Private L.A. Read Online Free PDF Page A

of their lives,” Sanders said.
    “The one that will immortalize them,” Camilla Bronson agreed.
    “You should see the rushes,” said Terry Graves. “Just brilliant stuff.”
    The Harlows had come back from Vietnam on their private jet four days before. To avoid the paparazzi, they’d kept the details of their return secret and landed at Burbank. The lawyer, the publicist, and their head producer were there to greet them. The Harlows were blitzed from the long flight and the longer shoot on location. But they were also determined to complete the principal filming on a soundstage on the Warner lot starting the following month.
    “So
Saigon Falls
is a Warner project?” Justine asked.
    Terry Graves shook his head. “They’re a minor player. No other studio in town wanted to touch the project. They all thought it was too risky, more art than commerce. Warner is involved in a nominal way, kind of a nod to Thom and Jennifer for how much money they’ve made for that studio over the years.”
    Camilla Bronson said, “Thom and Jennifer raised money for the film privately to supplement what they decided to fund themselves.”
    “Which was how much?” Mo-bot asked.
    The publicist and the producer looked at Sanders. The attorney shifted in his seat, glanced at Justine, who was signing the nondisclosure form, said, “Sixty of the ninety-three total at last count.”
    “Personally?” Dr. Sci said, as shocked as I was.
    “The vast majority of their fortune,” Sanders affirmed.
    “But they were passionate about
Saigon Falls
, zealots, in fact,” Terry Graves explained.
    Camilla Bronson nodded, said, “Thom and Jennifer were either going to make a masterpiece and a bigger fortune, or they were going to lose everything they had.”
    Sanders said, “In all honesty, I met them at the airport because I desperately needed to explain that costs associated with
Saigon Falls
had overwhelmed their ability to maintain their current lifestyle.”
    “You mean they were broke?” I asked.
    “Not quite. But they were teetering right on the razor’s edge of it.”

Chapter 9
    AS THE SOUTHERN California landscape blurred below us, Sanders went on: “At the airport, I explained their dire financial situation, held nothing back, told Thom and Jennifer they were going to have to take draconian measures or face bankruptcy.”
    “What did they say to that?” Justine asked.
    Terry Graves said, “Thom acted unconcerned and said he had it covered, that a new investor had appeared who was underwriting the completion of
Saigon Falls
.”
    “He say who that investor was?” I asked.
    The producer shook his head, looking highly irritated. “Thom is like that. Likes being mysterious for no reason at all.”
    “Creative tension,” Camilla Bronson explained. “Thom—and this is off the record—believes in withholding information. He does it with everyone. So does Jen, for that matter. They believe it keeps people on their toes.”
    “Okay,” I said. “So then what happens?”
    Sanders replied, “They pleaded exhaustion and left along with Cynthia Maines, their personal assistant, in two rented Suburbans, bound for the ranch for six days of R&R.”
    Terry Graves looked like he’d bitten into something sour. “Typical of them. They knew we had a week of endless meetings set up—they’d been out of the country nine months, for God’s sake—but they just announced that it would all have to wait, and away they drove, leaving us in the lurch.”
    “Jen thought the kids deserved it,” said Camilla Bronson. “Six days to help them reacclimate.”
    “Anyway, that’s the last we’ve heard of any of them,” Sanders said.
    “So how do you know they’ve disappeared?” Justine asked. “They’ve got two days left, right?”
    The Harlows’ publicist said, “True, but they just stopped answering their phones, texts, and e-mails.”
    “When?”
    “Night before last,” the producer said. “I called all day yesterday on their