Chapter 54
A few days later, I’m back at the townhouse while Abby is helping me sort through my outfit options on FaceTime. I came back to the rental last night for the last time, just before Quinton and Selma arrived on the island, and I already miss Dom fiercely. Like a piece of me is missing, even though it’s only been one night. I don’t know how I’m going to board my plane to New York tomorrow.
My dinner with them is tonight, and my bed is now heaped with every outfit I’ve tried on for Abby, except the one I’m currently wearing. It’s a white tank with a deep, square neckline, paired with a silky high-waisted sage green skirt that ties across my hip.
“Be honest,” I say to her. “I can’t mess this up.”
“Put the strappy gold sandals back on and let me see it with those.” Her forehead is nearly pressed against the phone screen, as she squints to see me better. I miss her so much, but I get teary at just the thought of leaving tomorrow. If I can get Quinton to agree to produce my film, then I could fully transition my career to film writing right away, leaving my UBN position for good. There’s a lot riding on this pitch tonight, including an easier future with Dom here in Hawaii without having to leave him so soon.
“If only you were here to help me in person.” I slip off the black strappy heels in favor of the gold gladiator sandals I brought from home. Then I wrap each long golden lace all the way up my foot and ankle, finally standing in front of the camera once they’re tied. My phone is propped up on the dresser against a wall, while Pru sleeps in a tiny patch of sun by the bed.
If I think about leaving her too, I might cry.
“Yes!” Abby yells triumphantly, like our favorite team just won the big game. “You’re going to look professional, yet a bit saucy and eccentric. Basically unforgettable, which is exactly how you need to look tonight. It’s perfect. We’ll be celebrating your new contract by Monday!”
I turn in front of the camera. “What do you think his wife is like?”
“Drop dead gorgeous. Savvy. Rich. Basically amazing.”
Selma was a top model in her early twenties. No doubt she brought her own small fortune into her marriage to Quinton. They don’t have any kids, and just live as two DINKs with a serious income between them. I’ve since learned they have equally impressive estates in Lake Como, Aspen, and Palm Springs for quick vacations out of LA, along with a modest penthouse in London.
I finished the script yesterday, and already had Abby comb through it for any edits. She returned it to me within twelve hours, even taking the day off to give it her full attention. It came back to me full of funny comments and high praise, telling me she could see a box office premier in my near future.
But I’m not so sure.
Moments like this come once in a lifetime, and I feel like I could have prepared for this for years without ever feeling completely ready. Throwing it together within a few weeks seems like a Hail Mary pass, and my heart rate has been erratic all day as I try to practice what I’m going to say to him.
Dom said he’d mentioned to Quinton that he wanted to introduce him to me. But I have no idea if Quinton knows I’ll be pitching him my script, or if he thinks I’m just joining them as Dom’s girlfriend.
“I’m shitting bricks, Abby.” I flop down on the bed. A few shoes clatter to the floor, startling Pru. She looks up at me like I’ve insulted her sleep, then rolls to her back, tilting her chin toward the sunlight.
“If anyone can charm the pants off a Hollywood director tonight, it’s you. You need to remember how hard you’ve worked for this moment. It’s too serendipitous to fail.”
I’m so in need of a solid pep talk. I drop the shoes I’ve started picking up to give Abby my full attention.
“Are you sure you weren’t just being my best friend when you said my script was decent?” I have a gut feeling that my best friend is trying to build me up since there is literally no more time to work on it. “I was up until three in the morning going over any last-minute changes.”
“It’s perfect. You look perfect. Everything will be perfect.” She beams into the phone. “And if, for some reason, it doesn’t all pan out, it’ll be a great experience pitching Quinton in person!”
“You think it’s not going to work out?” I start to panic. “Why?” My voice rises four octaves in just one word. “You really think it’s not going to work out?” I grab my laptop off the nightstand and fling it open. “Was it the scene between Sal and Andrew? I knew it felt too forced. Hold on, let me read you the alternative lines I gave them.” I start scrolling down my open Google Doc.
“No, Olivia, stop. Seriously. I was just putting a positive spin on the what if it fails notion you keep having, to put your mind at ease. He’s going to love it.”
I groan impatiently, trying to find the lines I’m looking for. “I just wish I had more time.”
“Life comes at you fast, honey,” she says. “If I had a dollar for every time I wanted just one more week of prep before walking into a negotiation, I’d be rich.”
I close my laptop. “So how do you force yourself to feel ready when you don’t know if you are?”
“I tell myself that whatever moment I’m having is as good as it’s going to get. And I need to make the most of it.”
I groan. “I wish I had your confidence right now.”
“You can,” she reminds me. “You just need to own it.”
A loud banging interrupts us, making everything inside me drop eighteen stories to the floor.
“The driver must be early,” I say. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Abby grins. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
“Oh my God, I’ll keep you posted.” I’m beginning to break out in a cold sweat.
“No matter what happens, this is as good as it’s going to get. You’ve been waiting for this kind of opportunity your whole life. So get in there and own it, Liv.”