Page 21 of Gentleman's Anger
“Let me know how that goes,” Jake says.
“Of course. Thanks for being so understanding,” I tell him.
“No problem. Get that hand looked at. Your nose looks fucked up too,” he says.
“Yeah. No kidding,” I say. Patience takes my good hand, and we go out to the car she has waiting.
The drive to the hospital is blessedly short. Once there it’s determined that while my nose is definitely broken, my hand is more complicated. I’ll need surgery to get the tendons back in place, but that’s a week or so from now.
While waiting for the doctor to come back into room, I get a text from my agent. Martin Van Klaus is the best in the business. His main focus is sports management, but he’s knowledgeable in the creative outlets as well. He doesn’t want his client to have to shop around for another agent when their career takes another path. He’s good like that.
I saw what happened. They are replaying it on all the sports networks. You OK?
At the hospital now. Surgery scheduled for next week.
So you’re out the rest of the season?
Yes. Unpaid, unfortunately.
Excellent.
I fail to see why that’s fucking excellent, Marty.
You got the part, dumbass. Why you wanted to play the Duke of Stroking Off, I’ll never know.
They already got back to you?
Yeah. The producer Holly wanted you as soon as she knew you were interested.
Excellent.
They want to know if you’ll work for scale. I said yes since you wanted it so bad. I started your application for the SAG. You’ll need to finish it. I’ll drop by your place Sunday to finish it up.
I give him Patience’s address and then look over at her. “What is working for scale?” I ask. She look up from her phone and the book she’s reading.
“It basically means you’ll work for the industry daily minimum wage. Why?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at me. It’s now or never. She’ll either love this or she’ll think I’m insane.
“I got a part in a movie.”
“Which movie?” she asks, but I know she knows.
“The Debauched Duchess.”
“As?”
“Your duke.”
“You’re crazy, you know that don’t you?”
“I do, but I couldn’t let anyone else work with you like that.”
“I love it. Think of the press,” she says rapidly texting someone.
“I can’t think of anything but,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Out of curiosity, what is the current scale?”
“Oh, about eleven hundred a day.”
“Damn, okay.”
