My eyes quickly popped open. I laid in my bed not making a move. Listening. It was very dark in the apartment. I couldn't see much as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. There it was again. A noise coming from the living room. I quickly got up from the bed and ran towards the door. It was Alex. She had come back. I opened the door to the bedroom and flung myself into the next room.
Quickly my joy and excitement turned to confusion and fear. There definitely was someone in my living room, but it was not Alex. It was a total stranger that stood in my kitchen, pouring a glass of scotch. He was a black man in an impeccably tailored suit. He was easily 6'2 and one look at his arms told me he could easily subdue me if it would come to that. He looked at me with an amused smirk across his face.
"Did I wake you?" He said lifting the glass to his mouth. On his hand there was a ring with a distinctive marking. I couldn't make it out, I was too far. "This is good stuff. You have great taste. I suppose that's not too surprising. Taking into account the company you keep."
"Who the hell are you?" I finally was able to say. I hadn't moved an inch since I saw him. He took another long look at me before taking another sip from his drink.
"Just call me Howard. Oh and there's no reason to be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you." He made a show of putting the glass down, letting me know that if he wanted to or had to, he most certainly would. He walked out of the kitchen and sat down in my living room. "Have a seat. Let's talk." I sat down in the chair across from him, knowing very well that he wasn't asking.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice stable.
"Who I am, is of no importance Mr. Bryant. My employer has taken quite an interest in you." He began, leaning forward so that we were at eye level.
"Why?"
"He believes that you have certain qualities that might be useful to our cause."
"Which is?" I asked more confused than ever.
"There is no denying that the industry you're a part of, is not in the best shape. The constant sequels and reboots, the lack of originality, the treatment of women, minorities, and certain ethnic groups, leaves much to be desired. We plaster box office numbers, claiming success, but we both know that simply paying high ticket prices does not a good movie make." I nodded, remembering conversations with Marty and Mark. "But we both know that's not really what's plaguing Hollywood. You're a bright man Duncan. Why don't you tell me."
"The power imbalance." I answered cautiously.
"Correct. Artists are being crushed in the new blockbuster economy. Over the past few years, studios have promoted executives with no artistic background, not even a day spent on set.Men like Kevin Tsuijihara who run Warner Bros, He used to run Six Flags. It's all about keeping things in the green. Never taking any risks, never trusting filmmakers. It's a sick and destructive cycle." I listened intently. He was of course right.
"You're right. But you haven't answered my question. What do you want from me?"
"Isn't it obvious Duncan?" He asked. I said nothing and waited for him to continue. "We want you to save Hollywood." I was on the verge of breaking out into laughter. He couldn't be serious. If I wasn't so worried about having a crazy person sitting in my apartment, I would have laughed in his face and kicked him out. The serious gaze he gave me, let me know that this man was almost always serious.
"What? Me? Why? Me?"
"My employer believes that you have what it takes to make a real difference. You're talented, well respected and very well liked. Now you've won an Emmy. And everyone knows why you weren't there to accept it yourself. You are someone that this industry can rally behind and pull itself up from it's own self destruction."
"This is insane." I exclaimed standing from my chair and walking away towards one of the windows. "You've got the wrong guy. I'm just a writer. I don't know how to deal with all of this. Even if i believed you. Even if I decided to do this, where would I even start?" I watched him as he stood up. He now held a folder in his hand.
"You start with this." He said handing it to me. I opened it and looked inside. There were a tons of documents. Legal and financial ones I barely understood, it was all gibberish to me. Except for one thing. All of the documents had the same name on it. Derek Stamp.
"No, no, no, no, no! I am not doing this. I am not going after Stamp, not again. I let that go. I moved on. I was happy. I was fucking happy. I put him behind me."
"Duncan. You care about people. Think of all the people he's hurt over the years. You can make a difference, you can stop him once and for all. You think the people you love will be safe as long as he's around?"
"Why the hell don't you stop him? Why the hell don't you go after him? You have all this information. Why the hell do you need me?" I almost yelled, beginning to feel anger rise in my chest.
"My employer believes that the change must come from you."
"Who the hell is this employer of yours?" I asked angrier than ever.
"That is a question for another day."
