The Manager

"I need an explanation, Brian." Scorsese had called Johnson into his office. He looked directly at him. "We've worked together before. It's gone well. I'd rather not have that change."

"What happened?" Johnson remained composed, then seemed to understand. "You liked Adrian Vale's performance?"

Scorsese said nothing. He folded his hands on the desk and waited. Without a smile, he could be an intimidating man to face.

"I thought he was overacting," Johnson continued. "Hughes could be volatile, but that doesn't mean he was theatrical about everything."

"Then who do you think is right? Brad Pitt? Tom Cruise? Edward Norton?" Scorsese paused. "Leonardo DiCaprio?"

"On acting alone, Guy Pearce would be interesting. British-born, of course, but that needn't matter. Taking everything else into account, Leonardo's a strong choice. You know what he can do."

"We're discussing why a submission went missing. Not whether Leonardo can act."

Johnson spread his hands. "I screened the material. You asked us to use our judgment."

"You were asked to screen it. You weren't asked to decide what I was allowed to see."

Scorsese rose and held up a hand before Johnson could answer.

"Take some time off, Brian."

Johnson looked briefly disoriented, then recovered. "If that's what you want."

He had expected trouble as soon as the director asked for the missing submissions. He had hoped to defend his decision as a difference of opinion. At least he had kept the disc. If he had destroyed it, there would have been no way to pass this off as poor judgment.

He left. Scorsese sat back down, closed his eyes, and sighed.

Before this conversation, he had still been leaning toward DiCaprio. The young actor's work was strong, and their previous film gave him a sense of how they would work together. Adrian's video had surprised him, but a casting decision involved more than liking ten minutes on a screen. He had to think about the whole production.

Johnson had made the problem something else. Scorsese knew how much maneuvering went on around auditions and casting. He had run into it long before he became established. It was one reason he liked working with people he knew. Even his objections to actors being pushed at him by studios were not absolute. Put real talent in front of him, and he would look.

That was part of what had drawn him to DiCaprio: ambition backed by work. It was also what he could now see in Adrian. The actor deserved to be judged on the performance, not on a staff member's decision to keep it out of reach.

Whatever preference Brian had formed, the film was Scorsese's to cast.

He opened the office door. "Robert, call Adrian Vale's agent. Tell him I'd be happy to..."

He stopped and shook his head.

"Never mind. I'll call. I'd rather not give anyone another reason to say I didn't know what I was talking about."

He went back inside, called Frederick for Adrian's number, then made the second call himself.

"Adrian? Martin Scorsese. We spoke last night... Yes. I wanted to ask whether you're still interested in playing Howard Hughes in The Aviator... Of course I'm serious. I've watched your video again... Good. I'll have someone get in touch with your agent so we can talk terms. I'll see you soon."

Before hanging up, he added, "And you have a very good representative. Someone willing to go a long way for you."

Adrian stood with the phone in his hand for several seconds after the call ended. A hand waved in front of his face before he came back to himself.

"What happened?" Camilla asked, trying to look at the screen. "Who was that?"

"It was..."

He looked at the phone again and drew a breath. Then he caught her in a quick, exuberant hug, set her down, and ran out of the room laughing.

"What was that?" Camilla demanded, straightening her clothes. She turned on Hayden, who was trying not to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. He's obviously happy."

"You don't have to look so pleased about it."

Hayden put her hands up. "Fine. I won't say anything. It was pretty funny, though."

Camilla lunged to catch her. "So you're taking his side now?"

"I'm not taking anybody's side!"

Hayden escaped, laughing, and the two girls chased each other around the room. Adrian had already gone downstairs to find Galen and Sanders.

"You're kidding," Galen said when he heard the news. "Last night you said you were out."

"I don't know what changed. But it was Scorsese. And Fred just texted to say he called for my number, then asked how it went."

Adrian held up his phone, then looked at Sanders.

"Maybe I ought to ask what you did last night, Sandy."

"Nothing much." Sanders shrugged. "I asked whether he'd watched the video we made. If he hadn't, I thought he should do that before deciding."

"You thought someone might have kept it from him?"

"Who knows? Is that what he said?"

"No. He said he watched it again..."

Adrian paused, then smiled. "Forget it. I have the part. Martin Scorsese called and offered it to me. The night before, I thought I had no chance. If this happens too often, my heart won't take it."

All three laughed. Then Adrian gave Galen a look. His friend understood.

"Keep talking. I've got an exam tomorrow. I hope that chef doesn't decide to make it impossible."

Once he had gone, Adrian turned back to Sanders.

"Honestly, Sandy, I'm not happy."

"What's wrong now?"

"I keep saying you don't quit until the last second." Adrian rubbed his head, smiling at his own discomfort. "This time you were the one who stayed."

He looked at his friend. "I should have held on a little longer. I was ready to walk away. If it weren't for you, that would have been it."

Sanders did not answer at once.

"You came up with the video. You told me not to be afraid of spending the money to do it properly. And you were the one who couldn't believe anyone would watch it and have nothing to say."

Adrian took a breath. "Do you know what Scorsese told me? That I have a very good representative. Someone willing to go a long way for me."

"Maybe he meant Fred." Sanders scratched his cheek and looked away, unusually embarrassed.

"Come on. I can tell the difference. Which brings me to something else." Adrian put a hand on his shoulder. "I owe you an apology."

Sanders raised an eyebrow.

"When I asked you to come down from San Francisco, I meant to make you my manager eventually. But I kept thinking you needed more time. You argued with Fred, you got involved in everything, and I told myself I'd bring it up when you settled in. Then I got used to it. You and Galen took care of whatever needed doing, and I let myself forget."

His voice grew quieter. "Galen has his own plans. You've stayed here as my assistant, doing far more than the job asks. That isn't fair."

He spread his hands. "Will you be my manager? Help plan the career, look after the image, take on the things that need someone who knows me?"

"That sounds suspiciously like a proposal."

"Don't start sounding like Neil."

Sanders raised both hands, then smiled. "All right. Until I quit or you find somebody better, I'll do it."

"That's my guy."

Adrian laughed and hugged him.

"One thing, though. Now you're my manager, do you know anybody who could be my assistant?"

"Can't Galen cover it for a while?"

"He's starting his restaurant internship."

For once, Sanders had no answer.