12 Suits

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18th May, 1996 (Saturday)

Ambrose Stirling (POV)

KNOCK-KNOCK

"COME IN!" I called out.

And in he came, my boy… all grown up. Wearing a suit of all things.

Damn it.

For context, whenever he wants to discuss anything work-related, he always wears a suit. No exceptions.

He started two years ago, wanting to 'dress the part' or whatever. I still can't make sense of half of his ramblings sometimes.

But I will not give up. Someday, I don't know when, but one day… I will understand the gibberish he mutters under his breath.

"Dad! You're looking good! How was the Gala yesterday? I heard you made a record donation or something. 'Variety' couldn't seem to get enough of you!"

Hmmm, yeah. I had some fun yesterday. Ate some pork, opened that bottle of Pinot Noir, and donated $200 thousand to some climate change initiative started by a retired oil baron of all things. Talk about irony.

"Well, you know how it is… you've been to a similar event in fact. A year ago, I took you to this Charity gala, it was for some… fancy ass disease I, I don't - what was it?" I had no recollection, but knowing Ricky, he probably remembers the night like it was yesterday.

"Cystic Fibrosis. I remember because you were invited on stage to give a speech about awareness. The fact that you don't remember… it doesn't really paint a good picture now, does it?" He smirked.

"Oh shut up kiddo! I've got more important things to take care of. Now," I set aside the files on my desk, "congratulations son. You graduated out of the most competitive film program with distinction, I'm so proud of you."

"You've been saying that every day for a week now. You even took me out for my first beer 3 days ago. Then you downed half a bottle of vodka, made a teary-eyed speech about how proud of me you were… and somehow got a standing ovation at the bar. I'm pretty sure I saw a bartender salute you, mouthing the words, 'My man'. My point is… thanks dad, I know you're proud of me but maybe, just maybe… dial it down a little." He smiled charmingly, clearly hoping I would stop.

Sigh, well I probably should. It's been a week already, and the way things are going I'm sure I'll have more things to be proud of soon enough. Apparently his weekly comic series 'Sandman' that just completed its highly successful run was nominated for a series of Eisner Awards, which are considered by many to be the most prestigious in the comic book industry.

Now I didn't know that, never having read comic books myself, to be frank, I always believed them to be for kids and teens. Then I started reading my son's work and goddamn… was I not disappointed.

The next thing I know, I'm placing a bulk order for the complete series and shipping them off to some friends as Christmas presents for their kids. All I can say is that after that, not a single kid of theirs has ever broken a vase or a plate at my house. In fact to a few of them, I'm their favorite uncle Amber.

Hate the nickname, a little too girly for me really, but the way they say it just melts my heart.

"Fine," I put my hands up in an appeasing gesture, "I'll stop. Now listen, I called you here cause I got an email from Dwight. He tells me you liquidated every single security, bond, and share you've owned. You broke your fixed deposit, and transferred all your cash flow to one savings account."

A moment of silence followed.

"Well?" I spread my arms in a 'what the hell do you think you're doing gesture' as I waited for him to open his mouth. I was not angry, not really. I mean I was, but all I needed was a nice fat joint to chill the fuck out. Now? I'm just curious.

"Okay, I know this seems bad. But trust me, just give me a chance to explain okay? Can I have about…" He looked down at his wrist watch before looking up again, "15 minutes of your time?"

"Hold on." I said before getting up and walking to my right. I reached a glass cabinet within which was a delectable selection of premium whiskey.

I proceeded to pick a bottle of Jack Daniels and returned to my seat… before opening the bottle and taking a sip from it.

A nutty, roasted caramel like taste engulfed my mouth, as I savored it, before finally swallowing it all in a single go.

I cleared my throat, "All right. 15 minutes. Your time starts…" I glanced at the clock on my table, "now."

And it began.

…

…

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"So there you have it, I've recruited everyone necessary for the project, scouted a perfect set which I've booked for 3 weeks, I believe that will be plenty of time. All technical equipment has been taken care of. I've selected 4 film festivals in the US where I'm submitting this, all of them have an emphasis on horror. Now I know I can submit it to more mainstream festivals as well, but when I inevitably receive a wide domestic and international theatrical release, I want its reputation to be extremely entrenched in its niche. I have an entire marketing strategy prepared actually, it all hinges on my movie releasing on Halloween, aka 31st October, aka my birthday. Anyways, the production budget is going to be minimal."

"Accounting for weekly wages, technical equipment, booking the set, post production, makeup and hairstyling, and a very light use of visual effects, it comes down to a crisp $77 thousand. Barely a drop in the bucket compared to other productions, but as I've explained previously, my cinematic technique is innovative and inexpensive. The bulk of my cash will be required to pay the entry fees for these 18 film festivals, and for marketing. It's unconventional, sure, a rookie director in charge of marketing, but trust me… I'll get results. And with that," I clapped my hands together, "concludes my plans for the next few months."

