Chapter Twenty-Two
The day after the photocall, I sat down in the writers’ room, still pinching myself at the interaction with Sol.
I was constantly checking my phone to see if she’d messaged, but to no avail.
I’d told myself not to get excited and to give her a least a whole day to contact me before I started panicking it was a prank or something, but I couldn’t help fantasizing about what opportunities might come my way.
It took some strength to put my phone to one side and log into my machine.
At least, I tried to. As I tapped at my laptop, it became immediately clear that all was not well with my keyboard.
In fact, the entire bottom half of it was not working.
Although we hadn’t got any feedback from RJ yet, we only had a couple of weeks to go until the pitch; I needed this machine functioning.
With a groan, I grabbed it and headed to IT.
No way was I having a repeat of what happened with my script report – I’d end up booking a non-refundable flight to Barbados or something.
I poked my head in. Riley was fiddling with one of the server towers, a smear of donut glaze on her cheek. Noah was sitting at the desk, feet up and downing a can of root beer.
“What’s up, Brit?” Noah wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
I raised my laptop with a grimace. “Keyboard woes.”
“Gimme.” He took it off me and began to inspect it as I signaled to Riley to check her face, which she did with a wince. After a few seconds of work, Noah turned back to me. “Faulty driver, but totally fixable.”
“Thank goodness.” I sighed in relief. “I’ve got important stuff on there.” The latest version of the Twin Roses proposal deck was stored on that laptop, and I hadn’t saved it anywhere else. “How long until it can be fixed? I must be ready to work as soon as RJ gives the feedback.”
“Oh, a few hours,” Noah assured me. “I just need to courier it to the specialist and – oh, hi!” His eyes immediately went starry, and I didn’t even have to guess who was standing behind me.
“Hello, Vivian.” I wheeled around to see her, leaning against the door like a poster girl for Tatler.
“RJ needs his phone upgrading,” she said with a yawn.
“Of course,” Noah said, shoving my laptop to one side.
“I’ll get right on that,” Riley growled. “Noah, you’re to fix Lucie’s laptop.”
Noah gestured at Vivian. “But—!”
Riley stomped past him and extended a hand to Vivian for RJ’s phone. “Let me check this is backed up before I call our provider.”
“What happened to your laptop?” Vivian said.
Wow, Vivian showing an interest in my life – whatever next? “Faulty driver,” I replied.
“My.” She arched a perfect eyebrow. “I hope you don’t lose any work.”
“Don’t worry,” Noah said, before I could start a fresh panic. “I’ll back everything up, including your important stuff.”
“You know, I’m about to package some things of RJ’s for the courier,” Vivian said in an uncharacteristic moment of helpfulness. “Noah, why don’t you come help me?”
“You—?” Noah jumped up like a kid at Christmas. “You want to do something with me?”
Vivan’s smile was cool and taut. “Yes, I do,” she said. “We can have a nice long chat.”
Noah looked to Riley, eyes wide with excitement. “Is that okay?”
“Sure,” she said dully. Noah skipped out the door with Vivian before Riley had even finished sounding out her one-syllable reply. “Am I dreaming, or was that Vivian being, like, nice?”
“No, that was real,” I confirmed. “Does that ever happen?”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “We’ll let you know when your machine is fixed, in the meantime I’m off to check the sky for flying pigs.”
A little later, RJ called Elliot and me into his office. “I haven’t finished reviewing your work,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Between Woodstock and the movie … I’ve been lax. I apologize.”
“Woodstock?” I repeated, vaguely remembering them discussing this on my first day.
“The TV drama we’re producing,” Elliot explained quickly.
“About the famous music festival,” RJ added. “HBO is paying through the nose. We’re talking Emmys, Golden Globes, for sure.”
“Wow.” Any other word seemed obsolete.
“Sherman still giving you shit?” Elliot asked RJ.
“By the spoonful,” RJ said. “He thinks he’s invincible.”
“The director,” Elliot murmured. “He was also RJ’s assistant, before I came along.”
“He has a few awards, so what?” RJ glanced at his trophy shelf. “Big whoop, we all do. But he needs to know who got him started. Loyalty matters, you know? And if I have an opinion, he owes it to me to listen.”
I could feel Elliot going rigid next to me. “So, what do you want us to do?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” RJ rubbed his face. “Tan’s got me doing a heap of phone interviews today and my head is wrecked.”
“Well, we could do some more character work?” I suggested, waving my notepad, which was by now full of checklists and character studies. “See if we can add anything?”
RJ shook his head. “No, I think characters are there.”
“We could at least do basic grammar and spell-checks,” Elliot said.
