“Thank you, Mort. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“How old is your boy?”
“Eighteen.”
“I want to meet him.”
“Of course; we’ll arrange that.”
“He must be very smart, if he got into Yale.”
“You have no idea,” Stone said.
62
S hortly after noon the following day, Stone got a call from Morton Janklow.
“Leo got back to me,” Janklow said. “We’re at twenty million and ten po
ints.”
“Wonderful. How about the rights issue?”
“Seven years. I think that’s good. Peter will end up owning his film outright.”
“That’s perfect, Mort.”
“Leo is okay with dealing with the unions, and he likes the score, so he’ll pay Hattie Patrick a hundred grand. If Peter wants to give her or anybody else points, it has to come out of his end.”
“You’ve done a great job, Mort.”
“I’ll send Peter our representation contract to sign, and make sure he understands our commission is fifteen percent.”
“I’ll explain the facts of life to him.”
“If I know Leo, we’ll have contracts in a couple of weeks, and after we iron out the fine print, we should have a check in a month or so.”
“Thank you again, Mort.”
“When the contract is finalized, bring Peter to my office to sign, and he can meet some of our people.”
“I’ll do that.” Stone said good-bye and hung up.
Joan came in holding a letter. “This came from Bill Eggers,” she said, handing it to Stone.
“This is an outline of Arrington’s estate,” Stone said.
“That number,” Joan said. “Is that now yours?”
“Yes, except Peter gets it when I die.”
“Then I never have to worry about paying your bills again?”
Stone chuckled. “I’m sorry, but you do. I’m not touching this money.”
“I always thought you were nuts,” Joan said, “but now I know it.”
Stone laughed. “I want these numbers kept strictly between you and me,” he said. “I don’t want anyone else to see them.”