Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What are you smirking at?” Vivian snapped as I approached her desk the following morning.
I’d decided to keep her and Ralf’s little secret; after all, it wasn’t any of my business and I was no one to judge inter-office relationships.
I was curious as to what the big risk was that they had been referring to – perhaps Vivian was planning to leave Baldemar to start something serious with Ralf?
But Ralf had described it as an ‘opportunity’ he was grabbing, hardly the most romantic language to use.
Besides, he’d tried to kiss me while in the midst of whatever this Vivian thing was – not exactly the mark of a gentleman in love.
“Nothing.” I hastily rearranged my face into a sensible expression.
“Now you look creepy,” she said. “What do you want? Spit it out.”
“I need my return flight booking. Please.”
Vivian’s face split into a smile. “You’re leaving us?”
“Yes.”
“Fabulous.” Vivian tapped her keyboard eagerly. “When?”
“I appreciate this must be devastating for you, but soon.” The pitch was scheduled for next Wednesday morning, the day after the premiere. “How about next Friday, in the evening?”
“You’re not wasting any time,” she remarked under her breath.
“Well, it’s because I have—”
“Oh, I don’t care,” she snapped, working at her computer. Then she paused. “You don’t have to hover,” she said, “I’ll email your confirmation through.”
“Thanks,” I said, backing away. What did Ralf see in her?
She seemed to treat him no better than anyone else around here.
I headed to the writers’ room and poked my head in hopefully, but Elliot wasn’t there waiting for me.
I pulled my phone out: no messages. Making my way over to Sadie’s office, I braced myself for the usual Ralf greeting, but his desk was bare.
“Lucie!” Sadie’s smile was reserved but genuine. “How are you?”
“Just anxious about the pitch next week,” I said. “And I don’t know if RJ wants to have another review of the script or anything. He’s been so occupied over at the Woodstock set.” Him and Elliot, I added silently.
“The last draft was in pretty good shape, so I thought,” Sadie said.
“Thanks.” I blushed. “But I want to be sure we’ve done all we can.”
“I know, the Woodstock drama came at the worst time,” Sadie said with a groan. “The network might can it at this rate.”
“Oh no.” Thrilled to be trusted with this news, I sat down. “Because the director is being difficult?”
“You mean Sherman?” Sadie barked a laugh. “It’s not Sherman causing the problems, honey, it’s RJ.”
“What?”
“Look, I’ve known RJ for a long time,” Sadie said.
“We came up through the industry together. I owe him so much.” She waved a hand around her office, luxurious in its minimalism.
“But he demands total loyalty and submission from his people. Sherman was his protégé and he expects that same dedication from him. Trouble is, Sherman is his own man, and he’s threatening to walk away from the whole show if he can’t have more creative control. ”
“Can he do that?”
She pointed at her computer. “I’m reviewing his contract right now and, yeah, he can. Unfortunately, the network have full authority to pull the plug if he does.”
“That’s not great,” I said.
“No shit,” she said. “And we piss off that network, we can kiss our TV production arm goodbye because no other network will touch us and RJ’s dream of delivering the next Game of Thrones will probably never be realized.”
“Right, yes, he’s chasing an Emmy as well as an Oscar.”
Sadie laughed. “Ha. The race to beat Rian Johnson is on.”
“He doesn’t want much, does he?”
“That’s RJ for you,” Sadie remarked sadly.
“There must be a way to keep the network happy as well as restore some kind of peace,”
“If there is, it’s not presenting itself to me.”
“I mean, couldn’t RJ just direct the remainder of the show?” I suggested.
“He doesn’t have the time,” Sadie said, rubbing a hand across her face. “We get this next script picked up, we’re straight into pre-production on that, plus he has a packed schedule of slate development coming up that we somehow need to fit in.”
“No wonder Elliot’s so involved,” I said.
“You’re telling me,” Sadie said. “Elliot is about the only thing holding everything together. The network loves him. He steps away now? Pfft. Definitely kiss this show goodbye.”
“Maybe Elliot should direct the show then.”
“RJ would never go for that,” Sadie retorted, but she didn’t sound fully convinced by her words. “Although, I guess I could suggest it. El is more than overdue for a step up.”
The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Elliot had definitely proven himself at RJF to be reliable, plus there was no doubting his creative flair. “Why wouldn’t RJ want Elliot to direct?”
“Oh, it’s a hunch,” Sadie said quickly. “But RJ is particular, and Elliot is one of the few people in the world who gets him, who ensures everything happens the way it should.”
“Elliot’s too good as RJ’s assistant.” I understood his predicament all too well. “Which is why this script needs to get greenlit. RJ promised Elliot he could direct the second unit.”
“I’d be amazed if RJ follows through with that,” Sadie said.
I stilled. “What?”
“Like I say, just a hunch,” Sadie added.
I shook my head. No, no, no. RJ could not renege on this. “But Elliot needs this to happen,” I said. “He deserves it.”
“It’s not down to me,” Sadie said defensively. “And, yeah, I like the guy, he is capable of way more than putting out RJ’s fires. But if I were RJ, I’d be thinking long and hard before letting someone like that progress. He’d have a hard time replacing Elliot and RJ needs an Elliot.”
“I really hope you’re wrong,” I said sadly.
Sadie smiled. “Me too—” Her phone buzzed.
