Box Office Poison (Linnet Ellery) (7 page)

The various talent agencies—William Morris, CAA, etc.—had hired Stan Brubaker. Midforties, gray-blond hair, a megawatt smile, surfer’s tan, and a hard-charging werewolf litigator. I didn’t want to be a bigot, even in the privacy of my own head, but after what had happened last year when a dispute over ownership of a powerful werewolf company had led to no fewer than six werewolves trying to kill me, it didn’t matter that they had all ended up dead and I was fine: I wasn’t real comfortable being around them.

And there were three more hounds among his clients. Like the studio executives the agents tended to be male and intense but with readier smiles, and their attire was more casual than the network and studio executives.

Representing the Álfar was Barbara Gabaldon, a very pretty woman in her thirties with tawny skin, liquid dark eyes, and black hair that showed what natural black hair should look like. She was very stylishly dressed, with lots of gold jewelry that looked great with her Latin looks. The Álfar actor who was the client of record for that side was Palendar, who had made a career out of turning Japanese anime into live action movies. There was no question that the look of anime characters had been affected by the advent of the Álfar into our world, and Palendar looked like he could have modeled for those early comics and movies. Like many Álfar he had multicolored hair; his tended toward an unusual lavender mixed with white and silver. He had narrow features with upturned eyes and a pointed chin, and he was so thin I wanted to offer him a donut. Like his human counterpart, Palendar glared at Jeff and ignored the human’s outstretched hand.

I had about reached the conclusion that actors tended to act like bratty kids when they weren’t inhabiting a role. Then another Álfar entered, accompanied by Pizer, and he stopped me in my tracks because he actually looked
old
. I knew from John that the Álfar aged very slowly, so I couldn’t begin to guess his age. He was dressed in a bespoke suit of silver gray with blue highlights that picked up the color of his eyes. His hair, which hung to the middle of his back, was nearly pure white with a few dramatic streaks of black and red. He was handsome in the way of all Álfar, but wrinkles lay like cobwebs across his skin.

“Qwendar,” he said softly, and shook hands with the various principles.

David was frowning at the elderly Álfar, and he turned to Gabaldon and asked, “May I inquire as to why Mr. Qwendar is present?”

Qwendar didn’t give her the opportunity to answer. “I am here on behalf of the Álfar Council. To assure ourselves that these proceedings are conducted fairly, and that it doesn’t become an opportunity to demean and degrade our people. There’s been quite enough of that in this state recently.”

David and I exchanged a glance. Was this about Kerrinan’s arrest, or was something else going on? Pizer stepped in close, put a finger to his lips, and said softly, “I’ll fill you in later.”

“That would be nice,” David replied, and the muscles in his jaw were clenched. Like most vampires, he hated surprises.

Pizer leaned in to David and me. “Look, this all happened at ugh o’clock this morning and just got resolved. I got the call literally moments ago.”

“It should have been cleared with us.”

“Yeah, well, it came down ex cathedra from people with a way higher pay grade than yours or mine,” Pizer said tensely.

There was the buzz of conversation punctuated occasionally by quick bursts of laughter like lightning against the dark of a rising storm. People fortified themselves with beverages. I noticed that only McPhee touched the donuts and he took three. Of the beverages only water, coffee, and the diet drinks were touched. I gave one final longing glance at a glazed, raised, chocolate donut, but the peer pressure was too much. I poured myself a black coffee and took a seat at the end of the conference table where I could see all the parties. David took the seat at the other end. People took the cue and settled into the remaining chairs.

“Thank you all for coming,” David began. “This is an arbitration and the hope is that we can reach some agreement and consensus without resorting to the courts. This process does share certain similarities with a judicial proceeding. We will take evidence and interview witnesses. Such testimony can be under oath at the discretion of the arbitrator, and it’s my intention to require that an oath be administered. I find it tends to focus the mind.” He paused and gave them all a thin, closed-lip vampire smile.

“My associate”—he nodded at me—“and I will question the witnesses, and your representatives will be allowed to question the witnesses. We will begin with the claimant”— David indicated Missy Able—“who will go first, and make the claim for the human actors. After their arguments have been presented, the other parties will present their defense.” He pinned the gaggle of studio people, the agents, and the Álfar with a glance.

