Rebecca Sanzone was all business. She opened a slim leather folder and handed Hattie a sheaf of papers and a pen. “This is our standard contract for talent, with the compensation schedule attached. You’ll see your per-episode fee here.” She pointed at a tiny yellow arrow sticker on the document.
“And here,” Rebecca went on, pointing to a neon orange sticker, “is your statement that the property you’ll be working on is owned by you, or your corporate entity, that you and your corporate entity assume all responsibility for debts incurred by your project, and that you and you alone are liable for any damages or injuries arising from this property, and that in the instance of any such damages or injuries, the network will be held harmless.”
Hattie nodded numbly, scanning the contract. The fee structure, even though Mo had already explained it earlier, still seemed like a shockingly paltry amount of money for something involving so much investment and risk on her part.
She hesitated. “Mo didn’t say anything about signing contracts today. I thought this would be more of a meet-and-greet-type situation. Shouldn’t I have a lawyer look at this?”
“That’s completely up to you,” Rebecca said. “I’m so sorry Mo didn’t make the nature of this meeting clearer to you. Again, time is of the essence, but if you really feel the need to have an attorney review what’s merely a standard contract…”
Hattie glanced over at Mo, who was silently gnashing his molars, both at the indignity of being casually thrown under the bus, and at the ethical bind Rebecca had placed him in. She’d never even hinted that the network was ready to sign Hattie to a contract, and if she had, he’d have advised her to get a lawyer to review the paperwork.
Now though, it was too late to pump the brakes. He nodded at Hattie. “I think it’s okay.”
“I’m assuming you’ve already bought the house you’ll be working on for the show, correct?” Rebecca went on. “I’d love to see some photos. Exterior and interior, so I can give my boss a feel for the scope of the work.”
“No,” Hattie said, surprised. “I mean, there hasn’t been time. I only agreed to do the show, like, two days ago. The real estate market here is incredibly tight. Finding the house is going to take some time.”
“Time is a luxury we don’t have,” Rebecca said sternly. She pointed out the living room window of the town house, toward Charlton Street, with its row of elegant town houses. “This town is absolutely crawling with old houses. I saw tons of possibilities just from the window of my cab this morning. Surely there must be at least one old house you can scoop up for a song.”
“You might have seen a lot of old houses, but what you didn’t see were for-sale signs,” Hattie retorted. “No offense, but I do this for a living. Finding the right property at the right price—it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. And I’m not the only one looking. As soon as something does come on the market, invariably there are half a dozen offers from other investors—all cash, and over asking price within hours, if not minutes.”
Rebecca’s smile was patronizing. “I do this for a living too. Let me give you a tip. Savannah has a film and television commission, or something. Call those folks and let them know you’ve signed to do a network show that will potentially bring millions of dollars’ worth of jobs and prestige to Savannah. I’m sure they’ll bend over backwards to help you find the right property.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hattie said. “But what happens if I can’t magically conjure up a house by—when did you say was the deadline?”
“The deadline is now,” Rebecca said. “Or no later than the end of this week. And, to be blunt, if we don’t have a house to flip, we don’t have a show. Which would be so unfortunate, because, Hattie, we really, really like you. We like the look of Savannah, the idea for The Homewreckers.…”
Hattie blinked. “Homewreckers? I thought the show was called Saving Savannah.”
“Change of plans,” Rebecca said. “Mo can explain.” She slid two more pieces of paper across the table to Hattie. “But in the meantime, here are the last two documents you’ll need to sign.” She tapped a neon pink arrow on one page and a neon green one on the next document. “Here, and here.”
Hattie picked up the first page and read silently until she came to what seemed like the most important sentence in a page full of eye-glazing legalese.