Chapter 14
Ingrid arrives at the screening in a slim, red plunge-neck dress. It’s the type of thing the old her would never wear to a screening, always opting for minimalist white suits or a black dress instead. But tonight, all that’s history. Ingrid is officially a younger woman.
Kyle’s mouth hangs open when he sees her. “Wow,” he says, a smile curling his lips.
Ingrid leans over to kiss him, putting a hand on his chest. He looks pretty sharp himself in his navy-blue suit and crisp white shirt. Ingrid’s relieved to see he’s ditched his sweats and sneakers.
As she turns and does a sexy pose just for him, she catches the eye of her star, Camila Veracruz. Camila’s in a stunning silver dress and six-inch heels. Ingrid excuses herself from Kyle and starts walking over to her. They kiss hello as the photographers snap pictures.
“Just one more, Ms. Veracruz. Can we get a side shot?” a photographer begs.
Ingrid starts moving out of the frame. The press isn’t interested in pictures of her at these things. They just want the stars. But tonight, they gesture for her to get in, too.
“Actually, that looks great, the two of you together,” a young woman says, clicking away.
Ingrid, surprised, walks back and puts her arm around Camila. As they’re posing, a reporter tries to ask Camila questions.
“What made you want to take on this role, Camila?” he asks. “I love how it’s another badass woman, yet so different from your last series.”
“I’m sorry, my last series?” Camila asks, confused.
“Euphoria?”
Camila’s face turns scarlet. Oh fuck. Ingrid quickly tells him, “You mean Alexa Demie. She was in Euphoria, not Camila.”
“I know it’s confusing, the two of us both being Latina and all,” Camila adds pointedly. “But I assure you, we’re separate people.”
Ingrid quickly takes her star and escorts her into the theater before the reporter can write something nasty about Camila.
She can just see the headlines—Camila Veracruz Jealous of Alexa Demie?
Or Camila Veracruz Feud with Alexa Demie: A Timeline.
They take a seat in the back, behind some actors talking about having to become substitute teachers post-strike.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Ingrid says to Camila.
“It’s like they don’t even see me. They just see a type.” Camila sighs.
“They’ll change their tune once they see how talented you are in this movie! Forget that jerk. This is a big night for us. Our first panel!” Ingrid tells Camila.
“Thanks,” she says. “You’re right. I’m so happy. I love the movie so much.”
Ingrid’s agent walks over.
“Hey! So sorry to interrupt. Congratulations, Camila, big fan!” Jack says. He’s a short white guy in his mid-forties who always dons sneakers and jeans with his blazer. “Ingrid, just wanted to say congrats in person!”
They kiss on both cheeks. Ingrid sees Kyle walk in from the back and gestures for him to come sit with them.
“You look dynamite tonight!” Jack says to Ingrid, glancing at her dress. She blushes. She knows there’s no way there’s any actual discernable physical sign that she’s de-aged other than her bold fashion choice. Maybe age isn’t really about a number but a state of mind.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “You staying for the panel?”
“I gotta duck out. I just wanted to say break a leg!”
Ingrid tries to hide her disappointment. Five years ago, Jack definitely would have stayed. But now that he’s signed Megan Coxly and Joe McFadden, Ingrid can feel herself sinking on his priority list. Case in point—he still can’t get her a meeting with Charlie.
“By the way, I was thinking…you’re right, Ing. It’s your deal, too. If you really want to make Summer Rain, I’m behind you. I told Charlie to call you tomorrow.”
“I don’t want a call, I want a meeting.”
“Yeah, I tried. He’s tied up in the morning. Might have to be a call,” Jack says. “But he knows the option deadline’s coming up.”
Kyle walks over and shakes Jack’s hand. He introduces himself to Camila. As Jack continues talking, Ingrid’s eyes slide to Kyle chatting with Camila.
Kyle loves chatting with the stars. And he’s good at it, too. Always witty. Never so starstruck that it’s awkward.
She used to think it was a good thing. He’s just filling in for her, giving them the attention she can’t. Now she wonders if perhaps she was too naive. Was this how it started? His wandering eye for beautiful younger women?
