Disclaimer : I don't own anything, as per usual.
Summary : One of Derek's friends in the business makes him fly over to Chicago with Karen to meet some producers who could further finance "Hit List". Along the way, adventure awaits the pair...
Time Period : (IMPORTANT!) Forget the Tony Awards. This is right after 2x14, but doesn't necessarily imply the events that follow the episode.
Well, If You Can't
The phone call interrupted him an early Saturday morning.
The city is never quiet in the morning. This time of year New York dives into the breast of summer's dawn. The sun, a pearl lost amidst sea, lingers in the clear sky for longer hours, pushes the evening well into the night. Birds imitate the flight of the Phoenix as it rises in its own insolent, purging fires. They are shushed by the occasional couple of honks. It's kind of beautiful.
Derek kicked the sheets off himself, and clumsily searched his apartment for the source of the ringtone. Once he found his phone and picked up, a familiar voice greeted him.
"Derek!"
"Roger?" Derek emitted a chuckle of remembrance, and continued. "Can a year have passed since our last a conversation? What's the purpose for the call? I'm kind of hoping it's not to get my mother in bed again, is it?"
A laugh escapes the speaker on the line. "As much as your mother is a wonderful woman, I'm calling to talk about a business opportunity that concerns you and your show."
"You've seen 'Hit List'?" Derek asks incredulously.
"I am very ashamed to say that I have not. However – and you'll be very glad to hear this – some producers, clients of mine from here, did fly over to New York to have a look at it. They were very discreet about their names. No one noticed how much these guys really have in their pockets. Anyway, they adored it, and want to meet. Their plans for 'Hit List' are quite big. We're looking at nation-wide financing. The flight and hotel are paid for; the meeting is for breakfast. Oh! and bring the girl. They definitely want to see that star again."
Roger rolled his words in his typical husky voice, a little broken by the regular Cuban cigars and Marlboros. Old friends like him will always call whenever they can simultaneously profit for you and for themselves. Self-preservation, one might suppose you may call it. They can always fool you into thinking that they're doing it solely in your best interest when, in fact, they're the ones gaining the big bucks in bucket-loads. And you will always count them as friends. They can never truly fail.
"Roger, we've already gotten a producer."
"Yea, sure you do. But only in New York! Your show is a success. You're already sold out until January. Who in their right mind wouldn't want to extend across America? Imagine – Chicago as a start, then LA, Las Vegas, many more. Maybe even Canada. Come on, pal, what I did for you ten years ago, didn't it work? Didn't you get your name across the entire nation? Derek Wills, the almighty director?"
Derek thought for a moment. Truly, there was nothing he could lose with one encounter. Possibly, there was even something to gain if the deal turned out to be as authentic as the one offered over the phone.
"I'm going to call Karen."
"Yes, that's what I'm talking about! Besides, when was the last time you came around?"
"Seems like forever ago."
"Well, then. The flight is at 6PM today," Roger announced.
"Bloody hell, you really knew I was going to accept didn't you?" Derek grinned.
"Comrade, I've known you long enough. A car will be waiting for you at the airport. You'll know it when you see it. Now, go pack, ye wasted sod." the other laughed and hung up.
Derek smiled and sighed of exhaustion, recognizing the foolishness of his old friend.
Then he dialed Karen. Knowing women's taste in clothing made them ready at the time they were already supposed to have arrive at said place, he hoped she would hear her phone ring and ready her suitcase.
"Darling, good morning. I was quite reluctant to wake you at such an early hour, but the matter is of great urgency. Some producers from Chicago have seen the show and would like a rendezvous with us tomorrow morning. That means we have a flight tonight at 6PM. Therefore you have to get out of bed now, have breakfast, and start packing. We'll only be two nights. Sorry if you have any plans."
"6PM today? Gosh... Well, okay. I'll cancel. See you there at 4."
Derek's mission was done. Now he could go back under the sheets, and enjoy a few more hours of blissful dreams. What more did he have to throw in but a shirt, jeans, and a nice looking garment for the evening?