Jack let out a huff and I sent him a warning glance.
Rebecca lowered her eyes. “And I’m sure you’ve heard about Anthony’s lawsuit against us, suing for his share of their grandfather’s estate.” She paused. “He’s claiming that Marc cheated Anthony in regards to the winery and other property.”
Jack and I looked at each other. We hadn’t known about Marc’s brother suing him. After discovering that Anthony’s romancing Jayne had been instigated by Marc to spy on our treasure-hunting efforts, we’d wanted nothing to do with him. Although it was no small surprise that Anthony had finally stood up for himself where Marc was concerned and fought back.
“As a result, we have a bit of a . . . cash-flow problem. We know that you’re in a stronger financial position now with the discovery of the rubies, and we’d like to discuss a loan. We just need the movie to come in on time and under budget and do well in theaters. Marc’s agent said that if it does, he can expect a huge deal for his next book.”
Jack looked around with raised eyebrows, as though waiting to hear an announcer tell him that he’d been punked. Finally, he said, “You do know that to sell a book you need to deliver original material, right? I’m not going to let you steal your next idea. Not that it matters. You’re not only wasting our time, but you’ve apparently lost all touch with reality.” He took a step toward the door.
Marc’s words stopped him. “I can give you back your career. When the movie wraps, I’ll come clean on all the misinformation that may have inadvertently soiled your image and reputation, along with those of your previous editor and agent.”
I knew that was as close as he would ever come to admitting to throwing a wrench into Jack’s career. To paying people to accuse Jack’s editor of improprieties, and monetarily assisting with Jack’s agent’s early retirement, essentially orphaning him. We would never know in full what else Marc had done, but he had taken advantage of Jack’s precarious position with his publisher after Jack’s book about our Tradd Street house had been canceled because of Marc’s thievery. It was supposed to be Jack’s salvation book, the project meant to resurrect his career following the dismal failure of his previous release and the public debunking of its subject matter. Instead of Jack’s book riding the bestseller lists, doors had suddenly slammed in his face, stalling his career indefinitely. For a man whose identity was so closely linked to his career, it had been like suffering a slow death.
Jack calmly faced Marc, his eyes narrowed and his face showing the same look of disbelief the twins exhibited when I tried to hide a piece of broccoli in a muffin.
“?‘Inadvertently.’?” Jack repeated the word with heavy sarcasm. I wondered if I was the only person who’d seen the flash of interest in his eyes.
“More or less,” Marc said, not bothering to look even the slightest bit apologetic. “Regardless of the reason, I know that your current editor is barely off of training wheels, has never read your books, and wants Kim Kardashian to blurb your next book. And you don’t have an agent to tell your editor where to shove those ideas because no agent worth a grain of salt is returning your phone calls.”
Jack gave a little laugh, but the tic in his cheek was now pulsing like a jackhammer. He casually leaned back against my desk and crossed one leg over the other. “And you could fix that?”
“I can.”
Rebecca cleared her throat. “There’s one more thing, isn’t there, Marc?”
Marc wore the look of a man sitting in a dentist’s chair. He nodded. Swallowed. “Yes. We’re prepared to give you twenty-five percent of our net earnings from the movie.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “If I loan you money.”
“Yes.”
“And we step back and allow the film crew to come into our home without any interference.”
“Yes.”
“Make it fifty percent. Of gross.”
“That’s . . .” Marc began, but was cut off by a sharp look from Rebecca. “Thirty-five,” Marc countered.
“Fifty or we’re walking. It’s not negotiable.”
Marc nodded, his lips pressed together tightly, making them nearly as white as his hair.
Jack looked at me briefly, then turned back to Marc. “I’m not convinced that trusting you is in our best interest. My first instinct is to run. But my wife, for reasons I don’t understand, considers you and Rebecca family.” He was silent for a long moment, his eyes not leaving mine. “Melanie and I will need to discuss this together.”
My heart did a flip-flop at the word “wife.”
“And if we somehow lose our good sense and agree, we’ll need a few concessions to be made. One—the filming is restricted to the bottom floor of the house and the garden since that’s where most of the action takes place. Harvey can use a soundstage elsewhere for the rest. That’s not negotiable. Mellie and my children do not need to have their lives disrupted. I know the contract allows for hotel accommodations for the duration of the filming that, as previously agreed, is not to last one day longer than eight weeks. This is our home. We’re not leaving. Don’t even try to talk us out of it—that’s a nonstarter.
“Two—and again this is a major ‘if’—if we decide to do this, we’ll want our lawyer to draw up the contract with all the provisions of the loan, including an inflated interest rate that will increase with each week the principal isn’t repaid in full past the term of the loan. And three”—he grinned—“the party or parties responsible for a breach in contract will have to fulfill their part of the agreement without the wronged party being held responsible for theirs.”