for Phoenix had concluded, contract negotiations for Half-Blood were next.

Cadbury sat stiff with her last two cards as the game skipped by her again.

“Come off it. Who in the world would want me to sponsor them?” Rupert played a blue two.

“How about Magnum? It’d match your bloody ridiculous ice cream truck.” I matched with a green two. I was finally back in play.

Emma continued the hand. “Of all the frivolities… I still can’t believe you wasted your money on that.”

“Uno.” Cadbury was on the cusp of sweet victory.

“C’mon…”

“Already?-!”

“Boo!” No cheers, just jeers. “As long as you’re happy, I guess. You are happy, aren’t you?” I shot both Emma and Rupert a look at that. “No second thoughts about reprising Ron, or continuing with the Potter films, yeah?” I was self absorbed, but not oblivious.

In the original timeline, both my co-stars had expressed fatigue with the series and had concerns about returning. Although it had all worked out, it didn’t mean I was averse to checking the temperature. Titular character or not, without them I’d be facing a crisis.

Rupert rubbed his chin as he studied his cards. “What’s there to be unhappy about? Between my salary, the merch stuff, and even DVD residuals, I’ve already made more money than I’ll ever be able to spend. Not to mention my wallet’s only going to grow fatter with the next installments. Wild; change the colour to green.” Rupert switched the game. “Besides, Ron’s beloved enough that I’ve got loads of options for other films. Especially here in the UK. Draw two.” Clearly, someone’s press tour went even better than mine.

“Draw two.” My hand was finally one card shorter. “And what about you, Watson? I hope your feet aren’t in his truck’s freezer.”

“Don’t be silly, Bas. I’m not going anywhere until the credits roll on the last movie. Draw two.” The relief I felt when she piled it on - and I don’t just mean her saccharine resolve. “If I’m perfectly honest, yes, there was a moment over the last year where I felt at the end of my tether. Schoolwork was grueling, but your notes helped. I was getting worried about my career, too. The scripts I was seeing really weren’t cutting it. But now, with Anita, I feel a lot more confident about my immediate future. You should’ve read the last two roles my old firm brought me - absolutely shocking!”

“A voiceover and a TV movie.” Anita barged in abruptly. “I’m not gonna feed you false promises of top billing in your first film with me. But at the very least, you’ll be in movies people will actually watch. It’s official, by the way. I’m now listed as your rep.”

“Thank you! It should be interesting to see how you contrast with my old team.” Don’t you worry Emma, Sharks eat their siblings in utero. They weren’t ever competition, just prey. Your ex-agent has already been shat out.

“Our meeting regarding your contract with production is tomorrow, so be here bright eyed and bushy-haired for Hermione first thing in the morning.” She snapped her finger and pointed at me. “You! Put away the toys. It’s time to play with the adults. I have to settle the terms for Emma’s contract tomorrow, and you’re going to be our guinea pig. David’s waiting for us. We’re meeting for lunch.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Gasp the sheer gal, the lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch. Inadvertent though it might have been, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that this comfortable transition into the final stretch for Potter was partially my doing. And this is the thanks I get? Hmph, I turned my nose up at her. “I’m not going till the game’s done. I’ll only leave when someone wins.”

“Draw two. I win.” How could you, Cadbury?

I threw my cards down on the table in disgust. “I’m leaving.”

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Veeraswamy Regent Street, London. December 2006.

Michelin starred Indian restaurants should conjure very specific images in your head. The sweet fragrance of burning spices and incense, the twinkling sounds of ethnic instruments playing in the background as the colourful, plush carpet swallows your footsteps.

The only thing missing from that tableau was a large man in a small turban guiding you to your destination. What we got instead was a lanky Englishman swimming in a heavily embroidered set of Indian formalwear, complete with jodhpurs on his feet, waving Anita and I over to him.

“Is the Empire rising again? Should we prepare for the East India Trading Company to usurp the spice trade once more?” Saying hello is just so pedestrian, don’t you think?

Anita swatted, I dodged, and David ducked his head to look at his wardrobe. “My wife assured me I look rather dashing.”

“Tell that to the poor Desi staff who think the British Raj is returning to India because of you.” David and I were good friends, but couldn’t get too chummy during business. Best to set the tone early.

