Fade to Blue by Bill Moody Read Free Book Online Page A

the story is about, maybe even see the script, don’t you think?”
    “And you will,” Robbins says. “All in good time.”
    “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
    Robbins smiles. “I should have known you’d pick up on that. Let me just give it to you in a nutshell.”
    “I’m listening.”
    “This is an independent film. No studio involved until it’s done. Then we’ll try to get a deal for distributions, get it in one of the festivals—Sundance, maybe even Cannes. The financing comes from a group of investors who think Ryan Stiles stock is first rate, and of course it is. We don’t anticipate any real problems, but a couple of them are concerned about various other elements. The costar, the story, the fact that it deals with Ryan as a jazz musician. They want to know why we can’t have Quincy Jones or some other hot shot Hollywood composer score the film.”
    Robbins pauses, glances out the window at the surf rolling in. “I can’t tell them you’re an experienced film composer can I? Not that I don’t think for a minute you can’t do it,” he adds quickly.
    I nod, knowing he’s right, and realize how much I don’t know about the movie business. “So, how do we get around this?”
    “Here’s what I want you to do. Get started with the tutoring. Concentrate on getting Ryan up to speed. We’re meeting with the investors again soon. It’s kind of a dog and pony show. By then we can say how happy Ryan is working with you, and you’re the man to score this film. You see where I’m going with this?”
    “Yeah, I think so. Will that be enough for the investors?”
    Robbins smiles again. “Remember what I told you before. What Ryan Stiles wants, he gets, and these guys not only want to see a return on their money, they want to see themselves attached to a big name movie star and their names in the credits.”
    “Okay. I figure to get started tomorrow.”
    “Good,” Robbins says. “One other thing. You have any problems, you call me. I’ll handle Ryan.”
    Back at the house, I pull up in front of the gates and realize I don’t know the code to get inside. I press a button on the key pad.
    “Yes?” It’s Emillio’s voice coming through the speaker.
    “It’s Evan. You’ll have to let me in.” I wait a few seconds for the gates to open, pull in, and park the car. Ryan and Melanie are having breakfast by the pool. “Hey,” Ryan says. “You’re an early bird.” Melanie is thumbing through a magazine. She looks up and smiles. “Sit down, dig in. Emillio makes a great omelet.”
    I take a chair. “No, thanks. I already got something. Decided to take a drive. Hope it was okay to use the car again.”
    Ryan nods. “Sweet, isn’t it. Where’d you go?”
    “Point Dume. I was curious to see where James Garner’s trailer was parked.” Ryan looks at me blankly. “You know,
The Rockford Files
television series?”
    “Must have been before my time.” We lapse into silence for a bit, which seems to make Ryan edgy. “Melanie and I are going to drive into Santa Monica later, have some lunch. Why don’t you come along?”
    Why not? The alternative is hanging around the house all afternoon. “Sure, but isn’t it difficult for you in public?”
    “Photographers, you mean? Yeah, but I gotta get out sometimes.” He grins. “You’ll be a diversion. They’ll be trying to figure out who you are,” he says. He glances at his watch. “I’ll make a reservation. About one, okay?”
    “Sure. I think I’ll get in some practice time.”
    “Cool.” He stands and Melanie follows suit.
    I go into the house and sit down at the piano, playing some scales chords then slide into “If You Could See Me Now.” I play for a little over an hour and when I look up, I see Emillio, standing in the doorway watching.
    “You play beautifully,” he says. He hands me a slip of paper with some numbers. “That’s the code for the gate.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Can you really teach Mr. Stiles to