Read Online Return to Willow Lake by Susan Wiggs - Free Book Online Page B

Flick.
    “Who’s Mickey Flick?” demanded Glynnis, peering at the screen
of his phone. She not only had a rack; she was the nosiest waitress on the
planet.
    He ignored her, and skimmed his thumb across the screen in
order to take the call. “This is Zach Alger.”
    “Mickey Flick here.” A crisp, easy familiarity mellowed the
voice. The guy sounded as if he and Zach talked every week.
    Zach held his breath. Mickey Flick headed up an outfit in
Century City noted for its wildly successful celebrity reality shows. Zach was
no fan of the genre, having little interest in watching has-been actors in some
ludicrous setup. He was, however, a fan of the success of the shows. He’d been
in contact with Mickey Flick Productions, knowing it was a crazy roll of the
dice. There had been several emails back and forth with various assistants, but
still, he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Now here was the guy, calling
him out of the blue.
    “Hey,” he said, trying not to fumble. “Thanks for calling me
back.”
    “Not a problem. We were glad to hear from you. We’ve been going
over the samples you sent in.”
    Zach felt himself teetering on the brink. He knew, he just knew
his life was about to change. “Wow. Well,” he said, “I’m flattered you had a
look. I hope you liked what you saw.”
    “Hell, yeah, we liked them. You’ve definitely got the technical
expertise and the eye we’re looking for, so I wanted to see if you’re available
for a new production that’s about to start filming.”
    Available? Available? Was he available for
Mickey-freaking-Flick?
    “Could be,” he said, hoping to sound measured. Interested, but
not too eager. “Tell me more.”
    “For the time being, I can’t say much. You’ll get more details
from Clyde Bombier, my production exec. It’ll be a reality show, all under wraps
until we’re ready to go wide with it. What I can tell you is that it’s a
sixteen-week gig, it involves a major talent and a name director. You’d work
directly with him.”
    “Okay,” Zach said. “You have my attention.”
    He tried not to hyperventilate as he listened to the terms
being offered. The money alone made his head spin, but the real excitement
kicked in when Flick said he was sending a formal letter of offer and a contract
via email.
    Zach thanked him and hung up, looking around the bakery at the
coffee drinkers, the tourists and locals, the little kids smearing their hands
on the glass cases, the old guys with their crossword puzzles. These people had
no idea that the world had just shifted for him. Finally the dream was coming
into reach. He’d been trying to get a break forever, sending out his portfolio
of digital clips, emailing them into what seemed like a black hole of digital
ether. He’d been networking through people in the business who were at least six
degrees away from West Coast and New York producers. Each award he won, each
scrap of recognition, hoisted him another rung up the ladder, but until now,
nothing had materialized.
    The opportunity was still so new, he had only the sketchiest
idea of what was in store for him next. He knew for certain Mickey Flick had a
reputation for doing things in a big way. The guy had mentioned that this
opportunity was a major production. Major . It was
the biggest thing that had ever happened to Zach, for sure.
    The current project was so top secret he would only learn the
details when everything was in place. All he knew was he’d been offered a
fortune to work on the production. He wondered why they’d picked him, given all
the talent in the business. He wouldn’t quibble. The money was nice, it was more
than he’d dreamed of making, but that wasn’t the part that excited him. What
really excited him was the crazy array of possibilities that now lay before
him.
    Speculating on what the secret plan for the show might be, he
dreamed of Malibu, maybe filming a surf competition. Or perhaps there would be a
crew of castaways on Fiji,