A/N: I do not own The Producers. This fic was written for fun, not profit.
"Max are you sure this is a good idea?" Leo asked as his business partner pushed the phone on the desk Leo was sitting at closer to him. "We can always get another director."
"Are you kidding?" Max exclaimed. "People went crazy for his overly campy style with Springtime for Hitler! Why wouldn't we have him direct our new musical as well?"
Leo shook his head and pushed the phone away. "He doesn't like us anymore."
Ever since Max and Leo's plan to make millions off a fraudulent musical had been revealed, the director of the show, Roger, had refused to even speak to them about their newest venture, Prisoner's of Love. And with good reason. The producers had only hired him to direct Springtime because they thought he was a terrible director. Little had they known that audiences would love both his visions and his performance as Hitler in the show. Roger, as strange as it was, had become a vital instrument in keeping their success going.
"Correction. He doesn't like me," Max pointed out. He picked up the phone, dialed Roger's number, and handed it to Leo. "But he loves you. You saw the way he flirted with you all the time during rehearsals. Ask him out to dinner to discuss the show. I'm sure he'll agree to come along."
"But Max . . ."
Leo opened his mouth to protest again, but before he could say anything, a voice sounded on the other end of the phone.
"Hello, you have reached the living room of renowned theatrical director and actor Roger Debris's elegant upper east side townhouse on a rainy Wednesday afternoon in September. Who may I say is calling?" It was Carmen, Roger's . . .erm . . . common law assistant.
"Hi, Carmen. It's Leo. Leo Bloom." His voice shook as though he was on a bumpy bus ride. "Can I speak with Roger?"
"Oh." Carmen's voice suddenly became cold. "I'll get him."
Leo heard Carmen put the phone down and walk away. He looked up at Max who gave him a smile of approval.
"It's only showbiz," he told him. Those were the same words he had said the first time they met Roger, and Max had wanted Leo to compliment the dress Roger had been wearing. That only resulted in the director becoming uncomfortably close to Leo. Hopefully he was too angry at them now to even think about making advances toward him this time around.
Leo spent a few more minutes twiddling his fingers and trying to bring himself down from his nervous state before Roger's voice came through the phone. "Hello?"
"Hi, Roger." Leo tried to keep his voice from shaking. "It's Leo Bloom."
"Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Bloom!" Roger's voice rose an octave upon finding out who he was speaking to. Even if Max and Leo had used him as part of their scheme, he had always taken an interest in Leo. After all, he did have a bit of an innocent charm to him.
"Roger, I was wondering . . . well, I was wondering if you'd like to go out for dinner some night. There's some business I'd like to talk to you about regarding the newest show Max and I are producing."
"Would Max be coming along?"
"Then I'll gladly come!" Max rolled his eyes after hearing Roger's comment about him. "Where will we be meeting?"
Leo looked at Max, who mouthed the words 'Chantelle's Kitchen' to him. "We'll meet at Chantelle's Kitchen. Saturday at seven."
"Oh, Carmen and I adore that place! Can we sit under the crystal chandelier?" Roger was becoming giddier by the second.
Leo just shrugged. "If there's seats available, yes."
"Then I simply can't wait for Saturday! A nice little dinner date with you!"
Leo gave a nervous chuckle. He wasn't too keen on hearing the word 'date' come from Roger. "And we'll discuss the show that we want you to direct and star in." The last thing he needed was for Roger to forget that this meeting was strictly business.
"Of course, of course." He didn't seem too convinced, though. "So I'll see you Saturday."
"Saturday it is!"
"Alright then, darling Bloom." Leo cringed at the use of the word 'darling' used in front of his name. "I'll see you soon."
"Bye." Leo hung up the phone and tore his blue blanket out of his pocket. He placed it under his nose and breathed in the familiar scent of the material in hopes that it would comfort him. "Max, this is a bad idea."
"Nonsense. You see how much Roger likes you. I'm sure he'll agree to direct our show if you talk to him," Max told him, taking a firm grasp on his shoulders.
"But why can't we meet him here, and you can just leave for a bit? Why does it have to be a dinner out?"
"Because Roger is all about the glitz and the glamour, and that's how we'll win him over!"
"What if he thinks it's something more? What if he tries to do something?"
Max just chuckled. "It will all fall into play. Don't you worry about it."
He gave Leo a wink that was supposed to be reassuring, but Leo still wasn't convinced that things would go smoothly. Just the thought of being alone with Roger and his imaginings about what might ensue was enough to make his stomach do somersaults. As Max sauntered over to the sofa in the office, Leo pulled out one of the accounting books for Prisoners of Love. Maybe working on the finances would take his mind off of everything for a little while.