“Fine, but it’s gotta happen,” Ingrid says quickly, leaving Jack so she can squeeze over to her husband. She sandwiches herself between Camila and Kyle.
“What’s gotta happen?” Camila asks.
“Nothing. This movie,” Ingrid says. She glances at Camila for a second, trying to see if she can see her in Summer Rain. She certainly gave a stellar performance in Uncharted. But she needs someone with a bigger name. Someone no one’s going to confuse at a screening.
—
Ingrid shifts in a director’s chair on the stage, sitting next to Camila and Jonathan Feld, the set designer, taking questions.
“Camila, I’d love to hear about your experience as a woman of color in Hollywood. Has it been difficult to break out from the costar role to this starring role? Is that terrifying or cathartic?” someone from the audience says.
Camila picks up the mic.
“Both. Growing up, I never saw myself represented on the screen. And now to be at the center of a narrative, it feels surreal. But the irony is she’s the center of the narrative because she’s overlooked by everyone else on the boat.
This woman, who is so central to this last wild party, is still an afterthought to everyone.
I think that is the story of so many of us, even today,” Camila says.
“When Ingrid sent the script to me, I immediately connected with it. It mirrored how I was feeling in Hollywood for a long time.”
“Can you elaborate on that?” a reporter asks.
Ingrid glances over at Camila nervously. Don’t overdo it. We’re already breaking the mold with this movie. Let’s not light up all of Hollywood. She searches the audience for Kyle. He’s busy staring at Dakota Johnson, who slipped in at the last minute.
“Just having to pull more than my weight on set all the time. I was constantly asking my agent, Where are the leading roles? And she’d come back with Well, box office numbers and track record.
If they never give us the opportunity to star, how can you prove that a movie with a Latina lead can bring the box office numbers?
The circular mindfuck of that is a trip. ”
Ingrid waits, drenched in anxiety, to see how circular mindfuck lands.
Very well, apparently. More hands go up. People are whipping out their phones, recording Camila. Ingrid sits up in her red dress, smiling. Kyle gives her a little thumbs-up from the audience. She’s glad he’s turned his attention from Dakota Johnson back to her.
“And now? What does it mean for you to have this starring role?” a male reporter asks. “What do you think that says about the state of the world we’re in?”
Camila laughs. “What does that say about the world? To have one movie with a Latina lead?”
Brilliant response. Ingrid immediately starts clapping at Camila’s reply.
Camila turns to Ingrid. “But it does bring up something. I’m sure that at some point a studio exec wondered, Why not tell it from one of the passengers’ points of view? Ingrid, what was that like for you, telling the studio, No, it has to be about this woman of color?”
Ingrid picks up her mic delicately, trying to figure out how best to reply to this as everyone shifts their phones to record her.
“You know, I think with all movies, there’s a push and pull.
It’s not always pleasant, having to defend the story you want to tell.
But as a producer, it’s important to stick to your gut.
If you don’t stick your neck out for your stars, who’s going to?
” Ingrid says. She turns and winks at Camila.
“We gotta break that circular mindfuck sometime.”
A young man in a plaid shirt sitting in the front raises his hand. She calls on him.
“What is that like for you, a white female producer, taking on this particular story about a young Latina? Was there any feeling in your mind of, Maybe I shouldn’t try to do this? Maybe I should make space for others to tell this story?”
Ingrid’s face tenses. Kyle leans forward, his eyes urgently telling her, Don’t take the bait!
But Ingrid knows if she tries to sidestep it, it’ll be worse.
The headlines tomorrow will read, Ingrid Parker Avoids Question on Who Gets to Tell the Story.
It’s the kind of clickbait that people love.
Industry insiders will wince and a nosy reporter might dig up that Prisha post. No, she can’t dodge it. But if she answers it just right…
“Honestly, I feel completely undeserving of the opportunity to shepherd this extraordinary film onto the big screen. You’re right.
I am a white cisgender woman. What do I know about the struggle and the burden of being a person of color?
Of having to board a yacht full of people who don’t even see me and carry the weight of serving them even when their actions might kill me? I don’t.”
Ingrid looks around the room, her vulnerability waking up a courage inside her.