“I expect this to be handled civilly and discreetly. I don’t want to read about these proceedings in the press.” Here he paused to glare at Jeff. “Or hear about it on
Access Hollywood
.”

That amazed me. The idea of David sitting in front of a television, watching the entertainment news show with its breathless hosts, had me hiding a smile. Once again I wondered when he had been made? You didn’t expect vampires to keep up with current events or cutting-edge technology. In contrast Palendar, who wasn’t listening to a word David was saying, was unpacking his man purse setting out an iPhone and an iPad.

David continued. “This is a judicial proceeding though it is taking place outside the confines of a court. I expect decorum to be observed.”

It was a very vampirelike statement. Everyone nodded somberly. Then McPhee drawled out, “Will we begin presenting testimony today, or was this just a little mill and swill?”

Everyone looked to Sheila. I had to hand it to her—she was unperturbed. She rose to her feet in one smooth motion and gave McPhee an ironic nod. “I’m quite prepared to make an opening statement. I indicated that we were going to begin with an expert witness. In the interest of not wasting my client’s money I did not have him standing by because I wasn’t certain if you would actually begin hearing testimony today. But as I said, I can make my opening remarks.”

“Then please do,” David said. “And we will hold off on starting testimony until tomorrow.”

Sheila walked behind her chair and gripped the high back. She had long nails painted a deep crimson that matched her lipstick. I wondered if they were artificial or if she grew them herself? She did sort of give off that whole dragon lady vibe. They were probably hers.

“People are losing their livelihoods. I’m sure…” Here she paused to look at Gabaldon and her clients, Brubaker and McPhee and their clients. “I’m sure that some in this room will argue it’s happened before. When talkies replaced silent films. When computers replaced the need for extras in crowd scenes. But this is different. This isn’t the march of technology. This is an invasion.”

Qwendar stiffened and stared at LeBlanc. His pale eyes held both heat and ice, and I wouldn’t have liked to have that look directed at me. “Invasion? Really? That implies the outsider. I would argue my people have been resident on this planet as sentient beings far longer than
you
.”

David’s response was swift and summary. “Mr. Qwendar. You will keep quiet or I will ask that you leave.”

Sheila gave David a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. But to continue. Are the Álfar more talented than humans? We’re going to present evidence that will show it’s quite the opposite. No, they’re getting more and more of the parts because they are using inhuman powers at the very start of the process, during their auditions, to deny human actors their chance. This is an issue of basic fairness. We’re talking about people here, not buggy whips or Moviolas or eight-tracks.” I briefly wondered what a Moviola might be. “People who can’t pay their mortgages or support their families, and maybe more importantly, can’t fulfill themselves and pursue their passion because the Álfar are taking unfair advantage.” She sat down.

Qwendar took to his feet. “Mr. Sullivan, I must protest these kinds of racist and hyperbolic statements. If such defamatory remarks are leaked to the press I will respond most strongly.”

“Mr. Qwendar,” David said wearily. “This was an opening statement. Ms. LeBlanc will have to prove her assertions. Just as your side will.” David turned to Barbara. “Ms. Gabaldon, do you wish to make a statement at this time?”

“No, I’ll wait until Ms. LeBlanc has made her arguments.”

“Very good. Mr. McPhee?”

The big man hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets and leaned back in his chair until it squeaked in protest. “I’ll bide.”

“Mr. Brubaker?”

“We’ll wait.”

“Fine, then, if there is nothing more we will reconvene day after tomorrow and hear the first of Ms. LeBlanc’s witnesses.”

“Why the delay?” Brubaker asked.

“Because I want to do my own statistical research.”

I gave a mental groan because David’s
I
meant
me
.

5

Pizer had said there were offices for David and me. There were. David had been given an office next door to Pizer, a large, elegant space as befitted a full partner and vampire. Which meant the occupant of that office was kicked into a different office, which set off a chain reaction. Which meant that I was going to share space with the guy who had been left standing when the music stopped. It was the smallest private office, and it looked like a converted coat closet.

