Marissa #3
She shakes her head. “On the contrary, the crying is actually very humanizing.”
I choke out another laugh and Shelby rubs my ankle.
“You know, just because you’re leaving the Poconos doesn’t mean you’re leaving us,” she says. “We care about you and we’re going to be here for you, no matter where you are. We aren’t letting you go that easily.”
I grab hold of her wrist and give it a squeeze. “I don’t want you to.”
She swings her gaze toward the door. “Speaking of people who don’t want to let you go, we’d better get out there before Jesse paces a hole right through my floor.”
Shelby rises to her feet and then reaches out a hand to help me up. When she pushes the door open, Jesse is just where she said he’d be: pacing on the wooden floor, worrying his bottom lip.
“Are you okay?” he asks when he sees me, and I nearly reach out to smooth away the line between his brows.
“I’m fine,” I reassure him. “Just having a moment.”
He nods but doesn’t look completely reassured. Just then, Levi pokes his tiny head around the corner and gives me a smile. Relief washes over me. Somehow, I always forget that the storm settles, that he always manages to recalibrate. That things really will be okay.
“Mommy,” he says in the little voice that never fails to melt my heart. “Can I go upstairs and see the doggy?”
By the time I’m home and get the kids to sleep, it’s nearly 10 PM.
I crawl into my bed and pick my phone up off my nightstand.
I have three missed calls from Pooja and a text that says, Call me when you get this.
The tone is vague; I can’t tell if her meeting with her boss went poorly, or if it went great and she just wants to share her excitement together.
But as soon as she answers my FaceTime call and I take in the defeated look on her face, I know it’s not good news.
“What happened?” I ask without preamble.
“The long arm of the patriarchy is what happened,” she replies flatly. She takes a shallow breath, collecting herself.
“The studio head isn’t budging. Basically, he pointed to the decline in motion picture revenue over the past few years and insists that they aren’t going to green-light the project unless they have a guaranteed home run on their hands.
A big name with a history of success. And most importantly, strong sales. ”
My expression darkens. “Well, not to toot my own horn, but I am the lead of one of the most successful superhero franchises.”
Pooja bites down on her bottom lip. “Look, I’m saying this not as your friend but as a producer, okay?
The Felicia Fox movies were very successful.
But you haven’t done a lot of projects outside of them, and moreover, you haven’t made a movie in a decade.
Rocky won an Emmy last year. And as Kegan helpfully reminded me, his last film pulled in seventy million at the box office on opening weekend. ”
“So as far as the studio is concerned, if it comes down to him or me, it’s not a real choice.”
Pooja doesn’t say anything in response, but it’s clear from the way her brow lowers that I’ve hit the nail on the head.
I shouldn’t be surprised. At the end of the day, we both know it’s the studio who calls the shots.
They are the ones paying, so they get to dictate who is on board.
And they aren’t going to make any decisions that they believe could jeopardize their bottom line.
“It’s not fair,” Pooja mutters. “There’s a double standard for women and you just can’t win, no matter what you do. If you go back to work right away, you’re a negligent mother. If you take a few years off, the door closes behind you.”
“And if you don’t have kids,” I add, “you’re the most miserable of us all.”
She offers me a limp smile. “Ugh, this is exactly why we need more women leaders in this industry. We need female heads of studios, women directing and running production. If I had the start-up funding, I’d launch my own production company in a heartbeat.”
My heart sinks a little at that. I wish I had the seed money to give to my closest friend.
But I’m not exactly swimming in liquid assets.
I need this job. The situation is far from ideal, but if I refuse to work with Rocky, I’m only hurting myself.
Maybe the best thing to do is just stick it out, find a way to muddle through together.
And hope to hell that he works things out with Rayna so that the press will leave us alone.
Because they’re so great about that.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, all too aware of the resignation in my voice. “I’ll do it.”
The tension melts from Pooja’s face. “Okay then,” she says. “Truth be told, I have mixed emotions. I hate that we have to share the spotlight with your tool bag of an ex-husband. But this project is important to both of us, and if we need to compromise somewhere, at least we still have you.”
I smile at her. “And maybe we can do something else together after this? Keep the band together?”
Pooja grins at me. “You know I’ve always been on board.”