Chapter 11
DREW
‘Knock, knock,’ I call out from Chris and Gen’s front door.
‘In the kitchen,’ yells Gen. I close the door behind me and head to the back of the house.
‘Just in time to peel the spuds,’ she says, jerking her head towards the sink.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have come early,’ I joke and she chuckles.
I give her a peck on the cheek, then stand at the sink, getting the lay of the land. ‘Geez, how many people are coming for dinner?’ I ask, eyeing the enormous bag of potatoes on the counter.
‘It’s only us four, but you know Chris and his chips. He’d eat the lot if I let him.’
‘Hah – yeah, true.’
I get started, losing myself in the rhythm, while Gen makes hamburger patties from scratch. Chris and Maisie should be back in about twenty minutes, giving me enough time to debrief with Gen.
Only now I’m not sure where to start.
‘So, your campaign launch… I presume it was less than ideal,’ Gen ventures, tossing me my opener.
I stop peeling and face her. ‘You know that time Chris came off his bike and broke his arm and chipped his front tooth?’
She winces, sucking air through her teeth. ‘That good, huh?’
‘A hundred times worse.’
‘So, more of a trainwreck than a bike crash.’
‘Yeah.’
I pick up the next potato and start peeling.
‘And you’re not doing that thing you do?’ she asks gently.
I look over. ‘You mean where I get in my head and imagine the worst?’ She nods. ‘Not this time, no. It was a total shitshow.’
I walk her through the morning, including how I sprinted out of the conference room, only remembering after I got to my cube that I’d offered to take Sophie and Jane out for a team lunch.
But it was too late by then – I would have looked like even more of an asshole.
Besides, I needed time to regroup, and I figured that sitting across from Sophie at a café while we choked down overpriced sandwiches wasn’t the best way to achieve that.
But when we reconvened after lunch, it got even worse.
I figured we’d be brainstorming and riffing off each other, honing the concepts for the four commercials, maybe even start outlining the scripts. Instead, it was stiff and awkward and going through the motions – and we didn’t get anywhere close to homing in on themes or motifs.
I called it right after 3 p.m. even though I’d booked the conference room till 5 p.m. That’s when I poked my head into Gen’s office and invited myself to dinner.
‘That’s not like Sophie, showing up unprepared,’ says Gen. ‘She must have had a good reason.’
‘She did – Harlow was sick, but that’s the thing. By the time she told me, I’d already shot myself in the foot.’
‘And then you made it worse.’
‘Yeah, then I shot myself in the other foot. But what else was I supposed to do? The movie’s fundamental to the campaign – she needs to watch it,’ I reply, my voice getting louder.
But Gen will know I’m not mad at her – I’m not even mad at Sophie. It’s this situation. I haven’t had a co-creative for a long time, and I clearly suck at it.
I keep peeling potatoes and Gen works a patty between her hands, both of us quiet. I thought that talking about it would make me feel better. Spoiler: it hasn’t.
‘Do you think you mishandled it because you’re keen on her?’
‘What? No! I told you, that’s not even in the realm of possibility. Hasn’t even crossed my mind.’
‘All right,’ she says, but I can tell she’s sceptical. Maybe because it’s only partially the truth.
‘Well, if it’s not that…’ she says.
‘It isn’t.’
‘Okay, then do you think maybe…’ she begins and I turn towards her. She shrugs, hedging as if she’s afraid to hurt my feelings or something.
‘You can say it.’
‘Could this be about Blair?’
‘Oof,’ I groan. Even hearing his name knocks me sideways.
Blair and I worked together back in St Paul – we were partners, co-creatives. He was also my best friend and would have been my best man if he and Caitlyn hadn’t been screwing around behind my back for a year.
I put down the peeler and lean against the counter, exhaling loudly.
‘Sorry,’ says Gen with a grimace. ‘Just, with everything that happened, do you think maybe you’ve—’
‘Lost the ability to play nicely with others?’ I ask, cutting her off.
She screws up her face. ‘You do like to work alone – even the production managers are a little… umm… wary when they get assigned to you.’
‘I didn’t know that – I’m always professional.’
‘Of course you are, but you can also be a little standoffish.’
‘Is that a nice way of saying I’m arrogant, because—’
‘Hey,’ she says, lifting her gunky hands, ‘I didn’t say arrogant.
’ She crosses to the sink and washes her hands.
‘But think about how Sophie must have felt today,’ she says, speaking up over the sound of the water running.
‘She lost the account to you, then she’s asked to be your lieutenant, and you’re the office lone wolf. ’
‘Lone wolf?’ I ask, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. I’ve always considered myself a team player and this stings almost as much as talking about Blair. But maybe Gen’s right.
She dries her hands on a dishcloth and leans against the counter opposite me, regarding me closely.
‘Look, you know I love you – you’re as much a brother to me as Rob is – but our colleagues don’t know you like I do.’
‘And if Sophie was already on edge about working with me, she would have hated that she didn’t watch the movie.’
‘Precisely.’
‘So, I was too hard on her.’ It’s not exactly a question, only it kinda is and I look to Gen for reassurance.
‘I think you were fair, but you also have some work to do there. And fast. It’s a tight timeline and Lorraine’s already calling you three the Dream Team. I doubt she’ll want to reassign Sophie, so…’
‘So, I have to make this work.’
‘You have to make this work – and you will.’
She pats me on the arm – big sisterly reassurance – and I’m reminded once again how lucky I am to have Gen in my corner.
‘Any ideas how I do that?’ I ask with a wry laugh.
‘Well, definitely don’t—’
‘Mummy, we’re home!’ Maisie shouts, interrupting, and I make a mental note to revisit this after dinner.
