Fantasy Pictures, June 23rd.
The phone rang just after noon. Linda picked it up, listened, then covered the receiver with her hand. "Paramount."
James set aside the sketch book. Gestured Linda to pass the receiver to him.
She slid it across.
"James" It was Harvey Cohen again,"Second week numbers are in. Friday the 13th grossed just over five million.Total domestic, thirteen million."
James let out a slow breath. "Five."
"Considering Jaws 2 and Grease opened last weekend, that's a strong numbers. Screens will starts decreasing from now."
James thanked him, and hung up.
Linda leaned forward. "So?"
"Five million," James said. "Thirteen total."
She blinked. "Thirteen million in two weeks?"
James started writing numbers on a piece of paper.
"Roughly one-point-five million net to Fantasy Pictures in total."
Linda gave him a look. "Listen to yourself turning into an accountant."
James smiled and said, "Hey, if I can add profit faster than body counts, I'm good."
Linda shook her head. "Still doesn't sound real."
"Get used to it," James said. "This is what having Moneehh feels like."
The office had became quiet again, Linda shuffled through a stack of magazine issues, while James kept writing ideas for his next movie script.
Linda dropped the magaziene and said, "I should probably tell you… I won't be around much the next couple of days."
James looked up. "What do you mean?"
"My thesis, Graduation's around the corner. If I don't bury myself in that now, I'm going to regret it."
James trying not be clingy, "So you're abandoning ship just when we're sailing smooth."
Linda smirked. "Pretty sure your ship will stay afloat without me."
"Yeah, but it's not the same," James said. "You've been here since it was just me, a typewriter, and a bad coffee maker." Sounding dramatic with open Hands.
"That coffee maker still works," Linda pointed out.
"Barely, I'll miss you around here. Rest in Peace." Shedding a fake tear.
Linda went forward and smack his head.
james wincing holding his head.
She leaned her chin into her hand, watching him. "You'll be fine. You'll sit here with your sketchbook and create a dozen new ideas, and probably call me anyway."
James scracthing his head, "I probably will, So when you're done… we should take a vacation. Just the two of us. Road trip, maybe. Before we start the next movie."
Linda tilted her head. "A road trip?"
"Yeah. Just drive. East, maybe. Catch a concert, see some places."
"This your way of bribing me to hurry up on my thesis?"
"Maybe,"
Linda tapped the finger against the desk. "Tempting. But if I say yes now, you have to promise not to bug me until I turn in that paper."
"No calls, no distractions?"
"Fine with me."
Linda shook her head,
"Alright. Deal. I finish college, you get your road trip. But until then..." she pointed her finger at him "...you let me study in peace."
James raised his hands. "Fine, fine. Go be a scholar. I'll just sit here with my big, scary horror money."
she looked away, "You'd better hold to that, James."
Fantasy Pictures. June 26th.
The office felt strange without Linda.
Her chair sat empty across from him, no pencil tapping, no quick sighs when the typewriter jammed. James leaned back and stared at the blank page in his own machine. The title at the top: Footloose.
The idea had been nagging him since he'd seen Grease and his bet with Linda.
The process of recalling the movie was still a drag, He started with simple things he can envision. Character names. Important Scenes. Songs.
But by the third page, he stopped. He rubbed his eyes, pushing the chair back. He was having trouble writing down camera movement and dancing scenes. How to articulate the dance into words. He typed three more sentences, hated them, yanked the page out, and balled it up.
The phone rang. He grabbed it on the second ring.
"James?" It was Alan Becker from Paramount.
"yes."
"We at paramount want to know if you're considering selling overseas distribution. Europe especially."
"Of course, make a real good offer."
Becker expecting a long persuasion talk deflated and said, "I'll pass it along."
When James hung up, He rolled another blank page into the typewriter and forced his hands back to the keys.
The days passed by with james busy with the script.
June 27.
The day's Variety sat open on his desk. Headlines talking about Grease and Jaws 2 crushing its second weekend. But lower in smaller section. Friday the 13th holds strong, indie shocker surprises with $13M after two weeks.
James clipped the page neatly and pinned it to the wall beside his desk. His film now mentioned in the same breath as famous movie sequel and Travolta.
The phone rang again, breaking his reverie. This time it was one of the Arthur Young accountants, a young guy named Davis.
"Mr. Rowan, just confirming, Paramount's tallies for exhibitor shares line up with ours."
"Glad to hear it."
"Doesn't mean they won't try later, But for now it's looking good."
James satisfied said,"Keep watching them."
"That's what you're paying us for."
June 29.
The Mustang II racing down the highway warm wind whipping their hair.
James wore a Stones tee and jeans. Linda was beside him, denim jacket over a white top and jeans with sunglasses.
Her thesis was finally turned in, and for the first time in days, she looked relaxed. She leaned back, letting the wind catch her hair.
"Rolling Stones in Lexington, tell me that doesn't sound better than another week in the office."
Linda shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."
The stadium was packed. Twenty thousand bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, the stadium was full of smell of sweat and beer.
Then the lights fell and Keith Richards strung his guitar for intro of Miss you..."
"Dah… dah-da-DAH… nyuuuhh… dah-da-DAH… nyuuuh…" (A/N Me visualizing the guitar riff lol)
The crowd surged forward. James grabbed Linda's hand before they were separated, the two of them pulled along in the wave.
Mick Jagger paced across the stage under the spotlights and started singing, "I've been holding out so long, I've been sleeping all alone, Lord, I miss you."
The audience screamed, James and Linda were shouting too, they looked at each other at the last line,
James shouted, "I want to kiss you."
Linda shouted too, "sometimes."
Then in harmony with mick and crowd,
Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-oohOoh-ooh, ooh-ooh-oohOoh-ooh, ooh-ooh.
They jumped with the crowd, feet slamming the floor, the bleachers trembling beneath. The concert went along with various songs.
Then Mick said, "I am feeling good, let's take you back to 1956."
Everyone was excited as fuck a tribute to late Elvis presley.
This was raw with no backing tracks... Whole band started playing.
Mick started singing...
"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog
Cryin' all the time."
The crowd sang it back, Linda squeezed James's hand and joined in, the two of them swaying with the strangers pressed in on all sides.
The time passed in concert as last song of the day...
When they started singing "Jumpin' Jack Flash" the stadium went nuts. Linda and James jumped with everyone else, the Stones wringing every last drop of energy from the night. When the lights finally rose, James and Linda stumbled out with the sea of fans, still clutching hands, their ears ringing and voices gone.
James glanced at her as they walked to the car. "Worth it?"
Linda smiling wide. "Yeah. Worth it."