The Remake Read Online Free PDF Page A

hard-looking woman under the headline ANDROMEDA CEO IN TOWN. Under the picture it said, JANINE WRIGHT TO SPEAK TO STOCKHOLDERS.
    R.J. looked up at Wanda. “What’s this?”
    She smiled. It was almost mean. “Boss, we both know you were going to stomp into your office and sulk for an hour and a half. Then you’d stick your head out and snarl at me to find out who was making the goddamn remake. Then you’d fret for a while, trying to figure out how to get to them.” She tapped a neat red nail on the picture in the paper. “Here she is, gift-wrapped. Staying at the Pierre.”
    R.J. stared at the picture. Then he stared at Wanda, who just stared back, looking cool, amused, and in control. R.J. finally had to laugh. “Doll, you’re amazing, you know that?”
    “Of course I know it,” she said.
    R.J. picked up the newspaper, grabbed a cinnamon roll and headed into his office.
    He sat at his desk, munching the doughnut and reading the article. Janine Wright, president of Andromeda Studios, had arrived in New York yesterday. Although she was allegedly just in town to talk to a group of concerned stock owners, the rumor was that she was using the trip to plant some publicity seeds for the studios’ hot new project, the remake of As Time Goes By.
    There were also a couple of hints about Andromeda’s disastrous previous year, all their prospects having withered at the box office. Janine Wright herself had gotten behind this remake and pinned a lot of Andromeda’s hopes on the project. She was sunk, and maybe the studio, too, if it didn’t fly.
    There were one or two references R.J. didn’t get about Janine Wright’s “legendary way with people.” From the tone of the piece, R.J. gathered that Wright was an ogre. Well, he wasn’t expecting to meet any saints. Not from Hollywood—especially not the head of a studio. They didn’t get the job by being sensitive to people’s feelings; they got the job by killing everyone else who wanted it. That hadn’t changed since his father’s time.
    None of that bothered R J. He had cut his teeth with these people, and he would—
    Would what? Wait a minute, what did he think he was going to do? Show them the error of their ways? Politely suggest that they give up the idea of the remake and do something else, instead? And if they refused, threaten them with his camera bag?
    R.J. couldn’t see any scenario that might work. He pulled a cigar from his desk and began to chew it thoughtfully. Only one thing motivated these people: money. To get them to do something you either had to give them money, or threaten to take money away from them.
    R.J. was pretty flush right now, for him. That meant he could buy a steak for dinner if he wanted it. It didn’t put him in Janine Wright’s league. So if he couldn’t offer them any significant cash—
    An idea flitted in. He thought about it. It might work. The odds weren’t good, but maybe he could bluff it out without having to play the hand.
    He knew he looked like his old man. And thanks to the jackals of the press, everybody knew who he was. Maybe, just maybe, he could threaten them with so much bad publicity and so many bogus lawsuits, they would cut their losses and give up the idea of the remake. If they were in such bad shape, they might back away from any legal tangle that could keep them from scoring quickly at the box office.
    It could work. It probably wouldn’t but it could. If he could get together all the fans, film buffs, nostalgia freaks, and cranks, he could sure stir up a shit storm—maybe enough of a shit storm to get Janine Wright to back down.
    Anyway, she might swallow the bluff. R.J. leaned back in his chair and threw the mangled cigar at the waste basket. Let’s just see what she’s made of, he thought with satisfaction.
    R.J. picked up the phone and dialed the Hotel Pierre. A very smooth voice, sounding like it had just been oiled, answered. “Hotel Pierre, how may I help you?”
    “Albemarle Florist,”