Chapter Six #2
“As I mentioned before, I think Oliver and Celia would make a great team for Lineage,” Rebecca says.
I shoot her a look of thanks for getting the conversation on track.
“Between the two of them, their catalogue is impressive, and I can personally attest to their talents. They were the very best in our composition practicums in school. Everyone was jealous of them.”
“Including you?” Chris asks with a smirk.
“Me most of all,” Rebecca replies.
Chris shifts his attention to Oliver and me, his big blue eyes darting between our faces.
“Rebecca made sure I looked at your portfolios. There’s good work there.
Obviously, we’re going at this a bit backward—normally you two would have read the script by now and we would have had some calls to discuss your ideas.
” He pauses, shifting his weight in his chair as he crosses one leg over the other.
“Unfortunately, we don’t really have time for that, so let me tell you both a little about the story.
Feel free to ask questions as we go along. ”
And so, Chris launches right into it; he paints a vivid picture of the Moore family, a cluster of wealthy East Coast elites that built their fortune establishing and later controlling one of the largest media companies in the world.
The heart of the story—the real drama—has to do with the adult children of Jonathan Moore and how far they’re willing to go to get what they want.
It’s a far cry from cat-food commercials. The thought of telling this story through music lights me up in such a way that I’m practically vibrating in my seat.
Oliver and I lob questions back and forth at them.
John explains his ideas behind the color palette for the project (deep greens, browns, and blues to accentuate the old-money feel of it all).
On the subject of budget, Chris cuts Damian off by stating, “I want a full orchestra. Whatever you need.” We discuss characters and their respective actors.
Damian alludes that the studio would like to explore a second season, but Chris gives him a look that says, We’ll see.
The more we talk, the less nervous I feel. Oliver and I play off each other well; our weekend text preparation allows us to communicate in such a way that I feel like I’m starting to understand what they want. I have no doubt in his abilities to do this. He’s scored a handful of films, after all.
But me? I’m still a little unsure, especially since this show is set in a world that I don’t know at all.
I grew up in a middle-class household and I’m on the brink of losing an apartment I rent, not own.
Everything I’m wearing was plucked straight off the rack at Zara and H my mouth drops open at the same time my stomach bottoms out.
From inside my tote, I can feel my phone vibrating repeatedly as a rush of texts come in (no doubt it’s the family group chat; everyone knows this meeting happened today).
“You mean to tell me your family studio is in Maine?”
“Yes. It’s our summer home. My dad was born in Ma—”
But Oliver doesn’t even get the full word out. My whole body floods with a tingly, uncomfortable heat as I interrupt him. “Why didn’t you tell me the studio is in another state? I can’t up and move for, like, three months!”
“I got sidetracked,” he says quickly. “At the café. I got sidetracked and forgot.”
“You forgot,” I reply, dropping my voice to a murderous whisper when I realize people are looking at us. “You can’t be serious. I have nowhere to live in Boothbay Harbor and I can’t exactly commute to Maine every day.”
He hits me with an exasperated look before folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t be silly, Celia. The house is big enough for the two of us.”
A shriek of laughter escapes me. “No.”
“No?” he repeats, his eyes wide in surprise.
“No!” The word bursts out of me, loud enough that people in the building lobby turn to look at us again. Embarrassment washes over me in a wave, so I drop my voice again. “Oliver, this is ridiculous. I can’t live and work with you for, like, three months.”
He looks at me like I’m the one suggesting an unhinged plan. “Why not?”
I’m so close to listing out every single reason why this can’t work.
That we basically hated each other for years.
That I haven’t liked him since the day we laid eyes on each other and he couldn’t deign to speak to me.
That every time he ignored me or shut me out only made it worse.
That I never forgot the night of the graduation party.
But I have to salvage this; we have to maintain some level of professionalism, considering our agents are about to get contract emails that tether us to each other for months.
Instead, I take a deep breath, willing my face to stop flaming. “Because it’s crazy. I have a life in New York. I can’t just leave.”
“Neither of us are going to have a life. This show is going to consume us.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, confirming my earlier suspicions about his disheveled locks.
“Besides, what other option do we have? Do you know of any studio spaces we can rent for months at a reasonable price? My personal work setup can’t accommodate two people. ”
I think of my own home studio, of how pitiful it is in comparison to what we’ll need to get this done. There’s no doubt in my mind that Robert Barlowe, legendary film composer that he is, has the best of the best tucked away in his summer home. In Maine.
There’s no way I could come up with the kind of money that would be required to rent a studio space.
I’ve seen the invoices billed to the customers I write for; rates are astronomical.
The more I think about this—about all the logistical hurdles we’re facing—anger strikes me hot and fast in the chest.
This is classic Oliver. He would withhold this crucial piece of information. He would assume that I’ll uproot my life. He would presume that I will simply bend to his will. Some things never change.
But at the same time, he’s right—we have no other option. It would be stupid of me to decline this invitation (if you can even call it that). Access to his father’s studio is a leg up we both need.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “I will go with you to Boothbay Harbor and I will be ready on Friday.”
Before he can say anything else, I dash out into the soaked city with my head held high. The rain pelts me from all directions, but I hardly notice it. My thoughts go right back to that comment he made and what he didn’t get to say—You were always so…
Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t get to finish that sentence.
FAMILIA GROUP CHAT
TODAY 12:12 PM
Rosa
12:12 PM
hellooooo it’s been almost two hours??? any updates??
Amanda
12:13 PM
chill hermana this could take all day
Rosa
12:14 PM
YOU CHILL
Amanda
12:15 PM
omg have you never been to a meeting before? they always run long
Padre
12:20 PM
Girls let your sister focus
Rosa
12:21 PM
when have we ever done that lol
Amanda
12:22 PM
no really
Madre
12:30 PM
How do I turn off the flashlight on my phone?
Rosa
12:32 PM
lmao
Amanda
12:35 PM
i just showed you how to do this, it’s on your lock screen or in settings
Celia
12:40 PM
I GOT THE JOB!!!!!!
Amanda
12:41 PM
I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT!!
Madre
12:43 PM
?Felicidades!
Padre
12:44 PM
Felicidades I never doubted this would happen
Rosa
12:44 PM
WEPAAAAAAAAAAA!!! omg don’t forget us when you’re all famous
Amanda
12:45 PM
hollywooooooood
Celia
12:50 PM
gracias gracias but actually no Hollywood
12:51 PM
I have to move to maine
Rosa
12:51 PM
WHAT
Amanda
12:52 PM
***
Madre
12:53 PM
?Qué?
Padre
12:54 PM
Por qué