“Script Money” The Novel

Chapter Three

Cromartie Productions Studios

After my legal session, I walked into the studio with another project in my pocket. A private sex tape for my P.O. began materializing when I entered the parking lot filled with obscure black vehicles with microphones and cameras attached. Settings that made it seem elsewhere like a high rise in SoHo.

This studio was the sweatshop to my career, and Samirah gave me control of this motherfucker like T.I. had with Atlantic Records.

I realized no judge would consider my conditions functional if my probation officer had a tape leaked where she was getting fucked like Jasmine Rods streaming in the cloud for some circuit cock-jerker to upload and notice his coworker.

So, the first person I bumped into was Kelby Gates, the make-up expert. I liked him because he was a recluse, with big gauges in his earlobes, and dressed uppishly Gothic when he came to Cromartie. He could make a skinny chick look like a fucking mermaid in an hour, disguising anyone into something unique. "Yo Kelby, I got this new series I'm running next month. How'd you like to paint the sexiest Spanish piece of ass you've seen since Luna Fuentes?" I said.

"Hell yeah, I love doing the nude babes. Whose Luna Fuentes?"

"Summer Booty volume three? The chick with the little pierced lips, which took three dicks in forty minutes." I shake off his wonderment. "Fuck it."

"Is this some art show on Bravo you're doing? What's up, man?"

"This may be too family oriented for Bravo, my brother. This woman will be the fucking Gal Gorbat of porn flicks, alright. I promise your only work weekends dick will thank me after this job. I need you to get on board with painting a pornstar before every set and being O.G. about it. You with me?" I ask, squeezing his shoulder and realizing maybe the guy doesn't get laid often. Perhaps he frequently jerked off to online porn sites and never ran across Luna Fuentes. I don't know. I knew he was buying into my Amateur Traffic Orgy idea.

"Wow, Sam lets you do porn...Jesus Christ, you're awesome, bro. Well, fuck yeah, I'm down. Who's my canvas? Sukihana? Ice Spice? Please don't say anybody from Love and Hip-Hop. I heard that chick who walked off the air, did a tape, and caught herpes."

I grin and reply. "Someone is aspiring. Let's call this chick...' Ms. Fines' for now."

"Ms. Fines...I like it. Sounds like a thick traffic patrol broad." I left him glamorizing Ms. Cardona's new stage name as I went into the conference room of Cromartie Productions, where all the network heads met for this morning's proposals. Wondering what kind of sex scenes did porn fanatics like and where in this studio we could film privately.

"What was that all about back there? You a pornstar now." Imani says before we stroll into the office together. I was looking back at the make-up guy.

"That babe is my only ticket to a perfect week on the coast of the Mediterranean. After you." We fell inside the room to a round of clapping and cheering for me after my social snap on Insider.

* * * * *

All the Cromartie execs were present, along with network producers, senior writers, and first unit directors that stood up as we walked in feeling like Lebron and Savannah. We were winners, and Cromartie treated our subsidiary like a sixth man coming off the bench and closing out the game.

Samirah sat perched over the long table filled with drinks, manuscripts, and contract dossiers that rested near each member's seat. Grinning, she said. "I told you to give me twelve months, and I'd make you rich. Give it up for Kareem Cashmere." She claps again.

I thank everyone who looks at me like some famous writer now. Sitting next to Imani, who believed in Sak Life Entertainment way before Samirah, the $60,000 chains I often wear now, or the Atelier Versace dresses she rocks with her $4,000 heels and those pretty feet. I churned out while high on weed when we were just a P.Y.T. and a degenerate pitching this vivid bullshit.

Now every son of a bitch in here wanted to market us.

"I can't believe I wrote anything y'all gave a damn about." I laughed, and they also pored over the Sharpies and pamphlets I tapped on.

"I did...of course, there were others before me," Samirah scans the seats to my right. "but I found a writer I could believe in, and he was so intriguing...I took off my engagement ring to meet him."

"Ohh. I remember that day you were hiding that speed boat he'd bought you to show off. What a waste, I guess."

"Seriously, Kareem taught me that commitment could make you feel like killing yourself if it stopped you from being who you wanted to be. Free. It doesn't always mean bars and lock-down units. He'd just escaped prison, and I was engaged to one." She said, which was an overzealous shot made with her fiancé in the room.

"I was trying to get her number and realized I was off my game." I quip.

