Chapter Five
I was unceremoniously dragged from a bizarre dream about drowning in tiramisu by the familiar drone of my phone. I rolled over and checked the screen. Lin. Of course it was. Saturday wouldn’t be complete without a wake-up call from her.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Lin bellowed down the phone before I could even greet her.
I sat bolt upright. “About what?”
“I’m talking about your script report!” Lin screeched. “The one you sent directly to RJ instead of only to me!”
I rubbed my eyes. “What are you talking about? I replied to your email, that’s it.”
“No. You also for some reason copied in RJ.”
Despite my thick duvet, I instantly went cold. “No, I … are you sure?”
“I’m looking at the email chain right now,” Lin retorted. “I’m sure. How could you be so careless? He’s an artist, he needs to be managed, you can’t just list all the things you’d change about his script without letting me review it first!”
“Oh God.” I put the call on speaker and opened my work email app, my heart thudding so painfully it felt like I might vomit it up. I went straight to the sent mailbox and clicked on the last email sent. This had to be some kind of mistake, surely, I—
My blood curdled.
Lin was right. There was the email, with RJ and Lin as the addressees. Scrolling down, I saw that the concise cover note I’d written had been replaced with:
drastic *!@$$$111!
“Nooo!” I screeched in panic. “Has RJ seen this?”
“Why do you think I’m up so early?” Lin demanded. “Of course he’s seen it.”
“And he’s not happy?”
“To say the least!” Lin spewed. “Not only am I in the shit for sharing his precious script with someone he’s never even met, but you also had the audacity to send him a garbled email that seems to label his work as drastic. He’s furious.”
“I don’t … How did …” I cast about for some explanation. It made no sense. I’d replied to Lin’s email only, so there was no way anyone else could have been included. But then I remembered. “The screen!”
“What?”
“The screen, it went dark just as I was about to send the email to you. I was tired and desperate to fix it, so I was hitting a lot of keys at random, perhaps I somehow copy/pasted RJ’s email into the address bar of the email?
” I racked my brain. I couldn’t remember what keys I’d pressed but it was entirely possible I could have done this accidentally, as his address was part of the email chain.
When the screen came back to life, I’d hit ‘send’ without even looking at what I was sending as I’d proofed it before the screen went dark.
“I was so relieved that the laptop hadn’t lost my work, I sent it straight away in case it broke again. ”
“Well, that explains the weird collection of letters and symbols in place of actual human greetings,” Lin said. “The only other explanation I had was that you’d had a mental breakdown of sorts.”
“Oh God.” I was glad to still be lying down as my legs suddenly felt weak. “What … what happens now?”
“Honestly, Lucie, I don’t know,” Lin said. “He’s one of my most valued clients. I lose him, I …” Her voice faltered.
“Lin, please, I can make this right,” I said. “Let me email him, apologize. Surely when I explain, he’ll—”
“No way!” Lin barked. “So now I have to talk him down. I’ll eat shit and try to placate him. But I must tell you, if he wants your head on a platter then I’m going to serve it to him, you hear me?”
“I hear you.” I choked the words out. If Lin fired me, there would be no glowing reference. In fact, if Lin were so minded, she could badmouth me to anyone who was anyone in the film industry. And then I might be forced to take Dan up on his offer and forget I ever had designs on a film career.
“Ah, shit, he’s calling me now,” Lin said.
“It really was a mistake,” I pleaded. “When you talk to RJ, make sure he knows that.”
“I’ll say whatever it takes to keep him,” Lin snapped. And with that, she hung up.
Numb, I lowered my phone. How was this possible?
It definitely wasn’t fair. My analysis wasn’t just good, it was great.
More than that, writing that report had felt so right, like finally my skills were being used the way they were meant to be.
For a brief moment, I’d dared hope that better opportunities were imminent, and this is what happened. A stupid copy/paste error.
I needed coffee. I staggered to the kitchen, where my sense of injustice was soon followed by anger.
Was my job really in jeopardy because the report went straight to RJ instead of Lin?
Was he really that precious about a lowly assistant emailing him?
If he could just get over himself and read my work, he’d see how much I believed in his script and that I had provided useful feedback.
As I made the coffee, I slammed cupboard doors, almost glad that Bex had stayed at Dan’s last night and wasn’t being woken up by my rage.
That would not help our situation one bit.
I’d planned on spending the weekend rotting in the sofa in a state of panic to wait for Monday’s judgment, but Lin called me back in the afternoon. I virtually sprained my ankle leaping across the room to snatch up my phone.
