The Actor and the Housewife Read Online Free Page A

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    “It’s too easy! You’d believe me if I said I sacrificed a goat to get the good will of the north wind.”
    “Don’t you?”
    “No. Goats are cute. Anyway, it was just a colossal fluke, like I told you. I fully expect the screenplay to languish on someone’s desk for eternity, never becoming a movie, and to never sell another screenplay in my life. Which is why I wasn’t so worried about the contract.”
    His eyes flicked to the stack of paper, sitting on the table under her purse. “Annette is going to own you.”
    Becky shrugged. “Yeah, but what can you do? Can’t cross a gypsy without getting cursed.” She leaned forward and tried to whisper judiciously. “Her outfit . . . I’ve been keeping an eye out for other women in poofy blouses and hoop earrings, or men in caps and vests carrying fid-dles. I mean, for all I know, everyone’s going gypsy this year and Utah is egregiously behind the times.”
    He shook his head slowly.
    “So, does Annette always dress like a caricature of the Roma people?”
    “Last time I saw her, she was wearing a sort of . . .” Felix mimed something like a bib over his chest. “Something silver, with buckles . . .”
    “Like a . . . space suit?”
    Felix’s gaze returned to the contract. “My curiosity is piqued. Let me just . . .”
    He reached across the table and slid the contract from under Becky’s purse, upsetting the purse in the process. ChapStick, wallet, keys, and receipts spilled onto the bench.
    “Hey,” Becky said, trying to catch the detritus before it hit the floor.
    “Apologies.” Felix didn’t look up from the papers.
    She managed to stuff everything back in her purse except a travel-sized lotion, which had fallen under the table. Her belly wouldn’t allow her to bend over enough to reach it, but she managed to kick it out from under the table. She had to sit on the very edge of the bench with her legs apart in order to scoop it up by hand. Her face was flushed and she glared at Felix, who hadn’t budged. He was on the third page of the contract now, a pen in hand.
    Her (surprisingly delicious) food came and kept her pretty well occupied, and Felix finished making margin notes by the time dessert arrived.
    He heaved a big breath. “She’s a clever girl, I’ll give her that. No one like Annette. So. It’s not reasonable to expect profit participation on your first deal, but from a producer like Bub and Hubbub, you should get a guaranteed payout for the script option and then a percentage of the bud get if the project gets a green light. Also there needs to be a time limit—if the movie isn’t in production in eighteen months, say, then they need to renew the option or else return the rights to you. And this clause here basically states that anything you write for the rest of your life belongs to them. That has to go.”
    “I don’t want to be pushy, scare them away or anything.”
    “This is entirely reasonable.” He paused, drumming his fingers on the script, looking at her with a considering squint. “I’ll take it over to Annette myself tomorrow morning. Is she going to argue with me?”
    “She’d be crazy to try. You might call her fat.”
    “To Annette? I wouldn’t dare without wearing protective eye gear.”
    “Thanks for offering. That’s very sweet of you . . . I think. I’m not sure why you’re being sort of sweet all of a sudden—”
    “Neither am I,” he said, glaring at the script.
    “But you don’t need to take it over. I can—”
    “I’m going there again tomorrow anyhow. Look, don’t argue with me, all right? Just be gracious and say ‘thank you.’ ”
    “Again with the ‘gracious’!”
    “It appears to be the only thing that works with you. Just—I’m not used to running little errands for people and I’m feeling fairly irritated about it.”
    “Then why are you offering now?”
    “I don’t know! Drop it, please?”
    “Okay. Fine. I’ll never bring it up again.”
    “Good.”
    Their