Not Dead Yet (Roy Grace 8) Read Online Free PDF Page B

wife?’
    ‘George’s real wife was a dog.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘Get real, Max.’
    ‘Just a thought.’
    ‘Right now we need our male lead. We need goddamn King George.’
    ‘Yuh.’
    ‘Yuh. Are you with us? On planet earth?’
    Brody nodded. ‘I’ve been giving it thought.’
    ‘And?’
    Brody fell into one of his habitual silences. They infuriated Brooker because he could never tell whether his partner was thinking, or had momentarily, in his drug-addled brain, lost the plot. Without their male lead the whole shooting match was in danger of crashing and burning around their ears. At the period of their movie, George IV was in his late twenties, with Maria Fitzherbert six years older. So Gaia was perfect, if a little thin. To get a major male star in the right age range who either was English or who could pass as English, was proving even harder than they had anticipated, and they were running out of options. In desperation, they’d cast their net wide. They weren’t making a biopic, for God’s sake, this was a movie, fiction, George IV could be any damned age or nationality they chose. Besides, weren’t all those Brit royals foreign?
    Tom Cruise wasn’t available. Colin Firth had passed, so had Johnny Depp, Bruce Willis and George Clooney. They’d even tried a different tack and put an offer out to Anthony Hopkins, which had come back with a curt no from his agent. That completed the most bankable names on their sales agent’s list. Now, focusing on Brits, they were looking at a wider roster of stars. Ewan McGregor did not want to work outside LA while his kids were growing up. Clive Owen was unavailable. So was Guy Pearce.
    ‘Gaia Lafayette is screwing some hunk. What about him?’ Brody said, suddenly.
    ‘Can he act?’
    Brody shrugged. ‘How about Judd Halpern?’
    ‘He’s a drunk.’
    ‘So? Listen, we got all the presales we need on Gaia’s name – does it matter who plays fucking George?’
    ‘Actually, Maxim, it does. We need someone who can act.’
    ‘Halpern’s a great actor – we just have to keep him off the juice.’
    Larry’s phone rang. He picked up the receiver. ‘I have Drayton Wheeler on the line for you,’ Courtney said. ‘It’s the fifth time he’s called.’
    ‘I’m in a meeting. Who is he?’
    ‘Says it’s very urgent, to do with The King’s Lover .’
    He covered the mouthpiece and turned to his partner. ‘You know a Drayton Wheeler?’
    Brody shook his head, preoccupied with removing the lid of his coffee bucket.
    ‘Put him through.’
    Moments later a voice at the other end of the phone, the tone aggressive and nasty, said, ‘Mr Brooker, do you have a problem reading emails?’
    ‘Who am I talking to?’
    ‘The writer who sent you the idea for The King’s Lover .’
    Larry Brooker frowned. ‘You did?’
    ‘Three years ago. I sent you a treatment. Told you it was one of the greatest untold love stories of the world. According to Variety and the Hollywood Reporter you’re going into production. With a script based on my treatment that you stole from me.’
    ‘I don’t think so, Mr Wheeler.’
    ‘This is my story.’
    ‘Look, have your agent call me.’
    ‘I don’t have a fucking agent. That’s why I’m calling you.’
    This was all Larry needed today. Some jerk trying to cash in on the production. ‘In that case, have your lawyer call me.’
    ‘I’m calling you. I don’t need to pay a lawyer. Just listen to me good. You’ve stolen my story. I want paying.’
    ‘Sue me,’ Brooker said, and hung up.

10
     
    Eric Whiteley was remembering every second, as clearly as if it were yesterday. It all came back every time he saw a news story about bullying, and his face felt flushed and hot now. Those ten boys sitting on the wall chanting, ‘Ubu! Ubu! Ubu!’ at him as he walked by. The same ten boys who had been on that low brick wall every evening since the start of his second term at the school he hated so much, some thirty-seven years ago. Most of