An Old Pro

Auditions resumed after lunch. Every film required this stretch of tedious, sleep-inducing work before shooting could begin. Unfortunately, it was also one of the most important parts of making a movie.

"Mr. Nicholson, there's no question you can play this part."

Evan considered what he had just watched through the camera, smiled, and gave the actor a brief round of applause. The compliment was sincere.

The man standing in the middle of the room, the Joker from the earlier Batman, was one of the best actors Evan had encountered in recent years. A veteran in every sense.

There was an ease to his performance that younger actors rarely possessed. It wasn't Christian Bale's total immersion. Nicholson seemed to have passed through all that effort and emerged on the other side, able to do whatever he wanted without showing the work.

"Thank you."

Impeccably dressed in a suit, Jack Nicholson inclined his head and smiled.

"This is my third audition for one of your pictures, Evan. Maybe this time I'll persuade you. I've wanted to work with you for a while. It and the others never quite came together."

It was pleasant to hear, but Evan didn't take the flattery too seriously. A man who had survived this business for decades knew how to choose projects. If Nicholson didn't like the film or the director, persuading him to join was going to be expensive.

The pleasantries were not why they were here. What came next was the real purpose of the meeting.

"Then let me be direct, Jack." Evan watched his face. "Your acting has never been the question. I know you can handle this role. But we're working with a relatively small budget, and we can't offer your usual fee."

Nicholson had considered that before accepting the invitation. If the picture was intended for an awards campaign, the money was negotiable.

"Give me a little time to think about it. I'll need to speak to my agent. I can't give you an answer right now."

"Of course. Just don't take too long. We need to settle the cast and leave ourselves as much time as possible to shoot."

Evan came around the table and offered his hand.

"I hope we can work something out. I honestly can't think of anyone better for the part."

"You're very kind. We'll get back to you soon."

They shook hands. Nicholson nodded to the rest of the room and let himself out.

"Think he'll do it?" Schwartz asked.

Evan returned to his seat behind the camera and opened the resumes on the table.

"Even knowing what we're aiming for, a fee in the low millions may be hard for him to accept," the casting director continued. "It's not as if he's short of offers."

That was true. An established actor of Nicholson's caliber was a scarce commodity, whether he was playing the lead or a supporting role. He always had other projects to consider.

"He'll agree. Otherwise he wouldn't have come."

Evan didn't look up from the actresses' resumes for the following day's auditions. He wasn't worried about Nicholson. An old pro would not waste his afternoon reading for a film whose terms he had already decided were unacceptable. He had come prepared to consider a pay cut.

"Huh."

Cameron Diaz's resume had appeared in the stack. Evan tilted his head toward Schwartz.

"Did she come to see you?"

"Her agent called." Schwartz spread his hands, smiling. "She kept reminding me that her client knows you. The part isn't cast yet. One more option can't hurt."

After several years of working together, they were comfortable enough for the occasional jab.

"All right. Send in the next..."

"Boss, Bruce Rosenblum is on the phone."

Nina had opened the door. She pointed toward the director's office.

Evan waved to Schwartz as he got up.

"Keep going. Don't wait for me. Make sure we have an alternative for the lead in case the Pitt deal falls through."

Pitt and Nicholson were the two people he had most wanted to see that day. Neither had disappointed him. Both could give him what the film needed.

The other auditions were largely insurance. If negotiations failed, he wanted another choice ready, not another full round of casting. Until the principal actors had signed, nothing was settled.

He hurried back to the office and picked up the receiver.

"Evan Rosenberg."

"Hey, Evan. Hope I'm not interrupting."

Bruce Rosenblum sounded relaxed. Their relationship had always been good enough to dispense with formalities.

"I heard about lunchtime. Spencer brought that thriller to us, and he called me about his casting executive. Rourke..."

"They haven't started shooting yet, have they? Get rid of him. For your sake, I'll leave it there."

"All right. That's one job he won't be keeping."

Bruce sounded more amused than troubled. He wasn't about to let Miles Rourke become a problem between the studio and Evan.

"I'll speak to Mark. Rourke can submit his resignation."

The production was financed by Warner Bros., and Rourke had managed to insult one of the studio's major shareholders. He could hardly have chosen a worse person to antagonize.

Losing this assignment was a comparatively fortunate outcome. Provided Evan let the matter drop, Rourke could still look for work elsewhere.

Both men understood how much worse it could become. If Evan made a point of keeping him out, plenty of people would be happy to deny Rourke a job in the hope of earning a powerful director's goodwill.

"Fine. I've still got auditions. We'll talk when there's time."

Nothing about the result surprised him. After being sworn at to his face, he would have been more surprised if there had been no consequence at all.

He had never been particularly forgiving. Bruce's call was the reason he was willing to stop here.

He was about to hang up and return to the audition room when Bruce spoke again.

"How's Hector doing? Do you think he has the makings of a producer?"

Evan considered his co-producer's work so far.

"Too early to say. He's in Boston scouting locations and arranging accommodations and logistics. We haven't had much time together."

"Fair enough. I'll let you get back to it."

Once the call ended, Evan stayed in his chair for a moment. Then he looked up at Nina.

"Call Hector. Tell him to finish what he can there and get back here to negotiate the cast contracts."

"Will do."

If Bruce wanted to give Hector a chance to become a competent producer, Evan didn't mind giving him more to do. Negotiating with actors' representatives was part of the job.

At five thirty, the day's work on the lot finally ended. When the car reached the estate, Hela was waiting beside the fountain. That was unusual. She approached as soon as they got out.

"What's happened?" Evan asked, handing her his briefcase.

She pointed across the lawn. Under the canopy, Naomi lay in a lounge chair wearing sunglasses, Fendi in her arms. She gave no sign that she had noticed them.

"Ms. Watts has had a difficult afternoon. She broke a cup earlier. You should probably go and see her."

"Now what?" he muttered, heading toward his usual place in the shade.

As her pregnancy became more noticeable, her moods had become harder for him to predict. Some days she was anxious; other days, something apparently trivial upset her.

Even a melodramatic television show could bring her to tears. He was used to a woman who seemed stubbornly capable of handling anything. He didn't always know what to do when she wasn't.

"Nami? Are you asleep? Hela said..."

He stopped. The little white table beside her held five or six entertainment papers, all opened to the same large photograph.

It showed him walking toward the restaurant with Halle on his arm, his head lowered. Those second-tier outlets had certainly worked fast. He had no idea how Naomi had obtained so many copies before he got home.

"Listen, Nami. I'm only going to say this once."

She was not asleep. She was holding Fendi and keeping her eyes closed in a very deliberate protest.

"Halle was having a problem. Nina and I happened to come across it at lunch, and I helped her out. That's all that happened."