Samirah grins, standing and coming near my chair as she continues her sales speech. "Kareem thought I was an easy fuck his first day out...well, unfortunately, the affair never happened, but this man helped me change my life. So, before this syndication proposal goes any further, I want to announce I'm not walking down an aisle anymore, and Glendall and I are no longer together." She said.

The room was silent, and I could feel the barrier between Samirah's body and me shattering, growing hot as if we were catching feelings in the back of a Chevy Tahoe. Behind me, this news smelled like Samirah's Dior Homme and resentment somewhere. Everyone glances at Glendall sitting studiously and quietly, holding the table's attention as they watch the prick nonchalantly basking in this announcement.

"Um, Sam and I've decided our lives ain't work out with all our work at Cromartie. We still love each other very deeply, and I will continue to be C.F.O. of Cromartie--" Glendall says.

"No, you won't!" Samirah interjects, shaking her head. "I want your financial assets dumped into Cromartie billing's office within the hour. I've removed Glendall Turner from having central control over shit at my company. Whatever this was is done, okay? I understand my father likes all the goddamn selfish prowling you do around here, so you'll continue managing his ventures with him, okay?" Samirah says defiantly. "Imani, you've done a fine job creating a management team around Kareem and his company. How'd you like to be cast manager and hold down some of Cromartie's biggest players from now on?"

I scan Samirah's ring finger for the four-carat diamond rock Glendall usually stunted about. It was gone. I wondered what happened between them to break up so publicly. "Uh...I'm not a cast manager. I don't know." Imani shakes her head no.

"Samirah, darling, do we need this now?" Nick asked in a monotone.

"Nick, it's all good, my man." Glendall seethes at Samirah's decision.

"You can't start a war with your fiancé then go changing every fucking thing in this studio. We're in an important meeting. This anger you're dealing with is ridiculous."

"And marrying him and running a company is bullshit. So I ain't doing one while the other brings me down." Samirah turns. "Girl, what's up? Some probably think I do too much for him without giving his manager the credit she deserves. I want to challenge you to take on twenty percent of our rosters."

Imani and I gaze at each other. "Well, I-I only work exclusively for Kareem and whatever we can put in motion for his family," Imani says. "I can help, but I haven't managed that much of a studio before."

"She can do it," I state, pointing out. "Imani will be the best handler you got."

"Then you're in." Samirah finishes and turns to her father as he blows a head gasket before the meeting starts.

Imani pulls my arm. "Oh, Jesus. Kareem, what the fuck are you doing?" Lowly, she scoffs as she leans into me for some pep talk.

"I'm putting our accounts on fleek, babe. What the hell do you think I'm doing? You see how that munch trips on me? She's getting him out the way, and I'm putting you in the game. You act like this is dope dealing of something."

"Don't you dare! I stand on business like a champ! I do everything for you like a fucking Olympic athlete!" Imani defends her prowess with an undertone. "But this...this is a huge leap, baby. I'm not trying to take on all these people always faking like they're perfect. I am flying all over the country, from here to there and back. Working all the time and being miserable like that bitch. I'm happy when I work for you babe." she pouts.

"Sam wanted out a long time ago. She's alright." I shrug.

"Why am I explaining this to you? Look at how she's moving, all stiff and shit. He drives her nuts, mainly why she wants to fuck you so badly. Only women that move like that be battered bitches that take defense classes for battered ex-wives."

I stared at Samirah as if Imani's opinion made sense. Maybe.

"You better get this money before I start batting upside your head with these paws." I press her to bite the bullet for me.

Imani rolls her eyes, groaning at me. Gleefully she stands and finally accepts Samirah's prominent position. "Working out long-term credits with Cromartie would be an honor for our firm." She grins. I quietly give Daddy's girl a pound.

In a year, I'd turned Ms. Money into a tigress to make us rich. I loved how we pressured each other to accomplish more for our company. Knowing no risk could ruin the blood of a Cashmere. Although, I was moving her closer to Samirah, my work-wifey who was now anyone's girl.

* * * * *

For minutes into the meeting, Samirah saw Kareem Cashmere watching her intently after she announced she was calling off the wedding and leaving Glendall.

Inwardly, she wore a Victoria Beckham dress with sleeves to cover the reddish welts on her shoulder, Azzedine Alaia sandals for the bruise on her right leg, and her black hair falling around her neck accessories so no one knew he had slapped her this morning. She threw all her ex's belongings by the front door and drove to the studio separately, but she could never bring up the gut to admit to anyone that she had been living with a verbal and physical abuser.