“’Scuse me.” She swiveled her seat away to answer it, barking her name at the caller like some kind of warning.
There was silence as she listened, but Sadie didn’t need to say anything for me to know it was not welcome news.
She went rigid, her ears reddening. “Are we allowed to know why—” She exhaled impatiently, waited.
“But we had everything lined up,” she said.
“Are you really saying it’s us or this other one?
Am I allowed to know who—? Confidentiality, sure, but come on, we’ve been business partners for years.
” She listened, tapping a manicured crimson nail against the desk.
“I guess I’m a little surprised, that’s all.
But you know we’ll bring the goods, so why— Uh-huh, uh-huh. Fine, thanks. Bye.”
I waited a few beats before leaning forward. “Everything okay?”
“No.” Sadie eyeballed me. “Did you have any more dealings with Claude Melroy after that night at Nocturne?”
“Of course not!” My stomach vaulted at the memory.
“He’s threatening to pull funding,” Sadie said.
“What?” My stomach went from churning to plummeting. “But the pitch is next week, why?”
“I’m not sure,” Sadie said. “I thought we’d addressed his concerns.
But it seems he’s engaging with another producer who stepped forward only this week with a compelling project, and they are also pitching to Janice next week.
Melroy thinks Janice will greenlight just one of the films next week so he will only fund the winning one. ”
“What?” I’d never heard anything like it. “This is crazy.”
“I need to confirm this with Janice’s office,” Sadie muttered. “Could you give me the room, please?”
“Of course.” But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Was it possible the project Elliot and I had slogged away at would never be greenlit? This was a serious setback, and to come so close to the actual pitch felt especially cruel.
“Hey, kid.” Sadie jerked her head. “Out.”
“Sorry, yeah.” I rose slowly, still reeling.
“You’re not going to cry on me, are you?” she asked with a savage grin.
“Of course not.” I felt disappointed, sure – exhausted, even – but crying?
“Because that would make you a true New Yorker.” She barked a laugh.
“And here I thought New Yorkers were tough,” I shot back as I moved towards the door.
“Tough, sure,” she said. “But we have soft, gooey centers. You just have to know how to find them.”
I left her to make the phone call, considering heading out to the Greek deli down the street for lunch but the heavy gray clouds put me off.
After making a sandwich with scraps of ham I found in the fridge, I tried to call Elliot.
Yet again, it rang out to answerphone. It must truly be mayhem over there.
I trudged into the depressingly quiet writers’ room, where I checked my personal email.
I saw Vivian had sent my flight confirmation already, so I entered my passport information, then opened some emails Bex had sent.
One was a ‘save the date’ for the wedding, along with a list of things she needed my help with, such as catering budget and planning a combined hen do/baby shower.
I shuddered. It was a good job I loved her as much as I did.
I then noted with a sinking heart she’d forwarded some information about a new block of flats being built just down the road from our current flat that would be available for around the time I needed to move.
The rent for a studio flat was almost three quarters of my current monthly salary.
I leaned back in my chair and let out a long, tired exhale.
I’d left London blazing with hope, praying that this RJF job would lead to new and exciting prospects, at the very least a film credit.
But I was now staring down the fact that I was not only leaving New York having no further opportunities at RJF, but also with the very real possibility the project I’d been sent here to work on would be killed.
And then there was the whole Elliot situation.
The thought of leaving here without making it right with him crushed me, that he’d be here living his life as if I’d been a momentary blip, an error he could just breeze past and forget.
Returning to the daily grind of Temper Media, eking out a living on the pennies Lin threw my way, and using casual hookups to break the monotony of my life …
no more. I couldn’t do it. Not after everything I’d experienced here.
I was capable of so much more, and I deserved more.
I was going to rot if I stayed at Temper; I had to believe there was something better, even if I had to temp at Dan’s insurance company to keep money flowing in while I worked stuff out.
Galvanized, I started drafting a resignation email to send to Lin.
But as I began typing, my finger slipped, and the file directory opened.
It was open to ‘personal files’, where I kept all things related to Twin Roses.
I was about to click away when I saw the ‘date modified’ metadata had logged the last time my pitch deck had been opened as 2 a.m. When I was asleep. How was that possible?
Sadie’s head poked round the door. “Fancy a trip to Silvercup?”
“N-now?” I reeled. “You and me?”
“You and me,” she confirmed. “RJ wants a meeting, and he can’t step away from Woodstock right now to come back here.”
“Sure.” The famous Silvercup Studios! Computer woes forgotten, I closed my laptop down and hurried out of the office after her. “Ralf joining us?”
Sadie gave me a funny look as she pushed the lift button. “Ralf quit last week.”
“Wait, what?”
“Really?” Sadie grimaced as the lift doors opened. “Hadn’t you noticed he’s not been in the office?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “But he was here last night.” I shuddered at the memory. To be fair, I’d been pretty preoccupied with my misery to even think about Ralf, let alone notice his movements. But Sadie was right, I hadn’t seen him all week until last night.
“Perhaps he came to pick up his stuff,” Sadie mused. “But, yeah, he quit with immediate effect. Something about an urgent opportunity he had to take advantage of.” The lift doors closed, and we descended.
My mind raced; he and Vivian had alluded to some kind of scheme last night, something that was already in motion. But what could it be?