Chapter One #2
The expression on Jack’s irritatingly handsome face told me he was not the sort of person to empathize with my situation (fair enough – look at his flat), so when my phone informed me a car was two minutes away, I sighed with relief.
I was in no mood to justify my ambition. “My car is almost here so …”
“You won’t even stay for a coffee? Or, I remember, you’re from the North, right? Perhaps a cup of Yorkshire chuffing tea instead?” He snickered with self-satisfaction.
I smiled politely. It wasn’t the first time a man had made fun of my accent. “No, I mean, yes, I’m from Sheffield, but I don’t have time to stay.”
“Ah, I’ve offended you with the northern thing, haven’t I?” He grimaced. “I find it totally charming, really. I have all the Arctic Monkeys albums.”
“It’s fine. My Uber is almost here and—”
“Come on,” he wheedled. “You sure?”
My patience was getting stretched. I dropped the smile. “I’m sure. I mean, what’s the point?”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
“Prolonging … this. Us.” I gestured back and forth between us.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re great. Last night was great, but as I am aptly demonstrating this morning, my job takes up pretty much every waking hour and all of my focus.
Coffee can lead to other things, and I don’t have the time for other things.
” Dating apps were a godsend for when I needed to let off steam, to forget about the stress of my job and whatever shit Lin had put me through.
But as I got older it was harder and harder to meet someone worth the time and effort, even for a casual hookup.
Jack had been an easy swipe-right, with his shiny black hair and piercing blue eyes.
He was a fucking unicorn in what had seemed like a forest of beige.
He gazed at me, perplexed, then shook his head. “It was just a bloody coffee to see you on your way, not a marriage proposal.”
And there it was, I thought wearily. The downside to trying to find a human connection via dating apps. The bruised ego of a man unable to fathom a woman not falling madly in love with them after one night together. “All right then, thanks for a lovely evening.”
He winced. “You make it sound like you were here for a book club or something.”
“It’s a good job I’m going then, isn’t it?” I said. “Enjoy your coffee.”
“Come on, don’t leave on a sour note!” he called after me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll leave you a five-star rating!” I threw over my shoulder.
“Hah! You know that’s not how Tinder works,” he said. “Thank goodness,” he added under his breath.
I lifted my chin imperiously, not regretting my decision to leave one bit. I reached the front door and pulled at the handle, but the door remained locked. Damn. I’d been hoping for a dignified exit. I tugged. “How do you—?”
“Deadbolt.” Jack leaned past me and high above my head to twist it, holding the door open.
“Right. Thanks.” I stepped over the threshold into the gleaming lobby of his apartment block. “Well. I’d say it was nice to meet you but the morning after kind of canceled out all the good stuff.”
“Charming,” he muttered. “Lucie?”
I paused. “Yes?”
“Good luck with the, ah, career.” And with a sad shake of the head, he let the door slam shut.
Sometimes a unicorn was just a strange-looking horse. I could have cried with relief at the sight of the black Toyota Avensis waiting patiently by the curb. As I slid in and greeted the cheerful driver, my phone heralded a video call. Lin Temper.
Pasting a professional smile on my face, I answered. “Hi, Lin.”
Lin Temper’s angular face filled the screen, providing an unflattering shot up her nose. Even at this early hour, her cat-like eyes were rimmed with a smoky kajal liner, making the icy gray irises pop. “You on your way?”
“Yep.” The car rolled smoothly down the leafy London street.
“Great. Tristan really needs that look-book and for whatever reason this stylist doesn’t have a digital version, something to do with her needing to feel the fabric or whatever.” She flapped a hand. “And you’re good to help him with his conference call?”
“Sure.” I leaned back in the seat, eyes fluttering.
For obvious reasons there had been very little sleep last night and my body ached in all the right places.
Today called for a fry-up and a Netflix marathon but it was clear that wouldn’t be happening for quite some time.
I took a breath and told myself, This will all be worth it.
“Lin, did you have a chance to review the proposal I sent you?” Tired of stagnating in my assistant role, I’d decided to do something bold and so I’d been working after hours on a compelling pitch for a film adaptation of my all-time favorite read, a romance novel called Twin Roses.
I’d put together a production budget with multiple, comprehensive funding strategies, a rough shooting schedule and a thorough plan for its lifecycle after a cinematic release, not to mention marketing and distribution strategy.
All it needed was to get under the noses of the right people and Lin had the connections to make that happen.
Although not strictly within the remit of my job, if I wanted to be an exec producer, this was the sort of thing I had to be doing and, after considerable angst, I’d finally shared my work with Lin to get her take on it.
She knew my ambition after all, and I hoped after all these years of service, she’d be amenable to supporting me with making it happen.
“Not totally,” Lin said, which meant she’d not even opened the email.
“I spoke to the film agent repping the book and the option is available,” I said quickly. “There’s a real gap in the market for a true romantic epic and this book could be it. In terms of budget, it’s—”
“If it’s that epic then why has no one already made it?” Lin interrupted.
Where to begin? “Lack of imagination,” I said. “It’s a saga, so it’s very meaty and we’d need an experienced screenwriter to take on the challenge. The themes are totally relevant to modern life though. I reckon we could pitch this to any studio proactively and suggest a director—”
“All right, all right,” Lin grunted. “I’ll have a look next week. It’s the weekend, Lucie, seriously, give me a break.”
I could only stare down the phone in disbelief. “I’m well aware it’s the weekend, Lin.”
“Apology accepted.” Lin yawned. “Christ, I need to book a later Pilates session. This early wake-up time is killing me.” As I tried not to implode, Lin leaned closer to the camera.
“Call me when you’ve sorted things today and do not, under any circumstances, fuck this up. ” And with that, my boss hung up.
Trying not to be discouraged, I lowered my phone to my lap.
As infuriatingly smug as Jack had been, he hadn’t been far off the truth.
There was something shameful about being thirty-one and being no higher up the career ladder than when I’d taken on the role as Lin’s assistant.
For the millionth time (or so it felt) I considered the possibility of switching jobs, but the lean specter of my bank account reared its terrifying head to warn me off the idea.
I’d started out as a runner post-university – the most common of entry-level film jobs – and although working on film sets had been exhilarating, the work was infrequent and poorly paid.
I’d soon ended up with a horrific credit card bill and so the offer to work at Temper Media for what had seemed like a dream salary back then had been a gift.
There was no way I was risking such debt again; my credit rating was still in the toilet.
No, if I were to leave Temper, I’d have to be sure it was for a job that paid an actual living wage.
Problem was, nothing had come up. The few opportunities I’d heard about were freelance gigs that sounded amazing but were temporary and had no promise of further work afterwards.
That’s why my pitch for this book adaptation was so important – it could potentially make my mark on the industry, and I’d have the career I longed for.
I was confident that if Lin bothered to crack open my presentation, she’d see the potential too.