Chapter 47: Hearing That I'd Made Money Hurt Him Worse Than Death
"Hey, Bob." Seeing Bob try to pretend he hadn't noticed him, Bruce wasn't about to let him off the hook and walked straight up to him.
"Bruce, what... what are you doing here?" Bob forced a smile, unable to hide the awkwardness and disgust in his eyes.
Bruce said, "I'm here to interview for that Screenwriter Assistant job! I was just looking for someone to ask where you were—after all, without your 'recommendation' I might not have even gotten an interview. Oh, and I just found out Miramax's other boss is also named Bob—what a coincidence! Do you know him?"
Bob's face flushed crimson, regret flooding through him: "Why did I go looking for this guy that day?" Before he could respond, the unfamiliar woman beside him spoke up: "Bruce? Are you Bruce White?"
Bruce asked uncertainly, "I'm Bruce White. Sorry, who are you...?"
She replied, "I'm Gwen Miller. We spoke on the phone the other day; I recognized your voice, and when I heard Bob call you Bruce just now I knew it had to be you."
Bruce remembered immediately: "Oh right, Gwen, you're the Director of Script Development. Sorry I didn't recognize you, but we finally meet in person!"
Left standing there awkwardly, Bob now wore the obsequious smile he reserved for his superiors. "Miss Miller, you... know each other?"
Gwen said, "Of course. He's the Bruce White who earned a million dollars from Miramax with four scripts. Only—" She looked puzzled. "Since you two know each other, Bob, how could you not know Bruce White wrote Inglourious Basterds and Love Actually? You must have gone through all four of his scripts while organizing the company's script inventory these past couple of days."
Bruce said, "Bob certainly saw them—he just couldn't believe the Bruce White credited on the scripts was the same third-rate writer he knows, right, Bob?"
"So those four scripts with your name on them... were really... really written by you?" Bob's voice was hoarse and dry, filled with unprecedented shock, rage, and disbelief.
"Yes, Bob, that'd be me—making a 'first-rate writer' like you laugh, I'm sure."
Crash! The files in Bob's arms slipped free, scattering across the polished floor like his shattered ego.
Gwen, oblivious to Bob's emotional state, shot the bent-over man an irritated glance and continued, "Bruce, stop kidding around. You can't be here to interview for assistant screenwriter. Don't tell me you've come to collect your payment?"
Bruce said, "My friend Joey's doing his screen test today; I came along with him. But since we're on the subject—why haven't I been paid yet?"
Gwen replied, "Ask your agent Estelle. And payments are Finance's department; you're asking the wrong person!"
Bruce said, "Estelle's very diligent. When she gets the money she'll withhold my taxes first, take her commission, and immediately wire me the rest. The fact I haven't heard from her means the company hasn't paid out yet."
Gwen thought for a moment. "In that case I can check with Finance for you. Still, 1.05 million dollars isn't pocket change; a little processing time is normal, don't you think?"
The instant Gwen finished speaking, another bang made her jump. Glancing over, she saw Bob had slammed the stack of papers he'd just picked up back onto the floor. She stared at the new hire in disbelief. "What is wrong with you?"
Bob's face contorted; hearing her, he gave a bitter smirk. "I quit—what are you gonna do about it?"
Then, with eyes full of conflicting emotions, he looked at Bruce. "Bruce, you win." He strode off across the scattered papers and disappeared around the corner.
Bruce called after him, "But I was never competing with you!"
"My God! I'm going to find out who hired that psycho!" Gwen fumed, completely baffled.
Bruce said, "Don't be too mad, Gwen. It's me he's upset about. Hearing my scripts sold for a million hurt him worse than death."
Gwen asked, "So what's your history with him? When you greeted him I thought he was your friend!"
Bruce replied, "No, we're not friends. We just wrote for the same company before. Nothing more needs to be said. Your time's valuable, so I won't keep you. Just remember to check with Finance. Oh, could I borrow a phone?"
"Of course!"
Gwen led him into a conference room with a phone and left, closing the door behind her. Bruce sat on the couch, picked up the receiver, and dialed.
The call connected. "Hi, Ruby, when do I get the rest of my payment for Clerks II?"
Ruby said, "Oh, it's you, Bruce! You mean Clerks: The Groaning Clerk, the official title!"
Bruce asked, "Charles at Wildcat Productions came up with that? I'm impressed. So, Ruby, can I at least get half of the remaining twenty grand?"
Ruby quickly replied, "Oh right, your payment—sorry, Bruce. Wildcat Productions hasn't paid yet. I sent them the script the day after you gave it to me. They cited tax filing periods for the delay, and I've been tied up with Video Department stuff. Let me hang up and call them right now."
Bruce said, "Don't rush. No need to do it this second. I only asked because they used to pay the balance immediately."
Ruby offered, "Bruce, are you short on cash? Need a loan? As an old friend I can front you some emergency money!"
Bruce answered, "No, I wasn't going to ask, but I'm touched you offered—thanks, Ruby! Actually, I wanted to tell you something else: I ran into Bob."
Ruby exclaimed, "Oh, Bob—oh man. Bruce, I owe you an apology. He wore me down; I didn't want to tell him anything. You know he left on bad terms with everyone. But don't worry—I only said he could probably find you at that coffee shop. He doesn't know you live upstairs!"
Bruce said, "It's fine, Ruby. He didn't do anything to me; seeing me will depress him for a while, though. Look, stop being such a pushover. Don't let people force you into things. Saying no isn't that hard! You've got me wondering how you ever got a foothold in the adult film business, that gray area between legal and illegal."
Ruby said, "Bruce, when you were a fresh college grad entering this industry..."
Just then—bang!—someone shoved the conference room door open.
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