I took a seat opposite him, and leaned forward, my chin resting on the back of my hands as beads of sweat trickled down from the side of my head. I wiped them off with my hand before speaking, "So, what do you think?"

…

"Ricky, you know why I opened up one of the finest bottles of Jack before you started? Cause I knew I was about to be embroiled in one of your ridiculous ideas, and I wanted to preserve the last few strands of black hair I have, the rest have been grayed out by age and… I loath to admit it sometimes, but you were definitely a factor. Anyways, I made a promise to myself to never listen to your ideas sober." He said morosely, placing the bottle on his desk.

Holy Hell. I didn't really notice before, but he just downed half a bottle. Neat. Damn.

"What are your plans for distribution? You'll make it, that's great but why? Ricky, found footage style movies are not dying. They've been dead since the beginning. The style found some brief success with murder mystery documentaries in the 80s, but mainstream cinema? And horror at that? It's unfeasible! I'm sorry son, but I won't sugarcoat this… it's never gonna work. The money you're gonna spend on this will never be recovered. I don't know if you heard," He continued, his tone switching to sarcasm for a brief moment, "but Hans Kotton's newest horror slasher will be releasing a week before Halloween. You realize you're gonna have to compete with that right? Plus… come on. Let's be serious, no-one goes to see a horror flick for the plot. They don't look for any over-arching meaning in the themes and whatnot, it's not a goddamn Oscar bait. They wanna clench the edge of their seats, not fall over in boredom."

He stopped to take a deep breath, before continuing, "Listen, I'm not saying don't make it ok? Creativity cannot be forced, least of all in the film industry. I understand that better than most. So go ahead, you do you. I just want you to manage expectations boy. Almost every single aspect of this venture is unique and unprecedented. Some in the industry might see it as daring, others… not so much. It's never been done before boy, so please don't think I don't believe in you, I do. Just… you know what? Make it. Go ahead, you take your time. After you're done, you bring it here, to me. Also, send me the names of the film festivals you're screening it at. I'll have some people go there, judge the audience reception. If all's good, then we'll have a test screening. Me and a couple of others who I trust, and anyone who finds their way to Sherwood Cinema that day. Let's not start building castles in the clouds though, you first make it. You following?"

"Yes, and let me just say, I completely understand your concerns… I don't share them personally, but I understand. As for audience reception, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. But then again, talk is cheap." I finished before standing up and walking towards the door.

I stopped right before the doorway and turned, "Dad… thanks. Really. Will you be home for dinner? Wyatt called. He'll be making his chicken curry. Haven't tasted that in months now."

He looks down at his documents, deep in thought before he looks up. His eyes still slightly bloodshot, no doubt caused by his drinking, softened, "Yeah-sure. Wouldn't miss it." He finished with a smile.

We exchanged another smile before I took off towards the elevator.

It took me a minute to reach my car parked outside, a high end luxury sedan, Lexus ES 300. A graduation gift from my father, I've truly come to enjoy the relatively smooth driving experience it offers for its time period.

I started the ignition before pulling it out of the parked space and made my way to a cafe near USC.

I took out my phone, and dialed Trent, who didn't take long to pick up.

"Hello? Ricky? Hey, I've been waiting for your call, so… is it on?"

"Trent hi. Yes by the way. It's on. Call up the rest, have them meet up at the spot in 20 minutes. You too. Oh and, bring your SUV around, we'll be going to the potential set today after I explain the specifics. We'll talk about salary there.

"Perfect! That's awesome buddy! Oh, I'm so hyped up for this! I mean sure, we talked about this in college, but actually making a movie together… I can die happy Ricky. I really can. Oh! Another thing. I talked to Janice, she'll play the role. She's a great actor dude, her role as Lady Macbeth was one of the most hauntingly beautiful things I've ever seen until now."

"Great, we have our cast then. Bring the camcorders as well, I'll decide their placement today and if things go well, we start filming the day after tomorrow. That works for you?" I said as I applied the brakes to stop at a signal.

"Yeah-hell yeah! That works bro, anytime. Just one thing… I'll be the cinematographer, so the remuneration…"

"Yeah, don't worry man, hey… I got you bro. We'll talk more at the set, iron out the details and all that. You just bring everyone to Starbucks in 20 mins. The one outside the campus. We'll all have a nice cup of joe, maybe a couple of sandwiches and cookies, on me of course. It'll be like an icebreaker sesh. Remember though, 20 mins. Capiche?"

"Yeah… capiche. See you there Ricky." And with that he hung up.

It is on. Oh hell yes… it is on!

I glance over to my adjacent seat where a spiral bound script sits atop.

'PARANORMAL ACTIVITY'

P.s, my webnovel app was glitching badly and I couldn't view the comment section of this chapter, so I re-uploaded it in the faint hope that I can see all of your thoughts and best wishes.