Booming footsteps echo down the hallway – anyone would think a rhino was on the loose – and Maisie bursts into the kitchen, out of breath and pink-cheeked.
‘Hi, Uncle Drew,’ she says, giving me a quick hug.
‘Hi, kiddo.’
‘Mummy, did you know that meerkats babysit each other’s babies?’
Gen and I lock eyes over Maisie’s head, both smothering smirks.
‘A thousand and one facts about meerkats, number six hundred and fifty-two,’ says Chris.
He’s carrying Maisie’s backpack, his briefcase, and four wine bottles clanking around in a reusable grocery bag. I take it off his hands and inspect the bottles one by one as I set them on the counter.
‘I gather you enjoyed the zoo with Grandma and Grandad?’ asks Gen, landing a kiss on Maisie’s head.
‘It was amazing. The meerkats are my favourite.’
‘You don’t say,’ I tease.
‘What are you doing here, Uncle Drew?’ she asks frankly, and Chris sniggers. Good thing I have a healthy ego.
‘I invited myself for dinner so I could talk to your mom.’
‘Okay,’ she says, as if it’s up to her.
‘Maisie, take your backpack up to your room and wash your hands, please,’ says Gen.
‘Okay,’ she says again.
‘So, they picked her up from school, then took her to the zoo?’ I ask after Maisie’s out of earshot. ‘On a school night?’
‘They’re members,’ she replies with a shrug. ‘And it’s better than after-school care.’
‘Can you imagine Grandma and Grandpa—’ I say to Chris, but he cuts me off with, ‘Hah! No way.’
The next thirty minutes are lost to family mayhem – mostly Maisie regaling us with more facts about meerkats and dinner prep.
I do my part by keeping out the way and testing the Beaujolais Chris brought home.
It’s not bad and I pour him a glass and take it out to the yard where he’s grilling the burgers.
‘How’s things?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, pretty good,’ I begin, but my phone rings. I grab it out of my back pocket. ‘Sorry, I should take this. It’s Max.’
‘Tell him his favourite person says hi,’ he says, cracking himself up.
‘Yeah, I’m not doing that.’ I wander over to the fence and answer. ‘Hey, man – what’s going on?’
‘Hey,’ he replies. ‘So, it looks like we’re gonna be working together.’
‘Yeah – how cool’s that?’
He chuckles. ‘Yeah, pretty cool. You know, at first I wasn’t sure about playing Stevie again, but I’m coming around.’
‘The nostalgia or the paycheck?’ I joke, hoping it lands. It’s been a while since we were on joking terms, but he laughs.
‘Let’s go with half and half. Anyway, listen, that’s not why I’m calling. Did I tell you about the Cosmic Sentinels 2 premiere?’
‘Uh, no. That’s soon though, right?’ I ask, remembering seeing something about it online.
‘It’s tomorrow night at Leicester Square. I can get you in if you want to come.’
‘Seriously? That’d be awesome. So, what, you put my name on a list or something? How does it work?’
‘Nah, man, my assistant will courier the ticket over. Security’s pretty tight for these things. But you’ll get to walk the red carpet, so look sharp.’
‘Can I bring a date?’ I ask, half-joking. I don’t want to push my luck.
‘Yeah, for sure. I can swing up to four tickets if you want ’em.’
I’m hit with a brainwave so frigging brilliant, it’d be killing a dozen birds with one stone. ‘Hey, can you hold on for a sec?’ I ask.
‘Uh, yeah.’
I mute the call and go inside. ‘Hey, Gen?’ She looks up from slicing tomatoes. ‘Unusual request, but do you think Maisie could come to the premiere of Cosmic Sentinels 2 with me tomorrow night?’
‘What? No,’ she replies right away, and my brilliant idea dies in the butt before it even takes a breath. ‘Sorry, Drew, but she’s way too y— Wait, the premiere? Is that Max Stirling?’ she asks, pointing at my phone, her eyes wide.
‘Yeah, he’s invited me – us. Me and Maisie and I thought I could ask Sophie and Harlow to come with. You know, a peace offering, get us back on track with the campaign…’
I chew on my bottom lip while a dozen thoughts cross Gen’s face.
She breaks eye contact to roll her eyes, her mouth twisting into a reluctant smile. ‘Okay, fine, yes. Maisie would kill me if I’m the reason she doesn’t get to meet Max Stirling.’
I run around and give her a quick hug.
‘Thanks, Gen, you’re the best.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ she says, going back to the tomatoes.
I unmute the call. ‘Hey, Max – four tickets would be great.’
‘Cool. I’ll get them couriered to Emberstone.’
‘Great.’
‘And hey, sorry for the late notice. I didn’t even think about it till my agent said something just now.’
‘Don’t worry about it. So, I’ll see you tomorrow night?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, maybe. You know how these things go.’
I don’t – not at all.
‘Oh, for sure,’ I say anyway.
‘Oh, and I mean it – dress to impress,’ he says with a laugh. ‘No tan suit.’
That’s what I wore to prom. It was after Obama’s tan suit ‘controversy’ and I thought I was making a fashion statement. I didn’t live that down for months.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say with a good-natured chuckle, and we end the call.
Maisie enters the kitchen a couple of seconds later and I glance at Gen, who’s smiling to herself.
‘Hey, Mais,’ I begin, ‘you don’t have anything on tomorrow night, do you?’
‘Nuh-uh,’ she replies earnestly.
‘Well, guess who I just talked to…’
As I tell Maisie the news, her eyes get bigger and bigger – then she shrieks so loudly the meerkats at London Zoo are probably covering their ears.