“Hello?” I warbled, as Lin’s face appeared on the screen. “What did he say? What happened?”
Lin was uncharacteristically still, her expensive teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.
My stomach swooped. Oh shit. It was bad. “Tell me!”
Lin took a deep breath. “I’m going to need you to come into the office. Now.”
She hung up before I could utter another syllable. I decided not to waste any time fretting; I hurried to my room and changed out of my ragged, sofa-rot sweatpants into a more competent jeans and a shirt, the uniform of a woman who would never make such a basic mistake again.
When I arrived at the office, Lin was already there, jabbing at her keyboard with murderous intent.
“Come in,” she said briskly when she saw me appear in the doorway and I did as I was told on legs weak and shaking with anticipation.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so awful.
My head ached and my stomach constricted, threatening to expel the coffee I’d consumed.
“Sit.” Lin pointed at the guest chair on the other side of her desk, and I sank into the seat gratefully.
“Lin, I—”
Lin held up her hand and I obediently shut my mouth. “Do you have an up-to-date passport?”
“I – ah – yeah.”
“RJ has requested that you fly out to New York,” Lin said. “ASAP.”
“Wait, what?” I thought I was hearing things. “Did you just say New York?” Of all the things I had expected to hear from Lin, this wasn’t it.
“As soon as we get the visa sorted, you’re to head out there,” Lin said. “A kind of secondment, if you will.”
“But why?” I felt like I might simultaneously collapse into a puddle while bursting into flames with excitement. “You said RJ was mad with you for sharing the script.”
“Oh, he was.” Lin’s eyes widened. “He takes confidentiality very seriously. But once he calmed down, he read your report.”
My every nerve strained. “And?”
Lin permitted a small smile. “He liked it.”
“He liked my analysis?”
“He did.” Lin nodded. “So much so that he wants you to fly over to New York and work with him on polishing up the draft ready for the pitch.”
Relief and pride surged through me. RJ liked my work. He believed in me, believed I could get his script made! All I had to do was make the right recommendations and … Oh God, here followed crushing, overwhelming fear. “He does know I’m not a scriptwriter, right?”
“He does.” Lin’s lips thinned.
“Lin, I haven’t touched a script since, like, forever.” Since university, technically speaking.
“And here I thought you were an expert.” Lin’s voice was loaded with sarcasm. “Because your report read like it was written by one.”
“I was only offering suggestions,” I gabbled. “Feedback for an actual writer to use. Is this … Are you sure this isn’t a wind-up?”
“Oh, I am certain,” Lin said. “I explained that you were merely providing critical analysis and that your writing skills are limited. I mean, you dabble in publicity copy, but that’s it.”
“I wouldn’t say dabble,” I said defensively.
“Fine, whatever.” Lin shrugged. “RJ is something of a maverick. Despite your total lack of professional experience, he really dug your ideas about making his script more commercially successful. Now, he’s in the thick of getting his latest movie out into the world, so you’ll be working with his creative assistant on this. ”
“But … but …” I was truly lost for words. “There are a million writers and creatives out there with credits as long as their arm, why me?”
Lin rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Lucie, do you want to do this or not?”
Did I want to fly out to New York and work with a critically acclaimed director? “Of course I do, it just doesn’t seem real.”
“Trust me, it’s real,” Lin said ominously. “I don’t care what it takes, you make sure that script is the best one ever written. I need RJ happy, because I can’t afford to lose him. And if I learn that RJ isn’t happy for even one second, you’ll be out of a job.”
One mistake and Lin was holding my job over my head as if I were the worst employee in the world. Years of hard work reduced to nothing thanks to a stupid computer glitch.
I bit my tongue. “Got it.”
Lin’s smile was stretched, calculating. “Good. Now, I think I can manage a few weeks without you so long as I get to keep RJ happy. I won’t bother you, I won’t even email. You’re to focus entirely on RJ. But don’t take an age on this script either. I’ll need you back here before too long. Got it?”
“Absolutely. I can do this.”
She stared at me for a beat before waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t you have some flights to book?”
I rose to my feet on legs so shaky I felt like Bambi on ice.
Of all the outcomes of my mistake, the very notion RJ might offer me a chance to work on his script hadn’t even been on my radar.
I was overcome with a strong urge to call Bex and share the news, but as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I remembered she had yet to return any of my calls.
As I reached Lin’s office door, I paused and looked back at my boss.
“Thanks for this,” I said. “Trust me, I won’t let you down.”
Lin smiled tightly. “That’s right. You won’t.”