Gino Patelli couldn’t believe how far he was from the stage. “I’m a producer and you couldn’t get better seats than this?”
“This is Hollywood,” Sylvester told him. “Everyone and his brother is a producer. Most of them couldn’t get seats at all.”
“Where’s our boy?”
“He’s not here yet.”
“You sure?”
“He hasn’t made contact.”
“I don’t like it. He should be here.”
“He’ll be here.”
“Where’s Barnett?”
“Up front with the rest of the nominees.”
“Do you see him?”
“You can’t see him from here.”
“Then how do you know where he is?”
Sylvester bit back a sigh. “I don’t know that he is here yet, but that’s where his seat will be. He’s a producer of a nominated picture, so he’s going to sit in it.”
“Go check.”
Sylvester got up and walked down the aisle. He had no trouble spotting the people from Billy Barnett’s film. The actors were there, and the director, and some of the others he’d seen in the restaurant.
The producer was not there.
Sylvester turned around and went back to his seat.
“Well?” Gino demanded.
“He’s not here yet.”
Gino exhaled angrily. “Son of a bitch!”