Page 80 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

Chapter Fifty-three

Harper

Harper wore a black suit and a crisp white collared shirt.

He was back in Los Angeles, in the studio conference room to discuss the Unfinished Business sequel.

Stan was on his right, Harper was in the driver’s seat sitting across from Mark and Cynthia, who’d been waiting for Harper’s new take on his latest pitch for the sequel.

When the meeting began they were pleasant, which in and of itself was good to see because based on Stan’s initial reporting they were giving him grief, threatening to “pull the project” from Harper, that they “had waited long enough” and how “ridiculous it was that they were being held hostage” by the novelist being “too precious” with an idea that wasn’t really based on his previous work and the like.

Harper was not expecting a friendly room.

Nor did he worry about it. He was confident in the story.

He was going to pitch what he wanted to write, and he was going to convince them they’d be crazy not to go right to production with it.

Empowered by his ancestors and the muse that was Solomon, his vision was clear.

And they were going to see this with his eyes.

Ninety seconds into his pitch the white folks were riveted and by the time Harper got to the crisis moment in the second act they were hooked.

Harper painted a vivid picture of Kendall and Jackson’s epic sex scene: “a night of undeniable passion leaving both wondering aloud why they hadn’t been together all this time. ”

“There is legitimate fear on Kendall’s part of falling in love so completely and forgetting her type A personality.

And that was even before she was married,” Harper illustrated.

“Conversely, Jackson hadn’t felt worthy of her.

Her running from him post college was not only regarded as a rejection of him, but of his manhood.

So, they were two ships passing in the night until that night,” he said.

“But now, Jackson has a lucrative offer on the table to go to New York…And not as a sportscaster, but doing the news. His lifelong dream,” Harper continued.

“?‘Kendall, I love you. I hate how you upended my career, but you made me an overall better person and man. But now I have to go.’?” Mark and Cynthia waited with bated breath for Harper’s next words.

“Love requires you to be open and display your heart for another without fear of damage or pain. Risking your heart is everything,” Harper said.

“There’s a pathway forward, but will he choose love over career?

And will she choose love over her loveless but convenient marriage?

” Harper paused, letting the question sit in the room.

“Well, will they?” Mark asked, leaning forward.

“I don’t know,” Harper said. Then teased, “We’ll have to find out.

We can certainly answer it at the end of this picture or leave the audience on a cliffhanger.

I can give you both versions. One with a run through the airport where she stops him from boarding.

And one where he gets on the plane. Or a train. ”

“Train stations are sooo romantic,” Cynthia quipped.

“Totally,” Stan added. Harper recognized his impish grin. They’re hooked. Not that he needed Stan’s confirmation. Harper knew when he had a room captivated.

“Well, if you can pull that off, we’d be thrilled,” Mark remarked. “People want wish fulfillment in movies. And love, relationships, finding your person is one of the biggest ones. Especially for the ladies.” Cynthia nodded in agreement.

Harper chimed in this time. “Personally, I think dudes feel the same way. They just show it differently.” He was encouraged by the harmony of consensus in the room. “ And if we can tap into that male audience…” Harper continued.

“And get marketing,” Stan added.

“Yes, marketing. Then I think you’ll pull in the women and the men,” Harper stated.

Both Mark and Cynthia exchanged smiling looks.

“Well, I must say this was worth the wait, Harper,” Mark said.

“Seriously, Harper. Great job. We are super excited for this,” Cynthia conveyed similarly.

Harper smiled and nodded with confidence. “I’m glad,” he simply stated.

“We want to pitch this to Damson ASAP. If he bites, we’ll want you to pitch it to him yourself in person. Hell, maybe we’ll even fly you to London if that works,” Mark said.

“Sure. Sounds good.” Harper kept his response even-keeled.

Cynthia leaned forward with faux trepidation. “I’m afraid to ask…but when do think you’ll have a first draft?” she asked not quite sheepishly.

Stan immediately ran interference. “Well, Harper has a lot of commitments: family, travel, his next book,” he listed.

“July fourth weekend,” Harper said confidently, briefly taking Stan aback. Mark and Cynthia looked thrilled with that news.

“That would be amaaazing,” Cynthia remarked toward Mark. “We would be right in time for a potential fall start and would be great for the studio slate.”

“Yup. Box-office hits are rare, but this one will resonate with audiences,” Mark iterated.

