Chapter Twenty #3
“She was,” I said. “No-nonsense, ever practical. All the neighbors were terrified of her but also, she’d do anything to help her community. That woman could take a car engine apart and put it back together without blinking then go home and bake enough fruitcake to feed a whole street.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree then.”
“Oh, she was way more capable than me.” I brushed the compliment away. “She didn’t quite get my obsession with movies either; the only one she’d ever watch was Ghostbusters, every Christmas.”
“I mean, if you’re going to watch one movie and only one movie, that’s the one,” Elliot murmured.
“That and I think she fancied Dan Aykroyd.”
“A solid choice from Nana Kath.”
I liked hearing him say her name. “It’s funny, I often wonder what she would think of my life right now. If she’d be disappointed in me.”
I felt rather than saw his double take. “The fuck you say?”
“Come on,” I said with a bitter laugh. “This industry, how hard it is. The hours, the salaries. I look at friends, my peers … they’re all progressing, thriving. Moving forward. Me? I’m thirty-one and I’m buying budget teabags and facing homelessness. I’m standing so still I’m going backwards.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” he said. “Really?”
“Feels like it,” I said. “Nan would probably think I’m mad. Giving everything to my career after all these years but not getting anywhere.”
“Not getting … ? Has anyone told you just how infuriating you are?” he asked with a laugh in his voice.
“Yeah, my best friend. Frequently,” I said. “And you, actually. Quite a lot considering we’ve only known each other a couple of weeks.”
“Well, if I may be so presumptuous,” he drawled, “maybe Nana Kath would admire your tenacity. Perhaps she would see what you can’t right now; you’re made for this.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I cupped a hand to my ear as if hard of hearing.
“You heard me,” he said, gently batting my hand away from my face. “I know I’ve been hard on you these past couple weeks, but you’re good. Also, I – er – I read your Twin Roses pitch.”
For a moment I could barely speak. I’d only sent it to him a few days ago. By contrast, it had been sat in Lin’s inbox for months and she hadn’t so much as opened the email. “You did?”
He regarded me for a second. “You’re going to make me elaborate on this, aren’t you?”
I suddenly wanted very much to know his opinion. “I am.”
“It’s as good as any pitch RJF has put forward,” he said.
“You mean that?”
“It’s tight,” he said. “The budget is well structured, the timeline logical and the creative treatment hooked me totally.”
“But?” I could tell there was a but.
“Funding,” he said with a wince.
“I knew it would be.” I sighed.
“No talent attached in front or behind screen,” he said. “And, judging by the synopsis, I’d say you’re talking at least sixty million that you need to find. That’s tough without named talent.”
“Nah, fifty,” I said. “It’s totally doable.”
“Permits for filming on open water are a minefield,” Elliot said. “And expensive. The yacht scene alone will be way more extensive than you’ve allowed.”
“I thought of that!” I said. “But the European Arts Grant—”
“That grant is super tricky,” Elliot said gently. “The odds of you getting that without a named cast or director is low. Trust me, RJ tried to qualify for it on one of his early movies and it was a nightmare.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t known that. “Then maybe I could drive a harder sale on the downstream rights. That could make up at least some of the deficit.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But, again, how are you going to manage that?”
“I’ll think about it.” I grinned at him. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Elliot blinked in surprise. “I just discredited one of your funding pillars.”
“You gave me actual feedback,” I said. “Like, concrete information that I can use.”
“Huh.” He smiled slowly.
“I know, I’m impressive, aren’t I?” For a second, I worried I’d been too cocky, but then Elliot sighed, laughing softly.
“Yes. You impress me, Lucie Clifton,” he said.
I let his words hang in the air for a moment. “I could say the same for you.”
“Is that right?” Elliot shifted and all of a sudden, his thigh was pressed against mine.
“But why d-do you care what I think about you?” My heart was pounding so loudly it threw my words off. “I’m just a fucking PA, after all.”
Elliot hung his head. “I should never have said that,” he murmured. “Because you’re not just a fucking PA.”
I was frozen in place, feeling as if the smallest movement would only shatter the fragile thing growing between him and I. “What am I?”
Elliot lifted his head, eyes intense on mine. “You’re—”
A bright light flooded the space, and I yelped in shock, shielding my eyes. Elliot made a similar noise, and I heard him jump to his feet. “What the fuck, man?”
Electric blotches danced across my vision.
This was it; we were busted. Now I was going to be arrested, probably fined a stupid amount of money that I’d never be able to afford and sent out of the country.
I blinked hard to clear my vision and rose to my feet.
“Elliot …” I gabbled in panic. “What’s happening—? ”
“Lucie,” Elliot chuckled. “It’s all right.” Finally, the splotches cleared, and I saw a parks officer in uniform, brandishing a giant torch. “This is my buddy Mal. He worked security with me on the Coney Island boardwalk back in my college days.”
Mal rolled his eyes. “So of course this wise guy takes advantage to sneak up here after hours.”
“Hey, your park is in safe hands.” Elliot laughed.
“Only because I trust you.” Mal turned his eyes to me. “You, I do not know. But if you’re Elliot’s girl, then, fine, you get a pass.”
“Oh, I’m not …” I rounded on Elliot. “Do you bring a lot of women up here?”
Elliot’s eyes bulged. “Mal. Come on.”
“Hah. He wishes.” Mal snorted. “Anyway, you gotta get out of here. I clocked your clumsy asses scaling the wall ages ago. I gave you as much time as I could but if I just left you up here all night and then my supervisor sees the feed? I’m out of a job. I need this job.”
“Say no more.” Elliot patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll get out of here.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “This really is a beautiful park.”
“Oh, I know,” Mal said. “But it’s kicking-out time. I got a crew coming in a couple hours to fix some railings before the park opens.”
“All right.” Elliot and Mal exchanged effusive bro-hugs, then Mal escorted us to the nearest street exit.
Soon enough we were strolling down Tenth as if we hadn’t just committed breaking and entering.
Exhaustion was finally beginning to creep in, weighing down my limbs and making my head foggy.
But it wasn’t just tiredness that was wrecking my brain.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Mal hadn’t interrupted us, what had Elliot been about to tell me?
“This is you, right?” He stopped, pointing to my apartment block just yards away. A streetlight shone through his hair, creating a golden halo that threw his cheekbones into sharp relief.
“This is my street, yes.” We lingered, neither of us willing to part. “Thanks for showing me your thinking spot.”
“My secret thinking spot,” he corrected with a soft laugh.
“Right. Secret.” I was startled by a surprise yawn. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He stepped away respectfully and every molecule in my body yearned for him to move back. “It’s been a long day. You should rest.”
“Of course. You’re right.” I idly wondered what he would say if I invited him in for terrible instant coffee.
“I think we understand each other a little better though,” he said with a yawn of his own so powerful he had to stretch, causing his shirt to lift and reveal that torso and a dark line of hair trailing south.
“We do? I mean, we do.” Although I wasn’t sure he would be so gracious if he knew the thoughts racing through my head at the sight of his abs.
“I need a cold shower” His face twisted in surprise, and I realized I’d said those words out loud.
“I mean, because I’m so wrecked. So tired.
” I might impress Elliot Fox but he had the ability to ruin me and that was dangerous.
I needed to look into a mirror and repeat a mantra about the perils of lusting after colleagues.
“Right,” he said. “Well, see you tomorrow.” He showed no signs of walking away, so I gave him an awkward wave and somehow made my wobbling legs function enough to take me home.
Elliot stayed, silhouetted under the lamplight, until I walked through the door of my apartment building.