“Everyone on the set of a movie like this would have more experience than you. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, and I don’t allow disasters on movies I’m involved in.” Tom steepled his hands. “But... we may still be able to help each other.”

What in the hell could I help this guy with?

“You need more experience, and I need time to make those calls.”

“I’m not selling the script unless I retain creative control.”

“Give me a short-term option. I’ll give you as much creative control as I can. I’m not going to make this movie unless it wins me an award—it’s too expensive otherwise—so you don’t have to worry about substantial changes.”

John nodded as if he expected this all along, quickly sorting through the scenario laid out in front of him. If John granted Tom Melton an option, it would give the agent exclusive rights to the script. For a limited period of time, he would have full control to package the movie with a director, the lead actors, and all the major pieces in place to get studio funding.

John stopped himself from jumping out of his chair and pacing in front of the desk. As good as it was, and even though it was the best he’d received, the offer still meant giving up the rights to his script. The man in front of him didn’t have a reputation for fair dealing. But is anyone in this town honest?

Tom pushed aside John’s script. “I’d like you to fill in as an assistant director on a production.”

Wait a minute. Tom had phrased it as a polite request, but it was obviously going to be a requirement. It was too good to be true. “You have a ton of guys you could call as an AD. Why me?”

Tom narrowed his eyes, as if he’d expected John to agree to any offer. “I need to know if you can handle a difficult job.”

“What is it?” John asked.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” Tom straightened the papers on his incredibly neat desk. “The Final Vampire, shooting in Rome.”

Nervous fidgeting from Tom Melton. Interesting. “You’re involved in that shit show?”

Tom winced. “I am now, and I’m not going to let it fail. I don’t allow failures.”

John sat back in his chair. The stalled shoot, the rewrites, and the director failing miserably—of course John knew of it. The production was infamous at this point. “Are the rewrites done?”

“Almost. The screenwriter will be on set.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Are you replacing the director too?”

Tom nodded. “We are replacing the director and the AD. They came as a team, and they clearly couldn’t direct this thing out of a paper bag.”

“Who’s the new director?”