Page 32 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

“Hey. No question,” Mark reassured them. “We just get so excited about this title. Everyone does. Your fans, the film’s fans. The cast’s fans. Go on with what you’re thinking, Harper. Please.”

Harper wanted to be in control of the material. It was a risk, but he’d demand it and not cede control. Not this time. He gathered his gumption. “I—I—I guess it could be modern….” Harper hesitantly said.

“Great. So Jackson and Kendall. It’ll be a great will-they-won’t-they scenario,” Mark replied. Harper nodded with a barely audible “yeah.”

“And they’ll have sex again. Will they get married?” Cynthia asked.

Harper laughed with a scoff. “Well, maybe, if that’s where the narrative takes us. Then sure.”

“So wait.” Cynthia turned to Harper, fully engaged now. “Why didn’t they end up together after college? They seemed so suited for each other. Soulmates, right?” She caught Harper a bit off-kilter. It must have shown in his face. “Your words, not mine….” Cynthia threw her hands in the air.

Harper scrambled for a response. “Right…I haven’t written it yet…but I can explore it….”

“Did something happen between them? Is there a scandal? I mean other than Casey and Johnson…” Cynthia clearly wanted to know.

“?‘The Ebony Humper’—I love that name,” Mark said with a chuckle.

“He was such a dog.” Cynthia was giddy. “I know so many girls who would have gone for his game in a second.”

“But he loved Casey and that’s what made it so great,” Mark added. “All his struggles with his toxic masculinity and his faith. Ohhh, so good.”

“Right. They seemed destined to be together. Did those two ever get married?”

“Kendall and Jackson?”

“No. Casey and Johnson.” In real life? Or fiction, like I pitched?

Harper struggled to answer the questions, trying to maintain the separation of the characters from the lives of his friends. “It can all be explained,” he said. “The main thing I want is to be true and authentic to the characters and the story.”

“Of course. Listen, you had me at ‘Black St. Elmo’s Fire in the sports world.’?” Mark stood up suddenly, signaling the end of the meeting.

“I have a thing,” he said by way of explanation.

“But just think about the possibility of setting it modern day. So much easier on production and let’s get folks back in the movies.

Really think about Damson for Jackson….”

“You should have seen all the assistants when we walked him through our offices….” Cynthia was now standing too.

“Some of these execs too.” Mark gave her a sideways look. Cynthia raised her hand.

“Guilty. The man is sex personified. So, Harper, how fast do you think you can turn that concept around?”

“Ummm, well, I think a solid outline in maybe…three weeks?”

“Oh my God. Great. Great. We will lose Damson if we don’t get this solved quickly,” Cynthia said.

“He’s got a lot of people who want to work with him. But he wants to be a romantic leading man. And what you’re pitching is the right ticket.”

Once again, Mark attempted to shore up Harper’s confidence.

Now that Harper’s deal was secured, the studio couldn’t risk overwhelming their writer.

“Look, follow your vision. Don’t think about setting it modern or back in the early aughts.

” Then what do you want me to do? Harper wondered.

So many conflicting points of view, suggestions, pieces to reconcile.

At this point, everything was just a blur.

“Just write the story from your heart and give us those rich characters. We’ll figure out the rest down the road. Sound like a plan?”

Harper turned to Stan with a shrug and a nod, and then back to Mark. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Great.” Mark reached out to shake Harper’s hand. “Harper, it was such a pleasure to meet you in person finally. I’m so glad we did this face-to-face.”

“Me too.” Harper returned the firm handshake with one of his own.

Seconds later, Stan and Harper made their escape from the conference room. Heading back toward the lobby elevator, they walked by the studios’ film posters past and present affixed to the hallway walls, including the original one for Unfinished Business.

“That went really well,” Stan remarked.

“You think?” Harper was dubious.

“Oh, for sure. You just have to be open to their suggestions.”

Harper nodded. “Hmmm,” he quipped, deep in thought. Those suggestions had been overwhelming. Stan seemed more enthusiastic.

“How about Damson Idris, huh? Dude’s a star. And a stud.”

The doors of the elevator opened. The ride continued in silence as Stan whipped out his phone. Harper thought about the actor who played Flave and how much of a drug fame could be. Hollywood shit.

“Can’t believe they can just replace an actor like that,” he remarked. Stan looked at Harper as if he didn’t know what he meant.

“The one caught on TMZ…? Pink cocaine?” Harper reminded him.

“Oh yeah,” Stan replied. “Hey, they replaced Aunt Viv and Lionel Jefferson. Remember that?” Harper nodded in recognition. “It’s not like they’re replacing Denzel or Tom Hanks,” Stan continued. They rode down for a few beats watching the digital display of descending numbers.

