Chapter Thirty-Three #2
I scanned the party for him, sighing with relief when I saw him near the door that led back into the ‘Killer Plants’ exhibit.
I glanced at my watch; I had five minutes until I needed to drag Sol out of the party to get to her car to the airport.
I hobbled my way through the crowds, groaning when I finally made it to where I’d seen RJ, only to find he’d vanished.
But I was just in time to see the exhibit door swinging shut.
I somehow managed to reach it before it slammed and slipped in after him.
If it was possible, the hothouse was more humid than before.
The decorative lights had been toned down and with the plants crowding over the path it took a while for my eyes to adjust. As I picked my way forward, I heard whispering from further inside and some inner voice told me not to call out and announce my presence, so I ducked behind an overhanging shrub.
“It doesn’t change what you did,” RJ said with a growl.
“I saw an opportunity.” It was Ralf.
“Look, I need to get back to the party. What is it?” RJ asked irritably.
“I have a proposition for you,” Ralf said. “You want your Oscar movie, let me make it for you.”
“What?” RJ snorted. “You think your brand-new company can make that happen?”
“Naturally,” Ralf said. “Come on, Janice Kittredge’s studio cannot deliver an Oscar campaign to save her life. Your script has Cannes written all over it. Janice never even bothers going to Cannes. Her focus is so US based, but a movie like yours needs international audiences.”
“Your company is new,” RJ said, but I could hear a note of interest in his voice. “Untested.”
“True,” Ralf conceded. “But we have the finances, excellent ties with other producers; I’m having lunch with Melroy next week, for example, the guy loves me.
Look. We both know how much RJF needs your script to be made to maintain the company’s bottom line.
I’m offering you a guarantee it will be made and get into theaters and be the awards gold we want it to be. ”
“What’s in this for you?” RJ sounded intrigued, not disgusted.
“Like you said, we’re new,” Ralf said. “We have money, but no catalog, no reputation. Thing is, we have a novel adaptation that is box-office gold, I can feel it. You ever heard of Twin Roses? Think Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice but sexier, modern.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes. That was my blueprint for Twin Roses.
“You have talent attached?”
“Not formally,” Ralf admitted. “But Sol Rodrigues has expressed interest.”
Thanks to me! I wanted to scream.
“Thing is, if we’re both competing for Janice’s distro deal, I don’t know if I can keep this offer on the table,” Ralf went on.
“You want us to withdraw from the pitch,” RJ said.
“Like you said, we need to make our mark,” Ralf said calmly. “I want both our movies to get made and this is a way to ensure that.”
“I’d like to see this pitch.”
“You interested?”
“Maybe you need a name like mine to attract other talent,” RJ suggested. “Producer capacity.”
“I’m interested, let’s keep talking,” Ralf said. But then his phone rang, two chirps. “Oh.” He drew out the sound with knowing chuckle. I knew he was going to find Vivian in some dark corner and I wanted to hurl. “I need to … take care of something. We good?”
“Ah, sure.” I could hear the slapping of backs from an effusive bro-hug, and I shrank behind the pitcher plant display as the two men scuttled past me and left.
When the hothouse door shut behind them, I let out a whoosh of breath.
Wow. Ralf was silver-tongued, no doubt. He’d had RJ in the palm of his hand, dangling exactly what the desperate director wanted in front of his nose and making it look effortless.
With work he’d stolen from me. There was no way I could let this happen and I had just two minutes before I had to find Sol and get her into her car for the airport.
I rushed out of the hothouse doors. RJ was feet away, reading something on his phone.
“Can I talk to you?” I asked urgently.
He looked at me in surprise. “Oh – yes. Everything okay?”
My mouth went dry. Did I admit I’d eavesdropped on him and Ralf? It didn’t exactly make me look good. “Ralf stole something of mine,” I said.
RJ frowned. “He did?”
“A document,” I said. “I created a proposal for an adaptation of a novel. Budget, schedule … everything. An adaptation of the novel, Twin Roses.”
RJ went very still. “Go on.”
“It’s come to my attention that Ralf stole it. Packaged it as his own so he could pitch it to Janice.” I held my breath, waiting.
“Stole it how?”
“From my laptop,” I said. “He hacked into it.”
“Why?” RJ said.
“Because it’s a good pitch,” I said. “Because I got Sol Rodrigues showing interest. Because he needed something to make his mark at VLV and he saw his chance.” He must have decided to take the leap and quit after the encounter with Sol at the photocall.
RJ sighed, shoved his phone in his pocket. “And what, precisely, do you want me to do about that?”
My heart sank. “It’s wrong,” I said. “What he did was wrong.”
“Lucie, I’m not debating that,” RJ said. “But it’s done. He’s already pitched it and I’m not sure we can undo that.”
“I know,” I said impatiently. “But it’s mine.”
“The book is yours?” RJ asked. “What, you think you’re the only person to come up with the idea to adapt it?
I’d be willing to bet there are multiple creatives thinking the same thing.
Ralf just happened to get in there first.” He swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “These things happen in business.”
“No, no,” I said desperately. “These things do not just ‘happen in business’; they happen when someone gets too ambitious for their own good.”
“Or ambitious enough to make shit happen.” RJ took a swig. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t claim an idea. The cat’s out of the bag, so to speak, and Ralf’s the one running with it.”
I wanted to scream. “So, what, you really wouldn’t care if someone stole from you? If someone else used your idea to-—”
“Of course, you know, I get it, it sucks.” RJ attempted a sympathetic smile.
“But perhaps we let this be a lesson. There is nothing new under the sun. So what if Ralf was inspired by something you came up with? He’s actually making it happen now because he can, and you can’t.
” Someone called his name from across the party, and he waved.
“Lucie, you’re a bright spark, with talent in droves.
But you have a lot to learn. I wish you well. ”
And with that, he strolled off, head high, leaving me shaking.
He didn’t even care – RJ had displayed not one shred of outrage about the injustice of Ralf’s actions.
From a man who demanded total loyalty from his employees, he certainly didn’t know how to show it himself.
I was glad I hadn’t tried to convince him to claim ownership of the pitch; it was clear RJ wouldn’t have done what was morally right just to help me.
Around me, people laughed and drank as the DJ cranked an upbeat remix of an old The Heavy track that got people whooping and cheering.
The display of merriment felt obscene, as I stood bereft.
It was all hopeless. RJ was right. It was not like I could call the police.
Noah had said Ralf used AI to alter my document; it probably looked like something entirely different, making my claim even harder to prove.
So, what, did this mean my dream was lost? All that work, just gone?
I needed Elliot. I needed his calm voice telling me everything was okay. I tried to call him, but the phone rang out to voicemail.
“Elliot, something’s happened,” I said. “I have to get Sol to the airport, but Ralf has out-Ralfed himself and I don’t know what to do. Can you call me?”