Chapter 9
The first part of the meeting involves a discussion of the Autumn schedule, a new adaptation of Anne of Green Gables and a recently green-lit reality project based in a cosmetic surgery clinic, pitched as ‘ ER meets Real Housewives of Beverley Hills ’. There’s a review of our competitors’ performance and a lot of discussion regarding a feature in Deadline about what’s in the pipeline over at Netflix.
When it’s my turn to present, I push aside any unease and try to ignore Zach’s ominous words. ‘ I might as well tell you . . . I do have concerns. ’
How is he going to play this? Am I about to be stitched up? Or might he have dwelled on what I said and decided it’s not worth making an enemy of me, especially given that he’s only here for a short time?
‘I’ll begin with Our Girl In Milan ,’ I say. ‘As you all know I’ve been working on this for six months and it’s a project that we’re lucky to have a chance to be involved in, given the intense interest from our competitors. The minor rights issues I mentioned last time we met have now been ironed out and if we can keep everything on time and on budget, we can assign a slot alongside a key date in the fashion industry calendar, creating significant PR opportunities.’
I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Zach says nothing.
‘All this effectively means we’re ready to give this the go-ahead, assuming everyone around this table is happy.’
‘Really great work on this one, Lisa,’ interjects Andrea. ‘This is very exciting. We’ll all look forward to seeing it come to fruition.’
‘Thank you.’ I am reaching for the mouse when a voice makes my spine prickle.
‘Before you move on, could I make some observations?’
It sounds like a question, but it isn’t. Zach’s observations are going to be made whether I like them or not.
I look up and glare at him. For a short moment, the atmosphere feels charged, almost gladiatorial.
‘Could you please skip back one or two slides, Lisa?’ His softly melodious voice is in sharp contrast to my rigid smile.
‘Certainly.’
I click as Zach leans in, his eyes on me. Some knot forms in the hollow of my chest. In the moments that follow, I pray for kindness, for him to say, ‘ What a great idea, Lisa, you nailed it!’
‘I realise I’m late to this party, but it would be wrong of me not to share the fact that I have some reservations about this concept.’
Bastard.
Andrea blinks. ‘Really, Zach? Then you must share away,’ she urges him.
‘Well, at its most basic level, this is an area that’s been done before too many times. It’s unoriginal,’ he says, bluntly.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ I interject. ‘This concept is brand new.’
‘Apart from The Face , American Beauty Star , Model Behaviour . . . and any number of copycat shows since America’s Next Top Model ? Does the world really need another one of those?’
‘I see what you mean,’ murmurs Angikka.
‘Another America’s Next Top Model ?’ I say, unable to believe my ears. ‘Would that be the incredibly successful franchise that spawned 22 seasons, dozens of spin-offs and still regularly has viewing figures that exceed 1.2million? Frankly, if you think you could do better than that, I’m sure we’d all love to hear it.’
‘Well—’
‘Either way,’ I say, cutting him off, ‘I fundamentally disagree with the idea that this is some kind of copycat project. It’s completely different. The only overlap is that it features models. But no single show has exclusive rights over the subject matter.’
Zach is unfazed.
‘The fact that this is a wannabe is only one problem with it,’ he continues. He’s not talking to the rest of the room now, only me. There’s something about those inky eyes of his that have a deeply unsettling effect. You feel as if you’re captured by them, as if he’s got an invisible lasso around your waist and he isn’t going to let you go anywhere.
‘Given that one of MotionMax+’s stated strategies for the next 12 months has been to try to reach a young adult audience, I can see the thinking behind this,’ he concedes. ‘Nevertheless, it’s precisely in that context that I feel like this concept is a little . . . off.’
‘ Off? ’ I repeat, as if we’re discussing an out-of-date chicken madras.
‘Yes,’ he says, unapologetically. ‘You’re talking about plucking some girl from the street and telling her you’ll make her dreams come true, if only she can squeeze into that size-zero dress and never eat a brownie again. I don’t feel comfortable with glamorising an industry that is well known for manipulating vulnerable young women.’
I let out a huff of disbelief, then realise that several people around the table appear to be murmuring their agreement.
‘Look. I would be the first person to agree with you if there was anything manipulative about this show,’ I leap in. ‘I feel qualified to say that, not merely as someone who has been involved in it from the start, but also as someone who once was herself . . .’
‘A model?’ asks Giles from Legal, clearly impressed.
‘ A young woman ,’ I say.
I cross my arms, awaiting Zach’s comeback. Surely the only trump card available to him at this point is that he too was once a young woman . Anything’s possible these days, of course, but it still seems unlikely.
