Catherine didn't bother with formal introductions. Hughes just slid into the booth like he owned the place (which, let's be honest, he pretty much did).
Joey took the seat across from him without missing a beat. Whatever awkwardness had been there the night they broke up? Gone. She wasn't just over it; she was calm, cool, almost serene.
She and Catherine ran through the pitch again, laying out the whole vision for the movie. Hughes just sat there, lazy smile on his face, eyes locked on Joey like he was watching his favorite show. That whole bored-playboy-with-sharp-teeth vibe he gave off always felt like a warning label: Handle With Care.
Joey shot him a look she'd perfected years ago. "Mr. Redstone, Catherine and I have been talking for twenty minutes. You got any thoughts, or are you just here for the view?"
Hughes leaned back, smirk widening. "Am I finally allowed to speak, ladies?"
All fake humility wrapped in pure arrogance; classic Hughes, she thought.
Joey smiled sweetly. "By all means, go crazy."
He rested one elbow on the table, leaned in just enough to make it personal, and dropped his voice. "What do you think of the suit? Custom, obviously."
The sudden flirty-guy energy hit her like static shock. She jerked back. "Can you be serious for five seconds?"
He propped his chin on his hand, grinning like a cat. "How serious we talkin'?"
Joey rolled her eyes; she knew this dance better than anyone. "Movie. Business. Words."
"Fine, fine. If the lady insists on boring stuff…" His whole demeanor flipped; smile stayed, but the eyes went ice-cold and razor-sharp. "Twenty-five million budget. That's your number in a perfect world, right?"
"I don't live in a perfect world."
He gave a soft snort. "Perfect world = whatever money shows up when Joey Grant snaps her fingers."
She smirked. "So what does the money guy say?"
He held up one hand, five fingers spread, staring her down. "Cut it in half, minimum. I went through your budget line by line. There's fat everywhere."
Joey almost choked. "You just walked in and slashed twenty percent off the top?"
He didn't even blink. Launched into breakdown mode like a Wall Street shark: "First, overseas presales. Given the current political climate, Russia, Italy, and Spain are basically worthless right now. Conservative estimate; this is what we can realistically pull." He scribbled a number on a napkin and slid it over.
"Then we subtract that from the budget, add whatever tax rebates we can grab. Australia's incentives are insane right now; cast a couple Aussies and you basically get them for free."
Joey shook her head hard. "No. Casting is about who fits, not who's cheap."
"Your call," he said, shrugging like it didn't matter. "If the finished film actually sells domestically and hits the festival circuit, tack another million on top of the rebates. Simple math: two hundred million ceiling, max. And that's still a massive gamble for a hard-sci-fi indie. We can't afford to be stupid."
Joey knew when she was outgunned on the finance side. "Fine. Two hundred million. Where the hell do we shoot?"
His dark eyes glinted. "You're the indie darling; you tell me. Under a million? L.A. backyard. Under five? New Orleans. Over ten?" He grinned like the devil offering a deal. "Buy yourself a Romanian phrasebook and a new passport. Bucharest's waiting."
She ignored the jab. "So Bucharest?"
He threw his hands up. "Lady's choice. I just pay the bills."
Joey took a slow breath, steeling herself. "Mr. Redstone, I'm not legally allowed to promise you returns. I could get in trouble with the SEC for fraud. And honestly? I can't promise anything."
He looked dead serious now. "Joey, this is our first movie together. Once we're in bed on this; director and investor; we're both gamblers. I don't need promises. We're both just rolling the dice with our own money and our own luck."
She stared at him for a long beat, something soft creeping into her voice. "So you're really willing to roll those dice with me?"
That gentleman smirk came back, slow and lethal. "Of course I am, beautiful."
He left the second half unsaid; didn't want her head getting too big.
Second half: after watching her short, he was even more convinced this script plus her talent was going to blindside everyone who'd passed on it.
As an investor, he was practically salivating. All the suits who turned it down? Short-sighted idiots. His whole career was built on seeing what nobody else did.
His gaze flicked over her furrowed brow. "Since we're about to sign, tell me who you want. I might be able to make some calls."
Joey bit her lip. "I do have one… Tobey Maguire feels perfect for the lead."
Hughes arched a brow, amused. "That little California gremlin? So that's your type?"
She grinned. "He was pretty cute swinging around in the Spider-Man suit."
Hughes glanced out at the street. "Kid's ambitious. Might not wanna slum it on an arty gamble like this, but I'll ask."
Joey nodded. "Female lead; still figuring it out. Planning to audition a few."
He tapped the table twice, thinking. "I've actually got someone in mind for the girl, but I gotta check if she's free."
Catherine, who'd been watching this whole tennis match in baffled silence, finally spoke up. The way these two bickered, it didn't feel like exes; more like an old married couple who kind of enjoyed fighting.
She cleared her throat. "Okay, kids, that's enough foreplay for today. Tomorrow we sign at UTA. After that you two can flirt; I mean negotiate; on your own. Investor basically means producer anyway."
They wrapped it up and said goodbyes outside.
Hughes offered to drive them. Joey shut that down fast.
She watched his taillights disappear and felt a sudden ache in her chest.
2008. The car crash. The one that killed him in her original timeline.
Wait.
She knew it was coming.
Could she actually change it? Warn him somehow? Keep him alive?
Seven years of history; love, fights, everything; still lived under her skin.
Yeah. She wanted him to live.