“Tough business,” they said simultaneously. The coincidence brought a laugh as they reached the bottom floor and exited into the sun-splashed studio lot.

“You really think you can get it done in three weeks?” Stan asked as they made their way to the studio’s valet stand.

“I think so. I’m headed to Maui tomorrow afternoon. Locking myself away in that villa and drilling down. I feel good. It’s just an outline.”

“True, but they really want to see something special. Make sure to drill down on that Jackson and Kendall storyline. Fans really want to know what’s going on with them.”

“Hmmph. Yeah. Me too,” Harper mumbled.

“What’s that?” Stan inquired as he looked up from his texting.

“Nothing. I’m good.”

He looked at his phone for any sign from Jordan. Still nothing.

“You’re about to do the hermit thing for three weeks. I know how you get.”

“I’m just hoping I can keep it going. The muse is always slippery.” The valet pulled Stan’s car forward.

“Well, don’t let her get away,” Stan said.

Too late, Harper thought. What if Jordan really was his muse?

In many ways she was. So was Robyn to an extent.

But clearly now, when he had to make something up about Kendall, he could do so unchecked.

Was that a good thing? Harper wasn’t sure.

He really didn’t like the thought of delving into Kendall’s inspiration without being in some kind of contact with Jordan.

Heading to Hawaii without at least touching base with Jordan felt like doing shit behind her back.

There was a balance he didn’t feel without her, caused by some kind of schism that Harper still failed to put his finger on.

He’d stressed authenticity in his meeting, but how authentic could he be right now?

He didn’t need Jordan’s approval for his creative process, but he’s always wanted it. Her acceptance. As bad as he felt about their distance, he felt worse that he didn’t know what had caused it. In the process, he’d lost touch with what was going on with Jackson and Kendall for real.

Stan interrupted Harper’s thoughts. “Look, I have to meet a client for a drink but I’m open for dinner tonight. I can get us a place. Just let me know.”

“I will,” Harper said, and extended his hand.

Stan gave him a handshake and a hug. “Great job, buddy. You always come through.”

“See ya, Stan. Thanks for coming,” Harper said as Stan jumped in his ride and started a call.

Harper’s rental car pulled up and he exchanged a five-dollar tip with the valet for his keys.

He sat down, plugged in his phone, and continued to contemplate.

Jordan hadn’t said anything in like a day and a half since Harper reached out.

His options were dwindling to see her, as was his hope.

Fuck it, he decided. Can’t worry aboutit.

But he was worried about it. And what about Murch?

He hadn’t responded to his questions about Robyn’s new dude either.

It seemed like the women who used to care for him, despite his flaws, were moving along without him, in their own orbits.

Not everyone revolves around your schedule, Harp.

He shook his head at his thoughts. People are people, not characters.

Tap-tap-tap. Harper was startled when he heard the rapping on his rental’s driver’s side window.

He must have been sitting for longer than he realized.

The valet nonverbally wondered if Harper needed anything else.

Harper raised his hand with a “my bad” gesture and shook his head.

Then he cranked up the car and drove off the lot.

The problem was he just didn’t know where to go.

Have dinner with Stan or head back to his hotel in Santa Monica.

It was too early to eat and it didn’t make sense to brave the traffic toward the west side now.

Harper shrugged and sighed, feeling like he should have better options, but then he got a text, a flash on the screen from Jordan Armstrong.

Nobu, Malibu 8p.

The message spun Harper into a double take.

Did Jordan just finally respond? He felt the quivers of butterflies, but a smile came over his face.

“All right. ’Bout time.” Now with a purpose, Harper approached the entrance to the 101 freeway.

He punched in the Nobu address. It was going to take ninety minutes to get there.

Mostly due to rush-hour traffic. “Mmmm,” he mused.

“Fuck it.” Harper wanted to see her and wasn’t even about to risk being late.

He’d brave the traffic tonight heading west into the shifting sunset.

Why’d Jordan take so long to respond? Busy?

Nah. There’s something else going on. But he’d worry about that later.

Hell, in person, he could ask. If he was lucky with the traffic, there’d be time to freshen up at his hotel beforehand.

He should. Even if it wasn’t exactly on the way, more important, he wanted to look his best. He merged onto the freeway with the swiftly moving traffic that his map app said would slow to a crawl in about eight minutes.

No matter. Nothing else mattered. He was going to see his friend.

He touched the car screen to respond to her text and said out loud:

See you then.