Son of Stone Read Free Page A

was in it. They were asked to wait for a moment while Leo Goldman finished a conference call to the coast.
    “You’re a film student?” Stone asked Peter. “In high school?”
    “We have only one film class at school, so perhaps I should have said, ‘student of film.’ ”
    “I see. What part of film most interests you?”
    “I want to direct,” Peter replied.
    Of course, Stone thought. Everybody wants to direct. “Good,” he said.
    “Mr. Goldman will see you now,” the secretary said, just as Mike Freeman walked in.
    “Sorry I’m late,” he said, shaking hands with Stone.
    “We had a short wait anyway,” Stone replied. “Mike, this is Peter, Arrington’s son.”
    “Of course,” Mike said, shaking the boy’s hand. “I heard a lot about you from your mother on a flight across the country in her new airplane.”
    “Yes, she told me you helped her find and buy it,” Peter said.
    They walked into a large square room, which was decorated with abstract paintings. Leo Goldman, Jr., rose from his chair and pumped everybody’s hand. He was short, stocky, and balding, and he waved an unlit cigar when he talked.
    “And this is my friend Peter,” Stone said. For some reason, he didn’t mention Peter’s last name. He wasn’t sure why.
    “Good to see you, Stone, Mike. And Peter, I’m very glad to know you.”
    Peter nodded and managed a shy smile.
    “Peter is a student of film,” Stone said, “and he wanted to meet you.”
    “Yes, Mr. Goldman,” Peter said, “I’m an admirer of your work as a producer, particularly Chain Letter .”
    Goldman looked surprised. “Well, Peter, you have an eye for quality, but perhaps not for commercial success. That one was my worst turkey.”
    “Oh, I liked Blast , too,” Peter said. “And I liked your father’s work when he was running Centurion.”
    Goldman roared. “That’s more like it. Let’s sit.” He waved them to a round conference table in a corner, and after a few pleasantries, Goldman launched into a description of his first year at the helm, covering grosses and expenses along the way. He talked nonstop for forty minutes, also covering his production plans for the coming year and a number of TV pilots that were currently in production. “Any questions?” he asked when he was done.
    “Not from me,” Stone said. “I think you’ve covered everything I could have asked.”
    “That goes for me, too,” Mike Freeman replied.
    “May I ask a question?” Peter said, half raising his hand.
    The three men stared at him.
    “Of course, Peter,” Goldman said.
    “I noticed that three of the new productions that you’ve mentioned are budgeted at between seventy and eighty million dollars, whereas in the past Centurion has always kept its budgets in the fifty-million-dollar range. Why the increase?”
    Goldman blinked. “You’ve been reading the annual reports, haven’t you?”
    “I read everything about Centurion,” Peter said. “It interests me.”
    “Well, there are three things that have increased these budgets: creeping rises in general costs, which are inevitable; increased salaries for the stars of those films, who are all hot young actors; and the fact that all three of those pictures are action-based and shot on location, instead of just ordinary in-studio productions.”
    “Do you think the grosses will justify the increases in budgets?” Peter asked.
    “I think the grosses will more than justify the increases,” Goldman said, “and if I’m wrong, I’ll be answering to Stone, Mike, and the other directors this time next year.”
    “Thank you,” Peter said.
    “Anything else, gentlemen? Peter?”
    All three shook their heads. “We’ll let you get back to work, Leo,” Stone said, rising.
    As they took their leave, pausing at the office door to shake hands, Peter spoke up again. “Mr. Goldman, I hope this isn’t an imposition, but I wonder if I could ask your opinion about something I’m working on.”
    “Sure, Peter.