And yet another shot at the title (part iv)

Back in Burbank, Kat (Kennedy) was prattling on about the usual bullshit, how I went over budget on Schindler’s List III, how everyone hates me for bailing on Chatty Cathy, blah blah blah. I just couldn’t shake the words that Dick told me in Palm Springs.

“James are you listening to me?” she asks.

“No.”

“Greta is also bailing from Chatty Cathy. She only signed on because she wanted to work with you.”

“So?”

“So…this is bad press! The studio has already spent untold amounts of money and we haven’t even started pre-production!”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“For starters, all of our jobs are on the line. Once when the papers get word that the production is already in trouble, bad word will spread and can cause this movie to bomb! Come on, we need to fix this!”

“Kat, we do this every time: The studio gives us carte blanche, I do something stupid that cost the studio millions, the movie bombs, and we’re right back here next week. Everything we make is a failure yet we still have jobs.”

“Now you take that back! Our films make billions in streaming!”

“So what are you worried about?”

“Goddamnit James! Why won’t you do Chatty Cathy?!”

“Cuz,” I said. “Greta hates me.”

Kat closed her eyes to calm herself. “Greta doesn’t hate you,” she calmly explained. “She just doesn’t like you in that way.”

I looked out the window to stare down a lone shrub in the parking lot. “Kat, why do we keep working together?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Because Jimmy wants us to.”

“You can always say no.”

Kat thought for a moment. “Sometimes we have to put aside ego to create something,” she said. “You’re one of the few directors of note still working in this town. People want to see what you make. Besides, you’re one of the few men in Hollywood that doesn’t try to fuck me everytime we meet.”

“But I did fuck you.”

“No you didn’t. You were briefly in a coma because you were shot in the head. As much as it disturbs me, Michael Cimino did not tempt you to forgo your talent and live a normal life. Your brain was simply losing oxygen. It was a death dream.”

“Damn it Kat! It was real! I was there!”

“I don’t care. Now will you please come to your senses and talk to Greta!”

“Absolutely not! Is this all you suits want?! You just want to give me millions of dollars to do something I love?! Not this time! You can’t fire me from this production! I quit!”

I stood up and grabbed my coat.

“Whatever dude. I’ll see you next week,” Kat said.

I stormed out and slammed the door.

TO BE CONTINUED….