As he says nothing, I continue. ‘Also, since when was it our job to moralise? We’re here to entertain . And I am confident that this has huge appeal. Any teenager would love it.’
‘That’s what concerns me.’
‘Oh yes, how awful to create something popular.’ A slam dunk.
But annoyingly, while my adrenalin is fizzing, he seems completely unruffled.
‘I’ve seen the trailer for it. The girl in question . . . she’s, what, 17? Must have a BMI of 15, 16 tops.’
‘She’s 19 actually,’ I say, even though I have literally no idea if this is true or not. All I know is that I have to stop this shit show, or at least work out how and why he’s doing this.
At that point – finally – the penny drops. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before now. It’s obvious what’s going on here. This guy doesn’t want to just keep Rose’s job ticking over. He wants the position for good. And he’s not going to get that without making a name for himself. What other possible reason could there be for what’s going on here?
He’s still banging on about this when I drift into my own head, roll up my sleeves, consider everything Rose is going through – and glower at him.
Not on my watch, mate . No. Fucking. Way.
‘This is all very noble of you,’ I say, coolly, in the first gap in conversation. Now I understand what’s going on here, the gloves are well and truly off. ‘However, I’m not sure it’s appropriate that anyone in this group to pull the plug on a show based on their assessment of a woman’s body shape.’
Giles, who is nearing retirement and permanently terrified that he’ll say or do something that isn’t politically correct, says: ‘Hear hear’.
Andrea’s brows knit together. ‘Well, none of this is ideal at this stage, of course. But I can see where you’re coming from, Zach.’
I turn and glare at her, trying to work out if I’m hallucinating this. Five minutes ago, she thought this programme was ‘very exciting’. On Tuesday, we had a conversation about the potential for foreign rights. She has backed this whole concept from its inception. Now, the moment she’s sitting in front of some smooth-talker from LA, New York or wherever, she starts batting her eyelids and can ‘see where he’s coming from’.
‘I’m sorry, Lisa,’ she says gently, as if she’s withholding a lollipop from a small child. ‘I know how much work you’ve put into this, but there are some good points being made here. Are you getting them all down?’
She nods at my notepad, where my Spider-Man pen has stopped flashing. I haven’t written a single thing in the last ten minutes. Right now, I feel like drawing a cock and balls on the paper then holding it up to say: ‘Yes. Here is a summary of my notes so far.’
Instead, I start attempting to write. Only now, the bloody thing has run out of ink and despite the dozen or so angry circles I draw on the side of my pad, nothing appears to be happening.
‘I’ll take notes.’
Zach reaches into the pocket of the jacket on the back of his chair and pulls out a pen.
‘Oh, you don’t have to do that,’ Andrea leaps in.
‘It’s fine,’ he says, clicking the end of it.
He looks up at me, apparently waiting for me to comment. ‘You were saying?’
‘It’s all in the execution. We can make it clear to the production company that if there is anybody who shows signs of struggling with an eating disorder, then they will have to act. Also . . .’ I start flailing around for anything now, ‘if it makes you feel better we could put a helpline number at the end.’
‘Won’t work,’ Zach says, flatly. I glare at him. ‘Sorry, but it won’t.’
‘Well, I agree with Lisa,’ says Giles. I flash him a grateful smile. ‘It’s just silly to say that we can’t make any programming about a whole industry. That it simply can’t be done. Sensitive handling is the key.’
‘Giles, with respect . . .’ Andrea begins, which is how she always begins a sentence when she’s about to tell him he’s a complete arsehole.
I can only describe the scene that ensues as a pile-on. Andrea and Angikka side with Zach, along with Simon from Drama and Julian from Reality. Karen and Giles side with me, alongside Suzy from Acquisitions and Chris from Comedy. Emily throws in a random anecdote about her brother’s niece working as a hairdresser at a fashion show in Barcelona, while Elias Caliskan from Finance simply keeps shuffling around a spreadsheet and saying, ‘Can I interest anyone in a budget breakdown?’
The whole thing is a shambles.
‘Look, look,’ says Andrea, calling the room to order. ‘There’s only one way to resolve this. You’re going to have to take it to Krishna Chowdhury, Lisa. It’s up to him to adjudicate in instances such as this.’
Krishna is Chief Content Officer. Mr Big. The final decision is his.
The thought of all the extra work a presentation to him will involve, not to mention the fact that until this morning I was convinced I’d have this over the finish line, makes me almost fall to my knees and start to weep. Instead, I close my notepad and push out my chair.
‘Fine. I’d be delighted to,’ I say.
I throw Zach a withering glare, then get to my feet, pick up my Spider-Man pen and take my leave.