Kareem made how much he cared for her a clear sign.

"Today, Cromartie Studios would like to thank Will and Ziggy for giving our studio the syndication it needed to bring Script Money to Tuesday nights." The whole office cheered for a time as Samirah looked at her partners and then went on. "The P.E.N. channel and New Line is believing in us enough to let our company take up their slots with all harrowing, violent, and sexual situations that come with hit ratings. Our shows have the drama that brings in them dollars, and will have all you wicked suckers calling every girl you can think of to layup with you by Tuesday evening. Script Money will have Tuesday nights full of explosive episodes and devilish sex. Real shit that comes on right when the kids are sleeping."

Nick comes in after the crowd calms down from clapping for a while. "We have several best-selling writers like Paul Matthews, Gizzle Tate, and what may be our writer of the decade, Mr. Cashmere, who can dish out an exceptional first season series...and they can all put out season after season if we're able to win a relaunch." He said. Giving the board a moment to see him basking in his pool of writers. "I'd let these handsome chumps here have film options on anything from a remake of Belly to an epic academy shot as long as Cromartie produces it."

"Here's a look at our studio's production costs for the next quarter," Glendall says, handing over his ledgers to Childs reluctantly. "Even with me stepping down, it guarantees that Cromartie will return five times the profits within premiere weeks, and our new line manager will be able to comprehend how this machine works for your benefit, sir."

"I'm overlooking the numbers on each slate...' PaperWhite' will take almost $5,000,000 to produce. The dystopia-sci-fi thing Paul wrote, we're shooting in Cambodia for four months, and Kareem has two reality shows that are looking to spend over seven figures on a mansion, traveling expenses to Rome, S.U.V.s for ten, and a yacht. What is this?" asked Will Childs.

"Um, I do a lot with the family, sir. People like family-oriented shit like this. You have family, don't you? We're like the Black Chriselys, but you'll never catch me with Botox in my face." Kareem jumps in at her defense.

Gizzle Tate begins laughing. "I saw 'Throned' myself today, and Imani is a comedic doll. Ratings are going up on that show because it's hilarious; everyone wants to smash Cashmere's girl in their dreams. I'm just saying." said the chubby writer.

"Thank you for thinking I'm smash-able, Gizzle." Imani grins gleefully at him as they both look down at the table at her.

Nick nods to Childs. "Everybody's watching 'Throned' just as much as 'Club Shay Shay.' The viewers love this guy." He said.

"You'd also like to be a part of a talent scouting show that could bring in some new deals your network can be the first to sponsor," said Samirah. She knew if a rising star created a buzz and took off, P.E.N. would want to broker some of those bucks and scout more.

"We have Sak Life premiering tonight at 8:00. Just watch and see what happens." reminded Nick.

Moesha Seal from Table Knot came to say to Ziggy Williams at New Line. "We're a go for Script Money launching this evening. I'm willing to deal with any features you do with Cromartie and Cashmere's company. I'm not worried about how much it'll cost to see some sexiness and fun come to this channel." She began closing her agreements on the deal with her signature.

"If Moesha agrees, then I can consider marketing your films in upward numbers of sixty-two countries, including Cannes, Toronto, Milan, and Tokyo if your film does well," said Ziggy. "Once you send your copies, we'll represent your videos from anywhere between $10,000 to $200,000, give or take which territory will deal exclusively and whether this movie can match up to anything dropping overseas."

"No. My productions look way more expensive than some two-mill budget your buyers hoped for. Hollywood ain't about to binge drink Script Money and throw up at our feet with $200,000." said Samirah.

"I guess maybe you should think about four-walling your prints."

"Or perhaps a complete buyout." offered Childs, laughing.

"What the hell are you drinking rum from your mother's tits?" Nick shouted at the man hysterically. "You go buy out those student films where there's always some freshmen holding the camera and getting punked by the lead. We want $500,000 for all domestic sales, skimming you a cool twenty-seven percent for anything you do out of the country. What's it going to be? Think fast. I can get you out and Sony in here in an hour."

Suddenly, Shaquea Bryant, the assistant production girl, peeked in on the meeting. "Mr. Cromartie, you have a phone call." She said.

Nick attempted to wave her off, but she immediately urged him to leave his meeting. "Put your goddamn hand down!"

"Look at how well these bad boys can sell your shit like a heroin plug from Bangkok." He got up, excused himself, and followed the attractively dressed woman outside.

