Chapter 4 #2
I swallow. “There is one project I’ve been thinking about lately,” I admit.
Her eyes light up, and she leans closer, her voice soft with curiosity. “Mm? Tell me.”
I set my mug down, lowering my voice like I’m sharing a secret. “Have you heard of Joy Harris?”
She blinks, her mouth falling open. “Urma the Unicorn?”
I grin, slapping my hand on the table and pointing at her. “Exactly!”
Molly leans in even further, excitement flushing her cheeks pink. “I love Urma. Every comic is hilarious!”
The Unicorn is a webcomic by Australian writer and illustrator Joy Harris.
It follows Urma, a scruffy, sarcastic unicorn living among her perfect, pastel-colored peers.
Dark, ironic, and biting, the comic’s humor has made it a cult favorite.
It isn’t afraid to tackle tough or controversial topics, and its fanbase is as loyal as it is vocal.
“I want to take the comics and turn them into a series,” I say, my voice practically buzzing with excitement.
“A series?”
“Yeah. We could do a movie, but what I really want is an adult cartoon series. Think BoJack Horseman or Big Mouth. And I want Joy Harris to co-write.”
Molly reaches across the table, grabbing my hands. “Do it! You have to do this!”
Her skin is soft against mine, her enthusiasm infectious. I barely hear what she’s saying because my mind is too busy memorizing the way her hands feel in mine, the way her eyes sparkle with excitement, how her smile makes the world feel just a little more bright.
I’m so fucking gone for this girl.
I grin at her. “I’ve already put feelers out.” My smile falters as reality sets in. “Unfortunately, Joy is elusive.”
“She won’t return your calls?”
I shake my head, leaning back with a sigh. “She’s a ghost. Ot a hermit, maybe? I’ve had to jump through fifteen thousand hoops just to track down a PO box address.”
Molly frowns thoughtfully. “What are you doing in the meantime?”
I shrug, picking at the brownie with my fork. “Prep what I can. I’ve started putting together a pitch package—concept art, storyboards, some preliminary scripts. I’m trying to build something that will grab her attention. If I can just get her to listen, I think she’ll love the idea.”
Molly’s smile softens as she studies me. “You’ve got that look in your eye.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What look?”
“The one you always get when you’re chasing something you care about.”
Her words hit me square in the chest. I wonder if she realizes how much of that drive is sitting right across from me.
“Well,” I say, keeping my voice as casual as I can, “this is worth chasing.”
She squeezes my hand again before letting go, and I immediately miss the warmth of her touch.
“You’ll get her,” Molly says confidently. “If anyone can convince Joy Harris, it’s you.”
I smile, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. “You think so?”
“I know so,” she says, taking another bite of brownie.
I watch her chew, then grin. “Maybe I should hire you as my hype woman.”
She smirks, licking chocolate off her fork. “You couldn’t afford me.”
“Probably not,” I say, laughing. “But I’d try.”
She laughs with me, and for a moment, everything else—Joy Harris, work, my carefully buried feelings for Molly—fades into the background. It’s just us, sitting in the warm glow of the coffee shop, sharing a brownie and a moment I never want to end.
“Are you doing anything else?” Molly asks.
“Trying to write our next project.”
“And you’re struggling?”
“My muse wants to write a rom-com.”
She chuckles, her smile teasing. “I can’t see Sam going for that.”
My lips twitch into a grin. “Not unless I throw in some deep and meaningful character progression where two worlds collide, with an overarching feminist narrative of strength and fundamental change from the patriarchy.”
“So, essentially Legally Blonde?”
I burst out laughing. “Sure. Let’s do the Legally Astipia version.”
“Just saying.” She smirks, her eyes twinkling. “I’d watch.”
So would I. My brain starts churning at the idea.
She glances at her watch, her smile slipping into something apologetic. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to go.”
I stand as she slides out of the booth, waiting for her to pass me before throwing some cash on the table, adding a hefty tip. That brownie really is worth it.
“Which charity?”
She sighs as we step onto the sidewalk. “No charity tonight. I have a class then pure schmoozing-enforced family time.”
I hide my smile. “Which business?”
“Hendrix. He’s launching a new app tonight. Seems pretty excited about it.”
We both hesitate, standing just outside the coffee shop, the conversation stretching into silence. Molly tips her head to one side, her curls catching the golden glow of the streetlamp.
“You know, we should do this again,” she says, her tone casual but warm.
I hide my pleasure behind a smirk. “I could go for another brownie.”
She punches my arm weakly, her laugh light. “You doofus.”
Lifting her hand, she flags down a cab. As it pulls up to the curb, she glances over her shoulder. “You have my number. Call me.”
“Sure,” I say, watching as she climbs into the cab. She shoots me a grin and a little wave before the door shuts, and then she’s gone, the car vanishing into the sea of brake lights and bustling traffic.
I rub a hand over my chest, frowning at the strange ache blooming there.
“You gonna stand there or chase her?” a raspy voice calls out.
I turn my head, spotting a homeless guy leaning against a lamppost.
Raising an eyebrow, I reply, “Friend, that kind of action doesn’t come until the end of the movie. Me and Molly? We’re in the opening act.”
The old man huffs, shaking his head. “In my day, we wooed our broads. Didn’t just stand there staring at their backs as they walked off into the sunset like schmucks.”
I pull out my wallet, handing him a fifty. “Thanks for the advice.”
His eyes light up as he snatches the cash, shoving it deep into his jacket. “You need more advice? You know where to find me.”
I give him a mock salute before shoving my hands into my pockets and heading down the street.
I don’t have anywhere to be, nothing pressing to do, so I wander, letting the city’s rhythm guide me.
The lights blur together, the sounds of honking horns and chattering people washing over me as my thoughts drift back to Molly.
My phone buzzes.
“Ma, were your ears burning?” I ask, answering the call.
“Why would my ears be burning, oh son of mine?” she asks, her lilting voice full of amusement.
“Never mind. What’s up?”
“Your father has had a work issue arise, leaving me without a date. Are you free tonight?”
“For what?”
“Hendrix Archer’s tech launch.”
I pause, feeling a strange undercurrent of excitement. “Sure. What time?”
“Pick me up at seven. The festivities start at seven-thirty.”
“Got it.”
“And, darling?”
“Yes?”
“Wear a suit. This is a fancy event.” She hangs up before I can reply.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I raise a hand to flag down a cab, muttering under my breath, “Scene three, the hero chases after the heroine.”