Will Smith spotted Joey across the crowd and locked onto her like a heat-seeking missile.
Same vibe the other way around: the second Joey's brain yelled Holy crap, that's Will Smith!, Will's brain was screaming JOEY GRANT?!
Jackpot. He came out for ice cream with his kid and literally ran into Joey freaking Grant.
Bubbles of pure excitement popped in his head. Without a second thought, he pulled out a black card, shoved it at his son, and said, "Go wild, buy whatever you want." Then he bee-lined straight for Joey.
Joey blinked up at Hollywood's biggest Black superstar.
Will grinned down at Hollywood's miracle director.
Joey cleared her throat. "Mr. Smith, huge fan. Didn't expect to run into you here…"
Will flashed that megawatt smile. "Please, the honor's all mine, Miracle Director."
They did the whole mutual-admiration-society thing for a minute, trading compliments like it was an awards show. Finally Will got to the point.
"So, Director Grant, word on the street is you're prepping a new movie. You even interviewed Robinson Canó, the MLB MVP. Baseball biopic?"
Joey nodded. "You don't miss much, do you? Yeah, it's a baseball movie."
Will's eyes lit up like Christmas. "You know I've always had a thing for sports films…"
Joey laughed; she wasn't slow. "Oh yeah? What do you think about baseball movies specifically?"
Will pulled out the chair across from her like he owned the place, leaned in, elbows on the table, and gave her that classic charming squint. "I don't know if you've already got your leading man locked in… but I'm very, very interested."
Joey leaned in too, grinning. "Funny, because I was really hoping Will Smith would play my lead."
Will's smile got wider. "Can I at least read the script before I say yes?"
"Of course! The script is sacred. If you love it and you trust me behind the camera…"
Will waved a hand. "Trust you? Girl, please. I have nothing but faith in you. Yeah, some idiots online keep whining that you only make 'chick flicks,' but picking a sports movie right now? That's a power move, and I'm here for it. I loved everything you've done… well, except Twilight." He winked.
Joey cracked up. "Fair! Okay, I'll get the script over to you ASAP. But… you know your normal fee is insane. My budget might cry."
Will shrugged like it was nothing. "If I love it, money's not an issue. I'll take scale, or even just a symbolic dollar. Working with you is the kind of credit that actually means something."
They ended up chatting for another twenty minutes, totally vibing. Two minorities who'd clawed their way to the top of a sometimes shady industry; they got each other.
Then, mid-sentence, Will's face went dead serious. He glared up at the sky and muttered, "."
Joey followed his gaze.
"Drone," he growled. "Paparazzi special."
Joey wasn't used to that level of surveillance; she wasn't tabloid bait 24/7. Will, on the other hand…
He was already standing, throwing on his jacket. "Joy, we're about to be front-page news. Brace yourself."
Joey just laughed. "It's been a while since I made headlines. Could be fun!"
Will gave her the most exhausted look. "You're having fun. I'm the one who's gonna be sleeping on the couch tonight…"
He bolted inside, grabbed his kid, and peeled out in his Lambo.
Joey finished her ice cream like a civilized human, then drove her normal little car home.
Next morning, bright and early, she called Tom: "Hey, need to talk business. I'll swing by the office."
She got to United Artists and; surprise; Tom was already there. She caught him mid-eye-drop, eyes all watery and red. She couldn't help it; she snorted.
Tom, though? Ice-cold. Colder than he'd been even back on the Iron Man set.
Joey tried to break the tension. "So… uh… how's Iron Man coming along?"
Tom didn't even look up from his monitor. "Call Jon if you want updates."
Short, sharp, arctic.
Joey felt something twist in her chest. Why the hell did it bother her so much? She had no idea. All she knew was this guy could flip from hot to frozen without warning and it was driving her nuts.
She swallowed her pride. "Okay, fine. Actual reason I'm here; new movie. Need the CEO's blessing and some funding."
Tom finally glanced at her. "Title and budget?"
"I emailed everything over, like, two days ago. Check your inbox." (She was totally petty about it.)
Tom opened the email, started reading… and went radio silent.
Joey waited. Counted to thirty. Gave up and went to make herself coffee.
While the machine hissed and gurgled, Tom spoke up, voice flat. "Haven't read the script yet, but the deck looks solid. Your track record speaks for itself. If the script's good, I'll green-light it. MGM will follow my lead."
Joey muttered into her mug, "Cool. Maybe actually read the script when you get a sec…"
"Got it."
His whole vibe was screaming leave me alone. Joey's temper flared; classic love-'em-and-leave-'em energy, right?
She decided to poke the bear anyway. "I actually already have a pretty great lead in mind…"
Tom's mouth curved into something that wanted to be a smile but came out mean. In his black suit and dead expression it looked brutal.
He reached for the fresh tabloid on his desk and slid it across to her without a word.
Joey picked it up.
Front page: a blurry drone shot of her and Will yesterday, both leaning in, laughing, looking way too cozy.
Headline screaming:
JADA PINKETT SMITH HIRES PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR – SUSPECTS WILL SMITH CHEATING WITH JOEY GRANT
Are you kidding me?!
The article went full soap-opera:
- "Will and Jada's nine-year marriage on the rocks…"
- "Will's steamy new romance with miracle director Joey Grant…"
- "Jada fighting to save the marriage, but Will wants out…"
- "No prenup; they're splitting a billion dollars…"
- "Custody battle looming…"
Joey's jaw dropped.
This was next-level fiction. And Tom had clearly seen it first thing this morning.
No wonder he was acting like she'd personally kicked his dog.