No one spoke immediately after Nick Cromartie left the room. They were scanning the terms of their accounts and deciding on their future with the company.

"Samirah, we understand your father likes to gamble on Hollywood's willingness to take cock from any flake writer who can envision bum stories from prologue to finish. We know the man knows some shit, but we're doing this because you women can see a quality picture, and we rather take our risks on scripts exactly like these and whatever you direct, alright?" nods Will Childs as he closes his copies of his own set of manuscripts. "I like these badass thug hero skits Kreem has, so I'm in." Then signs his contracts solemnly.

"I agree," She shakes his hand. "I promise you Script Money will be played on every T.V. in the country once we get your producers to load up those time slots with our shows Mr. Childs." The producers finalized their syndication deals with Cromartie Productions and got up to leave.

"You guys are very confident." Ziggy Williams said, handing her his contract and then strolling out. "We'll be in touch soon."

* * * * *

Moments after the meeting adjourned, the studio turned into a nightclub in Buckhead. There was a party in the shadows, filled with bubbly champagne, all the actresses coming to fuck off with the writers, and the staff putting on a show with the digital effects. Even a domesticated silver lynx roamed around the set in the distance.

Kareem hugged her, "You finally took it off for good."

"Yeah." She wagged her left hand freely.

"Time to drink and date to that!" Congratulations on her breakup and their new deal with an international distributor. Waving over a platter of firewater while the raucous began. Elsewhere stage torches were igniting in balls of fire. "Oh my god, I can't believe you want me to be your line producer and manage all these people." Imani hugged her, making her wince as the woman squeezed her arms. "Oh, my god, is that a tiger!" She paraded on.

"Look, Sam, I know this deal is huge for us, but I need to holla at you about something," said Kareem, carefully doting her off to the side.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart? You think you can munch on this pussy now that I'm single." Arching her brow as she held his gaze, beaming.

"What? Um...no. I'm good at what I do down there, but Sam, listen to me. I need to push someone into the adult film industry. Help me drop a sex tape overnight, alright?"

"Wow, you're really that amazing in bed."

"Hell yeah, but this isn't for me. It's like a favor to help wipe away my legal restrictions. Gives me a pass to watch your film in Morocco, you feel me?"

Samirah chuckled, feeling aroused. "Okay. Sex is always interesting."

"Samira!" someone yelled, breaking her libido.

The name screaming seemed intentional, like a spouse's best friend shooing away the new catch. Samirah ignored them before she heard Nick coming back into the office. "Samirha! Get all of this bullshit out now. We need to talk." Her father raged in.

She froze. Then turned to Kareem and told him. "Um, yeah. Put a team together; we have tech guys for indie stuff. Whatever footage you get, make sure a copy gets to me, okay?" Smiling as she wandered off with her father.

He stormed into her private office and began wagging documents in her face as he started throwing a tantrum. "Daddy, calm down. What's going on?" She said to Nick.

When he exploded, his Jamaican drawl belched. "Your pussy shit brudda got jealousy n' him blood, and now he suing us!" She reacted as if she didn't know. Thankfully, Script Money streaming on a tube was signed and finished.

"Dad, would you please sit down." Sitting him in her chair, fanning him and messaging his barbell shoulders. The same way her mother Journey did before the man began fuming out of her control.

Nick took out a vial of powdery dust. He was laying out two lines of cocaine and doing them both on her coffee table, then making him a glass of whiskey, which he downed effortlessly. "One day, I'm gonna send that ungrateful son of a bitch to your mama to raise," said Nick, gulping another swig. "Motherfucker gone put the Feds on us!"

Sending Raleigh to their mother would be hard. Journey died of breast cancer six years ago. She left the company to raise a family.

"I know Raleigh's probably pissed we took his name, but we finished the deal. Nick, we can talk him out of this. Cromartie is a family; you can't kill your son, Dad."

Suddenly, Glendall entered the room and gave Samirah a look that said, "Someone must've finally told your father." Then he stood next to his mentor while he snorted another pair of lines and touched his nose.

"Talk to him, please." scoffed Samirah reluctantly.

"Nick, why don't you just relax for a while, man? I'll check on Raleigh and see if we can get him back on track with Cromartie." Glendall said, keeping a scowl on Samirah as he spoke.

"And if my boy still wants to forward with 'tis bullshit...give ear to my woes and tell' em to run it up on that pussy shit son 'o mine." He chuckled somewhat menacingly. "And I'll cover the rest."

"As you wish, sir." Glendall nodded, then walked out.