Ben Fountain - Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk

“Better living through chemistry, eh, Sergeant,” says Mango.

“Yeah, well, it was either meds or ball-gagging the little shit. He’ll be fine,” Dime says, though no one has asked. “He’ll be fine once we get him back on post. It’s all this other…” He falls silent. Billy clears his throat.

“Sergeant, if you had a choice, would you go back? To Iraq, I mean.”

Dime lifts his head; he is not pleased. “But I don’t have a choice, do I? So your question lacks relevance.”

“But if you did have a choice.”

“But I don’t.”

“But if you did.”

“But I don’t!”

“But if you did!”

“Shut up!”

“I’m just—”

“SHUT!”

Billy shuts. Mango is giving him a WTF? stare. Dime snorts and shakes his head.

“Do you wish we had a choice, is that what you’re saying?”

“Well.” Billy understands he’s gone too far. “But we don’t.”

“That is correct, Billy, we don’t. We’re going back, and we all know what we’re going back to, and that’s why we’re gonna have our shit high and tight and look out for each other twenty-four/seven. But I will say this.” He pauses; his cell is ringing. “If I’m never in another firefight as long as I live, that’ll be okay by me. Hey. ” He’s got the cell to his ear. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Interesting. How about this, how about if Swank sits on his face, would he do it then?”

Billy and Mango look at each other. The damn movie.

“So it’s either that or…” Dime looks up at the scoreboard. “Albert, we’re running out of time.”

Mango turns away, hissing something low and hot in Spanish. Down the row Sykes has launched into the old boot camp chant, Pick up your wounded, pick up your dead …

“He’s right here,” Dime says, glancing at Billy. He listens for a moment, then asks Billy: “Are you available for a meeting?”

Billy laughs. “Am I what ? Sure, yeah. When?”

“Now. With Norm. Josh is coming for us.”

Billy’s throat knots up. “Okay.”

“Yes he is available,” Dime says to the cell. “Anybody else?” Dime listens, then grunts and clicks off. For several moments he just crouches there, staring at the field.

“Sergeant, are you okay?”

Dime snaps out of it. “I was just thinking, rich people are crazy.” He turns to Billy and adds, with feeling: “Don’t ever forget that.”

“Roger, Sergeant.”

THEY COME UPON ALBERT in the corridor outside of Norm’s suite, head down, back propped against the wall, tapping on his BlackBerry with his silver tapping stick. He beams when they turn the corner.

“Guys! What up?”

“Up, down, all around,” Dime answers.

“Let’s hang here a minute, I’ll bring you up to speed.” He turns to Josh with a pleasant, pointed look.

“I’ll go tell Mr. Oglesby we’re here,” Josh says.

“Excellent idea.” Albert herds Dime and Billy down the corridor some distance from the suite. “Looking good at halftime, guys, you did yourselves proud. You meet Beyoncé and the girls?”

“Hell no,” Dime grumps.

“What? No? That’s lousy. So what was that about down on the field, after? Looked like a flash mob or something, Black Friday at a Wal-Mart out in North Jersey. We couldn’t figure out what was going on.”

“It was nothing,” Dime says. “Just boys being boys.”

“Somebody giving you a hard time?”

Dime looks to Billy. “Was somebody giving us a hard time?”

“No, relatively speaking,” Billy answers.

“He’ll go far,” Albert says to Dime. “All right fellas, here’s the deal.” He pauses to smile at a passing couple, waits for the swish of their fur and cashmere to recede down the hall. “Norm’s in. He wants to put together an investor group to make our picture, but that’s not all. He’s inspired, shall we say, you guys have inspired him to think big thoughts today. He’s decided to form his own production company and start making films.”

“Might as well. His football team sure sucks,” says Dime.

Albert sniggers, glances up and down the hall. “Apparently he’s been mulling it over for quite some time, then we show up and he figures that’s God’s way of telling him to make his move. And frankly why not, the studios are looking to slough off risk any way they can. A guy who comes in with his own product, his own money, this is a very desirable commodity in Hollywood these days.”

He pauses while several more couples pass. One of the men snaps his fingers at Dime.

“Hey, great job at halftime!”

Dime snaps his fingers back. “Hey, you too!”

Albert waits until they’re gone. “It helps that he’s going all in, we’ll have that much more credibility shopping our picture around. With a one-off deal you’re sort of a lame duck, but if they know you’re sticking around? All the more reason for him to make a statement with this picture. Anyway, as far as our deal goes, as soon as he gets the company formed I’ll assign my option over to it, then when we’ve got the package together the company exercises the option, you guys get some money, and we go into production.”

“Cool,” says Dime.

“I’ll need you guys’ consent to transfer the option over.”

Dime hesitates. “But you’ll still be our producer.”

“You better believe it.”

“What about the Swank situation?”

“He’s still got a blunt up his ass about Hilary, but we can deal with that. All kinds of ways to deal with that. Believe me, having her in the mix is nothing but good for us. But listen.” Albert coughs into his fist. “You need to know going in, Norm’s got somewhat of a problem with the option price.”

“What kind of problem.”

“A size problem. A hundred thousand per Bravo, ten Bravos, that’s a tough nut to crack right out of the gate. We’re already looking at plunking half a million for the script, then getting a lead on the level of a Hilary, a Clooney, we’re talking multiple millions here.”

Dime turns to Billy. “Here’s where we get fucked.”

“No!” Albert cries. “No, no, no, no, Dave, have some faith! We’ve come this far together, you think I’m gonna toss you over the side now ? Dave, Dave, you guys are my guys, either we make it together or we go down together. That’s what I told them in there, but I’m not gonna bullshit you, Norm’s not Santa Claus, he’s not spending one more dime than he has to. He, they, one of his guys — look, these are businessmen, okay? Understand they’re very crude in their thinking, just by definition. They floated the idea of dealing with just you two, they see your stories as the principal elements in this and the rest of the guys as, well, ancillary. I said I’d run it by you, but—”

“No.”

“—uh huh, total nonstarter, that’s what I told them. Bravo lives by the warrior code, I said. They won’t ever leave one of their own behind.”

“For them to even—”

“I know! But you have to understand that’s the mentality we’re dealing with here. Streamlining, return on capital, all that MBA shit, but I think they got the message. It’s gotta be all Bravos or no Bravos, nothing in between.”

“Damn straight,” Dime woofs, with volume enough to raise giggles from the busboys down the hall.

“David, relax.”

“I’m totally relaxed. Billy’s relaxed too, aren’t you Billy?”

“Totally, Sergeant.”

“Hang with me, guys, I’m gonna get you there. Right now what they’re offering is, well, what you’d be doing is deferring moneys up front for a net-profits percentage in the movie. You get an advance when the option is exercised, then you get another pop when we go into production—”