“Good morning, Mr. Barrington,” the driver said. “My name is Hans.”
“Good morning, Hans,” Peter replied. “Do you know the way to Centurion Studios?”
“Frieda knows the way,” Hans replied, starting the navigation system. “Turn left at the main gate,” a gentle voice said.
“Ah, Frieda,” Peter said, patting the dash. “We are in your hands.”
Frieda guided them precisely to the studio’s front gate, where the guard stuck a pass to the inside of the windshield, then waved them through.
“We’re looking for the executive building,” Peter said, pointing at a sign.
They pulled into a parking lot, where a woman holding a cell phone waved them into a guest slot, then spoke briefly on the phone. “Mr. Goldman will be down in thirty seconds,” she said.
A stretched electric vehicle pulled into the lot and stopped as Leo Goldman, the chairman and CEO of Centurion, came out of the building. “Good morning, everybody,” he said, turning the front passenger seat around so that it faced the rear. “Hop in.”
Peter got in facing Leo. “Thank you for greeting us, Leo, but is it a good use of the CEO’s time to be a tour guide?”
“Spending time with a major stockholder is always a good use of my time,” Leo said, sticking a cigar into his mouth, but not lighting it. “Forgive me, I’m giving these up, and I haven’t smoked one for months, but chomping down on it still helps.” He turned to the driver, a studio intern. “Let’s go to New York,” he said.
“Mr. Goldman,” Hattie said, “we just came from New York.”
“Not this New York,” Leo said, laughing.
Shortly, they were driving down a composite big-city street. “This is the largest, most-used standing set on the lot,” Leo said. “We can dress it as New York, which is how you see it now, Chicago, or half a dozen European cities. Amazing what the set dressers can do with a little Styrofoam molding and some streetlamps. These are only facades, of course. In a movie, when someone walks through a door we cut to a studio shot on a sound stage.”
They turned a corner and emerged from the set, then turned down a row of huge hangarlike buildings. “These are our sound stages: there are eight of them, constantly in use for films and television shows.” They pulled to a stop before a large stucco building. “And here we have our music department. Follow me.” Goldman led them through a reception area, down a hall, and through a large steel door. They emerged into an audio control room, which had a row of comfortable chairs behind the engineers’ stations. “Hattie, you come with me, the rest of you take a seat.” He waved at the row of chairs, then led Hattie through another door and into a large room with chairs for an orchestra and a giant movie screen behind them. A man was standing on the podium, leafing through a musical manuscript.
“Good morning, John,” Goldman said. “This is your guest artist for the day, Hattie Patrick. Hattie, this is John Greenfield, the studio’s musical director.”
Greenfield, a tall man with a shaved head, turned and offered Hattie his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Hattie. Leo has told me about you. Did you get the music I sent you?”
Hattie handed him a thick brown envelope. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Greenfield.”
“Well, you’ll need it,” he said, trying to hand it back.
“That’s all right, I’ve learned it.”
Greenfield paused for a moment, then tossed the envelope onto the podium next to him. “Well, we’ll keep it here, in case we need it.” Orchestra members began to file into the room and take their places. “Hattie, we’re waiting for Andrei Serkinoff to join us to rehearse a piece he’s playing at Immi Gotham’s concert at The Arrington the day after tomorrow. He’s also playing piano on our film’s sound track. While we’re waiting, would you mind running through what you’ll be playing for me? Just cue yourself when you’re ready.”
Hattie sat down at the Steinway concert grand and, without hesitation, began to play. Greenfield watched with interest, looking slightly puzzled. When she had finished, he took the podium. “All right, everybody, Mr. Serkinoff is late, so let’s rehearse the title music with our guest artist, Hattie Patrick. Ready, Hattie?”
She nodded and waited as the conductor gave the orchestra a downbeat, then joined in when she was cued. They played for a little over four minutes by a large clock on the wall while the film’s opening titles appeared on the screen behind the orchestra. When they were done, Greenfield turned to Hattie. “That was perfect. If you were a member of the musicians’ union, I’d say we’d have that in the can.”
“I am a member of the musicians’ union,” Hattie replied.
That brought Greenfield up short. He turned toward the glass panel separating him from the control booth. “How was that for you, Jerry?”
Jerry’s voice came back over a loudspeaker. “Absolutely perfect, John. The time was right on, too.”
“Then we have the title music in the can,” Greenfield said. “Can you burn a DVD for Ms. Patrick to take home?” He looked at his watch
. “Mr. Serkinoff is now forty minutes late,” he said, “and I have to rehearse his piece before Immi gets here. Hattie, do you think you can get through a performance of ‘Rhapsody in Blue’?”
“Yes, Mr. Greenfield.”
“Get me a copy of the piano part, please,” Greenfield called to an assistant.
“What arrangement are you using?” Hattie asked.