“Don’t listen to him, David. You look great.” Anita and I took our seats as the staff draped the serviettes over our laps and pushed in our chairs.

“I had little choice in the matter, I’m afraid. I’ve only just rushed over from a wedding. Don’t even think about flying out until you’ve crossed all t’s and dotted all i’s. No point getting into bed with a Bollywood distribution company if we don’t have a movie to show, eh?” Good cop, bad cop, proved quite effective, as Anita and I just demonstrated. Fresh information had been volunteered without us even having asked.

David Heyman was determined to cast the widest possible net. Pitbull would have to relinquish the title of Mr Worldwide to Harry Potter two years before anyone would even know about him.

“Wait… You left an Indian wedding, where there’s presumably Indian food being served, and decided to grab a bite at another Indian restaurant?” Anita’s mind was elsewhere.

“Can’t ever have too much of good a thing!” Laugh now, you’ll be crying in the loo later.

“Is that why we’re doing three more movies instead of two?” Deathly Hallows was indeed being split into two films again. The trend began with Potter, after all.

David tapped his nose with a smug smile. He’d also taken the liberty to order for us while he waited as the waiters started bringing on dish after dish.

For the first time in months, I’d be able to lend an ear to my grumbling tummy and have my fill. Bye bye diet, hello delicious.

“I don’t envision this discussion taking too long, so we can get this out of the way and tuck in.” Is that right?

“I’m all ears.” Anita leaned back in her chair and probed.

“The studio has prepared a generous offer of 60 million dollars over the course of the next three films. That’s a fifty percent increase from your previous remuneration.”

“The studio has prepared a rejected offer.” She was raring to get up, and I was just about to take my first bite, too. Oh well.

“Oh, do calm down! It’s only the first salvo. What’s a better number?”

“100 million.”

David spat out and nearly dropped the tea he was sipping. “Is that all!? After paying his salary, we’ll only have enough left to have him read excerpts from the book in front of a handy cam.”

“And you’d still make your money back and more.” If that wasn’t the biggest vote of confidence, I didn’t know what else could be.

“Look, frankly speaking, the budget for Potter six is already one of the highest of all time. Right around the 250 mil mark - the majority of that inflation is as a result of growing wages for the actors.”

“Really? Because I heard it had more to do with a larger marketing budget.” Who knew sharks had a sense of hearing comparable to their smell?

“It’s okay Anita. I think we can make up the difference if I charge extra for all the free publicity I provide.” I chummed the waters a bit.

“There’s driving a hard bargain, and then there’s just being mean. Please be a little more reasonable. I can only go as high as 75.”

“80.” Anita didn’t give David time to even breathe. “Lets not forget that a good chunk of that is going right back into the budget as per our standing investment agreement. We can always make the number look better if you lift the cap.”

“Not a chance! 4 percent of the budget is the absolute maximum I can allow. At a budget of 250 million per movie that works out to 5-10 million reinvested back each time.” He scrubbed his beardy chin and contemplated a moment. “Well, 60 million resonates better than 100…” He sent me a final pleading look. “Is there any way I can appeal to your softer sensibilities? To your loyalty to the franchise?”

“I’m merely practicing the lessons I learnt from you when you brought me to the table, David. Love and loyalty mean a lot, but if we’re honest with ourselves, commitment is better assured with the right number of zeroes on a cheque.”

The vapour rising from his tea cup swirled as he exhaled a deep sigh. “I’m both proud and horrified. Very well. 80 it is - minus your 4 percent stake.”

Anita quirked her eyebrow at me; I gave her the nod. “Great!” And David was back to his chipper self.

Not for long, though. “You realize that I’m going to push for a similar increase in Emma’s offer as well, don’t you? Including stake. Can’t be getting a raw deal for one client versus the other, can I?”

Poor guy. Literally. “...Yes, I’m aware. And before you ask - though it’s not exactly your business - Rupert will receive a comparable offer too. The press would have a field day if they found out the discrepancy.” He flagged the waiter and motioned for the menu. “It’s a bit early in the day, but I’m in need of a stiff drink.”

“As long as you’re paying, I don’t mind a celebratory drinky-winky either.” She shushed me before I could even ask. “Pomegranate juice for you.”

“I’m leaving.”