Carleton looked thoughtful. “Hollywood has lost a lot of talent in the past few years, but Paramount, Warner, MGM, they can replace whoever they throw away. They can afford to groom younger writers and actors and directors. They can develop CinemaScope and Todd-AO, and VistaVision. They can part the Red Sea and rebuild the pyramids. Paragon doesn’t have those resources. We have to choose everything carefully, make each picture count to remain competitive. But since Noah Glassman died last year, and I’m in charge now, I’ve got more leeway, but I also have more responsibility. Still, I’d like to do at least one big picture per year. Risky, yes?”

“Reckless,” I replied, “but if it’s a hit, one big picture can fund a dozen small ones.”

“And make a new reputation. I want Paragon to be just that—a paragon.”

I merely nodded. Carleton had his own rhythms.

“I so envy the people who were working in the silent era. They could make brilliant films with a couple of cameras, a few bathing beauties, and a pickup truck.” He launched into yet another digression, and the lunch crowd at Pierino’s had considerably thinned when he finally signaled for the check and said, “Adios Diablo is an extraordinary picture, full of color and character and great lines, and conflicted men and hard women. And an expensive train wreck. If we filmed in Mexico, Chihuahua or Sonora, we could do it.”

So at last we get to it, I thought.

“I would want the writer on-set, on location for changes, rewrites. Art Luke would have to go to Mexico. That would have to be part of the deal. He’d have to stay there throughout the filming, or it’s no go.”

In Mexico, I thought to myself with a twinge of foreboding, there will be no agency services for the rewrites like we did with Charlie and Max. If Art got stuck, he’d be stuck. Except . . . Simon Strassman was in Mexico. Conceivably Simon might show up. That could go badly. Simon had an outsized ego to go with his outsized body, and he could wreak real havoc, even disaster. The disaster could wreck the picture. Could that wreck Paragon? It could certainly wreck Art Luke’s career. Could wreck my career. “Sure,” I said. “That sounds great.”

“Let’s talk particulars later in the week.”

“Fine,” I said as we both rose to leave, “but I’d like to add—I don’t know who you’re thinking about casting for the black guy.”

“I’m always thinking about casting.”

“There’s a really great actor named Clayton Strong. You should look at him.”

“What’s he done?”

“Oh, the usual sword-and-sandal crap, but the question is: What can he do, given the opportunity?”

“That’s the question we all ask of ourselves. If we’re any good at all.”