“Way to win friends and influence people,” I muttered at the desk as I unloaded my briefcase and set up my computer. I was crawling under the desk to plug in the power cord when the door opened and my office mate entered.

“Hi,” came a chipper voice.

I quickly tried to turn around to get my butt on the floor, but instead gave myself a painful bump on the head. There is no graceful way to handle the situation when you’re on hands and knees with your ass pointed at the door.

“Wow, that sounded like it hurt,” the chipper voice continued.

I scooted out from beneath the desk struggling to keep my skirt from hiking up around my waist and losing a shoe in the process. I finally emerged with one hand clutching a shoe, the other clutching my skirt to meet the amused gaze of a very short man with a head of red-gold curls that resembled those of a Botticelli angel. He was grinning at me, and it was clear from the expression in his dancing blue eyes that he was loving the situation.

“It did,” I said. “Hi, I’m Linnet Ellery. Who are you?”

“Merlin Ambinder. The man with no office.”

As usual my internal editor was asleep on the job. “Merlin? Really?” I asked before I could control myself

His cupid’s-bow lips quirked in a rueful smile. “Yes, I am a man with a really silly name. Blame my parents. They were hippies long after it was time for any sensible people to be hippies.”

I stood up and indicated the tiny space with my outstretched arms. “And as for no office, we have all this.” We shared a laugh, and he set down a stack of files on the second desk, then fell into his chair.

“How long is this likely to continue?”

I took my chair and we faced each other across our kissing desks. “If we’re lucky—a month. I don’t think we’re going to be lucky. And meanwhile I get to live in a hotel room.”

“You should rent an Oakwood. Well, rent an apartment at the Oakwood. Corporate housing—studio, one, two, and three bedrooms. No lease and everything is included. Even maid service if you want to add that in.”

“It’s got to be cheaper than the Beverly Hills Hotel.” I fired up my laptop and started a Google search.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I could get a one-bedroom. Actually cook some meals.” Chrome loaded the Google search page. There were a number of Oakwoods in the greater LA area. I swung the computer around so Ambinder could see the screen. “Which would be the best choice?”

“Well, the one in Santa Monica near the beach would be great, but they hike the rates because you’re on the water. The one down on Washington is a pit. I’d go with the Barham Oakwood. Easy access to the Valley or the Basin. Close to Universal and the City Walk, Warner Bros., and Griffith Park.”

“How do you know so much about Oakwoods?” I asked.

“My folks got a divorce when I was eight. My dad moved into an Oakwood.”

“Oh, great, it’s a divorcee’s paradise.”

Merlin shrugged. “Look at the upside. You can get a lot of dates.”

I ignored that and asked, “So why isn’t the firm using them? Lot cheaper than a hotel.”

“It’s usually the partners who commute between offices, and while getting a pizza or takeout Chinese delivered to an Oakwood is no big deal, I think delivering a host would be tricky. The better hotels are set up for that. And you know vampires. They like to be catered to.”

“Is that ever the truth. So, what’s your specialty?”

“I’m the research monkey. I would be totally petrified to go into court, but I love digging through minutia.”

“Glad somebody does.” I cupped my chin in my hands, elbows resting on the desk. “Hollywood has a lot to answer for with their portrayal of lawyers. I thought this profession was going to be exciting,” I said.

“You’re in Hollywood now.”

“And it’s still not exciting.” I laid my hand on my stack of folders. “I get to read and summarize a statistical analysis of casting patterns over the past ten years for my boss.”

“We also serve who only burn our eyes out,” Merlin said, mangling the Milton quote to suit our situation.

Having bonded, we settled in to work. Merlin was a good office companion. We started off wearing headphones so our music didn’t bug the other, but it turned out we had similar tastes so we just let his IPod and Pandora play for us. We took turns on the coffee run to refill our cups. He even made sure the sandwich lady didn’t overlook us in our cave.

A few hours later I had a gross overview of the piles of statistical analysis. I knew David would want my initial impression, so I wrote up a short report. While statistics is the discipline where you lie with numbers, it was still pretty clear that the human actors were getting screwed. I hit Print on my computer and stood up, ready to head out to the network center to pull my report off the printer.