“There’s nothing wrong with my spelling,” I objected.
“Apart from all the extra letters you Brits like to add in?” Elliot retorted.
“Extra letters? How about nonsensical new words?” I said defiantly. “Explain eggplant. An aubergine looks nothing like an egg.”
“I’ll take eggplant and raise you jumper. Oh, it’s a little parky in here, I’ll just pop on my jumper.” Elliot pursed his lips, mimicking my accent. “It’s sweater, Lucie. Swea–ter.”
“I’m amazed you’ve got as far as you have if you’re still talking to each other like this,” RJ remarked.
For a second, I’d forgotten RJ was there. Although my and Elliot’s verbal exchanges hadn’t stopped, the intent behind them had certainly changed. “It’s all in fun,” I assured him.
“We’ve come a long way in two weeks,” Elliot added, his cheeks red.
“Far enough.” RJ laughed. “You know what? Start your weekend early. Have the afternoon off.”
Elliot and I exchanged startled glances. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because we can—”
“I’m sure.” RJ nodded. “I know we don’t have a whole lot of time until the pitch but, honestly, we’re so close. I don’t have the headspace right now to review what you’ve done so far, and it isn’t fair for you to work until I have. So … show Lucie the city.”
“I have been—” Elliot’s reply was cut off by the shrill of RJ’s phone.
“Please.” RJ gestured. “Go.”
I looked at Elliot. “I don’t have a laptop right now – why not?”
And so it was we found ourselves out on the street, the air surprisingly swampy.
“So what shall we do?” I asked. The day felt strangely unstructured now, something I wasn’t used to; planning my time was what kept me sane.
But knowing I was about to have unplanned fun with Elliot made me feel strangely calm, aside from the jumping snakes in my belly every time I locked eyes with him.
“I’m thinking,” he said.
“Whatever it is, can it be out of this heat?” I wafted the collar of my shirt.
“Well, avoiding heat like a New Yorker means a trip to the Hamptons.” Elliot made a show of checking his watch. “And I think we missed the Jitney.”
“I have no idea what any of that means,” I said.
“But I have the next best thing,” Elliot went on. “Something truly New York, that might, might, make you feel a little cooler. What do you say?”
Anything had to be better than the excruciating event at the art gallery that Ralf had dragged me to. “Okay, fine,” I said. “But there’d better be adequate hydration at this truly New York something.”
The Manhattan terminal of the Staten Island Ferry was a great glass edifice of tourists and commuters, twinkling in the spring sunshine.
A steady stream of tourists trickled their way through the doors and into the airy vestibule with its huge windows through which the Hudson could be seen, its cool blue deceptively inviting in the heat.
We were just in time to board the next ferry and we picked up bottles of iced tea from the on-board café before finding a space on the front deck.
“Is this any cooler?” Elliot asked.
“God, yes.” It was infinitely more pleasant on the water, with a light breeze ruffling my hair. “And this is free?”
“Totally free,” Elliot confirmed, just as the boat blasted its horn to set off. “And look.” He pointed across the water to where I could see the Statue of Liberty.
Heat forgotten, I jumped up with my phone to take pictures along with a host of tourists. Elliot joined me at the railing, watching as I tried to get the least grainy picture of the statue that I could. “Do we get any closer?”
“Afraid not,” he said. “But you don’t need to get close to learn some shit. Like, did you know the statue’s original name was ‘Liberty Enlightening the World?’ France gave it to America to celebrate their independence.”
“Okay, did not know I was taking the ferry with a human Wikipedia,” I said with a laugh.
“I was told to show you New York,” Elliot said, gesturing at Lady Liberty. “So I’m sharing my knowledge with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said with a giggle. “Please continue.”
“Lady Liberty stands 305 feet tall from ground to flame,” Elliot intoned, adopting a serious monotone. “And the torch used to be a viewing deck.”
“Are you reading this from your phone right now?” I asked, laughing harder as he shoved his phone into his back pocket.
“Like anyone keeps that kind of information in their head,” he muttered.
“Okay, phones away.” I dropped mine into my handbag. “We’re going to enjoy the sight and each other’s company, with no screens in sight.”
“Excuse me,” a little voice lisped from behind and we turned to see a young girl holding out her phone to us. “Can you take a picture of me and my mommy?”
“That no screens rule lasted a long time, huh?” Elliot cracked, as he accepted the phone from the child.
“Don’t be rude and do as you’ve been asked,” I said.
Once mother and daughter had the right picture, the mother accepted the phone back.
“You want me to take a picture of you guys?” she asked sweetly. “A souvenir?”