“Well, I’m ready. And I thank you guys for your patience,” Harper said and stood up, letting them know this meeting was over. He extended his hand toward Mark who was pushing his chair back to catch up and meet Harper’s palm.

“Absolutely. Thank you, Harper. Talk soon,” Mark responded. Harper turned and extended his hand to Cynthia.

“Thanks, Harper, thanks Stan,” Cynthia said with a broad smile.

“You guys have a great day,” Harper said as he exited.

Stan did his best to do his agent thing, “We’ll be in touch, guys, thanks,” while keeping up with Harper, who was shooting through the cubicles of assistants and coordinators and past the wall of impressive movie posters.

By the time Stan caught up, Harper was already on the elevator with the double doors ready to close.

Stan had to turn his body sideways and do a quick side-step to avoid missing the narrowing opening.

“So that’s how it’s done, huh? Drop the mic and exit?” Stan said.

“You think they bought it?” Harper asked, keeping his eyes on the descending numbers display.

“Dude!” Stan said. “You crushed it. They are thrilled!” Stan was effusive. He almost sounded in awe.

“Great,” Harper said. “I think they felt it. They got it.”

“For sure,” Stan agreed. “Hey, do you really think you’ll be done by this summer?” He spoke just as the doors of the elevator opened. Harper stepped out first.

“Yeah.” Harper moved quickly toward the exit. Stan was in tow, scrambling to match his client’s pace.

“You put a lot of work in,” Stan affirmed. “And coming to do it in person made a difference. Took some coordinating, but hey, we got it handled.”

“Yup.” Harper’s mind was no longer on satisfying the studio. That part was done.

Stan continued speaking. “You must be wrecked. So much travel in such a short amount of time. What’s on your agenda? I hope some sleep.”

“Headed to Malibu,” Harper remarked.

“The west side at this time of day? You’ll be stuck in traffic for hours. What’s in Malibu?”

“My destiny, Stan!” Harper responded and walked ahead. “My destiny!”

Stuck in crawling traffic, Harper fervently changed lanes trying to gain an advantage on the 405 south.

But it was to no avail. Every alternate route was just as crammed, and his navigation system swore it was showing him the quickest route.

Even though he’d left multiple voicemails, emails, and texts and had gotten no response, Harper tried Jordan one more time.

“Hey, I’m back in LA. I need to see you.

I want to make it right between us again.

I’m sitting in traffic, but I should be at your place by like 5:17.

I will wait until you arrive. I’m not going anywhere.

I love you,” he finished. Then, “It’s Harper, by the way.

Okay. Call me. Or wait for me. Or just give me a chance. Okay. Bye.”

At 5:19 p.m. Harper reached Jordan’s place.

He saw the latest flower delivery from him untouched and wilting at the gate.

Had the rest of the arrangements he sent suffered the same fate?

He rang her buzzer multiple times. She didn’t answer.

Maybe she’s working out, maybe she’s in the shower, maybe she’s sleeping, he thought, waiting.

With no answer, and as more time passed, Harper was coming around to the possibility that Jordan wasn’t home.

Was she at a meeting? Out of town? He walked over to the garage and attempted to look in the window.

He had to step on his tiptoes. When that proved futile, he jumped up to see if he could grab a peek.

He caught a glimpse of what he thought may have been her Beemer, but the glass windows were tinted and dirty with salt water and sand.

Did he know the code of either the garage or the front door?

His mind raced. It was a four- or five-digit combo.

He’d seen her input it and she may have even shared it with him.

Was it her birthday? Was it a name of some sort…

? Before he could try something a white minivan pulled up with yellow sirens flashing.

Oh shit.

Turns out there’s a reason Malibu is exclusive.

“Can I help you, sir?” The white uniformed guard stepped out of the vehicle.

His imposing build and buzzcut didn’t put Harper at the least bit of ease.

With his thumbs looped in that thick black tactical belt, he clearly wasn’t there to be helpful.

Harper knew the circumstances. He tried his best to explain anyway.

“This is not what it looks like. I know the woman who lives here. She’s a…friend…she’s my girlfriend…”

“Uh-huh. Is she home?”

“It doesn’t—I don’t—I’m not sure. I rang the bell a few times. I was just trying see if her car was here….”

“Uh-huh. Do you have her number? Have you tried to call her?”