“You know, this is my place.  How was I supposed to know that you’d be trying to hide things from me, Dana.  I think that’s what you’re pissed about.”

Dana grabbed her keys and wallet from the nightstand.  Alice watched her in desperation.  “Dane, where are you going?”

“Home.  My place.  Away from you.”  Dana was gone and two seconds later she heard the door to her apartment slam and then lock in place.

“Shit.”

* * * * *

“Ms. Peabody, you can’t run it like you have your Foundation.”

“Of course, I realize that.  I have no intentions of doing so.  The reason I called this meeting was to get information from people who have had long flourishing careers in the film business and can perhaps pass on some sage wisdom.  However, I won’t tolerate being treated as if I were an idiot.”

“I was simply thinking aloud.  By no means do I think of you as unintelligent.”  Helena glared at him, but Jeffrey Shepard continued, “If you’re looking to diversify, you might consider publishing.  Many women have success with that venture.  Moving into film requires far more experience.”

Helena narrowed her eyes at him.  The second he strolled into the room, she knew what she’d be up against.  He was arrogant with his pot belly, chemically enhanced tan, comb-over hair and shirt opened to show off the gray hairs on his chest and two large gold chains.  He wore pinky rings, too.  He was appalling in the worst way.  “Bullocks.  I am well aware of your intent.   I’ve watched you nudge one another, laugh before responding to my questions like school children.  This is a fact-finding meeting.  In order to find facts, one is required to question.  If you and your colleagues are unable or unwilling to participate in this way, then my assistant can show you the door.  Shaolin Film Studios really doesn’t need you.  Do you realize how many film executives and former executives there are in Burbank?” 

“Ms. Peabody, I’m trying to treat you with respect because of your mother.  Peggy and I have known each other for three decades.  I think she would be pleased to know that I’m involved with this project of hers.”

“Of hers?  Bloody hell, this is my business.  I am at the helm of this studio, just as I’m at the helm of the Peabody Foundation.  Unlike my mother, I am more hands-on.  I’m not going to simply throw money at people and say here you are, better the world, take care of children, here’s some more, feed the hungry, we need art without the fear of censorship, so take this funding—all under the Peabody name of course.  No, Jeffrey, that is not how I do business.   That is not what I want of this studio. 

“Helena…”